Nefertiti (26 page)

In the Great Hall that night, Thutmose was placed at the royal table, and Kiya sat next to him with her gaggle of ladies, women who had been raised in the comfort of the Elder’s harem. Nefertiti and Amunhotep watched with satisfaction as the court fussed over their sculptor, who lived now in the palace simply to serve them.

“May we see what you sketched today?” the women entreated. But Kiya’s mood at the table was dark.

“Why did no one tell me they were going to the Arena?”

Thutmose placated her. “It was too early, my lady. You would have been cold.”

“I don’t care about a little cold,” she snapped.

“But it would have paled your cheeks, and their color is too lovely for that.” He appraised her intimately. “Skin the rich tones of the fertile earth.”

Kiya settled a little. “So where are these sketches?”

While we waited for our body servants to bring food, Thutmose produced the sheaf of papyrus I had seen in the Arena. New among the drawings was an image of Pharaoh, shaded to reveal the ankh of life beneath him as he reined in his powerful horses. Thutmose passed the sketches around the table, and there was a short silence even among the viziers and my father.

Kiya looked up. “These are very good.”

“They are excellent,” my father complimented.

Thutmose bowed his head, and the beads from his wig clinked musically. “Their Majesties are easy subjects to render.”

“I think it is your skill,” my father replied, and a warm glow colored Thutmose’s cheeks.

“It is my pleasure. And yesterday His Highness gave me permission to use my studio for other commissions as well.”

There was a sudden surge of interested questions, and Kiya said grandly, “Then I will commission you to do a bust of myself and the first son of Egypt.”

There was an uncomfortable moment at the table. My father glanced at my mother. Then Thutmose said tactfully, “Any child of His Highness will make a fine bust.”

“And you?” my mother asked at my side. “Should we commission a portrait for you? It could be a bust, or even a relief for your tomb. You should begin to think about how the gods will remember you.”

Thutmose was inundated with requests and everyone was talking at once, even the viziers. In the midst of the cacophony, Thutmose saw my silence and smiled at me.

“Perhaps later,” I said to my mother. “Perhaps later I might like a painting of a beautiful garden.”

The women of the court fluttered around Thutmose like newly released butterflies to a bloom. Even after two months in the palace, Thutmose was like a new guest, being invited to every feast and shown around the gardens.

“I don’t know why they bother,” Ipu said, braiding my hair one morning. “It’s not as if he’s interested in women.”

I stared at her, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

Ipu took up a jar of frankincense and glanced sideways at me. “He likes men, my lady.”

I sat still on the edge of my bed and tried to fathom this. “Then why do all the women like him so much?”

Ipu applied the oil to my face with wide sweeps. “Probably because he’s young and handsome and his skill with limestone can’t be found anywhere else. He complimented my work,” she added smugly. “He said he’d heard of me even in Memphis.”

“Everyone’s heard of you,” I replied.

She giggled. “All of the ladies want him for their portraits. Even Panahesi commissioned one.”

There was a fire in the brazier. The weather had turned, and we all wore long kilts and robes now. I huddled against the warm fur of my cloak, considering this new addition to Amunhotep’s court. “Well, everywhere Nefertiti goes, he follows,” I replied. “Suggesting places he can engrave her image. He’ll be there this morning at the Arena, I’m sure.”

“Does he go every morning?”

I sighed. “Like the rest of us.” But this morning I didn’t want to go see Pharaoh ride. I knew what it would be like in the stadium, with the viziers and Panahesi and Kiya all crowded around each other for the benefit of Amunhotep, watching him ride with Nefertiti even though she was five months with his child. I knew the wind would be chill and that even if the servants warmed
shedeh
and brought it to us, I’d still be freezing. And my mother would be silently worrying that Nefertiti shouldn’t be riding in her condition, that it was the future of Egypt she was carrying in her belly, yet no one would say anything, not even Father, because he understood that this was how she kept him from Kiya.

“Ready.” Ipu put her brush and kohl away. But when I went out into the hall, my feet didn’t make their way toward the courtyard. If I was going to spend my time freezing, I decided, then I would do it in the gardens. Perhaps in the commotion I would be forgotten and no one would notice that I was gone.

I took a seat beneath an old acacia and then heard Nefertiti’s sharp voice calling for me.

“Mutny? Mutny, are you out here?”

I pulled my feet up onto the bench and remained silent.

“Mutnodjmet?” My sister’s voice grew more urgent. “Mutny?” She rounded the lotus pond and saw me sitting. “What are you doing? We’re going to the Arena.” She stood over me, her black hair brushing the sides of her cheeks.

“I thought I’d stay here.”

Her voice rose dramatically. “And not watch me ride?”

“I’m tired today. And it’s cold.”

“It’s cold here, too!”

“Ipu can go,” I offered. “Or Merit.”

Nefertiti hesitated, debating between continuing the argument and letting it go. “Thutmose finished the busts,” she said instead. She would allow me then to remain in the gardens. “He’s painting them now.”

I lowered my feet. “How long will he remain in the palace?”

Nefertiti gave me a strange look. “Forever.”

“But what will he paint all day?”

“Us.”

“All the time?”

“He is free to hire out his services to courtiers as well.” She turned. “Can you see it?” she asked me, moving sideways so I would notice the little belly on her, protruding over her belt of golden scarabs. “He’s already growing.”

I hesitated. “What if it’s a she?”

“Amunhotep will love whatever child I give him,” she said heatedly.

I frowned, knowing her better. “Will you?”

She pressed her lips together, worrying them with her bottom teeth the way I often did. “If it’s a girl, Kiya will be mother to Egypt’s eldest prince.”

“But she’s Second Wife. If you give the Pharaoh a son, even if it’s next year, he will still come to be Pharaoh.”

Nefertiti looked out into the distance, beyond the lotus pond, as if she could see all the way to Thebes. “If I don’t have a boy, Nebnefer will have more time to gather support.”

“He’s only four months old!”

“But not forever.” She leaned forward. “You will help me, won’t you? You will be there with me when it’s time. And you will pray to the goddess to make it a boy.”

I laughed, then stopped short at the look on her face. “Why would the goddess listen to me?”

“Because you’re honest,” Nefertiti replied. “And I’m…I’m not like you.”

Nefertiti moved through the palace with her hand on her belly, and no one dared speak a word about the four-month-old prince suckling at Kiya’s breast in the Great Hall, even though everybody saw him. And he was a sweet little prince, even if his mother was sour as a lemon. Amunhotep helped Nefertiti over every step, into every chariot, even onto her throne. He fussed over her and praised her growing baby even as he ignored the one already born.

In the month of Mechyr, Amunhotep announced in official scrolls and on public buildings that Aten was the god who reigned in Memphis. A proclamation was sent forth that Egyptians would bow down before the priests of Aten as they had for the priests of Amun.

For Aten embraces Egypt. He is all powerful.

He is most beautiful. All knowing and all wise.

The scroll did not end with the word
Amun
. No official scroll in Egypt had ever ended without the word
Amun
. Now none in Memphis ever would again.

My father lowered the scroll onto his lap. “This is blasphemy, and the Elder will hear of it! He will
not
be pleased.” He glared at my sister and Nefertiti shrugged. She didn’t shrink away as I would have done.

“Blasphemy is whatever Pharaoh says it is,” she replied.

“And your husband is not the only Pharaoh!” My father stood and flung the scroll into the brazier. “The Elder still lives. And mark me, Nefertiti, mark me well. If your husband is not careful, do not be surprised if my sister sends men to assassinate him.”

I covered my mouth and Nefertiti turned white.

“Amunhotep already wears the atef crown! She wouldn’t!”

My father said nothing to her.

“You wouldn’t let that happen!”

“It has gone too far.”

“But I’m carrying his child!”

He moved toward her. “Listen and listen very carefully. There could very well be an assassination. Be sure the men you’ve hired to protect you are willing to die.”

The color drained entirely from Nefertiti’s face. “You must stop her! She is your sister!” she cried.

“She is also Queen of Egypt and I am only a vizier.”

Nefertiti looked sick. “But you will protect me, won’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Won’t you?” she whispered. She looked so small and frightened that I wanted to cross the room and wrap her in my arms.

Our father closed his eyes. “Of course, I will protect you.”

“And my child? And Amunhotep?”

“I cannot promise that. You must hold him back. You must find a way. Or no protection of mine will ever be enough.”

We lived like cats, sniffing our food before we ate it, even when it had been tasted by servants, and keeping one ear pricked at night for the sound of intruders. Ipu began to worry for my health.

“All night you toss and turn. It isn’t good for you, my lady.”

“I’ve heard news, Ipu, that makes me worried.”

My body servant stopped folding my linen so that she could look at me. “Bad news?”

“Yes,” I admitted, putting my hands under my legs. “You would tell me if there was talk in the palace?”

Ipu’s dimples disappeared. “What kind of talk, my lady?”

“Of assassination.”

Ipu recoiled.