The Heretic Queen (27 page)

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Authors: Michelle Moran

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

BOOK: The Heretic Queen
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"We are not always our mother's daughters." Woserit read my mind. "Your aunt gave Pharaoh six healthy girls."

"Then I should hope to be more like the Heretic Queen?" I whispered.

"In this regard, yes."

I was silent for a moment, then asked, "And if I never become pregnant?"

"Why would you say such a thing?" Woserit shot Paser a look, and he said warningly, "Nefertari, a Chief Wife's duty is to give Pharaoh a son."

"My aunt never gave her husband a son!"

"But she gave him children," Woserit said sternly. "Six princesses to marry any prince. Ramesses married you for the children you will bring him."

"He married me for love!"

"And sons," Paser said. "Do not mistake him."

I stood from my chair. "And he would rather have a son than a wife?" I demanded.

There was silence in the chamber, and the crackle of the fire in the brazier seemed unnaturally loud. Paser gave a heavy sigh, and Woserit reached out to touch my hand. "No man ever thinks of childbirth as a choice between his children and his wife. Every husband hopes for both."

Woserit stood from her stool and wrapped me in her arms. "You are not fated to die in childbirth, Nefertari."

"How do you know?" I pulled back to look at her face.

"Instinct." She shrugged. "You are meant to have a very long reign.
If
you give Ramesses a prince. And
if
he makes you Chief Wife."

"And he would never make me Chief Wife without a son."

Woserit shook her head. "He cannot."

When I returned to my chamber, I went to the balcony and watched the moon drift behind thin wisps of cloud. Even though the wind was cool, there was still no dusty scent of rain in the air. No relief from the drought and the rising hunger. Already, there were reports of men stealing the food offerings from mortuary temples to feed their families. And when a group of these thieves had been brought before their elders, the old men had pardoned them with the belief that it is better to feed the living than the dead. But how long would it be before the gods grew angry, or even the wealthy began to starve and the people rebelled? Then, what would it matter if I was pregnant? Had I seven sons, the people would still blame me.

"You have had a very long day, my lady. You must eat something," Merit chided. Her squat body was framed by the doorway, and she held up the cooked perch for me to see. I left the balcony and she handed me the bowl, slamming the wooden doors shut behind us. "Standing out in the dark and the wind," she grumbled. "Don't you have any sense?"

"It's beautiful," I objected. "It's how Amun must have felt when he emerged from the dark waters at the beginning of time, when everything was possible."

"Was it possible for him to get sick as well? Because that's what you're about to do, my lady. Sit next to that fire."

I did as I was told, and Merit took a blanket from the wooden chest and draped it over my shoulders. "Did you know there's already talk about you in the palace?"

I lowered the bowl. "What kind of talk?"

"First, you must eat!" She crossed her arms over her chest, and when I'd taken a bite of perch to satisfy her, she smiled. "The kind you want," she revealed. "It was about the Audience Chamber. You must have done very well today. There was surprise in the palace that someone so young could command so many languages and deal so justly. I heard it in the baths, and in the kitchens as well."

I put down the bowl of fish. "But those are just servants."

Merit passed me a long look. "And what kind of gossip do you think the people trust? Gossip from the mouths of cooks, or courtiers?"

"Do you think it's possible to change the people's hearts?"

"It might be easier," she said quietly, "if the River Nile would overflow its banks."

I went to my mother's shrine and looked into the face of the feline goddess. In the firelight, it was impossible to see that she'd once been broken.

"Mut watches over you," Merit whispered. "But there is nothing she can do if your body is not strong!" She thrust the half-eaten perch at me again. "Eat!"

I looked over her shoulder and gasped with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Ramesses stood in the door. Merit inhaled so sharply at the sight of him that her pelican's pouch disappeared. "Your Highness!" She rushed across the room to get him a proper chair. I looked at Ramesses in his short kilt and bedroom sandals and repeated my question. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would come here tonight." He added sheepishly, "If you don't mind? Iset is going to sleep, and I want to be with you."

I could see that Merit was shocked, but she excused herself at once. I sat across from Ramesses at the brazier.

"Your first Audience Chamber, and all of Thebes is talking about you. You have a great talent, Nefer. And I was thinking that perhaps . . . although, of course, you don't have to . . . but I was hoping that you would look over the reports from Egypt's spies."

I hid my disappointment.
Was this why he had come to me?
"You don't trust the viziers' translations?" I asked quietly.

Ramesses shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Bribery is a strong temptation. How do I know what the viziers are giving me is accurate? Or that there isn't more to these reports they are missing or concealing? My court is full of spies."

"Among your
viziers?
They'd be jeopardizing their
ka
to lie to a Pharaoh," I said sternly.

"You can't see your
ka.
But you
can
see a chest full of Babylonian gold. I could work all day and still not finish reading what is sent to me. I must trust my viziers and their scribes. But the most important messages, from Hatti and Kadesh--I'd like you to read them."

This was an opportunity--a chance to make myself more valuable than Iset. "Of course." I smiled. "If you'd like, you can bring them every night."

CHAPTER TWELVE

A HUNGRY PEOPLE

THE ENTIRE COURT knew that it was Iset's time with Pharaoh, so when Ramesses arrived in the Audience Chamber with me on his arm, there was a stiffening of backs among the viziers. Iset wore a look of deep disgust, but it wasn't her sneer that caught my attention. It was the fact that there wasn't a single petitioner in the chamber.

"Where is everyone?" Ramesses questioned. As we reached the viziers' table, Paser rose.

"I have dismissed the petitioners for the day, Your Highness. There is something more important."

Ramesses looked to Vizier Anemro, who rose as well and began to wring his hands. "As you know, Your Highness, the Nile hasn't overflowed its banks in four years. The granaries in Aswan are already empty. And this morning . . ." He glanced uncertainly at Paser. "This morning, the scribes have told us that our Theban stores may only last until Pachons. Six months at the most."

"So little?" Ramesses exclaimed. "That isn't possible. My father said there was enough for another dry season!"

Paser shook his head. "That was before Your Highness's victory feast, and your marriage, and the extra rations of grain that the Theban people received for every celebration."

I saw the blood drain from Ramesses's face. "The scribes gave out extra rations of grain
every
time?"

Anemro swallowed. "It is the custom, Your Highness."

"And no one thought to stop this custom when the Nile has run low for four years?" he shouted. "Our season of overflow is nearly over. If the river doesn't overflow by next month, crops will fail. Come summer there will be famine within this city. And no one can predict how long it might continue. Or what its consequences might be!"

The river's load of black earth gave Egypt not just its name, but its very life as well. I squeezed Ramesses's hand in mine and asked calmly, "So what can be done?"

Paser spread his palms. "I would like to suggest we use this time to address the situation."

"Arrange several tables beneath the dais," Ramesses instructed. "I want everyone in this chamber to offer their suggestions. Nefertari, Iset, you too."

When the servants arranged the viziers' tables beneath the dais, Rahotep spoke first. "I suggest that Your Highness visit each of the granaries, to be certain this is true."

Ramesses turned to Anemro. "Have you verified that the granaries are nearly empty?"

Vizier Anemro nodded swiftly. "Yes, Your Highness. The scribes have not lied. Outside of Thebes, in the city of Nekheb, some of the granaries have lain empty since Thoth, and families are already experiencing famine. Soon, people will be taking to the streets. Murder and theft will increase," he warned fearfully.

"We need a solution before Inundation is over and Harvest arrives," Paser said.

"And what do you suggest we do?" Rahotep demanded.

There was silence in the chamber while everyone waited, then Paser said thoughtfully, "The people of Nekheb must be given food. Begin emptying the temple granaries," he said. "And when those are finished, look to the army's."

"The temple's granaries?" Rahotep exclaimed. "And starve the priests?"

Even Vizier Anemro was shocked. Behind him, courtiers began speaking nervously among themselves.

"In every city the temples have nearly six months of surplus grain," Paser replied. "And here in Thebes, the army has at least three months."

"That is a fool's idea," Rahotep pronounced. "What happens when the army has nothing to feed itself with?" he demanded. "What will be more dangerous?" he asked. "A hungry rabble, or a hungry army?"

Ramesses looked to Paser. "We need to be sure that when the granaries are emptied this summer, new grain is coming in. This court will need to discover a fail-safe way to be sure that the Nile overflows with enough time to plant and harvest. Or if it doesn't overflow," Ramesses said slowly, "that enough water can be taken from the river to irrigate the land."

"So what will Your Highness have the people do?" Rahotep asked. "Carry water from the river back to their fields?"

"Even if a hundred people worked on every farm," Anemro objected, "it would be impossible!"

"What if we built more canals going from the river to farmers' lands?" Ramesses asked.

"There are already
hundreds
of them," Rahotep dismissed. "But when the Nile doesn't flood its banks, they don't flow. No number of men with water jars will change that."

"There
has
to be a way!" Ramesses said. There was a defeated silence in the Audience Chamber, and he looked to me. "Speak. What would you do?"

"Until a method is discovered of bringing water up from the river into the canals, I would do as Paser suggests."

"And if none is ever discovered?" Rahotep raged. I wondered how Henuttawy could bear to look into his deformed eye at night. "How many Pharaohs have endured such years of drought?"

"And how many have brought the greatest minds in Egypt together in order to search for an answer?" Ramesses gripped his father's crook in his hand.

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