Sphinx's Queen (4 page)

“We’ll go farther, but not if we don’t take the time to rest a bit along the way,” I said calmly. “You have to remember that if—
when
—your brother comes after us, he’s only a man, not a hunting hound. He can’t track us by scent or sight—not now. I can’t see the towers of Thebes from this far down the river. Can you? And just look at how busy the river is! We’re one small boat among many, small enough to hide in the reeds if he does come sailing up to us.”

“I—I guess you’re right,” Amenophis admitted. “And if we go ashore now, maybe we can find a village, get a few more loaves of bread, a real fishing spear—”

“As long as we’re careful about how we bargain for them,” I told him. “You’ll have to act like an ordinary person. If not, they’ll remember you, and if Thutmose sends messengers up and down the river, asking people if they’ve seen a regal-looking young man—”

“Oh, I don’t think my brother would describe me as regal-looking,” Amenophis said, rubbing the back of his shaved head sheepishly. “He’d just tell his messengers to ask folks if they’d seen a scrawny boy, a little girl, and a beautiful—”

“Are you going to land this boat or not?” I said quickly. “My legs hurt from being folded under me for so long. If I don’t stand up and use them, they’ll probably fall off when we
do
come ashore.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Amenophis babbled more apologies as he turned the reed boat’s prow toward the western riverbank. We were fortunate to find a stretch of shore where the reeds didn’t grow too thickly and where landing wasn’t difficult. A few date palms clustered together a short distance inland. They were small and had sickly-looking trunks—nothing like the magnificent trees of my dream—but there were a few fistfuls of fruit hanging below their green crowns. Nava exclaimed in delight when she saw the fruit. As nimble as a little monkey, she scrambled up one tree after another to pluck their sweet harvest and bring it down to share with Amenophis and me.

We ate the dates and enjoyed the shade of the trees. “We should stay here a while longer,” I said. “The sun’s at the top of the sky, and we haven’t got a drop of oil to protect our skin. If we’re not careful, we’ll burn or, even worse, be heat-struck.”

Amenophis began to argue with me, urging a quick departure, but I stood my ground. “For all you know, your sister Sitamun has covered our tracks for us. She’s a very smart woman. Think about it: Thutmose discovers that we’re gone and starts raging through the palace, demanding to know who’s responsible for our escape. I wouldn’t put it past Sitamun to act guilty on purpose, just so he’d turn on her and demand a confession. Oh, she would pretend to know nothing about it, but she’d pretend badly, until finally she’d make a great show of breaking down and telling him that we ran away
up
the river or that we didn’t even sail away at all, but took a chariot and—”

Amenophis chuckled. “Thank the gods that Henenu taught you how to write. You were born to weave stories the way other girls are born to weave linen. But you have to watch out for the loose threads, my friend. If there’s no chariot or horses missing from the stables, that puts an end to
that
tale.”

“Hmph.” I’d gotten caught up in my own story about Sitamun’s cleverness, and I didn’t like having it picked to pieces. “Well, then, do you want to find fault with the part about her telling Thutmose we’ve gone
up
river?”

“Why would we want to sail in that direction? Everything important to our safety lies
down
river from Thebes: my parents in Dendera, yours in Akhmin, Lord Osiris’s most sacred city, the refuge of Abydos—”

I threw my date pits at him and turned my back. “You know everything, don’t you? But you don’t know enough to get out of the midday sun.”

I was in a foul temper. The time we’d spent on the river had cramped my legs badly, just as I’d suspected. I hated sitting there while Amenophis did all the work. I didn’t want him to overburden himself, but even more, I didn’t want to be just another piece of baggage, hardly more than the sacks holding our supplies. Why couldn’t I put my hands on the oar, do my share, use my own strength to save myself and my friends? It wasn’t fair.

As I sat there, hunched over like an old woman in the marketplace, Nava crept around to peer up into my face. “Don’t be mad at Amenophis, Nefertiti,” she said. “It’s still a good story, even if he’s right about the parts where you made mistakes.”

Nava had the gift for coaxing smiles out of stones. “Is this how it’s going to be? You and him against me?”

“Well, it
is
his boat,” Nava said quite seriously. “I like sailing in it. I don’t want to walk all the way to Dendera.”

“Good point,” I said, grinning. “Neither do I.” I looked back at Amenophis, who was trying not to laugh out loud at Nava’s reasoning. “What about it, my friend?” I said. “May we still share your royal watercraft?”

Amenophis stroked his chin as if considering grave matters that might affect half his father’s kingdom. “Hmm, I don’t know. You
did
throw date pits at me. But you also amused me with your story. All right, you can get back in the boat.”

“No, no,” I said, hanging my head dramatically. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve insulted you; I must be punished. Let me take the oar and steer the boat between here and our next resting place, and let me continue to trade places with you—steersman and passenger—all the way to Dendera. It’s the least I can do to make up for such a terrible offense.”

My friend snorted and smothered his laughter with a bony fist. “Do you know how to manage a boat?”

“Did
you
, before last night?” I countered.

“When we went duck hunting in the marshes, I paid attention to how our servants mastered the boats.”

“And I’ve been paying attention to how you’ve been doing it. So unless you think I’m dull-witted or a bad student—”

“She’s
not,”
Nava spoke up, giving Amenophis a fierce glare that dared him to say otherwise. “You
know
she’s not!”

Amenophis raised both hands in surrender. “If I say yes, it will be a sin that will weigh down my heart when I stand before Lord Osiris’s judgment in the afterlife. Ammut the Devourer of Hearts will have me for sure! You can take the oar, Nefertiti, except …”

“What?”

“You need to do something about that.” He gestured at my dress. “It’s too long. You could trip while steering the boat and fall in the river. The gods forbid it, but—but it
would
tangle your legs and drag you down.”

His words called up awful memories. I suppressed a shudder as I stood up and stuck out my hand. “That’s easily fixed. Give me your knife, Amenophis. Please.”

He watched in fascination as I began slicing my dress off at the knees. Nava wanted to help, but Amenophis’s knife was large and keen-edged; I felt it wouldn’t be wise to let the child use it. Still she persisted. I was so distracted, constantly trying to make sure she wasn’t getting too close to the blade, that I made a very awkward, uneven job of shortening my dress. When I was done, I blew out a great breath of relief and tied the cutaway material around my waist. It might come in handy.

“Thank you.” I gave the knife back to Amenophis and swung my legs experimentally. “Do you think I made it short enough?”

“I guess so.” Amenophis sounded uncertain, and he was staring at me in the strangest way. “It’s—it’s really a shame that you had to ruin your dress. You don’t
have
to help at the oar.”

“I’ll have other dresses,” I told him. “But how many chances will I have to master a boat on the sacred river? Besides, did you even
look
at my dress until now? It was already tattered along the hem, halfway to rags.”

“I thought it was beauti—nice,” he said so softly that at first I wasn’t sure if he’d said anything at all.

Nava and I stepped back into the boat, and Amenophis pushed away from the bank. He’d agreed to let me guide our vessel, but he insisted that he be the one to get it out onto the water and bring it ashore. I didn’t argue about it, but I did make a silent vow to observe exactly how he launched and landed the craft so that I could do it myself another day. As much as I wished he’d trust me to do more, I felt it wasn’t worth any further objection. It was more important that we reach Dendera quickly than that I win an argument.

As soon as we were well away from the shore, Amenophis and I traded places, edging past one another carefully. We had to hold on to each other as he moved toward the middle of the boat and I headed for the stern. How strange it was—his hands were so cold when they clasped my shoulders that I could feel the chill even through what was left of my dress.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Fine.” He wouldn’t look at me. “I’m—I’m only trying to keep my balance.”

“Me too,” I said, reaching the stern and picking up the oar. Lowering my voice so that Nava wouldn’t hear me, I added, “I’ve fallen into the river once in my life. That was enough.”

Now he
did
look at me, his face sharp with worry. “Can’t you swi—?”

“Shhh!” I nodded toward the prow, where Nava was sitting, and gestured for him to speak as quietly as he could. Neither one of us wanted the child to overhear a conversation that might conjure up tragic memories.

“Can’t you swim?” he repeated in a whisper.

“I can stay afloat.”
When I’m not weighed down by heavy jewels and a long dress
, I thought. “And you?”

“Father’s best huntsman insisted on teaching Thutmose and me how to swim before he took us on our first waterfowling trip. I should teach you and Nava.”

“I’d like that. You’d be a good teacher.” My words made him beam with pleasure.

My first turn managing our boat went well. I made only a few small mistakes—coming too close to one of the larger ships on the river, scraping the bottom of our vessel when I accidentally veered us into a stretch of shallows—but they were soon corrected, with no harm done. By the time we made camp for the night, I’d had two more chances to show my skill with the oar, and I was sure I was getting better at it.

“A good day’s work!” I said as we shared our dinner.

That night, I slept without dreams, good or bad. I awoke refreshed, even though it was so early that Ra’s brightly shining boat still hid its golden prow below the horizon. There was a light mist on the river, soon banished when the eastern sky began to kindle, then to glow. I walked down to the river’s edge, drawn by the light. A lone blue lotus floated on the ripples that lapped against the shore, and I knelt to touch its delicate petals with my fingertips.

“How wonderful,” I whispered, and I thanked the gods for giving us a new day.

I was seated in the middle of the boat as we began that day’s voyage. It was still very early, and there weren’t many other boats on the water. Nava began to sing a merry tune, clapping her hands to keep the beat. It was a work song, something I’d heard slaves sing when they had a long, tedious job to do. The words were simple and repetitive, the melody brisk and lively. I had no trouble joining in. Even Amenophis raised his voice in song. How lighthearted we felt, how free!

“Look there, Nefertiti!” The happy song had vanished from Nava’s lips. She sounded afraid, far more afraid than when she’d seen the crocodiles. Her small hand shook as she pointed to the eastern shore of the sacred river. A herd of hippos lolled in the water, their huge heads turning lazily to watch us as we floated by.

I crept forward slowly until I was close enough to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I see them, Nava,” I said softly. I tried, but I couldn’t stop my voice from quavering. Who wouldn’t be afraid of those massive beasts? Only a fool or a foreigner who had no idea of how dangerous a hippopotamus could be. Their enormous bodies looked too bulky to move easily, but that was an illusion. “Shhh, it’s all right; we’ll be past them soon.”

“Yes, don’t worry,” Amenophis chimed in. “See, they’re all the way across the river. They’re feeding. There’s no need to be—”

The water to the left of the prow erupted with a roar that drowned our screams, and our boat of bundled reeds flew wildly as the lone hippo rose from the depths to destroy us.

2
T
HE
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AND OF THE
D
EAD