Sphinx's Queen (23 page)

Probably the maids, back with those dresses
, I thought.
I hope they didn’t mangle them too much, even if Sitamun does have plenty of others
. “One of you bring more lamps!” I called out without a glance at the entryway to my rooms. “I want to see if you did a good job.”

“There is only one of me,” Henenu replied. “And I think you’ll discover I’ve done an
excellent
job indeed.”

Nava was faster than I. She rushed across the room to embrace our friend and teacher, the dwarf scribe. I had to hug the two of them together. The joy of our reunion brought more light into my rooms than a hundred lamps.

“So you
are
real, my dearest girls,” Henenu said, his broad face one big smile. “May Amun be thanked, I didn’t believe I’d see either one of you again until it was my time to travel to the next world. Can you see me trying to give you two your writing lessons in the Field of Reeds?”

“You couldn’t do that,” Nava said. “I won’t go there.”

“Hmm. Well, yes. You’re so skilled at reading and writing our language that it’s easy to forget you’re not one of us. Nefertiti is a very good student, but if you continue your studies, I think you could follow in my footsteps and become a royal scribe. That would make me very proud.”

“I’d like that, too,” Nava said. She kissed his cheek. “Are you hungry?”

“What a good girl,” the scribe said. “Why, yes, I am. How thoughtful of you.”

“Good, because so am I. Nefertiti, can I go to the kitchens and bring something back?”

“I don’t know what you’ll find there at this hour,” I said. “Except the maids, probably. But, yes, go. I’ll just sit here with Henenu and be embarrassed that you’re a better host than I.”

“I wouldn’t be if I wasn’t hungry,” Nava said, and ran off.

“What a good child,” Henenu said, glancing after her. “And a fortunate one as well. The gods must favor her. She always seems to do the right thing.”

“If that’s meant to chide me for not having offered you refreshments—”

“Oh, no, not at all! I meant that if she hadn’t suggested fetching us something to eat, I would have had to come up with an excuse for getting her out of here so that you and I could speak privately.”

My brows drew together. “What do we need to talk about? I’m glad to see you again, Henenu, but what are you doing here at this time of night?” I asked.

“As I said, privacy. This is the only time I knew I could visit you without two unwanted pairs of eyes and ears present to spy on us, or two sets of rather clumsy feet ready to go bearing tales to the queen. Luckily I have the word of
another
lovely student of mine that your maids are busy elsewhere. I would have come earlier”—he gave me a sly look—“but that same young lady also told me someone else would be here, and I didn’t want to intrude.” He patted my hand. “I’m very happy for you and Amenophis, my dear, and I hope to be happier yet. May Ma’at steal the voice of that treacherous priest and truly speak tomorrow.”

“Treacherous?” My stomach knotted. “Henenu, what are you talking about?”

“Tomorrow, when you stand before the goddess in the Palace of Ma’at and make your plea, the goddess will speak to—”

“I know that. Amenophis told me what to expect, so I wouldn’t be startled when I hear her voice. I know it’s only one of her priests talking through her hollow image. Henenu, how do they decide what the goddess will say?”

“Most of the time, the priests do all they can to learn the facts behind the cases brought to the goddess’s house. They send trusted men to ask questions, to investigate everything they can discover about the person who comes into Ma’at’s presence for judgment, and then they do their best to reach a fair ruling.”

“Then I have no worries about tomorrow. What a relief! I can’t wait to tell Nava. She’s spent all day trying to ease my spirit. When the priest speaks—”

“A priest who wants Pharaoh’s favor, Nefertiti.”

“Even better!” I saw his grim expression, but it made no sense to me. Why look so gloomy in the face of so much good news? I blithely ignored it. “Pharaoh likes me; he knows I’m guiltless. The only reason he’s putting me through this trial tomorrow is because Thutmose gave him no choice. If the priest of Ma’at wants to please Pharaoh, the goddess will free me before I finish taking my oath!”

“Not if the pharaoh he wants to please is the pharaoh to come.”

Henenu plunged a needle into my heart. My whole body felt suddenly numb. “It can’t be. Ma’at’s priests serve in the house of truth! How could Thutmose corrupt them?” I cried out in betrayal and anguish, but I already knew the answer: The gods were not the same as the servants who spoke for them. Thutmose already had the powerful priests of Amun on his side. They’d helped him engineer my false conviction, because they looked forward to the day he’d rule the Black Land. Then he would remember how well they’d served him and reward them for it. Were the priests of Ma’at no better? Would they sell the voice of truth itself if it meant riches and other royal benefits would come to them in the future?

“So I’m about to put my life in a scale weighed down by lies.” I stared into Henenu’s eyes. “Does Amenophis know?”

“The royal family has always known, as have some of us who are easily overlooked when loose tongues wag.” Henenu dropped his voice in shame. “Only the common people are kept ignorant. The temples that use special statues of the gods—statues that can be made to move and talk—have the most hope of influencing the people. Sometimes they share this power with the pharaohs, when it benefits them both. There are times when the love and reverence the people have for their ruler aren’t enough to keep them docile and obedient: times when crops fail, when the sacred river doesn’t rise properly, when there’s plague in the land, when taxes grow heavy. At those times, when angry mutterings begin to rise against the god-on-earth, the voices of the other gods are used to proclaim terrifying threats against any who aren’t entirely loyal and devoted to Pharaoh. They ignore the people’s justified complaints and silence them by filling their hearts with awe and dread.” He smiled at me sadly. “Have you never noticed how much easier it is to control a man who’s always afraid?”

I clenched my hands. Lies! So many lies, and in the house of truth! Did no one else feel as sick at heart as I did, knowing this? “Why do we let such abuses go on, Henenu?” I cried. “Why do we build so many shrines to so many gods if every one of them is just another storehouse for hollow images and falsehood? Too many of their servants act like rival packs of mongrel dogs, fighting over scraps in the street. And why didn’t Amenophis tell me the whole story when he came to prepare me for Ma’at’s voice? Why has he lied to me, too?”

“Sweet girl, he loves you.” The scribe’s words were placating and sympathetic. “You told me he wanted you to be brave. How would you be able to face tomorrow if he’d told you that your fate was already decided?”

“You
didn’t have any problem telling me about it,” I said bitterly.

“I see you through clearer eyes than he does, Nefertiti,” Henenu said. “He can’t look at you without wanting to build strong walls around you to keep the dangers and ugliness of the world away from you. He loves you because you’re a strong young woman, not a delicate little flower petal, but he still wants to cup your life in the palms of his hands. Haven’t
you
ever wanted to shield someone you love?”

I had to say yes. Ma’at knew it was so; Ma’at, the
real
voice of truth in my heart, and not in the trickery-haunted shadows of some self-serving temple. “I think I’d do the same for him if he stood in my place tomorrow,” I said.

“You know that’s not all he’s prepared to do, if his brother has his way with Ma’at’s verdict,” Henenu said, resolute. “You have many friends, Nefertiti. We will not let you suffer for crimes you didn’t commit. You escaped from an unjust verdict once before; we’ll help you do so again. We’ll spirit you out of the Black Land altogether. You and Amenophis can make a new life for yourselves. Sitamun and I will see to it that her brother leaves Thebes with treasures worthy of a prince. I’ll go back to Akhmin and arrange for your whole family to follow you wherever you decide to go, whether south to Nubia or north to the kingdoms of the Mitanni, to the great trade city of Byblos, to the lands of the Canaanites—”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated. “Well, you could also travel to Punt, if you’d rather—”

“No, Henenu, don’t give me any more choices like that. I’ve made one of my own: I will not run away again. My innocence is true, whether or not the priests of Ma’at have sold themselves to Thutmose, and I will defend it. If the voice of the goddess proclaims me guilty, I will reveal that there is an even greater sacrilege taking place in the house of Ma’at herself.”

“My dear, what good will that do? You’ll be silenced where you stand.”

“Then I won’t stand still. I’ll run into the temple. I’ll push the hollow goddess from her pedestal, and if I don’t have the strength to do that, then I’ll find the hiding place of the priest who filled Ma’at’s mouth with lies and I’ll drag him out of there, into the light. Let the shining face of Aten destroy the shadows that hid him!”

My voice rose and I was breathing hard, but I couldn’t help myself. If someone overheard me, so be it. I was already condemned. What else did I have to fear? I realized that all my bold intentions for storming Ma’at’s shrine were as empty as the goddess’s image; I’d be seized by guardsmen before I could fulfill a single one. Still, I wouldn’t accept my unjust fate without a battle. Thutmose’s wicked plans might pull me down, but I would never bow my head to them. I would never surrender.

“Nefertiti, calm yourself, I beg you.” Henenu’s sturdy, capable hands held mine firmly. “Such fierceness. When did my little Seshat become the lion-headed Sekhmet, ravenous for blood and war?”

“No blood, Henenu,” I said. “No blood and no war: justice. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Since I won’t get it tomorrow, will you at least give me something else?”

“I already have something that I—”

“Give me your word,” I said, interrupting whatever he was trying to say. “Make me a solemn promise that after tomorrow, you’ll bring Nava to my family in Akhmin. Amenophis would take care of her, but I don’t want her to stay here. This place will hold too many bad memories for her.” Another thought struck me. “Oh! But Akhmin will hold worse ones. Henenu, you have to help me find another place for Nava to go, somewhere she’ll feel safe at last, loved, somewhere she’ll find a new family to cherish her.”

“I can’t agree to do that for you, Nefertiti.” The scribe shifted his weight and took a small roll of papyrus from the leather case at his belt. He unrolled it so that the writing was plain for me to see by the oil lamps’ light and weighted down the ends with his hands. “She needs no new family. Her sister is alive.”

10
T
HE
V
OICE OF
M
A’AT

“She’s alive! She’s alive! Oh, Nava, your sister, Mahala, is alive!”

The instant that I heard Nava’s small feet cross the threshold to my rooms, I leaped up and rushed to greet her with the wondrous news. Henenu’s revelation had gone to my head like the strongest wine ever poured, dazzling and dimming my senses at the same time. All I wanted to do was dance and clap my hands and laugh out loud like a madwoman.

I was too ecstatic to realize what a shock I was giving to the little girl. She dropped the bowl of fruit she’d brought us and shook so hard I heard her teeth clatter in her head. All she could say was “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, until the words became a heartrending whimper that ended in a howl.

“Nava, please, no, I’m the one who’s sorry!” I cried, hugging her. “Don’t cry, I beg you! This isn’t the time for tears. I’m telling you the truth. Mahala is alive. Listen, listen, let Henenu tell you. It’s not a dream.”

The dwarf got to his feet and walked slowly to where I was frantically trying to undo the harm I’d done with my unthinking eagerness. He bent over and picked up a handful of the sweet, spicy fruit of the doum palm from the shards of Nava’s bowl. “If this
were
a dream, child, no one would be able to make me share these delicious treats with you.” He pressed them into her trembling hand. “Here. I don’t need them. What I have to tell you fills my mouth with honey every time I repeat it. But you must stop crying. Your tears are too salty and the doum fruit will taste bad.”