The Sekhmet Bed (19 page)

Ahmose rolled the papyrus carefully and laid it on the table beside her couch. A few more were stacked there: A week’s worth of notes from her grandmother. She had been corresponding with Nefertari for months now, sending the news of the palace up the river to the old woman’s estate. It was not purely for the pleasure of it. Ineni would arrive soon to collect the letters.

“Mutnofret’s woman is here.” Twosre stood in the threshold between bed and ante chambers, a hand on her hip. Her stance said,
Shall I send her away with a kick to her rump?

Relations had not improved between Ahmose and Mutnofret. As Mutnofret’s belly grew larger, so did her sense of entitlement. She was more vocal at court, often speaking up before Ahmose had a chance. Thutmose had noticed. His eyebrows would raise sometimes when Mutnofret jumped in with her judgments before the Great Royal Wife had been consulted. Mutnofret no longer maintained her proper demeanor in public dealings, but she could hardly be chastised in front of the court. Whether Tut ever reprimanded her privately, Ahmose didn’t know. She often wanted to ask, but balked at the thought of looking so weak in her husband’s eyes.

Instead, she avoided Mutnofret entirely. She always sent Twosre into the courtyard as a scout, to report on Mutnofret’s whereabouts. If the second queen was lounging there – as she often did, with one eye on Ahmose’s hall – Ahmose would take another route, or retreat to her garden to wait Mutnofret out. When Ahmose took to her roof-top pavilion and Mutnofret came to call, she was politely but firmly denied access, given one excuse after another until she gave up and went away.

So it was that the sisters hardly saw one another at all outside of court. It seemed to Ahmose that Mutnofret’s belly grew in leaps, noticeably larger and more accusatory at each court session. During the course of her pregnancy, Mutnofret had become a stranger to Ahmose, an invader in the palace, but she seemed content to harry Ahmose only now and then. For the most part, she left her alone, apparently happy to have confined Ahmose to solitude and to inflict occasional embarrassment at court.

She had never sent a servant directly to Ahmose’s rooms.

Ahmose stood and waved to Twosre, a command to bring the woman in. Twosre was gone only a moment, and returned with Sitamun.

“Sitamun. How is the second queen?”

The skinny woman bounced on the balls of her feet. She looked like an undersized carp in the net. “Oh, Great Lady! You must come at once. Lady Mutnofret’s pains have begun!”

“Where is she?”

“In her rooms. I’ve sent for a physician already, but she’s calling for you. Please hurry!”

A clap sounded outside the entrance to her apartments. Ahmose sent Twosre to answer it, then laid a hand on Sitamun’s shoulder. “It will be all right. The goddess Tawaret is with my sister.” She wasn’t sure whether the words were meant to soothe Sitamun or herself.

“
Your steward,” Twosre announced. Ineni was close behind her. Quick as always, he’d caught the tense mood and his eyebrows were arched in a question.

Ahmose shook her head slightly. “There’s no time for us now, dear Ineni. My sister’s child is on the way. These are for you.” She scooped Nefertari’s scrolls up and pressed them into his hands. “Come to me tonight, please. We have much to talk about. Now, Sitamun, go back to Mutnofret and tell her I’m coming. I’m going to make an offering to Tawaret first. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Twosre caught Ahmose’s eye with a flat stare. “You look pale, Great Lady.”

“I’m all right.”

“Do you want me to come along?”

“No, thank you. I’ll manage on my own.” The door shut softly behind Ineni and the anxious Sitamun. “It will be good for me, I’m sure, to see another birth. One that goes well,” she said firmly, as if her words could make it so.

***

Ahmose stood for a long time outside Mutnofret’s door. There was muffled sound on the other side. Even through the walls it had a feeling of urgency, of strain. She could make out no words, but the rustle and bump, the murmur, the urgency of the half-formed sounds brought her close to panic. She would not let Mut’s dream-words into her heart.
Lady of sorrow. Mother of the Pharaoh, you will bear no sons
. She would not let the words in. She would not! Mutnofret would be well. All would be well. Ahmose breathed deeply, rubbed her fingers back and forth over the Tawaret charm she’d tucked into her blue linen belt. Finally, before the last thread of her courage could snap, she pushed the door open.

The anteroom was empty. The door to Mutnofret’s bedroom hung half open, and the forms of many women passed back and forth across the gap. Ahmose made for it with the pounding heart of a soldier going into battle.

The moment she was inside Mutnofret’s bedroom, the scene of Aiya’s death sprang up before her eyes. The frightened urgency of the women was the same. The dense air of dread was the same. The same holed seat sat in one corner. Was Mutnofret in some trouble, then, too? Would she also die under a hideous knife?
No. No, it will be different. All will be well.

“Ahmose.” Mutnofret’s voice called from somewhere in the press of women. She went toward it.

Nofret was lying on her bed, naked, wigless, eyes shut. Her stomach was enormous, a great, swollen thing painted all around with dark lines where the skin had stretched. A midwife bent over the second queen to dab a cool cloth against her cheeks, and Nofret tossed her head. She called for Ahmose again.

“I’m here, sister.” A hundred painful thoughts had run through Ahmose’s mind before she’d entered these rooms. As she had prayed to Tawaret, she’d wondered whether Mutnofret had only summoned her here to play another cruel game with her, to renew her fear of birth. But now – now, seeing Mutnofret in such distress, so helpless, she wanted only to ease her sister’s fears. She took her hand and squeezed.

“You must try to relax, Great Lady.” A woman bent over Mutnofret, patting her forehead with another damp cloth. Well into the season of Peret, the days were cool and pleasant; yet here in the confines of Mutnofret’s room, with so many crowded around the bed, the air was stifling. “Relax everything, right down to your bones.”

Mutnofret’s stomach tensed, heaving; she groaned deep in her throat. Her hand tightened around Ahmose’s fingers.

“What’s going on? Tell me what’s happening,” Ahmose demanded.

“She has begun her labor, Great Lady. The baby is making his way to the door.”

“I know that. What is it doing to my sister?”

“Tiring her; that is all.”

“When will the baby be out?”

“I do not know, Great Lady,” the midwife said. With a shiver, Ahmose recognized the same woman who had presided over Aiya’s doomed delivery. “Only the gods know. Some babies come very quickly; a few hours. Others take days.”

“
Days
?” She was dizzy just thinking about any woman remaining in such a state for
days
.

“The second queen is young. It is her first child. I think perhaps he won’t be born until late in the the night-time.”

Mutnofret panted. Her arms went limp. The pain had subsided, it seemed. Ahmose was beginning to sweat from the heat of so many bodies.

“Are so many women necessary right now, if the baby won’t arrive until night?”

The midwife looked annoyed at so many questions, but Ahmose was the Great Royal Wife, and could not be brushed away. “No,” she said hesitantly. “Your sister, Great Lady. She ordered that we all attend her.”

“She needs fresh air.”
We all do, gods know.
“Clear some space.”

“She may walk, Great Lady. It would do her good. It will speed the baby’s coming. We’ve tried to coax her out of bed, but she refused.”

“Get up, Mutnofret.”

Nofret groaned and shook her head side to side.

“Mutnofret, you can’t stay like this until night. Get up and walk with me in your garden. You should be in a proper birthing pavilion anyway, not here.” She tugged on Nofret’s hand. Slowly, carefully, still with her eyes squeezed shut, Mutnofret sat, then stood. The midwife helped Ahmose guide her to the garden door. The fresh air roused her; her eyes opened and she took several deep, shaking breaths. “Why is she in her rooms and not in the women’s garden?”

“
Great Lady, she refused to go.”

“
But the birthing pavilion is in the women’s garden.”

“
Of course, Great Lady, but…”

“
It’s improper for the second queen to give birth squatting on her bed like a rekhet. Set up a pavilion out here, in Mutnofret’s own garden,” Ahmose said, struggling not to shout. Why should she have to tell these women their business?

The women buzzed, then one spoke up. “Great Lady, it will take time, and we haven’t the supplies.”

“Do you know Ineni, my steward?”

The woman nodded.

“Tell him Queen Ahmose commands him to procure the supplies this very hour. He will make it happen. Jump! Your queen has given you orders!”

The midwife offered to walk with them, but Ahmose waved her off. Mutnofret seemed to be regaining some strength, now that she was out in the cool garden air. Ahmose tucked herself under Nofret’s arm, and they took steady, even steps back and forth through the garden. It was a pretty place:, peaceful and private, if rather small and confined. Mutnofret took measured breaths. Now that she had a task her mind seemed to focus and her fear dispel.

“Thank you for coming,” she said weakly.

“Of course.”

“I know…I know you dislike birth.”

Ahmose said nothing.

“It means much to me that you’re here.” She stopped abruptly, groaning.

“Lean on me,” Ahmose said. Mutnofret sagged into her. The full weight nearly buckled Ahmose’s knees. She stood very still while the pain took its course, then subsided. Mutnofret straightened, and Ahmose bent her knees one after the other to ease her own pain.

“I do think the walking helps. At least it gives me something else to think about.” Mutnofret tried a tiny laugh.

“Have you thought of a name?” Ahmose asked, a further distraction.

“I haven’t wanted to. I thought to name him before he was born might curse him.”

Or her.
Ahmose smiled. “With all the praying you’ve done, I doubt this baby could be cursed.”

They walked a long time. The midwife brought chairs outside so they could rest, but always chivvied Mutnofret back to her feet after a few minutes. Ahmose began to grow tired, and the midwife’s assistant took her place, propping Nofret up, supporting her through the pains.

“I’m glad you came, Great Lady,” the midwife said as they watched the scene in the garden. “I believe we never would have gotten her out of that bed. It’s dangerous to delay labor that way. So many things can go wrong.”

Ahmose didn’t want to think about that.

The afternoon stretched on. At last, poles and bolts of cloth arrived. Gratefully, Ahmose set about directing the servants in setting up a makeshift pavilion. Soon its walls were waving gently in the cool breeze.

“Now you’re ready to give birth like a proper lady,” Ahmose said to Mutnofret, taking over walking duties again. She expected a wan smile, but Nofret’s eyes were half closed and she breathed heavily, moaning with each breath. Sweat glistened on her lip and forehead. “I can’t do this,” she muttered.

“
What?” Ahmose leaned closer.

“
I can’t. I can’t do it!”

“
Mutnofret. Of course you can.”

“
Anupu take me!” Her voice rose to a wail. Ahmose shrank back, cringing from the words, from the change in her sister’s behavior. A moment ago Mutnofret had been plodding about as resolute as Hathor’s cow, and now she was crying out to die!
So this is how it starts. How the danger begins.
Mutnofret would die, huge, frightened, in pain, and Ahmose would live the rest of her life knowing she let her sister go to her tomb without ever truly mending the break in their love. The midwife and her women leapt into action, steering Ahmose away, surrounding Mutnofret, guiding her to the pavilion. One brought the ugly stool from inside Mutnofret’s bed chamber; another struck a small brazier alight and tossed herbs into the fire. One woman piled linens inside the pavilion. They were just like the linens that had soaked up Aiya’s blood.