Sphinx's Queen (22 page)

“That’s not why we worship the One. Nefertiti, you shouldn’t talk about your gods that way.”

“Don’t worry, little one. I don’t think they’ll punish me for saying such things. If the gods were as petty and vengeful as some of their priests, they’d have wiped us from the earth long ago. I fear the gods—I mean that I revere them—but I’m not afraid of them.”

Nava shook her head a second time. “Not the gods—their priests. Like the one who—who—” Tears began to trickle from her eyes. The old, brutal, pitiless pain of her sister’s death was back, tormenting her tender heart. She thrust her harp away so hard that it crashed to the ground and the wood split, the strings jangled. I tried to hold her, but she curled herself into a ball and rocked back and forth, mourning her loss anew.

I let her cry herself out until all she could manage were a few hoarse sobs, then silence.
Was it always this way?
I thought as I stroked her back and pulled her tousled hair away from her hot, tear-wet face.
Did the servants of the gods always serve their own desires first?

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t: Father often told me of the time when he and the grandfather I’d never known had served the patron god of Akhmin, Min himself. Father was filled with tales of how he and Grandfather and the other priests of Min had used the offerings to ease the lives of Akhmin’s poor, not to fatten themselves. I turned my thoughts to conversations I’d overheard between Father and my second mother, Mery. Whenever the town celebrated one of the great festivals, they were always open-handed with the sacrifices they brought to the gods’ altars, and it gave them pleasure to talk about those priests and priestesses who turned this bounty into charity.

“Did you see our new Amun priest today, Mery?”
Father’s words whispered in my head.
“He was personally overseeing the distribution of grain from the temple storehouse to the widows of the city.”

“I wish they were all like that, Ay.”
The memory of Mery’s gentle voice brought tears of homesickness to my eyes.

“I think most of them are, my beloved. I think that the virtuous, honest priests and priestesses outnumber the corrupt servants of the gods. It’s just that we tend to
notice
wrongdoing more than goodness
.

“I suppose that’s for the best,”
Mery replied.
“If we notice it, we can put an end to it.”

Father’s sigh was a wisp of smoke.
“We can … if we have the strength to do it.”

I sat cross-legged and pulled Nava into my lap. Sometimes she seemed like a wise old woman in a child’s body, but at moments like this, she was as fragile and defenseless as an infant. I would never know how old she was. She’d been born a slave, and some households didn’t bother noting the ages of their human property except as
too young to earn her keep yet
or
ready to breed more children for us
or
too old to bring a good price if we sell her
. Her age didn’t matter to me, only that she was in need of someone to shield her from harm.

What will become of her if tomorrow goes badly for me?
I thought. My heart beat faster.
At least a slave has a master who wants to protect his valuable property—to feed and clothe and shelter what belongs to him. But if I’m gone, Nava will have nothing and no one. Amenophis! I have to write a letter to Amenophis, telling him to take care of her. It mustn’t wait!

“Nava, dear, there’s something important I need to do right away. You have to help me. Can you get up?” I murmured to her.

She lifted her chin, wiping her nose on the back of one hand. “Yes. I’m all right now. I’m sorry I cried.” She stood up and I did the same. “What do you need?”

“Papyrus and a scribe’s kit. Do you remember where I put mine? Is it still in these rooms?”

“I think you had it with you when the bad prince locked you away,” Nava said.

I slapped my brow with one hand. Of course! How could I forget the night when I’d used my stone palette to save myself from the poisonous serpent Thutmose had sent to kill me? I’d never look at a scribe’s gear the same way again.

“Well, when you bring me the papyrus, see if you can borrow a kit, too. I need to write a letter.”

“Who are you writing to?”

“Amenophis.”

“Oh.” Nava gave me a penetrating look. “Is it a
love
letter?”

“Why should you care about that, you nosy kitten?” I told her lightly. “Do you want to help me, or do you want to spend the rest of the evening asking me questions that are none of your business?”

“I’ll help,” Nava said. “But I don’t know how you’re going to see that he
gets
the letter. I’ll bet the queen has him tied up like a dog somewhere, with a whole
army
of guards around him.”

“Or”—a familiar, plain, much-loved face showed itself in the archway leading to my courtyard—“or she could have made the grave mistake of assigning the two greediest men in the palace to watch over me.”

“Amenophis!”
I was in his arms so fast that I slammed him against the frame.

“Shhh, not so loud, dear one,” he said, kissing my brow. “Some of the palace guards are greedy and some are gullible, but none of them are deaf.”

“Come with me,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him into my rooms. I had kindled one oil lamp at sunset, and now I asked Nava to light more. There weren’t enough chairs for the three of us, so we knelt together on the ground, as we’d done so many other nights on the road. How good it was to see his face again! I cupped his cheek in my hand and sighed happily. “You’re so handsome.”

He laughed. “And you are very brave to say such lies when you’re about to appear before Ma’at in the morning.”

“If it’s a lie, Ma’at will read it in my heart, and if Ma’at can read my heart, she’ll know that it’s not a lie.” I kissed him softly. “I’m glad you’re here. What did you use to bribe your guards? It must have been an incredible amount for them to risk the punishment Aunt Tiye will give them if you’re caught out of your apartments.”

“That’s between the guards and my liberator—my
temporary
liberator. I had nothing to do with it. My jailers are busy performing a ‘very important’ task for a royal princess who somehow couldn’t manage to find one other soul in all the palace to do it for her. She’s a very righteous young woman, that princess, and
deeply
scandalized by how my behavior has offended our exalted mother. So not only were my guards richly rewarded for serving Pharaoh’s daughter, but they also know their miserable prisoner won’t stray in their absence, not when his own sister is keeping a stern, disapproving eye on him.”

I gasped in admiration. “Sitamun! Was she always so shrewd?”

“She’s our mother’s daughter.” He shrugged. “I think it’s something in the blood. It almost makes me afraid to imagine what our daughters will be like, Nefertiti.”

Our daughters …
I pressed my hand to my mouth. I didn’t know whether to laugh for joy or weep, because the idea of being Amenophis’s wife and the mother of his children seemed like such an impossible dream.

No! No, it will
not
be impossible!
Fierce, defiant thoughts flared like falling stars through my mind, my heart, my spirit.
There has to be a way for this to happen. We love one another, and we’ve gone through so much, survived so many dangers. Oh, Amenophis! When I first met you, you were such a gawky, timid boy! You could hardly say a word without stammering. Now look at you: brave enough to be my defender, to stand up to your brother, to defy your mother! And what about me? I remember when I was the shy girl who only wanted to be left alone with my music, my dance, my pens. We’ve changed. We’ve helped each other become brave. We’re warriors, you and I, and the battle isn’t over. Amenophis, we will win it, together
.

Little Nava tapped my arm, bringing me back to the moment. “Why are you so quiet?” she asked. “Don’t you
want
daughters?”

I lowered my hand and clasped hers. “Of course I do. They’ll be the luckiest girls in Thebes. Do you know why?” The Habiru child shook her head. “Because they’ll
have
you for their music teacher.”

“Me?” Nava’s face shone brighter than the flickering light of the oil lamps.

“No one else. Will you do that for us, little one? Live in our home and teach our children how to play the harp and sing?”

“I broke my harp.”

“We’ll get you another one, then. And your own room, and new clothes, and—”

“Nefertiti …” Amenophis’s solemn voice cut the thread of happy dreams I was spinning. “Beloved, we must speak about tomorrow before we talk about anything further in the future. We don’t have much time. I have to get back to my quarters—”

“And my maids will be trailing back here
some
time tonight,” I concluded. “But what’s there to say about tomorrow? I’ll be ready early, I’ll dress my best—to show honor to the goddess—and I’ll speak the truth. But what happens after that?”

“After that … Ma’at herself will speak.”

Something in Amenophis’s tone put me on edge. “How will that be done? Will the priests cast stones, or bones, or papyrus stems?” All these were things I’d seen done in the temples of Akhmin, methods that priests and priestesses used to divine the will of the gods. I’d also seen such things done in the marketplace by magicians, or common fortunetellers. One temple was famous for the accuracy with which their priests could read what the gods had planned for the future from the patterns made by tossing a handful of black beans onto a white cloth. Another claimed that all the secrets of life and death were visible in a few drops of oil scattered on the surface of a bowl of water. The gods had always had many ways to let their worshippers know their rulings. “Which will it be?”

“None of those,” Amenophis said. “I told you: The goddess will
speak
. Her priests say that Ma’at’s own voice will come out of her house for all to hear.”

I was awestruck. “I’ve heard that there are temples where the gods do speak directly to the people, but I never dreamed the Palace of Ma’at held such a wonder.” Then I noticed the odd look he was giving me and I had to laugh. “Oh, Amenophis, do you think I’m
that
gullible? I know it can’t be the
real
voice of the goddess. It’s likely going to be one of her servants, but the effect must be astounding.”

“It is. Ma’at’s will is heard through her largest image, the one that stands just within the main temple chamber. I have been present a number of times when she’s ‘spoken,’ and I’ve seen how the accused react when that voice booms out of the sanctuary. That’s why I came. I wanted to forewarn you so that when you heard Ma’at’s voice, you wouldn’t be frightened. I want Mother and Father and everyone who’s there to witness your trial to be able to say that you heard the goddess speak and were unafraid. People remember such things; they make an impression.”

“Why do I have to impress anyone?”

“Because it will look better. After it’s all over, you don’t want anyone to be able to say ‘Did you
see
how high Nefertiti jumped when the goddess said that she’d told the truth about her innocence? It was as if the girl didn’t expect to have her name cleared. Maybe she’s not guilty of those crimes, but could she be up to some other mischief? Oh, she’ll bear watching, that one!’ ”

I laughed. “Is that how you believe people think?”

“That’s how I
know
they think in the palace. I want you to be found guiltless once and for all. I want you to be free to live your life again, without having to watch every step or dodge gossip.”

I crossed my hands in my lap and looked down at them. “I wish I was free, Amenophis, completely free. If I was, the first thing I’d do would be to leave this palace, leave Thebes, and go back to Akhmin—”

“Nefertiti!”

“With you.” I took his hand in one of mine. “Both of you.” I took Nava’s hand with the other.

“At least you’d be able to do that much.” He nodded at Nava and drew his hand out of my grasp. There was such yearning in his eyes. “How can we ever be together? My mother doesn’t like having her plans spoiled. She’ll spend the rest of her life spoiling yours—ours.”

“There must be a way,” I said. “I’ll find it. I won’t give up until I do. Sitamun’s smart; she can help me. Amenophis, we
will
be together.” I grabbed his hand a second time and squeezed it so hard he winced.

“Maybe you can make your mother so mad at you that she’ll tell you to go away forever,” Nava said. “Or maybe you’ll save her life from something scary, like a cobra or a lion, and after that she’ll be so grateful, she’ll let you do anything you want. Or maybe Pharaoh will have bad dreams, and you’ll be the only one who can tell him what they mean, and he’ll let you marry Nefertiti as your reward. Or maybe—”

Amenophis chuckled. “One thing at a time, little bird. Right now the only reward I want is to see Nefertiti standing brave and beautiful before Ma’at’s shrine when the goddess declares her hands are clean, her name is stainless, and her heart is light as the Feather of Truth.”

“That too,” said Nava, looking so serious it was funny.

He had to leave soon after that. We stole a kiss when Nava wasn’t looking, then another when she was. She squeaked and covered her eyes, which let us have a third kiss before Amenophis said good night and left us.

“I don’t understand why you do that,” Nava said.

“You don’t have to,” I replied. “But you
do
have to help me pick out the dress I’ll wear tomorrow. If I’m going to hear the voice of a goddess, I want to look my best.”

We laid out all of my nicest gowns on the bed along with the finest necklaces, bracelets, and earrings I owned. I might never become a princess, but Aunt Tiye had seen to it that I’d look like one, back in the days when she thought I might still marry Thutmose. Nava and I were busy debating which necklace looked better with which dress when we heard heavy footsteps in the courtyard.