Sphinx's Queen (38 page)

For seventy days, the palace waited while Thutmose lay in the House of Beauty, the place where the priests and embalmers would prepare and preserve his body to last for eternity. Beyond the walls, in the workshops of many artists and artisans, there was a great surge of activity as many hands worked to create and assemble all of the possessions the dead prince would be taking with him into the afterlife. Coffins were being carved and painted; boxes were being filled with tools, clothes, and jewelry; and the goldsmiths labored to provide the shining mask that would cover Thutmose’s face.

I didn’t want to think about any part of what was unfolding around me. When the first shock of the news struck, I threw back my head and cried aloud with grief. Thutmose had begun as my foe, but that day I had lost a friend.

Amenophis held me, and Mahala and Nava linked their arms with his to form a circle of consolation around me. Even timid little Teti dared to join us. Amenophis’s tears mingled with mine, but at last we had no more to shed. I was the first to break the embrace and turn back to my rooms.

“Where are you going, Nefertiti?” he called after me.

“To dress,” I answered. “And then to the queen’s apartments. My aunt has lost her firstborn son.”

Just as I had gone to visit Thutmose every morning, now I arose each day and went to sit with Aunt Tiye. She said nothing the first time I crossed her threshold, only staring at me with empty eyes. She didn’t bid me welcome, but she didn’t order me to get out of her sight, so I chose to approach the gilded chair where she sat flanked by six maidservants and attended by her four daughters. I knelt at her feet and pressed my face to the floor, reciting a prayer to Anubis, the god who guides the dead, then one to Osiris, asking his mercy when the time came to judge the heart of Thutmose. When I was done, I didn’t wait for her permission to stand. I understood that there would be no words between us this day.

Other days came, and I went to her apartments every morning. Sometimes all of her daughters were with her, sometimes a few, sometimes none. In time, on a morning when I was her only visitor, she spoke to me. I had just turned to one of her maids to ask if the queen had been eating enough to stay well when I heard Aunt Tiye’s hoarse voice behind me grumbling, “I can speak for myself.”

Her words echoed those I’d heard Thutmose speak on that last morning. When I burst into tears at the memory, she questioned me, cried with me, comforted me as I comforted her. From then on, her sorrowful silence was broken.

We spoke about many things during those seventy days of waiting. She shared stories of Thutmose’s childhood, her dreams for him, her regrets. At some point, she found the words to apologize to me for the heavy hand she’d tried to lay upon my future, and I found the heart to forgive her. She was no longer the scheming queen, using me like a pawn in a game of Senet: She was only a mother who had lost her child.

“Thank you, dear one,” she said, hugging me. “I’m going to send for your family. You haven’t seen them in far too long. That’s my fault, too, and the letters—” She was weeping again.

“That’s past,” I told her. “Past and pardoned. I’ll see them soon, won’t I? That will make up for everything.”

Since Thutmose’s death, there were no longer any bars between Amenophis and me, yet we still spent most of our time apart. He had been called away to study the funeral rites he would have to perform for his brother. Everything had to be done perfectly to ensure that Thutmose’s spirit would reach Lord Osiris’s court in safety. The rituals at the tomb were only a part of that. There were many charms, spells, and incantations to be placed on the prince’s body. Above all, he needed to be buried with the Book of Going Forth by Day.

I had never seen a copy of the Book of Going Forth by Day, though like everyone else in the Black Land, I knew all about it. That sacred scroll described every step of the journey that awaited Thutmose’s spirit. There were many perils on the path to his rebirth in the afterlife, but the book provided all the knowledge he would need to triumph over them. Of all the things being made ready for Thutmose’s tomb, the book was the only one I could stand to imagine without tears.

On a morning halfway through the time of preparation, I entered Aunt Tiye’s apartments to find that she had a number of other callers. Princess Tabiri sat next to her, holding her rival’s hand and urging her to have one more sip of wine, one more nibble of bread. Henenu was also present. I hadn’t seen very much of my friend and teacher since the day I’d overseen his return to the palace. Now he was in deep conversation with my aunt over the piece of papyrus in his hands and didn’t notice me come in.

“—describe the collar you would like him to wear as he approaches Osiris?” I heard him say just before he glanced in my direction. “Nefertiti, how good to see you. Come and look at this.” He let me have a good look at the document he’d brought, a masterpiece of art. Even before I read a line of the writing on it, the parade of exquisitely painted gods told me I was looking at part of the Book of Going Forth by Day.

“This will be my son’s,” Aunt Tiye said, and this time it was Princess Tabiri who held her while she wept.

“Henenu?” I murmured, tapping him on the shoulder. “Henenu, can we speak privately?” I drew him aside and told him the idea that had come to me as I’d looked at the portion of Thutmose’s scroll.

He listened attentively, and when I finished, he said, “Come with me.”

He brought me to the room where many men bent their backs as they worked on long strips of papyrus, creating the scenes Thutmose’s spirit would encounter. Thutmose himself was there, accompanied by Anubis, led by Horus, kneeling in the presence of Osiris, awaiting the final balance to be struck between his heart and the Feather of Ma’at. Some of them were so intent on their work that they didn’t even look up to acknowledge my presence.

Henenu brought me a scribe’s kit, a worn piece of papyrus covered with clumsily scrawled lines. “Copy this text
here,”
he told me, setting down another piece that was adorned with fresh paintings.

I read the words before me: “ ‘I have risen, I have risen like the mighty hawk of gold … ’ ” I would copy these words and many, many others into the Book of Going Forth by Day that would accompany my friend into his tomb and beyond, to a life that would be as eternal as the stars. I said a prayer to Thoth and Seshat, She-Who-Writes, and began.

On the day before Prince Thutmose’s body emerged from the House of Beauty—wrapped in linen, guarded by countless amulets, masked with gold, sealed in many coffins—my family arrived from Akhmin. Because of Father’s rank and his relationship to Aunt Tiye, they were to be welcomed formally by Pharaoh himself in one of the finest audience chambers in the palace. I was brought into the room just as they were paying homage to the royal couple and their children. An attendant announced me, but before I could say anything to Father, Mother, or Bit-Bit, Aunt Tiye summoned me to her side on the low platform where her husband sat enthroned.

“The gods take much from us,” she said, smiling at me with genuine affection. “But they also give us many blessings. When I took Nefertiti from Akhmin, I hoped to see her married to my son.” She spread her arms to either side and took Amenophis and me by the hand. “When our time of mourning is over, I will see that hope fulfilled.” She placed our hands together, cradled between her own.

I looked at Amenophis; he was as stunned as I. Aunt Tiye squeezed our united hands and leaned close enough to whisper in my ear, “You have become a true daughter to me, Nefertiti. You shared my grief. I won’t forget it.” Then she turned to Father and called out, “Don’t fret, Ay. This marriage is
her
idea, too.”

I looked to my parents and sister. My second mother, Mery, had tears of joy in her eyes. Father looked bewildered and pleased at the same time. Only Bit-Bit’s face was unsmiling. Why was she glowering at me that way? In the midst of my happiness, I thought I heard the scorching winds of the Red Land bringing Set’s mocking laughter.

If Ma’at herself were to demand that I testify to everything that happened on the day of Thutmose’s funeral, I would have to bow my head before the goddess and confess that I could not. I remember the strident cries and lamentations of the professional mourners, women who tore their hair, beat their breasts, and knocked their heads against the ground as the procession escorting the prince’s body went through the streets of Thebes. I also recall how the coffin was placed on a canopied sled drawn by oxen and by a small army of the highest-born men in Pharaoh’s court. Father was among them, wearing the white sandals and headband of mourning.

Beyond that, I have only a blur of images as the sled was loaded onto a boat and ferried to the western shore, then carried on into the valley of the tombs. My head was a tangle of that day’s memories and those belonging to the time that Amenophis, Nava, and I had been fugitives in that same valley. While Amenophis and the priests performed the rituals that would let Thutmose begin his journey to Osiris, I saw apparitions of Samut and his little boy, of Kawit and her erring brother, even of Idu and his devious uncle.

As soon as the last of Thutmose’s belongings were placed in the tomb, masons sealed the entryway with stone, and priests sealed it with words of power. Several tents were set up nearby, each sheltering a royal feast. We were supposed to honor the dead by taking pleasure in the plentiful food and drink, but I was so exhausted that I might as well have eaten handfuls of flour.

All I wanted was the chance to speak with my family. That didn’t seem like much to ask for, yet from the day of their arrival until the day of Thutmose’s funeral, all of our meetings were brief, distracted, formal, or all of those together. As the recognized bride-to-be of Prince Amenophis, I was herded here and there like a prized cow. Oh, it was all done with perfect politeness by adept, tactful servants and officials, but it was still
herding
.

“How do you do it, Ta-Miu?” I said, gazing down at the little cat and her five babies. “How do you manage to go your own way and escape all the go-here-go-there-your-regal-presence-is-requested?”

Ta-Miu cocked her head at me as if considering a reply. Her basket was kept in the room where Nava and Mahala slept. If it had been placed in my bedchamber, Nava would have been in and out all night, doting over the kittens, and I never would have gotten any sleep. The cat had given birth in the middle of the time of waiting, and her kittens gave me stronger faith in the renewal of life than the chants of a hundred priests. At last, having reached a conclusion, Ta-Miu closed her eyes as the kittens nursed and purred expressively as if to say, “It’s your own fault for not having been born a cat!”

She was probably right. I’d just have to make the best of being who I was.

I hoped that with Thutmose’s funeral over, I’d be able to spend more time with those I loved, but I was wrong. Now the palace bustled with preparations for the magnificent banquet at which Amenophis and I would be presented as man and wife to all the most important people in the Two Lands. Because this was to be a royal event of the highest significance, countless details had to be arranged. In all the uproar, a foreign army could have invaded Thebes and no one would have noticed. In fact, I’d wager that the head cook and chief steward would have grabbed the soldiers and put them to work.

Nava and Mahala were seldom around. The master of the royal musicians had whisked them away to be part of the entertainment. They came back to my quarters very late every night, and it was making Nava cranky.

“Why does this stupid feast have to be so
complicated?”

“Because it’s the one event that tells everyone Amenophis and I are married,” I told her.

“We just have a ceremony. Mama told us about it, right, Mahala?” Nava asked. When her sister confirmed this, she went on: “It’s short and there’s wine and then it’s
over.”

“Yes, but that’s a ceremony for Habiru people,” I said, doing my best to humor a tired child. “We don’t have any wedding ceremonies except for this feast. I’m not Habiru.”

“You
should
be.”

“And Ta-Miu thinks I should be a cat.”

Nava nodded thoughtfully. “That would be good, too.”

Seven days before the banquet, I received a message from Aunt Tiye, inviting me to her apartments for a meal. When I arrived, I was overjoyed to find Father, Mother, and Bit-Bit there. Aunt Tiye beamed as I embraced my parents.

“It’s about time,” she stated. “Ay was making my life miserable. ‘Why bring us here to see our daughter if we never
get
to see our daughter?’ he said. Well, now here you are. See her all you like. I have banquet arrangements to supervise.” She swept out of the room gracefully, followed by all the servants.

We didn’t need them. A fine meal was spread out on several small tables. Within moments of Aunt Tiye’s departure, we were laughing and talking and taking deep pleasure in each other’s company just as if I had never left Akhmin.

Or perhaps that was only what I wanted to believe. The truth was, the longer I sat feasting and chattering with my family, the more a sense of
strangeness
seemed to creep over me. As I recounted all that I’d experienced since leaving home, Father and Mother reacted to my adventures with astonishment, sympathy, fear, praise, even scolding. They seized some parts of my story as opportunities to tell me what
they
would have done and others as moments to sternly order me never to do that again!

Bit-Bit stayed silent. Her face was stone, and the only time her lips moved was when she ate or drank. Even then, she avoided the delicacies laid out for us, taking only a few mouthfuls of bread and a few sips of beer. There was no sign that she was glad to see me again. What had happened to my loving little sister? My heart ached to know.

Father leaned back in his chair and patted his belly. “I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive Tiye for intercepting our letters for so long, but I will say this in her favor: She knows how to order good food.”