The Sekhmet Bed (21 page)

Ahmose shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll never have to use the power of the title. My grandmother never did – until she chose you as heir, of course.”

“
Power.” The word caught at Tut. He watched the sunset, deep in thought. At length he said, “I don’t think so, Ahmose. I don’t like the idea of dividing the power of our thrones. We should be a united force leading Egypt, not two working at different ends.”

“
But we would be united! Tut, I’d never send the priests off in a direction you didn’t approve. If I were God’s Wife, I’d always consult with you, in everything I did.”

“
Put it out of your head for now, Ahmoset. I’m not saying no. There might come a time when we need to have power over the Priests of Amun. They are strong, and I imagine they could get up to trouble, especially with me away again. But for now, there’s no need. Let’s enjoy as simple a life as we can manage.”

“
Away again?” Her heart sank. “You’re going out on another campaign?”

He squeezed her tight to him, then clucked the horses into a brisk walk. “It’s time to confront the Hyksos. We put down the Kushites well enough, but I’ve been receiving reports that the North is growing restless. I knew they’d start mucking up the Delta soon enough.”

“
How long will you be away?”

“
Not terribly long, I hope. Only as long as I need to be.”

“
And when will you leave?”

“
Not for a few more months. The army needs to be resupplied, and I need to recruit many more young men for this campaign.”
“It sounds dangerous. I imagine Hyksos are spoiling for another piece of Egypt. They’ll be treacherous, Tut.”

“
When are they not? But cheer up,” he said. “With a little luck and the blessings of the gods, I’ll be back in a few months’ time and there will be a few thousand less Hyksos to trouble us. And in the meantime, we still have at least until the end of Shemu together.” He kissed her, long and deep, setting her body aflame like the sun. Then he broke away and called to the horses. Ahmose had to hold tight to the chariot, exhilarating in the sudden burst of speed. It was a job to keep her feet. Tut drove like a mad man along the crest of the hill, laughing into the wind, sending up a trail of dust that glowed golden in the light of the setting sun. They flew like gods.

Part Two: God’s Wife

1504 B.C.E.

EIGHTEEN

Meritamun died just after the new year. As the waters of the Nile rose to immerse the valley, the former queen’s life ebbed away. Ahmose spent two days at her bedside, awkwardly holding her cold hand until she drew her final ragged breath. She had known so little of this woman, who gave all she’d had to Egypt. From her childhood, she recalled only a sense of awe bordering on fear when she saw her mother presiding over court. From Ahmose’s own reign, she knew Meritamun as a quiet soul who tended her flowers in her estate garden, watering, weeding, cutting, keeping company with old Nefertari. Meritamun had been a stranger, an unreadable scroll from one end of her life to the other. Ahmose missed her all the same.

Three different messengers had been dispatched north to Thutmose with scrolls telling of Meritamun’s death. Three, in case any should be lost on the high river, or in the land of the Hyksos. This news was too important to risk losing. It would take an entire moon’s turn to get the message to Tut, and another moon to receive his reply.

Ahmose felt far more alone than she had when Tut went to war with the Kushites. Her servants were pleasant company, though. Twosre had improved her senet game enough to match Ahmose on the board. And Ineni shone some light on her days. Whenever she could escape duties and dreams, Ahmose and Ineni would pole out across the palace lake, taking their supper on the cool water and laughing over the day’s politics. It was good to laugh, now and then. It seemed Ahmose had small enough reason to smile of late. She was fifteen years old with the weight of the empire hung about her neck.

Some days before the annual Men-Nefer festival, Ahmose and Ineni were sharing fish cakes and beer on the lake barge, swatting flies from their bare arms. Ineni told all the news from the stewards: men of influence petitioning to get their daughters into Tut’s harem, even though no one yet knew when the Pharaoh would return from the North; building projects Tut had commissioned, beginning to take shape quickly now that Akhet had arrived and men were freed from tending the fields.

“
And a rumor I heard, Ahmose. Is your sister with child again?”

Ahmose sighed. “Yes, it seems to be so. I heard Mutnofret is four months along. She must have conceived just before Tut left.”

“
You haven’t heard it from your sister yourself?”

“
I prefer to keep her at arm’s length. Mutnofret and her son are too treacherous for me, I’m afraid.”

“
Perhaps it’s for the best. If you remain distant, she will have a harder time thinking of you as…”

“
As a child, I suppose you were going to say.”

“
As a weak woman. Never as a child.”

“
No, I suppose not. Not with these!” Ahmose patted her chest. She had finally grown breasts. Her hips were beginning to round, too. Twosre had been the first to comment, though Ineni was surely the first to notice, if his frequent blushes and always-downcast eyes were any indication. He blushed now, and coughed, and reached for his beer. Mischievously, Ahmose wondered if he had ever lain with a woman. Surely not, as shy as he was. It was hard to picture Ineni in the kind of embrace she’d seen between Mutnofret and Tut.

“
But in any case, I think you’re right about distance,” Ahmose said. “If I can keep Mutnofret from my side – everywhere but at court; I can’t seem to be rid of her there – I may look more like a queen and less like a pebble for her to kick.”

“
If only you could hold court without her. I don’t trust her.”

“
Nor do I. She’s all sweetness and ‘oh-dear-sister’ when we’re together, but I can tell what she really thinks of me.” She fell silent, gazing out across the water to the gentle green slope of the gardens. She should be used to Mutnofret’s two faces by now, but it hurt all the same, to know that her own sister thought so little of her. Ahmose had coaxed a few rumors out of palace servants. Behind her back, the second queen was all mockery and derision. Even when they were apart Ahmose couldn’t stay out of Mutnofret’s bad graces.

Ineni tugged at his sandal straps, following Ahmose’s gaze. They stayed silent and melancholy for some time, until Ahmose broke the spell by slapping a particularly large and stubborn fly. “A victory for Egypt!” She dipped her smeared hand in the lake.

“
We know how Egypt fares against the flies. How against the Hyksos?”

Ahmose shrugged. “I know next to nothing, at this point. It takes so long for letters to arrive. Last I heard the army was in Tyre, heading north along the coast. Tut expected to meet with the Hyksos armies soon. He said there are rebel encampments all over Canaan. I fear for him.”

“
He’s the best warrior Egypt has seen in generations, Ahmose. If any man can come through safely, it’s the Pharaoh.”

“
I know, I know. But he is my husband. I fear for him all the same.”

Ineni reached across their low barge table and patted her hand. “I know he’ll come back to you. I’m sure he’s eager to see you again. And anyway, with a god-chosen wife he’s bound to have luck on the battle field.”

“
What is the mood among the Priests of Amun, with Tut away?”

“
Worried. They say Ipet-Isut is in need of repairs, and that other temples to the north had to give up most of their treasure to feed the army as it passed through.”

“
Bah. Tut brought plenty of food. He stripped the city’s grain stores nearly empty, not just in Waset, but at Nekhen and Perhathor. And he brought plenty to trade as well.”

“
Undoubtedly. But what of the people left here in Waset? And in Nekhen, and Perhathor? This season…” His voice lowered, trailed away.

“
This season?”

“
The Inundation isn’t as high as it was last year.”

Ahmose hadn’t yet heard. Still, the flood was upon them, and the fields were covered, as far as she’d seen. “So? The waters are still here. It’s not as if the fields won’t be fertile.”

“
Ah, the fields will produce, but how much? The predictions are grim. With all the stores depleted to feed the army, it could be a weak harvest. And the priests think to use talk of a lower flood to scare the land owners into paying more taxes. They think to blame the lower Inundation on Amun’s displeasure, and to claim that more tribute will ensure a wetter Akhet next year. With the Pharaoh gone away, they might have quite a lot of influence. And if they wring more taxes out of the people, there could be trouble.”

Ahmose clicked her tongue. “I think I would have known if Amun were displeased.”

“
Of course. But it’s a shaky time, you see, with the priests agitating the public with tales of Amun’s anger, and the grain stores lower than usual.”

“
That’s troubling. But what can I do about it now? We can’t move on the temple yet.”

“
I agree. A shame, but it’s true. We’ll have to wait until the time is exactly right. A woman of your talents, though – you belong in the temple.”

I belong at my husband’s side
, she did not say. It was the right thing to say, she knew, but with each passing day a greater distance opened between herself and the Pharaoh. With Tut away, it was easier to reflect on the difference in how he treated Ahmose and Mutnofret. He may ride with his Great Royal Wife, and call her his dear one, and say Mutnofret’s head was too hot; but his eyes when they looked at the second queen said something else. They were never so eloquent when they were on Ahmose’s face. Or on her body. To Tut, she was only the woman in his strange dream, holding the shining prince. Until she actually cradled that child in her arms, Tut’s heart would never be hers.

And Thutmose may swear the dream-prince had been promised, but Wadjmose was here now, and thriving. He grew stronger all the time. He was crawling now, and babbling. Soon he would be running about the palace, learning to speak properly, winning hearts at court. It wasn’t Tut’s love for the child she feared. It was the court’s. If the nobles and priests supported Wadjmose as heir, why wouldn’t they clamor for the mother of Wadjmose on the queen’s throne? The baby complicated everything, and another was growing in Mutnofret’s belly. Ahmose had to find
somewhere
to belong, and soon.

They tied the boat to its mooring. Ineni helped Ahmose jump from the lake’s retaining wall to the lush green grass of the garden. His hand was warm and soft – a steward’s hand, so unlike Tut’s, with its calluses and leopard’s-paw strength. They walked down the garden path, close together, in no hurry to return to their duties. It was a fine thing, to have a real friend again. Aiya was long gone, and there were so few people Ahmose could trust.

A shaded bench invited them. It was set far back from the path, cast in deep green shadow, screened on three sides by a dense stand of high, flame-red lilies. They sat for a time in the evening haze, Ahmose giggling over one of Ineni’s clever jokes. Another stubborn fly had begun to hound her, drawn, she supposed, to her sweet perfume. It landed on her cheek, and she slapped it hard, wincing at the blow, laughing so much she had to blink back tears.

“
It’s all over you! Your face is going to be red.”

“
At least I killed the blasted thing.” She swiped her cheek with the back of her hand, but Ineni made a disgusted face.

“
You just made it worse. Here, let me.” He licked his thumb and rubbed at the smeared fly. His fingertips lingered along the line of her jaw for a moment. The smile faded from his lips; his dark eyes were serious, intense.