Sphinx's Queen (30 page)

“Then maybe she can use her renewed influence over Pharaoh to gain what she wants for her elder son.”

“If all she wanted was a reconciliation between those two, she’d have it by now. And from what I hear, she’s also halfway to persuading Father to reconsider Thutmose as his heir. The palace is buzzing with talk of a trial period where they’ll share the duties of ruling the Two Lands.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” I said. “I should leave the women’s quarters more often.”

“The news always goes through the women’s quarters, Nefertiti,” Sitamun said, her expression so serious it made her look old. “It just never reaches you. Don’t you see what she’s doing? One by one, she’s cutting the strands that link you to others. For some, she doesn’t need an excuse. Even if they envy her or hate her, no one from the women’s quarters would dare to thwart the Great Royal Wife. If she lets it be known that no one is to give you any important information, your neighbors will fill your days with a flurry of mindless chatter about hair, dresses, and cosmetics, but no useful news.”

“Then it’s lucky for me I have you, Sitamun,” I said. “Now tell me something useful.” I ran my fingers through my tiny braids and teased, “Does this hairstyle look pretty enough with this dress, or do you think it would work better if I put on some more cosmetics?”

She threw a cushion at me.

It wasn’t until later, when I was back in my own rooms, that I recalled Sitamun’s ominous words about Aunt Tiye:
“If all she wanted was a reconciliation between those two, she’d have it by now.”

What else
does
she want, then?
I wondered.
And why does she need
me
to get it?

I resolved to ask Sitamun that very question the next time I saw her, but it slipped my mind until some seven days later. I’d dismissed my maids and was in my courtyard, anxiously watching the sun fade from the sky. It was almost evening, and I’d had no word from Sitamun. This wasn’t usual. Amenophis never let one day pass without writing to me. My mind began to conjure up all sorts of bizarre reasons for this unnatural silence. All of them were horribly dramatic and involved hideous disasters. Any peep of common sense in my head was outshouted by countless ridiculous possibilities. When Sitamun’s servant finally presented herself at the entryway to the courtyard, I swept down upon her like a rockslide.

“There you are! I was afraid that … I thought … Has anything … ?” I saw the look of badly reined-in panic in the girl’s eyes and forced myself to regain some self-control. “You know that your mistress and I are close friends. She’s shown me such kindness every day that I’m afraid she’s spoiled me. When you didn’t come until now, I became concerned that there was something wrong with the princess. I forgot that she has many other things in her life besides me. If she can’t see me today, that’s all right. Tomorrow will do. She’s well?”

“Lady Nefertiti …” The girl’s voice shook. Instead of responding to my question, she bowed very low before me and handed me a scrap of papyrus. When she straightened her back again, all she said was “Please give me leave to go back to my mistress. She hasn’t stopped crying all day.”

“Crying? Why? What’s the matter?” Fear shot back through me and I crushed the papyrus between my hands.

“Please
, my lady, let me leave.” The servant looked on the brink of tears herself. “I’m not even supposed to be here, but my mistress got down on her knees to me—to me!—and begged me to do this. If I’m discovered, I’ll—I’ll be whipped and taken away from the princess’s household and—and—and—”

“Go, go!” I cried, waving the crushed papyrus frantically. “You were never here.”

She didn’t wait for another word from me, and I didn’t wait to see the last flash of her heels as she fled from the courtyard. I spread the papyrus so roughly that it tore, but I could still read my dear friend’s message, scrawled in haste, stained with tears:

My dear friend, I thought I could do more for you and Amenophis than help pass messages between you. I went to Father to let him know how dearly you loved each other and how Mother had built walls between you. I thought that if he knew, he would overrule her and bless your marriage
. At this point in the letter, the lines were so badly smeared that it took me several attempts before I read the words:
I did not know at first that he was not alone
.

I pictured the scene in Pharaoh’s apartments—Sitamun pleading for his support; Aunt Tiye overhearing her own daughter chipping away at her plans; the moment she revealed her presence not as Sitamun’s mother but as Great Royal Wife, the god-on-earth’s beloved. She’d have no trouble coming up with a plausible way to make Sitamun look foolish. She had more influence over Pharaoh than his daughter could ever hope to possess. With tender whispers and oh-so-reasonable explanations and many loving kisses, Aunt Tiye would guide her royal husband like a master of chariots. Sitamun would never have a chance against her.

And afterward, she’d make Sitamun pay the price for what Aunt Tiye could only see as treachery.

She has forbidden me from seeing you anymore and has taken steps to make sure we will not even be able to exchange letters. May the gods protect my loyal and devoted servant who brings you this, because it must be our last message. I wanted you and Amenophis to have something better than one letter a day exchanged between you. My foolishness has cost you even that. Be strong, Nefertiti, and forgive me
.

I sat on the bench in the moonlight, Sitamun’s last letter in my lap. Aunt Tiye had cut another thread that anchored my life to those who cared for me. No way to contact Amenophis, no further visits with my true friend Sitamun, certainly no letters to or from Akhmin …

And what about Nava and Henenu? She knew the scribe was my friend. She was too smart not to suspect that the Habiru child was special to me. What would she do to them when they came back from Memphis? Would I even be allowed to
know
they’d returned? I felt like a beetle buried in the sand beneath a great battlefield, knowing nothing about the kingdoms being lost and won somewhere over my head.

I had never been so alone.

13
T
HE
B
UILDERS OF
W
ALLS

In the days that followed Sitamun’s last letter, I learned that it is possible to live in the midst of crowds and still be as isolated as if I were standing on the peak of the great pyramid called Khufu’s Horizon. All around me, the women’s quarters bustled with life—wives, companions, children, servants, slaves, pets, and the royal overseers whose duty it was to govern this world-within-a-world. It was nothing to me. Chatter wasn’t the same thing as being able to
talk
to someone else. Being caught up in a crowd of other human beings wasn’t the same thing as belonging.

I did try to make things better for myself. Since I was cut off from my old friends and those I cared about, I decided I’d create new ties where I could. It was all a dismal failure. Whenever I tried to strike up a new friendship, I was met with pleasant conversation, smiling faces, and polite discouragement. If I invited someone to my rooms for a meal, she always had another place she absolutely
had
to be. If I offered to entertain a woman’s children, she insisted that they
never
got along with anyone except her and their regular nursemaid. If I overheard one of the ladies complaining because she’d misplaced a particular pot of perfume or jar of paint for her eyes and I volunteered to let her have some of mine, suddenly she’d remember
exactly
where she’d left the missing item.

I became very used to hearing “Thank you so much, Nefertiti. You’re so nice, but this just won’t work out now. Another time, yes? I’m so glad you understand!”

Oh, I understood. I so-so-
so
definitely understood. Aunt Tiye’s hand was in this somehow. Her rivals in Pharaoh’s household might hate and envy her, but they were also wise enough to fear her. She had found a way to let it be known that I was not to be befriended unless the person fool enough to do so wanted to feel the wrath of the Great Royal Wife.

No one did. There were times I saw a look of commiseration in the faces of some of the palace women, especially those who weren’t that much older than I, but that was all they dared to do. Many of them had children to protect from the never-ending intrigues of palace life. Could I blame them for lacking enough courage to open their hearts to me? I was no one. Aunt Tiye ruled their world from the shadows.

I began to spend more and more time in my own rooms, playing listlessly with Ta-Miu. Each morning I would eat breakfast, give my maids a few small chores to do, then dismiss them until it was time to bring me my dinner. I gave them so much free time that they must have thought they’d tumbled into some sort of wonderful dream.

I soon found myself falling into an odd routine, sleeping more and more during the daylight hours and straying from my rooms only after sunset. Ta-Miu decided that this was a great improvement and trotted along with me everywhere. Sometimes I took my scribe’s kit with me. It may sound strange to say this, but there were many times that I’d see something in the abandoned halls or gardens or great rooms of the palace that would touch my spirit in a way that begged to be put into words. Without the turmoil of Pharaoh’s followers, servants, and attendants distracting me, I could see that the walls held ghosts. Who had walked in my steps over these stones a hundred years ago? Who would walk here when the sacred river’s waters had risen and fallen a hundred times more? There was no way for me to know their names or their fates, but I could let my mind weave tales about who they
might
have been and let my pen write them down.

One night I took a route that was unfamiliar to me and couldn’t find my path back to the women’s quarters. I blundered through the halls, hoping to come across one of the night guards, but I seemed to have wandered into a part of the palace that wasn’t worth patrolling. My confusion was made worse by the fact that even though these halls were deserted, they were as well lit as if Pharaoh himself would come striding through them at any moment.

Ta-Miu’s ears perked up at the scuffling sound of mice going about their business, though we never saw a single one. I dropped to one knee and petted her. “If you were a hunting hound, I could ask you to find us a scent trail to lead us out of here,” I joked.

“Mrow!” Ta-Miu replied with so much resentment that she must have understood me. She switched her tail peevishly, jerked her sleek head out from under my hand, and walked away.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, O daughter of Bast,” I said, following her. “Now what am I going to have to do in order to earn your forgiveness? A fish? Two? Some roast duck? A new cushion? That would be a waste: You always sleep at the foot of my bed. How about—”

Ta-Miu made a sudden bound through a narrow doorway. I gave a small cry of surprise and leaped after her.

Soft starlight soothed my eyes. The crescent moon above gleamed like the graceful horns that crowned Hathor in her beauty. I smelled rich earth, fresh greenery, and the inviting perfume of many flowers. “What a lovely garden,” I said to Ta-Miu in a hushed voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before.”

“Then I’m glad you’re seeing it now,” said a woman’s husky voice from a place under one of the sycamore trees. There was the sound of a linen dress whispering over stone, a few footsteps, and she was standing before me. Her beautiful face, broad and dark-skinned, and her tightly curled hair were Nubian, and her smile was more dazzling than the array of gold and jewels adorning her neck, ears, and arms. I had to stare. Who wore so much finery at this time of night, in such a lonely place as a silent garden?

She saw how my eyes were fixed on her adornments, and her teeth flashed when she laughed. “Why shouldn’t I?” she said, answering my unasked question. “I love these pretty things. Why can’t I wear them even when I am the only one who’ll see them? Don’t
I
count as someone important enough to impress with all these treasures?”