The Sekhmet Bed (42 page)

But always Mutnofret’s wailing was there, a pallid echo in her ears.

And then, one morning when Ahmose had slept late, exhausted from a dream of choking on black mud and white feathers, Mutnofret’s cries were real.

The screaming jolted her out of fitful sleep. For one heartbeat she was hardly more than a girl again, awakened in the harem by the women mourning her father’s death. Then she saw her pillared wall, her niches full of the gods’ images, Hatshepsut’s harp lying in the corner. She sat up on her bed, dizzy. The screaming was high and frantic, and thin as broth, muffled by walls and distance courtyard.

Ahmose ran from her room, never caring that she was naked and unshod. She sprinted across the vined courtyard, into Mutnofret’s hall, through her door. Serving women were clustered about the second queen, all of them frantic, all of them weeping. Mutnofret was dressed in a light robe, and its skirts were wet. Her feet were shining with a slick wetness. She was screaming, crying, the terrible voice of grief come to life again, more shocking and vital than in any of Ahmose’s dreams. Mutnofret’s fingers reached up to her face, clawed, traced bright red lines down forehead, cheeks, chin.

“
Mutnofret!” Ahmose was at her side, shaking her. “What’s wrong? Mutnofret!”

If Mutnofret heard, she gave no indication. She scratched her face again, and this time she drew blood.

“
Great Lady,” one of the serving women cried, “the baby is coming!”

Ahmose looked down at Mutnofret’s wet hem. The waters had broken, at least a month too soon. Was this what drove Mutnofret mad with sorrow?

“
And the prince, Great Lady,” another woman said, her face distorted with weeping.

“
No.”

“
He was swimming, Great Lady. This morning. Swimming in the river with the other boys. It was a crocodile, Great Lady. Took him under the water before anyone even knew it was there.”

Ahmose held onto Mutnofret’s wrists, trying to keep the sharp nails from her sister’s face. But grief weakened her grasp, and she let go, powerless, pale.

Not even a body to bury. There would be no afterlife for Prince Wadjmose, the serious one, the good boy, the little soldier.

Ahmose watched from a great distance as Mutnofret raked at her face, and screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

***

Twosre entered Ahmose’s bed chamber quietly, taking a long, drawn-out time to close the door so its bump wouldn’t disturb the silence. Ahmose watched her serving woman with dull, disbelieving eyes.
I have news, Great Lady
. Were the words coming from Twosre’s throat, or from Ahmose’s heart, or from Mut’s eyes? News, news. News of more grief, news of more loss. Ahmose hadn’t the strength to brace herself. She sat, barely holding herself upright, passively waiting the fresh sorrow.
Your sister died in birth, and the baby too. Wahibra cut her open with a copper knife, and she died
.

But no…different words were coming from Twosre’s mouth. Ahmose made her repeat them, struggling through the river-fog to understand.

“
A healthy boy. Small, as you might expect from an early birth, though he seems strong enough. The midwives are cautious, but they expect him to live.”

“
Oh.” Should Ahmose be pleased, or afraid? Another boy for the gods to take. “And Mutnofret?”

“
She seems…numb. She’s named the baby Thutmose. She said the name will protect him.”

Nothing will protect him. Nothing but his father
. Ahmose nodded.

“
Great Lady, the Pharaoh is outside. He’s waiting to speak to you. He said I’m only to let him in if you’ll have him. He said to…” Twosre flushed, and her hands fluttered at the collar of her dress. “He said to
beg
you, Great Lady. To beg your audience on his behalf.”

Ahmose shook her head. She didn’t understand. Did the Pharaoh want to come to her bed? What business could he have here? “Send him in,” her voice said, from across the river, from miles and miles away.

When Thutmose came, Hatshepsut came with him. Sitre-In tried to follow, but the Pharaoh stilled her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. She withdrew.

Carefully, Tut picked up their daughter and carried her to Ahmose’s bed. He sat with the girl on his knee. “You were right, Ahmose. Right. The whole time.”

Ahmose said nothing. There was nothing to say. Hatshepsut was toying with something in her lap – a doll made of blue cloth, and for once it was whole, not ripped. The girl held it up to her face, rubbed it against her cheek. Ahmose saw the golden linen plumes rising from the doll’s head. Amun. She wondered who had given the toy to Hatshepsut.

“
The gods forgive me,” Tut was saying, distantly. “The gods forgive this stupid man everything. I didn’t listen to them. I didn’t listen to you, and you were given to me so I might do their will. Ahmose, forgive me. Forgive me. Mutnofret, forgive me.”

Hatshepsut looked up at her father’s face. She used the doll’s hand to dab away a tear.

“
You must complete the task they’ve given you, Thutmose, if the gods are ever to grant you peace.”

“
And yet you know the people may not take it well. I see the gods’ power, and I do not doubt them. How could I doubt them now? But my heart still fears. If I lose the throne, Ahmose, it will mean death for all of us.”

Inspiration came to her, that true, deep surety that could only come from the gods, that only the god-chosen could know. She spoke Mut’s words into her husband’s ear. “It may take time for you to grow used to the idea. You are only mortal, after all, and you fear. Proclaim her at the Amun shrine in Annu, Tut, to the priests there. Just a few men need know. For now, it will be enough. And soon, word will spread. The people will come to accept it gradually, in the gods’ own time. All will be done in the gods’ time. And we will be safe.”

“
Annu.” Tut nodded. The ancient capital, a place of great holiness and magic. It was a place where all the gods would see Tut’s obeisance. “And I can show her the kingdom on the journey north.”

Hatshepsut stirred. “Where are we going?”

At the sound of her sweet voice, Thutmose closed his eyes. He leaned his head against his daughter’s. His chin quivered, and his chest. He said nothing.

“
Father? Are we going away? Will we see my brothers?”

Tut rose from the bed, so slowly. He handed Hatshepsut to Ahmose, and turned his back on them both, his face in his hands. A choked sound came from the Pharaoh, a painful cry stifled deep inside.

“
Father?”

When he could speak again, his voice was soft but even. He returned to sit beside them, and cupped the girl’s chin in his strong, rough hand. “You and I are going on a journey, Hati, together, just the two of us. Your brothers won’t be there.”

“
I want to see them.”

Ahmose tucked the girl’s head under her chin, rocking her side to side. “You will see them again someday, precious one. A long time from now.”

“
Where are we going?”

You’re going to fulfill the gods’ promise. You’re going to claim your birthright, the right of a god, the kingdom of Egypt
. “North, up the river,” Ahmose said. “You’ll see the whole of the land, Hatshepsut, my prince. You’ll see your kingdom.”

EPILOGUE

They stood on the quay, watching the sun rise.

Hatshepsut was wrapped in a new white cloak, a timid smile on her round face. Even for the bravest of children, a boat voyage without mother or nurse was daunting. But she would be with her father, and Ahmose knew how that thrilled her. The princess watched Thutmose with an air of worship, a brilliant innocent gaze that knew nothing of his wrongs. He was no stalking leopard to Hati. To her, no choice he made had condemned her brothers. He was just her father, brave and strong and unfailingly good. Tut looked back at the girl just as timidly, a smile wavering around his eyes. Ahmose hadn’t seen him smile for so long. It was good. This journey: it was maat.

Maat for all of them, even Mutnofret’s new son, Thutmose. He would be safe now, with Hatshepsut sailing upriver. Mutnofret brought little Thutmose forth in sorrow, but he had restored a tenuous, fragile joy to her heart. The second queen refused to turn him over to a nurse, clinging to him, keeping him at her side every hour of every day, nursing him herself when he was hungry, cleaning him herself when he was soiled. The baby was Mutnofret’s ka now, the essence of her life. No one had the heart to separate them.

Ahmose looked at them now, standing apart at the head of the water steps. Mutnofret carried the boy close to her breast, shielding him against the brisk river air. The second queen hardly took her eyes off the baby’s face, even when the Pharaoh came to her to kiss her softly in farewell. It was a lingering kiss. Ahmose didn’t begrudge Mutnofret the affection. The second queen had little enough joy now, with three of her sons gone. Let her find what happiness she could with the king. Ahmose would not be shaken.

She bent to Hatshepsut, pulled her close and kissed both her fat cheeks, then kissed them again. This prince was Ahmose’s happiness. This child was the center of the spreading rings on the river’s surface. And today, Ahmose would set her adrift on the Nile to see the world she would rule. The temples, the ancient pyramids against the setting sun, the priests and the people, bent backs in the fields, songs in the sanctuaries. All of these would be hers. And when they reached Annu, far, far to the north, the prince that was not a prince would be crowned.

“
Be good. Listen to your father,” Ahmose said. “It is maat, to listen to your father.”

Hatshepsut smiled, nodded, patted Ahmose’s hand.
Brave, dear thing
. Sitre-In cried, blowing her nose into a square of linen. Hatshepsut went to her, too, and allowed herself to be kissed and cooed over. “I will miss you, mawat,” she said, and Sitre-In redoubled her sobs.

Tut came to Ahmose hesitantly. His eyes were clouded with regret. She took his face in her hands, and kissed him. “I forgive you,” she whispered. “And the gods forgive you.”

“
Can I forgive myself?”

She stroked his cheek in answer, feeling the planes of his beloved face. He would, some day. She knew it. He was making the right choice now. The sun was rising on a new world. This was a new start for all of them.

“
You’ve found an architect?” he asked, his voice hollowed by grief.

Ahmose nodded, smiling. She’d found an architect with clever hands, with a soft voice, with shy, dark eyes. She had sent all the way to Swenet for him, where he’d been overseeing the building of some great noble’s estate, but he’d returned to Waset eagerly when she summoned him. He would build a beautiful temple for the boys’ memory, and she would fill his treasury full to bursting in gratitude for all he’d done.

She smiled at the Pharaoh, though Ahmose felt little enough of the happiness she put on her face. Wadjmose’s body was gone, pulled beneath the waters in Sobek’s jaws. No temple, no matter how beautiful, how cleverly designed, no matter how heartfelt its construction, would be enough to see Wadjmose to the afterlife. She knew it, and her heart would bleed every day of her life for the knowing. Yet she could never speak these words to Tut. She would watch over the construction of the Temple of Wadjmose, and every year at the Feast of Wag she would lay out food and drink in her nephew’s chapel, though his spirit would never come back to claim her gifts. For Tut and Mutnofret she would do this, though her heart would bleed.

“
Take good care of our daughter,” Ahmose said, her hands still on his face, unwilling to let him go.

“
I will. Most certainly, I will.” He glanced at baby Thutmose, suckling at Mutnofret’s breast. His eyes flickered away again.

“
The baby will be safe. We will all be safe.”

Hatshepsut took the Pharaoh’s hand, pulled him toward the boat that bobbed on the waves below the water steps. “Come, father,” she said, impatient as always.