Nefertiti (11 page)

“Who
wished for my brother? Who wished for Tuthmosis to be on the throne?”

Panahesi had found a way past Nefertiti. “There are factions, my lord, who wish for Tuthmosis. Surely you see them. Of course, once we go to Memphis, it will be telling who chooses to come with us and who chooses to stay behind.”

“Will the architect Maya come with us?” he demanded.

“It’s possible.” Panahesi spread his hands. “If we get to him.”

“And the army?”

“It will be divided in two.”

Amunhotep was silent, then he said with venom, “You will make sure this court knows that when I go to Memphis, either they are with me or against me. And they had best remember which Pharaoh will live longer!”

Panahesi bowed out of the chamber. “I will do as I am told, Your Majesty.”

Nefertiti shut the door behind him and Amunhotep dropped into a gold and leather chair. “Why doesn’t your father come to congratulate me on my coronation?”

“My father doesn’t offer congratulations where none are needed. Everyone knows you were chosen by the gods to rule as Pharaoh.”

Amunhotep glanced up from under his thick lashes. He was a boy. A sulking, insecure child. “Then why did Panahesi say—”

“He is lying!” Nefertiti exclaimed. “Who would be so foolish as to wish for your brother’s rule when they could serve a Pharaoh like you?”

But a light flickered in Amunhotep’s eyes and he turned. “If my brother had not died, you would be his wife.”

“I would never have been Tuthmosis’s wife,” Nefertiti said quickly.

It was dangerous, the way the king’s thoughts were tending. Amunhotep turned on me. “They say the sister of Nefertiti never lies. Did your father ever mention Tuthmosis in his house?”

Nefertiti turned white and I nodded slowly.

“And did he plan to marry your sister to him?”

I was wise enough to know that if I didn’t lie now, Kiya would become the favorite in Memphis and my sister just another of the king’s many wives. Amunhotep leaned forward and his face looked dark. It would take only one lie to change eternity, to ensure that our names lived forever on the glorious monuments of Thebes. I glanced at Nefertiti, who was waiting to see what I would do. Then I stared into Amunhotep’s eyes and replied the way my father would have wanted me to, the way Nefertiti was hoping I would. “Vizier Ay always believed it would be you who would take the throne of Egypt. It was you whom my sister was intended for, even when you were a child.”

Amunhotep stared at me. “Destiny,” he whispered, sitting back in his chair. “It was destiny! Your father
knew
I would take the throne of Egypt!”

“Yes,” she whispered, looking at me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I had lied for her. I had gone against my conscience to preserve our family.

The seventeen-year-old Pharaoh of Egypt stood up. “Ay will serve as Chief Vizier above all the land!” he proclaimed. “He shall be Overseer of Foreign Affairs in Memphis, and I will raise him above all other viziers!” Amunhotep looked at me again. “You may go,” he said carelessly. “The queen and I have plans to make.”

Nefertiti reached out her hand to stop me, but I shook my head sternly, slipping past her out the door. Tears welled in my eyes and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. I had lied to a king of Egypt, the highest representative of Amun in the land.
Ma’at will be ashamed
, I whispered aloud, but there was no one in the columned halls to hear me.

I thought of going to see my mother, but she would say that what I had done had been the right thing to do. I found my way into the gardens and sat down on the farthest stone bench. I would be punished by the gods for what I’d done. Ma’at would want vengeance.

“It’s not often a queen’s sister comes to the gardens alone.”

It was General Nakhtmin.

I blinked away my tears. “If Pharaoh sees you with me, he will not be pleased,” I said sternly, gathering myself.

“No matter. Soon the new Pharaoh will be in Memphis.”

I looked up sharply. “You will not be coming?”

“Only those who choose to leave will be moving. Much of the army will remain in Thebes.” The general took a seat next to me without asking my permission. “So why are you here, among the willows and all alone?”

My eyes welled up again. I had shamed the gods.

“What? Has a boy broken your heart?” he demanded. “Shall I banish him for you?”

I laughed, despite myself. “No boy is interested in me,” I said.

We were quiet for a moment.

“So why all this weeping?”

“I told a lie,” I whispered.

The general studied me and a smile began at the edges of his lips. “That’s it?”

“It may be a small thing for you, but it is a great deal to me. I have
never
lied.”

“Never?
Not even about a broken dish, or somebody’s lost necklace that you found?”

“No. Not since I became old enough to understand the laws of Ma’at.”

The general said nothing, and I realized I must look like such a child to him, a man who’d seen war and bloodshed. “It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled.

“It does matter,” he said seriously. “You value truth. Only now you’ve lied.”

I said nothing.

“It’s fine, your secret’s safe with me.”

I stood up, furious. “I should never have told you!”

“You think you will lose my respect over a lie?” He laughed kindly. “The court of Egypt is built on them. You will see that in Memphis.”

“Then I will close my eyes,” I replied childishly.

“At your own peril. Best to keep them open, my lady. Your father depends on it.”

“How do you know what my father depends on?”

“Well, if you don’t keep a sensible head, who will? Your beautiful sister? Pharaoh Amunhotep the Younger? They’ll be too busy building tombs and temples,” he replied. “Maybe even,” he added treasonously, “dismantling the priesthood in order to control the gold it brings in.” I must have looked scandalized, because the general asked, “Do you think your family is the only one that sees this? The new Pharaoh has everyone running. If the priests of Amun fall, so will many other wealthy men,” he predicted.

“My sister has nothing to do with that,” I said firmly and began walking back to the palace. I didn’t like the way he implicated my family in Amunhotep’s plans. But he followed after me, matching my stride.

“Have I offended you, my lady?”

“Yes, you have.”

“I’m sorry. I shall be more careful in the future. After all, you will be one of the most dangerous women at court.”

I stopped walking.

“Privy to the secrets that viziers and priests are paying spies very handsomely to procure.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Information, Lady Mutnodjmet,” he said, and he kept walking toward the stables.

“And what do you think information can do?” I called after him.

“In the wrong hands,” he replied over his shoulder, “it can do anything.”

That night I prepared for bed in the room next to the king’s private chamber, knowing my sister was next door but that I was unable to call to her. I looked over at my windowsill at the potted herbs that had endured the journey from Akhmim, and then a shuffling from one room to the next. Tomorrow, the queen would announce the date for our move to Memphis, and the plants would have to survive yet another uprooting.

When Ipu appeared to undress me, she saw my long face and clicked her tongue. “What is it, my lady?”

I shrugged, as if the matter was of little consequence.

“You miss your home,” she guessed, and I nodded.

She slipped the sheath over my head and I put on a fresh one. I sat obediently on the bed so that she could braid my hair. “Don’t you ever miss your home?” I asked quietly.

“Only when I think of my brothers.” She smiled. “I was raised with seven brothers. It’s why I get along so well with men.”

I laughed. “You get along with everyone. I saw you at the feasts. There’s not a person in Thebes you haven’t met.”

She lifted her shoulder casually, but didn’t deny it. “This is how we are in the city of Fayyum. Always friendly.”

“So you were born near Lake Moeris?”

She nodded. “A little farming village between the lake and River Nile.” She described vast stretches of loamy soil rolling away into earthy green hills. And the vineyards dotting the blue-green Nile. “There is no place in Egypt better for gardening, for tending to crops or harvesting papyrus.”

“And what did your family do?” I asked.

“My father was Pharaoh’s personal vintner.”

“And you left his gardens to work in the palace?”

“Only when he died. I was twelve, the youngest of five daughters and seven sons. My mother didn’t need me, and I’d inherited her skill with paints.” I studied her heavily made-up eyes in the mirror above our heads, the sweeps of malachite that never smudged in the sun. “The Elder found me a place as one of the queen’s women. Eventually, I grew to become the queen’s favorite.”

And the queen had let her go to be with me. I thought of my aunt and imagined all the selfless acts that she performed that went unnoticed. And squandering her kindness away was her son, selfish and self-absorbed.

“Palace life is better than life on the vineyards,” she continued. “To be in a city where women can buy whatever they need…” She exhaled thankfully. “Kohl, perfume,
real
wigs, exotic food. The boats come along the Nile and stop at Thebes. But no boats ever stopped in the Fayyum.”

I sighed as she brought me my robe and linen socks. No boats. No people. No politics. Just gardens. I put on my slippers and sat near the brazier. Ipu remained standing, and I pointed to a stool. “Tell me, Ipu.” I dropped my voice low, even though Nefertiti could never have heard me. “What is the gossip around the palace?”

Ipu gleamed. She was in her element now. “About you, my lady?”

I flushed. “About my sister and the king.”

She raised her eyebrows and said with caution, “Ah…I hear the new Pharaoh is willful.”

I sat forward. “And?”

She glanced briefly at the door that led to the antechamber and, outside of it, the king’s private rooms. “And the new queen is beautiful. The other servants call her Neferet.”
The Beautiful Woman
.

“And Memphis?” I asked. “Have the servants been told when to prepare for a journey?”

“Oh.” Her dimples flashed. “That’s what you want.” She leaned close to me, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. She was a beautiful woman, full of curves and faience beads with glittery malachite eyelids. “Queen Tiye ordered three new litters today, and the Master of the Horse said that six new horses have already been purchased.”

I sat back. “When will they be ready?”

“In six days.”

The next day, I was summoned to the Audience Chamber early, before it grew crowded with the courtiers who would come to hear of Amunhotep’s departure for Memphis. As I entered the double doors, my eyes were drawn first to the forest of closed papyrus-bud columns that culminated at a raised and painted dais. As I approached the golden thrones, the closed buds atop the columns slowly opened until the last two were carved into fully painted blooms—symbolic, I supposed, of Pharaoh opening his arms to embrace all of Egypt.

Beneath the dais, where my aunt and father were sitting, were images of bound captives, Hittites and Nubians, so that whenever Pharaoh ascended to his throne he would trod his enemies underfoot. The Audience Chamber was empty except for the three of us, and my father sat with his sister on an ebony bench with papyrus scrolls spread out before them.

“Your Majesty.” I bowed. “Father.”

Queen Tiye didn’t wait for me to sit. “Your sister has moved into my son’s private chambers.” Her face was inscrutable, and I was careful with my reply.

“Yes. She has entranced the new king, Your Majesty.”

“She has entranced the entire palace,” Queen Tiye corrected. “She’s all the servants will talk about.”

I thought of Ipu calling my sister
Neferet
, and of what General Nakhtmin had said. “She is bold, Your Highness, but she is very loyal.”

Queen Tiye studied me. “Loyal, but to who?”