Sphinx's Queen (18 page)

“Then take Ta-Miu out and carry her in your arms,” I said. “Holding a sacred cat will serve to make you look even more regal.”

“Regal, scratched, and bleeding.” He was enjoying himself. “But are you sure you want me to bother? Look, there’s the main gateway to Hathor’s temple. We’re here!”

I made him wait a little longer before we approached our final goal. I wanted to inspect him, to be sure that we’d done everything we could to make him look like the prince he was. Aside from his frayed clothing, he had the bearing and presence of a prince. We were as ready as we were ever going to be.

We broke through the crowd massed before the temple gateway and marched in single file up to the men stationed there. By the looks of them, they were young priests, not soldiers, which gave me hope and puzzled me at the same time.
They aren’t Thutmose’s men! If he still wanted to keep us from seeing Pharaoh, this is exactly where he’d put them. Has he given up? Has he decided we are no longer a threat?

I shook my head. That seemed unlikely. Thutmose saw
everyone
as a threat.
Pharaoh gave his older son the authority to rule Karnak, to uphold the balance of Ma’at, but we’re here to tell him that the prince used his power to
twist
justice, not to preserve it. Once I testify, once I show Pharaoh that Ta-Miu lives, it will prove that Thutmose isn’t fit to rule the Black Land, now or ever. And then what will he have left? It will be the end of everything for him
.

I stood in Amenophis’s shadow as he approached one of the priestly doorkeepers, drew himself up even taller, and looked down his long nose as haughtily as he could without bursting into self-mocking laughter. He was so effective at playing the part of someone with every right to enter the temple gates that the young priest began to bow to him at once, without bothering to take in the ragged, ill-fitting clothes or the wear and tear and grime of travel. I should have been happy, but all I could do was ask myself again and again,
Why is Thutmose letting us get so close to Pharaoh? Why isn’t he trying to stop us anymore?

Those questions were still echoing in my head when the young priest stepped to one side and motioned for us to enter the gateway. I could see the respectful, almost fearful look he fixed on Amenophis as he walked by without deigning to give the “lowly” doorkeeper even a passing glance. I, too, transformed myself into the superhumanly dignified “goddess” I’d played to save Samut’s son and glided after Amenophis as gracefully and haughtily as I could. Nava came last, carrying Ta-Miu. I couldn’t look behind me to check if the child was acting with the dignity of a prince’s servant, but there was no need to be concerned: The cat had enough poise for them both.

Across the temple threshold, we found ourselves in a great courtyard where a smaller, more exclusive crowd stood in rapt attendance as a group of young women performed an intricate dance for the goddess. The jangle of sistrums blended with the singing of hymns to the goddess of love, motherhood, and joy. Hathor’s statue gazed down at the dancers with her alluring, secret smile. A gold sun-disk was framed by the curving cow horns crowning her head, and the space between her feet was heaped with fragrant blue lotus blossoms. Trails of incense rose from burners surrounding her gorgeously carved image. It was all so entrancing, I nearly forgot to breathe.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A harsh voice broke the goddess’s spell. We saw a blustering, double-chinned man come bearing down on the young priest who’d let us in. His clothing was a richer version of the doorkeepers’ priestly garb. “Where do you think this is, your father’s butcher shop? Is that why you let every stray cur in Dendera come in?”

“Lord, my father didn’t have a—” the young priest began.

The older servant of Hathor didn’t let him finish. A sharp slap ended his protests before he turned on us. “Get out of here, you chaff,” he barked. “Leave before the righteous anger of Hathor destroys you for daring to set your filthy feet inside her holy house!”

“Watch what you’re saying, Djau,” Amenophis said slowly. “My father was not pleased with the last reports he heard about you. You are a priest of Hathor only because this was your father’s position, and he was a good man, but more than one of your fellow priests has complained that you spend more time worshipping your belly than your goddess.”

I don’t know if my eyes went wider than the priest’s or the other way around. Both of us were goggling at Amenophis, but it was Djau who asked the question foremost in my mind: “How—how do you know my name? How do you know so much about me, about the reports—the
lies
—my enemies have sent to Pharaoh?”

“Those reports came before Pharaoh’s eyes in the royal palace at Thebes, and he saw fit to speak about them with his counselors. But the descriptions of your greed and gluttony were described so amusingly that he decided to share them with his family as well.”

Djau looked ready to shatter. “In Hathor’s name,
who are you?”

Amenophis’s heavy lips turned up in a lazy smile that was frighteningly like his brother’s. “If you were half as wise as your father, you wouldn’t need to ask that. Didn’t you just hear me speak of my father? Who else can I be but Pharaoh’s son?”

“Pharaoh’s … son?” Djau’s chins trembled. He looked as if he was debating whether to run away. “But that—that can’t be.” He looked Amenophis up and down and back up again. “It can’t,” he finished lamely.

“Can’t?” The lazy smile vanished. Amenophis became a lion ready to destroy his prey. “Why not? Because of how I look to your ignorant eyes? If you had ever gone even
half
a day’s journey away from the feasting table, you would understand why I look like this! If you used the brains in your head instead of just the tongue and teeth, you would ask yourself, ‘What possible cause would be so vital that Pharaoh’s son leaves the safety and comfort of his palace and faces the hazards of travel?’ I call on all of the gods to witness my words: I have come to Dendera for nothing less than a matter of life and death, an unholy violation of Ma’at’s sacred truth!
Now take me to my father!”

“Y-yes, my prince.” The priest held up his hands and bowed stiffly. “This—this way.” He tottered off and we followed. The eyes of every worshipper in the courtyard were turned away from the goddess and fixed on us as we crossed the open space and entered the shaded passageways beyond.

As soon as we’d left the courtyard behind us, Amenophis fell back a few paces to walk beside me. “Well, how was that?” he whispered with a wink and a self-satisfied smile.

“Not bad. You convinced
that
one.” I nodded to where the plump-faced priest was hurrying along as though starving hyenas were on his tail. “I’ll make a real prince of you yet,” I teased.

“And with Hathor’s blessing, I’ll make a real princess of—” Amenophis didn’t get to finish what he was saying. There was no need: We both knew what the next word out of his mouth would be. My heart fluttered and I blushed, but the sweet joy of that moment lasted only for a breath before it was snatched away from me.

We had come to an inner chamber of the temple where light streamed down from high, narrow windows, bathing the colossal image of Hathor in radiance. I counted at least six priests in attendance, some singing the praises of the goddess, some perfuming the air of her sanctuary, some chanting prayers. At her feet was a heap of treasure—alabaster vessels, intricately painted wooden caskets overflowing with gold and silver jewelry, boxes fragrant with precious incense, bales of leopard pelts to clothe the goddess and her servants. To one side of these kingly offerings stood Pharaoh Amenhotep himself, his hands raised in an attitude of worship. Beside him stood his favorite queen and Great Royal Wife, my aunt Tiye.

But to the other side of the pharaoh’s sacrifice stood Thutmose, with a leering, knowing smile on his face that turned my blood to water.

“Welcome back, Nefertiti.”

8
T
WISTING THE
F
EATHER

The priests fell into uneasy silence as Thutmose crossed the space between us in three strides. His eerie, disturbing smile remained as unchanging as a statue’s except for the moment when his gaze fell on Ta-Miu. I was holding the cat to my chest, and when he closed in on us, I automatically turned my back to protect her from being snatched out of my arms. To my surprise, Thutmose made no move to reclaim his beloved pet, though I did see a fleeting instant of longing in his eyes when he looked at her. His right hand also seemed to move as if it had a will of its own, slowly reaching out to stroke the cat’s silky fur.

With the swiftness of a sword’s slash, the moment was over. Thutmose jerked back his hand, recovered his cool, mocking attitude, and acted as if the cat weren’t there.

“Hathor’s power is great,” he said, tasting every syllable as if it contained a hidden core of honey. “I came to Dendera in order to tell my father and my lord face to face about your crimes, Nefertiti. It was a great burden to me, beloved. You were my promised wife, the beloved niece of my noble mother, Queen Tiye, Great Royal Wife of—”

“Enough, Thutmose,” I declared, making my voice fill every corner of the chamber. “No more lies, not here, not in the goddess’s own house!” I turned quickly to place Ta-Miu in Nava’s arms, then walked past Thutmose to bow before Pharaoh himself. “Mighty lord, wise king, god-on-earth, hear me,” I said. “I have much to tell you if you will only give me permission to speak.” I bowed low to him and waited.

“Stand, Nefertiti,” he said. It was a gracious invitation rather than a royal command. “Stand up so that I can see you. It’s been too long since these eyes have enjoyed the sight of so much beauty. Say anything you wish to me, only please, don’t be so formal and worshipful. Coming from you, my dear, it makes me feel much too old, too close to my … elevation. The stars can wait. I’m still just a god-on-
earth
, you know, and I’d like it to stay that way for a long time to come.”

I obeyed, feeling a new stirring of hope when I heard the warmth in his words. Pharaoh Amenhotep was a great lover of beauty, especially beautiful women, and he had many wives and companions besides Aunt Tiye. They, in turn, were the mothers of many children, any one of whom might be named heir to the throne if Pharaoh willed it. That was one reason Aunt Tiye decided I had to be Thutmose’s bride: She knew her husband’s tastes and guessed correctly that if the prince had a wife whose looks could win his father’s favor, Thutmose’s place as Amenhotep’s successor would be assured.

“I rejoice to see you looking strong and well, my lord,” I said, and I meant it with all my heart. Pharaoh had always been kind to me; I had no quarrel with him.

“And I am happy to see you looking so …” His voice trailed off. A perplexed expression twisted his features as he took his first really close look at me. I must have been quite a sight: borrowed, ill-fitting clothes, travel-battered feet, hair that hadn’t been near a comb for many days, face that still showed a few stubborn specks of red paint from my goddess disguise. “Er, so you’re
feeling
well?” he concluded lamely.

I inclined my head slightly. “My lord Pharaoh, you honor me with your concern. I am well, but what good does it do me to be healthy when I’m condemned to die on a false charge of blasphemy?”

“What?”
He spun to confront his older son. “What is the meaning of this?”

Thutmose held his ground. “Father, I keep no secrets from you. You heard what I said just now: I came here to tell you everything about this unhappy business, but I haven’t had the proper chance to do it. Hathor’s powers have restored your health; I would die before I’d interrupt your thanksgiving offerings to her with such wretched news. I know the tenderness of your heart and how this girl took advantage of your goodness. I didn’t want you to hear about her treachery from a mere messenger. But now …” And he began to recount his own version of my alleged crime and of his brother’s treachery in helping me escape from “justice.”