The Heretic Queen (51 page)

"How can you be so certain?" The light of the Great Hall illuminated her face, and though her eyes were red and weary, I hadn't lied. She was still the most beautiful woman in Damascus.

"Because the gods are watching over him," I said. "Amun, Ra, Osiris, Sekhmet."

I pretended to have no doubts about our victory, acting as if I knew it were only a matter of time. Yet every day without news had been unbearable. At night, dusty desert heat hung over the palace, and I imagined it looking like the heavy shroud of the god Ptah, wrapping the entire city in its embrace like the mummified husband of Sekhmet. It was impossible to sleep, impossible to eat, almost impossible to breathe not knowing what was happening to Ramesses at the walls of Kadesh.

For five days we waited like hungry cats for scraps of news, and every rider who approached the city was met by Ibenre, impatient for word. At last, a messenger came with a report from the front, and immediately the governor sent word to my chamber.

"My lady!" Merit cried. "A messenger!"

I didn't care that it was unseemly for a woman to run, or that I hadn't put on my Nubian wig. Ramesses had taken twenty thousand men into an ambush. If they'd been defeated, it would mean not only the loss of Kadesh, but likely the loss of Egypt itself. He had gambled, risking everything for this.

I entered the Audience Chamber, and the governor took my arm and led me to one of the four thrones on the dais, three of which always remained empty for Pharaoh and his two most important wives. I took my seat next to Iset, but neither of us fooled anyone with our brave faces.

The boy looked between us. "A truce has been declared!" he exclaimed. "A truce between Hatti and Egypt!"

I glanced at Ibenre at the bottom of the steps.

"A
truce?
" he demanded. "What are you saying?"

"The Hittites have retreated to the hills," the boy replied. "And Pharaoh's army is marching in victory toward Damascus."

Iset slumped against her chair. "We have won," she whispered. "Egypt is saved."

"Egypt may not be lost," I said, "but Pharaoh hasn't won. A truce is not a victory." I thought of how foolish Ramesses had been to believe a pair of Hittite spies. He had risked everything because his father had asked him to, taking twenty thousand men north to Kadesh where he imagined an easy victory over the Hittite emperor. And when spies had hidden themselves in the hills, he had been more than eager to believe that a veteran king of war had fled from his path in fear. "Who will keep Kadesh?" I demanded.

"The Hittites, my lady. But the generals say it could have been much worse. They say that Pharaoh was saved because of you."

The governor of Damascus and all of his courtiers turned to look at me. "I didn't do anything," I demurred.

"But you did, Princess. The three divisions you sent after Amun gave Pharaoh enough time to prepare a counterattack."

"They were already preparing to march--"

The boy shook his head as if that didn't matter. "They are calling you the
Warrior Queen,
my lady. Even the Hittites know your name!"

We followed the boy to the Window of Appearances, where the governor stood whenever he wished to address his people. And beyond the city walls, the battle cry of "RAMESSES" could be heard. Then came the unmistakable second chant, a cry of "WARRIOR QUEEN."

"How many are there?" I whispered.

"Twelve thousand men," the boy revealed.

I turned. "A
third
of the army has been killed?"

The boy lowered his gaze. "Yes, my lady. But look at them all."

He was too young to understand the gravity of it. The army had approached the palace gates, thousands of weapons gleaming like burnished gold beneath the sun. Iset and I pressed together in the narrow window, close enough to smell the lavender oil on her skin, and the scent of jasmine from her hair. "He is back," I cried to her. "He's returned."

When Ramesses appeared in the courtyard below, he raised his iron sword to us in triumph. His leather shield was stained with blood, and he had removed the
nemes
crown so that his hair streamed loose behind him. He climbed the stairs to the Window of Appearances, and though Iset held back, the guards parted for me and I rushed into his arms.

"Nefertari!" he exclaimed. "Oh,
Nefertari.
"

He greeted Iset with a firm embrace, and she wept in his arms the way she had wept daily since we left Avaris.

"How did you survive it?" I whispered. I searched his body for any sign of wounds.

"Only by the grace of Amun," he admitted, but when he turned to greet the people of Damascus, he raised his arm triumphantly and declared, "We have returned!"

A magnificent cheer rose through the courtyard, echoing beyond the open gates into the city's streets. Then Ramesses promised the people peace. He promised them trade in the rich Aegean Sea through the hostile territories of the Hittites, and he swore that although Kadesh had been lost, Egypt would endure.

"We have taught the emperor a powerful lesson," Asha declared, his voice carrying over the thousands assembled. "The Hittites will never again rush to invade the kingdom of a Pharaoh as brave as Ramesses the Great."

While the city feasted, Ramesses found me in my chamber.

"Tell me what happened," I said. "Tell me how Egypt can be victorious if a truce has been declared and we have lost Kadesh for good."

Ramesses sat on the edge of the bed and placed his head between his hands. "We were victorious because my soldiers weren't slaughtered. We were victorious because although I lost Kadesh, I didn't lose Egypt." His eyes brimmed with tears. "And I didn't lose you." He took me in his arms. "Nefertari," he whispered. "Nefertari, my pride almost killed you. It killed so many men. Good soldiers who
trusted
me to lead them."

"You couldn't have known that they were spies," I said, but he was right. His pride had cost thousands of men. When we returned to Avaris, their mothers would wait at the gates to greet their sons, searching the faces of every soldier until the entire army had passed and they realized their children weren't coming home. His pride had done this. His rashness. His belief that the gods were with him and that Sekhmet would prevail over reason. That a divided army could confront the Hittite power. He should have waited for the rest of his army to take Kadesh. But how could I tell him this? I looked at Ramesses in his short white kilt and golden pectoral, and even in his
nemes
crown he looked like a frightened child, like the one who had begged Amun for Pili's life in the temple. I repeated, "You couldn't have known."

"What would have happened if you didn't speak Shasu? What would have happened if the Ne'arin hadn't come to our rescue after six thousand Egyptians already lay dead?"

Ne'arin meant
young men,
but I didn't understand. "Who are the Ne'arin?"

Ramesses fixed me with his gaze. "Habiru mercenaries from Canaan."

I gasped.
"Ahmoses?"

"Who else could have summoned them? They appeared out of nowhere with the division of Ptah. They fought like they were possessed by Montu. But how could Ahmoses have known?"

"The Habiru must have been willing to fight for a chance at what they want," I told him.

Ramesses was quiet, surely thinking about the Habiru in Canaan.

"They will rebel," he said with certainty. "If they settle with their brothers in Canaan. Their army of Ne'arin were well trained."

"But they came to fight for you."

"Because under the Hittites there would be no chance of being set free. In helping me, they are helping themselves. If I don't set them free, the Ne'arin will rebel. I could crush it. They're not so many men . . ."

"Enough to save your army."

Ramesses nodded. "I saw more blood before the walls of Kadesh," he admitted, "than my father saw in all his years. I vowed to give them victory, but I should not have made that promise. There are many promises I should not have made. I thought I could make the gods listen to me. I thought a victory in Kadesh would write my name in their halls. But the old priestess was wrong. The gods were already listening," he went on. "They've always been listening."

The Ne'arin were proof of that,
I thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

TO DIE BY THE BLADE

Avaris

WHEN WE RETURNED to the city of Avaris and the Dowager Queen saw that Ramesses was safe, she crushed her son in her large embrace, and even took Amunher in her arms, marveling at how big he and his brother had grown.

"In two months they've become different children," she exclaimed, and I wondered if her newfound interest was sparked by the cries of "Warrior Queen" that filled the streets. "Tell me about the battle," she implored, "and how you helped to crush the Hittites!"

I told her the story, and that evening in the Great Hall, there was a celebration surpassing anything ever seen in Seti's time. Dancing girls with bracelets on their wrists flitted from one room to the next, laughing and singing with the elated men. Asha presided over a group of noblewomen, recounting for them the story of how he arrived just in time as the Hittites broke down the gates of Kadesh. I noticed them leaning forward to listen, but he seemed to be speaking to one red-haired woman in particular, and I saw with a start that it was the priestess Aloli.

The feasting was to continue for seven days, and each evening when the oil lamps were lit, women emerged from the shadows of the palace with their eyes rimmed in kohl and their cheeks rouged with ochre. Each evening I marveled over the quantities the cooks of Pi-Ramesses unveiled. There were the common servings of olives and dates, but in larger bowls there was goose with honeyed lotus, glazed in heavy pomegranate wine. The scent of slowly roasting meat woke me in the mornings, and by the fifth night in the Great Hall, Ramesses said jokingly, "I think that Amunher and Prehir have doubled in size since returning to Avaris."

The courtiers around our table laughed, their voices like polished bells, and Iset added eagerly, "Ramessu has grown so big that his hand can fit around a spear. He'll be hunting hippo before he's two." She smiled at Ramesses, but Paser had approached the dais with a scroll, and Ramesses's attention was diverted.

"There is a message from Kadesh," Paser announced.

Henuttawy sighed. "Is it always work with you?"

"Yes. Just like for some it is always play."

Ramesses frowned over the courtiers' guffaws, taking the scroll from Paser. "This isn't the seal of Emperor Muwatallis."

"No. It is the seal of his son, Prince Urhi."

Ramesses glanced around him. Everything was bright and happy. Women in jeweled collars and linen tunics laughed with young soldiers, who described the Hittites fleeing from the division of Ptah and the Ne'arin. The women never asked how it could be a victory if Egypt had not regained Kadesh; the soldiers saw the battle as a warning to the Hittite king that Egypt would be taken seriously. We had won Emperor Muwatallis's respect. But then why was his son writing to us, and not the emperor himself? "If it's bad news," he whispered to Paser, "I don't want to read it here. Come into the Per Medjat." He looked at me, and it was clear that I was invited as well.