Magic of the Nile (18 page)

Face grim, eyes narrowed, he said, “It’s all politics in Thebes, which you need to remember while you’re here. Don’t trust too easily, either. Nat-re-Akhte is more powerful in his own right than most pharaohs have been since the time of the pyramid builders, but still there are endless games around him. I don’t understand why my uncle the nomarch didn’t warn you, prepare you a bit better, when he lent you his ship.” Sahure gestured at the deck on which they stood.

Remembering the sad message from Sobek she’d had to deliver to the nomarch about his rapidly declining health, Tyema sighed. “Your uncle has other things on his mind.”

“Yes, I received a private message from him and the knowledge weighs on my heart. My uncle is a good man.” The expression on Sahure’s face softened for a moment, his brown eyes warming. “Will you take my advice today?”

She nodded. “With gratitude.”

Pointing at the stairway she’d emerged from, he said, “Go below, change into the best clothing you have, the ceremonial robes if there’s no other choice, and let’s get going on this trip to the palace. We can’t do anything about your retainers and servants today, but at least
you
can appear as someone to be reckoned with. The first impression is important at court.”

“I’ll be quick.” She hurried across the deck, calling to her niece, who was waiting by the gangplank with the baby, to come help her. She asked Djedefhor to order her trunks, which had already been packed and brought on deck, carried into the cabin again. Going below, followed by her retainers bringing the baskets and crates, she managed to change in record time, donning her finest white linen sheath, with gold embroidery at the hem, and her ceremonial crown—a smaller version of the one Sobek himself wore, a golden sun orb, with fine white ostrich plumes on either side. Around her neck she draped the six large emerald Tears of the god, set into a turquoise-and-gold beaded collar. Her best sandals were still new, smelling of freshly tanned leather, and stiff on her feet, the thong between her toes likely to chafe, but by the time she was ready to return to the deck, Tyema felt confident in her appearance and her dignity. She’d regained some of her composure while dressing.
 

All right, now I’ve seen him and yes, he’s every bit as handsome as I remembered and there are so many things I long to talk to him about, to ask, but he seems so distant, so formal. I guess our angry parting still burns for him. And for all I know he’s married and I’m going to have to meet his wife. Well, I gave him his first child, no other can have the honor.
The fierceness of her pride in bearing his son surprised her. Lost in thought, she climbed the short staircase to the deck.

As soon as he saw her, Sahure bowed, a small smile on his lips. “Now you’re ready to travel through the city, my lady. Well done.” He held out his hand to escort her off the ship and down the gangplank to the dock, where his men had been waiting all this time.

“Oh, Nahkti and Senbi!” Tyema broke free of his clasp, pulled her formal skirts up to her knees with one hand for more freedom of movement and hurried to where the two chariot horses stood, held by a groom. “I missed you, my lovelies.” She stroked their glossy necks, murmuring her apology for not having any treats as they nuzzled her. When Sahure came up behind her, she said, “May I go in the chariot with you? I won’t ask to drive—”

At his renewed frown, she bit her lip and fell silent.
I’ve got to be less impulsive in his presence. Here in Thebes he’s not the same carefree man I knew in Ibis Nome.
Allowing her dress to fall to its normal appearance, she toyed with the largest emerald in the collar, the cool smoothness of the gem soothing to the touch.

“Pharaoh has sent this fine litter for you,” he said, gesturing off to the side where the impressive, gilded conveyance sat, riotous black and white ostrich plumes at each corner, plump red cushions awaiting her pleasure. Two fan bearers prepared to walk on either side. The litter was open, with no curtains. “He does you honor, High Priestess.”

“Oh.” Tyema knew her smile faltered. She leaned closer to him. “I suppose priestesses don’t ride in chariots in Thebes?”

Biting his lip as if to hold back a grin, he shook his head and extended a hand. “Allow me.” He led her to the litter and assisted her in gracefully taking her place, with a final instruction. “It’ll be best if you endeavor to smile, seem pleased to be here and wave to the crowd as we go.”

The burly men who had been waiting picked the litter up with an energy that took her breath away. Startled, she gripped the sides of the conveyance, afraid of being tumbled in the dust. Sahure mounted his chariot and the column set off, with her companions and the boxed up crocodile behind, carried by the men from her temple, using lifting poles inserted through the metal hoops set at the corners of the crate. Tyema checked to make sure her niece and the baby were safely in the middle of the group before giving all her attention to Sahure, handling his high spirited horses.
We’re going to have to talk about Seknehure. Why didn’t I raise the subject of our child while we had some privacy on the ship? Because Sahure took me by surprise and then he gave me no chance, with all his chiding about my appearance.
And he clearly didn’t want to talk about personal matter
s
when she was supposed to be on her way to the palace.

Tyema hoped he was wrong about the crowds, but as the procession marched slowly out of the harbor district, toward the palace, people gathered along the road. Feeling like a fool, Tyema waved, trying to smile, trying to make eye contact with any friendly faces she saw. Her stomach was roiling, sending acid into the back of her throat, and her head swam. The breeze from the fan bearers helped, but not much. Thebes was ten times larger than the nomarch’s capital, which was the only city she’d ever been in, for her sister Merys’s funeral. The crowds in the street were amazing to her, the many goods for sale enticing, the aroma of food cooking and the other, less savory smells assaulted her. It was all too much, overwhelming. The closer the procession came to the palace, the more she noticed the richness of the clothing, makeup and ornamentation, especially on the women.

By the time Sahure led the group through the huge gates of the palace, flanked by towering pink-and-gray granite statues of impassive pharaohs from an older time, and turned down a wide promenade lined with fierce sphinxes that ran the length of the massive collection of buildings, Tyema was clenching her fist to her chest, fighting to breathe. She prayed not to pass out. There were hardly any people here, mostly servants hurrying on errands, too busy to do more than spare a glance for her, and a few impassive guards. She slumped on the pillows, closed her eyes and counted her breaths in and out, knowing she had to be ready for whatever came next.

At length the litter bearers entered a garden complex of such beauty Tyema’s jagged emotions calmed. Studying the mixture of familiar and strange trees, plants and flowers was soothing, as each turn in the path revealed new beauties of nature. An artfully created stream meandered in the midst of the garden and there were lotus ponds and places to sit in the shade. The air was a rich perfume of the mingled flowers, welcome after the odors of the city streets.

She realized they’d come to a halt. The litter was lowered to the ground and Sahure was there to help her rise and step away. He scrutinized her as she made a little business of smoothing her dress and adjusting her crown.

“Are you all right? Is the heat bothering you?” He made an interrupted motion as if to touch her cheek, then stopped himself, clenched hand dropping to his side. “You’re alarmingly pale.”

“I’m fine. Can we get this over with and be shown to our rooms?” Tyema wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle the worry, dizziness and nausea. The fainting spell on the boat at the beginning of her journey had shaken her badly and terror of repeating the episode in a much more public place left her trembling now.
I need to lie down, preferably in a quiet place.

“We’re waiting for Pharaoh,” he told her.

“Pharaoh?”
Surely I’m not important enough for the Great One to come to the gardens to greet me, am I?
Her heart sank and the vertigo, which had abated somewhat since entering the beautiful, secluded area, flooded over her in a rush. She swayed, putting her hand on Sahure’s arm to steady herself.

Eyes narrowed, he was studying her. “Pharaoh does you great honor, coming to welcome you. I know he also wants to see the new crocodile.”

“Sahure—” she turned to him with determination. Part of her trouble today was seeing him, being with him with so much lying unsaid between them, not least of which was the subject of their son.
And my own anxiety over whether Sahure is or isn’t married.
Perhaps if they cleared the air, she could relax a bit and do her duties.

“
Not
now.” His rebuke was instant, stern.
 

“But there are things I need to tell you.”

A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. “One of which must concern the baby your woman is swaddling. Is the child mine, Tyema?”

She nodded. “Your son. Our son. I sent word to you as soon as I knew I was with child.”

Eyes locked on her face, he gave her a sceptical look. “I never received a single line from you.”

Tyema stared.
No wonder he’s upset.
“But I wrote three times more as the pregnancy progressed, and once again after the child was born.”

Trumpets blared in the distance and Sahure glanced in the direction of the sound. “We can’t discuss this here. There’ll be time later.” He moved away. “Have your men uncrate the beast, ready to allow Pharaoh to inspect it.”

As he walked to check on the condition of the crate, Tyema felt as if she’d been doused with cold water from the heart of the Nile. Black and purple flickers surrounded Sahure, shimmering in the sunlight. The bracelet around her wrist tightened for a moment, reinforcing the warning with subtle pressure. Tyema rubbed the braided band, seeking to ease the constriction as well as her own shock.
Black magic? How can he be involved with such things? Not Sahure!

As if she’d said his name out loud, he beckoned to her. Tyema forced herself to walk to the crate and oversee the dismantling. “Wait to undo the final slats until Pharaoh arrives,” she said to her staff members. “I’ll walk the animal into the pond.”

“Very good, my lady.” Hotepre wiped his brow. “Hot here in Thebes.”

“The crocodile will like it.” She meant the remark as a small jest, but there was truth in the observation. After all, a group of crocodiles was named a ‘bask’ for good reason and Thebes was nothing, if not sunny.

The fan bearers had moved with her, taken up their station behind her shoulders and now endeavored to keep a languid breeze moving. It would be all too easy to get spoiled with such attentive service
.
With maternal relief she observed her niece had taken the baby into the shade, sitting on a soft bank of greenery. Renebti was tickling Seknehure’s nose with a feather she’d found, much to the giggling baby’s amusement. Turning her attention back to the partially opened crate, Tyema realized Sahure was watching her.

“Later,” he said again.

There was another blare of trumpets, coming closer. Sahure took her elbow, positioning her to face in the direction of the palace. All around her, people were going to their knees, then fully prone as Pharaoh and his party approached. Tyema knelt in unison with Sahure but before they could kiss the earth Pharaoh held out his hand. “You may rise, we don’t stand on full ceremony here in my private gardens.”

As she got to her feet, Tyema tried to contain her awe at being in the presence of Pharaoh. Nat-re-Akhte was still handsome and virile, his features strong, although well into his fifth decade. His unusual green eyes, bequeathed to him by ancestors from the first civilization before Egypt, were kind as the monarch met her gaze. To her relief, she saw no flickers of black magic around him. Pharaoh was wearing a simple, perfectly pleated white linen robe, belted with a complicated woven red-gold-and-turquoise sash at the waist. A golden falcon was affixed to the center of the sash. The blue cloak pinned to the shoulders of Nat-re-Akhte’s tunic with coral-and-malachite scarabs set in gold swept the ground. On his head sat the simple golden uraeus, a rearing Egyptian cobra symbolizing his royal rank, rather than a formal crown. His signet ring was the only jewelry, although an ornate dagger with a jeweled hilt rode at his belt. “I’m pleased to see you, Lady Tyema. I trust your journey was peaceful?”

Feeling overwhelmed by Net-re-Akhte’s magnificence, Tyema’s one conscious thought was to get this ordeal over with before she disgraced herself in front of Pharaoh. Or the baby, who she could hear beginning to fuss and whimper, set up a howl and made a scene. “Yes, yes, it was, Great One, thank you. Would you like to view the crocodile now?”

Beside her, she felt rather than heard Sahure tense. Apparently one didn’t try to move Pharaoh along, but the ruler didn’t seem upset by her suggestion, merely nodding. “The animal you’ve selected captures my interest. Sobek told me the keepers gave your beast the name ‘Pharaoh’.” He chuckled and there was a ripple of answering laughter from the courtiers in attendance. The guards maintained their stern mien and vigilant stance.

“We meant no disrespect, sir,” Tyema said, feeling butterflies in her stomach. What seemed amusing in Ta’sobeksef might be deadly insult here.
So many ways to put a foot wrong in Thebes.

Nat-re-Akhte paced toward the crate and she followed, conscious of the entire group trailing behind her. “No, I’m sure there was no disrespect intended, although there can be only one ruler at a time in Egypt,” he said over his shoulder. “So long as your crocodile restricts his ambitions to the pond at the temple, the world can remain in harmony.” There was a definite twinkle in his eyes.