The Pharaoh's Daughter (23 page)

“I'm sure he'll return home soon, Amira. Surely the war won't last much longer.”

“I hope you're right, Mered. If I didn't have Mehy and Miriam, I don't know what I'd do.”

He thought it odd that she'd speak of her son and a slave girl with equal affection but didn't want to seem coarse by asking. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the amira's glistening eyes and knew more than a windstorm was raging.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Amira?”

She chuckled, then dabbed her painted eyes with a neatly folded cloth. “No. I suppose you'll think this is good news. I'm returning Jochebed to the craftsmen's village tonight.”

Mered clapped his hands, the sound muted by the wind. “I'm indeed happy about it. If Jochebed and Miriam are returning to the village, does that mean I can train Miriam for my linen shop?”

“I said Jochebed is returning. Not Miriam.” Turning to meet his gaze, Anippe's eyes grew hard, as if leveling a challenge. “Miriam will remain in the
chamber adjoining mine as my handmaid. I allowed her mother to serve as a house slave while the girl was young, but Miriam has seen nine inundations. She's old enough to serve on her own.”

“Of course, Amira.” Mered bowed. “You've been more than gracious.”

Anippe walked away without a backward glance, the storm outside dwarfed by the storm in her eyes.

Anippe had known this day would come, and she'd dreaded it since she discovered Jochebed was the real ummi of Mehy—“
Moses
,” as they'd called him back then.

She watched her precious boy play with his acacia-wood blocks in the sitting area at the end of a long day. Tapestries still hung between the courtyard pillars, keeping as much dust and sand out of the chamber as possible. The winds died with the setting sun. Hopefully they were over for the season so harvest could start in earnest.

Miriam appeared from the shadows with a small flask of scented oil. “Would you like me to massage your face and head, Amira?” She'd been especially quiet this evening. No doubt missing Jochebed.

“Yes. Please.”

Anippe's heart twisted as the girl removed her wig and helped her recline on the embroidered couch. Closing her eyes, Anippe's mind began to spin. Could she have treated Jochebed better? Done more for the woman who'd given up her son so Anippe could be an ummi, an amira, a true wife to Sebak?

Though children were usually weaned at three years, she'd allowed Jochebed to nourish him six extra months, and she'd even let her continue to call him
Moses
—when no one heard. To everyone else, her son was
Mehy
—a nickname he'd stumbled on while trying to say his given name, Horemheb.

As Miriam massaged her temples, Anippe replayed their nightly routine in her mind. Miriam often did as she was doing now, but Jochebed held Mehy, twirling his black curls around her finger. Nursing him, singing a Hebrew lullaby, speaking of the Hebrew god. Now her son played alone.

Where was Ankhe?

Anippe fairly leapt off her couch, startling both Miriam and Mehy. Grabbing the striker, she banged the Hathor chime—again and again and again. Where was her lazy sister?

Mehy began to cry, and Anippe swept him into her arms, pressing whispered comfort against his ear. “Shh, Ummi just wants Ankhe to come see you and play with you, habibi. You deserve to be treated like the prince of Egypt that you are.”

She bounced and cuddled, coaxed and cajoled, while Miriam sat quietly on the couch, watching.

Anippe lifted the single prince's braid on her son's head. As testimony of his weaning and part of the sacrifice to the Ramessid patron god, Seth, the priests had shaved his lovely black curls. He wore the braided princely sidelock, a sign of royalty, and proof of the success of Anippe's well-played deception. But her beautiful boy would trade Ankhe's indifference for Jochebed's love any day.

Her sister spent barely an hour a day with her charge—and that at Anippe's strict requirement.
Why did I agree to let Ankhe tutor him?
Her sister had become a stranger.

Sequestered in her private chamber, Ankhe spent her days alone. Though only across the hallway, she refused to join Anippe at the bathhouse and sulked during the hour she was required to care for Mehy. When Jochebed and Miriam tried to engage her in conversation, she treated them worse than house slaves. It was as if Ankhe was drowning in hate, but Anippe couldn't save her.

“It's done.” Ankhe stormed into the chamber and slammed the chamber door behind her. She walked past Anippe and Mehy without a glance, shoving Miriam aside and plopping onto the couch. “I ordered Nassor to escort Jochebed to the slave village.”

“At least you didn't make her walk alone in the dark.” Anippe was more concerned with Mehy's neglect than Jochebed's return home at the moment. She lowered herself and her son onto a cushion and reached for the goose-shaped bowl of kohl on the table beside them. Using the alabaster applicator, she placed three black circles on the pudgy back of Mehy's hand. “This dot is
Mehy. This one is Ummi. And this one is Re—the great sun god. We are always together—we three. Nothing can separate us.”

He picked at the marks with his little finger, and then turned sparkling eyes on her. “Oohh.”

Ankhe rolled her eyes. “He doesn't understand what you're saying. He hasn't even celebrated four inundations yet.”

“Mehy, tell Ankhe you're a very smart boy, and you can learn.”

“I wurn.” He threw his hands in the air, and Anippe tickled his ribs, showering his neck with kisses.

Then, gathering his hand in her own, she reviewed. “Tell Ummi about these dots. Who is this one?”

“Mehy.”

“And this one?” Her bright little boy recited each dot correctly, and Anippe's heart swelled. “Your tutor, Ankhe, will apply these three circles to your hand every day to remind you that Ummi Anippe and the great god Re will always be with you.” She pinned Ankhe with a glare. “Won't you, Teacher Ankhe?”

Seeming bored, Ankhe sighed and offered a noncommittal shrug.

Anippe's frustration rose. “So, sister. What lessons have you planned for my son tomorrow?”

Ankhe's casual manner fled like a hippo backed into a crocodile. “What do you mean ‘lessons'? He doesn't even say all his words properly. How can I teach him anything?”

Anippe's rage burned hot and quick. “Take care, sister. I'm giving you one chance—one—to tutor a Ramessid heir. Teach him well, and Sebak will match you with a Ramessid when the war ends. Teach Mehy poorly, and Sebak will pay you with his strap.”

Genuine fear lifted Ankhe off the couch and opened her arms to her nephew. “Well, little Mehy. Shall we go to the garden and talk about frogs and flowers?”

“But it's dark.” Miriam's practical statement raised Ankhe's ire.

“Shut up, little brat. I've already told you what would happen to you if you got in my way.”

Miriam flinched, ready for Ankhe to strike her.

Anippe stepped between them. “Stop it, Ankhe. How dare you threaten my handmaid?”

Tears welled in Ankhe's eyes. “Of course, you defend your precious Miriam. You've chosen her over me since the day she followed that cursed basket into your private canal.”

“That's not true—”

“It is true, and I'm sick of it. You'll give me the respect I deserve, Anippe, or—”

“Or what, Ankhe? Or you'll tell Tut and Abbi Horem about Mehy? You wouldn't dare. You've kept the secret too long, sister. You'd lose your head with me now.”

Ankhe's expression grew suddenly calm and eerily composed. “You will show me respect, or every one of your treasured Hebrews will live their last days in dead-man's land.”

A cold chill crept up Anippe's spine, and she heard Miriam's whimper as in a dream. She turned to see the girl's face hidden in her hands and turned back to face Ankhe.

“What did you do?” Her sister's savage smile fueled Anippe's fear. “What did you do, Ankhe?”

“I did what needed to be done. Puah and Shiphrah know about Mehy, but they've proven their discretion. Jochebed has no incentive to keep our secret, and she might even entertain the hope of getting her son back someday. I told Nassor she had displeased the amira and suggested she be sent to dead-man's land.”

Anippe began to tremble, her breathing labored. Sweet, gentle Jochebed in the mud pits on the plateau? Her knees felt weak, and she feared she might drop Mehy. Sinking to the floor, she looked up and found Miriam still whimpering softly, Ankhe standing over her like a victor.

“Shut up, and get out,” Ankhe said to the girl. “The amira has no further need of you.”

“No, wait.” Anippe reached out for Miriam's arm as the girl ran past. “I do need you.” The girl's big doe eyes met her gaze, and seeing the pain in those
eyes, Anippe regained her wits. “I need you to watch Mehy while Ankhe and I retrieve your mother. There's been a terrible mistake. A mistake, that's all. She'll be back in the craftsmen's village tonight—with your father and little brother.”

Miriam nodded and scooped Mehy into her arms. Sensing her need, he laid his head on her shoulder and hugged her tight.

“You'll regret this, Anippe.” Ankhe shook her head, panic beginning to rise. “Jochebed will tell the whole village. Besides, we can't go to the plateau after dark. Animals begin prowling, and I don't mean only hyenas and jackals. Ramessid guards on night duty are unpredictable.”

Anippe grabbed Ankhe's arm, shoving her toward the door.

“Listen to me, Anippe. We can't go.”

Anippe leaned around her to open the chamber door. Nassor had returned and stood at strict attention with three other Ramessid guards.

“You four will escort my sister and me to dead-man's land,” Anippe ordered. “Ankhe mistakenly sent one of our skilled workers there, and she wants to offer her apology in person.”

Mered placed the last papyrus scroll into its basket under his desk and scanned the still-mussed but somewhat-settled linen shop. Most of the workers had cleared out of the villa's main hall and returned to the shop with all their supplies. They'd begin the real cleanup in the morning, sweeping and washing the linen cloth, thread, and fibers with natron to reduce the lingering dingy effects of the storm.

“All those going to the skilled camp, let's go,” he called. “It's almost dark.”

The group gathered at the door, the frontline and stragglers assembling sticks and torches. Mered grabbed a torch and lit it from one of the others in the back line.

With his first step outside the door, he noticed a small knot of Ramessid soldiers and … the amira? Her sister Ankhe was with them, looking … rumpled. Something was most certainly wrong. They were all marching with purpose toward the plateau …

Without permission, Mered's legs carried him toward the amira's small retinue, his mind spitting threats as the distance between them lessened.
The Ramessid guards will beat you on sight. The amira will leave you in dead-man's land.

But Mered's legs and his thoughts didn't seem to agree, and all too quickly he was face to face with a Ramessid's sword.

“Get back to your shop, linen keeper.”

“Actually, I was on my way home when I saw you escorting the amira—
umph
.”
The hilt of the sword landed in his belly, doubling him over, and he dropped the torch.

“Stop, Nassor!” Anippe shoved the guard aside. “Mered, are you hurt?”

A strange question. Apparently, she'd never been struck by a sword hilt. He knew better than to speak again. This captain was known for his cruelty.

“We must hurry, Amira,” the guard said, nudging her away from Mered. “We have no time for an arrogant slave who doesn't know his place. I'll feel Master Sebak's strap if he returns to find you've been injured on a silly jaunt to dead-man's land.” Moonlight glistened on tears welling in Anippe's eyes, and the Ramessid's harsh bearing softened. “Please, Amira. Don't cry. I'm sorry I was gruff.”

“Mered might be able to help us find Jochebed on the plateau.”

“Jochebed?” Mered winced at the thought of his friend on the plateau.

The Ramessid glared at him, but Anippe placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ankhe sent her to the unskilled village and is about to apologize in person.”

A single look at the wicked sister, arms crossed and sandal tapping the dust, told Mered the apology would not be heartfelt.

“I know where some of my unskilled linen workers live in the long houses up there,” he said. “They should be able to help us locate a new arrival.”

The angry captain grabbed his arm and shoved him ahead—without letting him retrieve his torch. Mered hoped they wouldn't have to search long. Without fire, they'd be at the mercy of predators.