The Twelfth Transforming (10 page)

Tiye fell to tapping the arms of the throne. “Tell me of the people of On.”

“The prince has gathered around him many priests from the sun temples. They debate religion from dawn until dark. Your son is most sophisticated in these matters and already speaks with authority. He has invited many of them to Thebes.”

“And what has been the reaction of the priests of Ptah?”

“Naturally they are angered.”

Tiye studied Horemheb for a moment. “Does the prince trust you?” she asked at last.

“Yes, he does.”

“Then you may keep your position as his bodyguard, but you will report to me every day. Ay, send May to take temporary command of the border patrols instead of Horemheb. Werel will be perfectly happy to transport her family to Memphis. Horemheb, get out.” He bowed and backed through the doors, and when they were closed, Tiye sighed, a gust of frustration and annoyance, and slid from the throne. “Talk to me, Ay. Why this senseless parade through the streets of a dangerous city? Why the gaggle of priests he has dragged to Malkatta? And is Horemheb playing some game of his own?”

Ay folded his arms and began to pace, eyes hooded and suddenly sleepy, broad brow furrowed under the rim of his yellow helmet. “If you had not been so preoccupied with Pharaoh’s condition, you would be able to answer those questions yourself. Pharaoh has always feared death at the hands of his son, and you have pondered the matter like a dog worrying a piece of meat from a bone. But you forget that the prince has also gone in daily terror of his life, and until his father dies, he will not be safe from the caprices of an old man who has lived his whole life under the sway of the most powerful soothsayer the world has known, and who may still turn and accuse his son of causing his illness with spells. Amunhotep’s mad journey through Thebes was a way of making Egypt aware of his existence, of insisting on his right to live, the right to vengeance if he dies.”

“Pah! You speak in silly riddles! I think it is the taste of impending power, sweet in his mouth, that has prompted it. He will become as arrogant as his uncle.”

Ay stopped pacing, and his arms loosened. The wide mouth parted in a smile of complicity. “It is unfortunate that you have no royal blood in your veins, Tiye. You and I should have been man and wife.”

“A fully royal woman legitimizing the claim of her brother, as in the old days? You fancy yourself in the Double Crown?”

He grimaced, still smiling. “Only in moments of extreme boredom.”

“What of Horemheb?” Tiye turned from her brother’s warm gaze. “He did not handle himself well.”

“On the contrary, he behaved with the instinctive good sense of the born soldier when he dismissed the impossible solution and concentrated on the possible. And I think you ought to take note of his reasons for admitting Mutnodjme so freely into the prince’s presence. In any event, she has already returned home. Her cousin has failed to hold her interest. My daughter has no ambitions, unless they are to keep her life as full of variety and comfort as possible.”

Tiye’s hand went to the ankhs hanging from her bracelet. “Words, words,” she said softly. “And under them all is a great happiness that my son has come home. You and I have become too much like mice immobilized by fear of hawks circling above that we cannot see. It is time to relax and fix our gaze on the abundance of the fields around us.”

“A pretty speech,” he murmured dryly, and she laughed at her own pomposity and dismissed him.

In the evening she took her attendants and went in search of her son. His sumptuous apartments were still in chaos as his servants hurried to unpack the chests and boxes that had accompanied him from Memphis and the palace craftsmen delivered the furniture Tiye had ordered. After one glance inside the silver doors opening to his reception hall, she went out into the garden and finally found him sitting in the grass by the edge of the lake, just as she had always seen him in the harem, his legs tucked under him, a crowd sitting or lying with him. She scanned them quickly as her herald ordered them to make their obeisances. Nefertiti had had her arm linked with his before she knelt to bow to her aunt, and Sitamun had been reclining very prettily on one elbow, her scarlet linen pulled tight over the suggestive mounding of one hip. Amunhotep rose and came forward smiling, arms outstretched, taking her hands and kissing her gently on the mouth.

“Tell me who these men are with their faces in the dirt,” she said good-humoredly as Piha unfolded her chair. “Sitamun, you should not be publicly lolling among the flowers like some little concubine. Piha, send for another chair.”

Sitamun gave her a look of mortification as she came to her feet and pulled the gossamer-thin blue cloak across her breasts with both nervous hands.

“But the grass has just been watered,” Amunhotep said in his high, lilting voice. “Sitamun was enjoying it.” He waved an arm over the company. “Majesty Mother, these are my friends. Pentu, priest of the temple of Ra-Harakhti at On. Panhesy, also priest of the sun, whom I have made my chief steward. Tutu, who has so diligently written down my words and whose hand you saw in my letters to you. Kenofer, Ranefer…” One by one the men left the ground and kissed her feet, looking up at her with a mixture of reverence and challenge. With few exceptions they were distinctive for the shaven skulls and long white kilts of their priesthood. Around their necks or emblazoned on their forearms were the emblems of the God of the Horizon, the hawk with the disk.

“Mahu,” she said as one man raised kohled eyes to hers. “What are you doing here? Have you lost your headship of the Mazoi?”
So this is my son’s spy
, she thought.
Chief of the Memphis city police
.

Mahu smiled ruefully. “No, indeed, Majesty, but the prince has seen fit to include me, a humble soldier, in his circle of friends.”

A humble soldier with a not-so-humble liking for the secrets of your queen
, Tiye thought again. “And you, Apy? Are you neglecting Pharaoh’s interests in order to sit in the grass at Thebes?”

“Certainly not, Divine One,” the man replied swiftly, bent double before her. “I simply accompanied the prince on his journey and will take this opportunity to report to the Overseer of the Royal Estates directly on the condition of Pharaoh’s holdings in Memphis before returning home.”

Tiye sat, and the company relaxed. Amunhotep sank to the grass, pulling his feet in under him, and immediately Nefertiti went down with him, knee to knee. Tiye wondered what she had interrupted, having noticed several scrolls scattered in the grass, together with dishes containing the remains of pastries and cups half full of wine. She became aware of her son’s placid yet steady gaze on her and turned to him. “What did you think of Thebes, Amunhotep?”

He considered the question with a seriousness it did not deserve. “The streets are filthy,” he said at last, “and the common people smell.”

The little crowd burst out laughing, and Tiye heard the familiar note of a fawning sycophancy in the sound. Amunhotep did not even smile but continued to hold his gaze on her. She was suddenly aware that he was assessing her, weighing her against the balance on some scale whose meaning was a mystery to her. It made her embarrassed and suddenly aware of her age among this gathering of the young.

“Did you feel that you had to see it, after Mutnodjme’s tales?” she asked politely.

He dropped his eyes. “Perhaps.”

“I prefer Memphis also”—she smiled—”but I try to remember that without the princes of Thebes in the ancient days, our country would still be under the yoke of foreigners. Besides, Thebes is Amun’s home. Under all that filth and decay is a noble, proud city.” Several of the young men glanced at each other. Amunhotep studied his hands.

“What you say is true, Majesty Aunt,” Nefertiti responded, “but let us all appreciate Thebes with the river flowing between us and the city.” Tiye could not fail to note the girl’s animation, the sparkle in the gray eyes, the exaggeratedly graceful gestures. “Tell me, Great One, what do you think of the new Khatti ambassador and his train? What wildmen!”

At the new subject of conversation the little group loosened and began to chatter. For a while longer Tiye sat and talked with them of inconsequential things. Sitamun was still sulking. Her responses were monosyllabic but polite. In the end Tiye left them, feeling as she did so that directly her back was turned, they would continue with the discussion that she had interrupted. Putting them out of her mind, she went to Pharaoh’s bedchamber. For once the painted mats that covered the windows had been raised, and as the lamps had not yet been lit, the evening shadows lay gently across the tiled floor. Apuia was serving the king his meal, and Surero stood ready to assist. Servants crossed and recrossed the room with silent purpose, and in a corner a single harp player fingered a plaintive melody. There was no sign of the boy, but as she approached the couch and bowed, Tiye heard laughter outside in the garden and glanced out the window in time to see him go racing by, Pharaoh’s greyhounds in pursuit.

“See, I am eating,” Amunhotep said good-naturedly. “The fever is down, and my teeth have stopped trembling in my gums. Come and sit on the couch. Tia-Ha was here last night, bearing me quinces and plenty of gossip. So the eunuch has returned.”

Tiye settled herself beside his feet, shaking her head at the dishes immediately offered but accepting wine from Surero. “The measure of a man should not be taken only when he draws a bow or throws a spear, as you have told me often enough,” she retorted, sipping the cool red liquid with relish. “Your son has no love of military arts, though he can drive a chariot well enough. I presume when you call him eunuch, you are not denigrating his religious or musical pursuits.”

“Well, he looks like a eunuch,” Pharaoh grumbled, swallowing delicately. “With that thick mouth and the stooped shoulders. I suppose you want my seal on the marriage contract.”

“It is time, Amunhotep.”

“Then we shall see what kind of a eunuch your eunuch is.” He raised his cup to her, and his eyes twinkled mischievously over the rim as he drank. “I have read the scroll.”

“It is a perfectly ordinary contract.”

“Return it to me tomorrow. I will affix my seal. Have you given any thought to a contract for little Smenkhara?”

“No, but I daresay you have. By the time he is of marriageable age, Sit amun will be too old to produce heirs with fully divine blood in their veins.”

“But not too old to give Smenkhara as strong a claim to the throne as our present heir if he marries her.” He waved away the ruins of his meal and leaned back. In spite of his forced cheerfulness Tiye saw that one side of his face was swollen, and that a thin film of sweat had broken out across his upper lip.

“In that case there could be civil war if Smenkhara pressed a claim, and there would certainly be no children,” she said crossly. “Your son and Nefertiti will produce dozens of royal children. The game palls, Amunhotep.”

“Yes,” he agreed unexpectedly, his eyes closed. “It does. Surero, bring in the Syrian acrobats and have the lamps lit. Are you going, Tiye?”

The question was petulant, and she stood and looked down on him with sympathy, for he was seldom a whiner. “I must feast tonight with the Alashian delegation,” she explained. “The contract will be before you tomorrow, Horus. May your name live forever.”

He opened his eyes, surprised at the formal farewell. “Yours also. Give my condolences to Nefertiti.”

He always manages to have the last word
, she thought with inward laughter as she swept out.

5

A
s Pharaoh had promised, the contract was sealed and delivered into the palace archives, and Nefertiti became a princess and his son’s wife with the pressing of his ring into the warm wax. Amunhotep listened to Surero’s minute account of the celebratory feasting that would be held for the pair with a lack of attention, finally ordering Smenkhara to be brought to him and playing with the baby throughout the rest of Surero’s report.

Pharaoh did not attend the simple rite of royal marriage that took place a few days later at Karnak, but Tiye was not concerned. She knew that it was the ratifying of the contract that had been important. Commoners did not regard marriage as a religious undertaking, and it was only royal gods who sought the blessing of Amun on the unions that would produce more divine beings. Nevertheless, Tiye took a delight in seeing her son and Nefertiti, resplendent in silver and dressed in blue and white, the imperial colors, standing solemnly with hands joined before Amun’s mighty sanctuary. When it was over, there was a feast that was open to all, but Tiye, suddenly exhausted, left it as soon as she could.
I have accomplished a great deal in a short time
, she thought as Piha slipped the yellow gown from her shoulders and bowed her into her sleeping robe.
Now I am tired. I need time in which to do absolutely nothing
.

She decided to visit her private estates at Djarukha, a journey she had not made in years. The season was making her restless in a way she understood only too well. The river had risen, turning the country into a vast, calm lake. Idle peasants flocked to Pharaoh’s building projects at Luxor, Soleb, and the Delta, and work went on in his tomb, its gaping entrance now lapped by the waters of the Inundation. The sowing had begun and soon new crops would thrust against the wet, black soil, while persea and date palms spread tender green leaves to a Ra become beneficent and forgiving. Fish teemed in the river and the canals, eggs hatched in the nests along the banks, and Tiye’s own body made her feverish with the vitality of spring.

“Come with me, Ay,” she urged him as they sat side by side on the roof of her audience hall. Shaded by her canopy, they were enjoying the scented breezes and the glitter of sun on the water beyond the lushly waving crops that spread between the dun cliffs at their back and the snaking Nile. “We will stop at Akhmin for a few days and persuade Tey to come, too. I have nothing to do. No foreign crises, no policies to determine, and Pharaoh’s health is stable. I am beginning to fancy that I can smell Thebes, and I can certainly hear it. I want the quiet of the little house Amunhotep built for me all those years ago.”