The Sekhmet Bed (9 page)

The women glanced about, as if daring one another to speak first. Tuyu opened her mouth, smiling, but blinked as if her thoughts had caught up with her, and shut it again.
They must not want to admit they don’t like it. It’s just as Mutnofret said
.

“
Your gown is pretty,” Tuyu said at once, apparently reaching for a change of subject. “The color agrees with your complexion.”

“
You could use more jewels, though,” said Khamaat, slipping an ivory cuff off her wrist. She thrust it toward Ahmose. “Here, take this. It will look perfect with the gold bracelet.”

“
Oh, and my necklace!” Baketamun reached up to undo the clasp of an ornate scarab collar. “It’s lucky!”

“
But I wanted to be understated,” Ahmose said, waving away their offerings. She was determined to turn Mutnofret’s trick around on her. She would not go loading herself with jewels at the last minute. Let Mutnforet see the true strength of a queen.

“
Hisst!” Iryet elbowed Baketamun. “Here he comes!”

Ahmose raised her head from the group. Thutmose strode into the feast room, followed by the same young steward who had helped Ahmose and her sister through the crowded throne room the day Thutmose was named heir. The steward was reading aloud from a scroll. Ahmose caught her husband’s eye. He stopped, smiling, and bowed to her.

“
Go talk to him!”

“
What will I say?”

“
For Mut’s sake, you’re married to him, silly! Say whatever you want.”

“
No.” She knew it was absurd that the idea of merely talking to Thutmose should make her so nervous. Hadn’t she ridden with him in the hills above Waset when he’d been no more than a stranger? But he wasn’t a king then, and she had been only the Second Princess.

“
It will be your first great act as queen of Egypt.” Iryet’s arm slipped out of Ahmose’s, reached across to link with Baketamun on Ahmose’s other side. Queen or no, she was shut out of the circle. The women giggled, watching her expectantly.

“
All right, then.” Ahmose took a deep breath and walked to her husband on weak legs.

“
There’s my Great Royal Wife,” he said, smiling.

“
You look…well dressed.”

Thutmose laughed. “You can thank Ineni here for that. He’s hired a whole army of serving men to make me look more like a Pharaoh and less like a soldier. It’s quite a job, I’m sure.”

Ahmose smiled at the steward. So Ineni was his name. “A very good steward. I remember how you led my sister and me through the crowd the day Thutmose was proclaimed heir.”

Ineni’s hands crinkled against his scroll. He smiled shyly at Ahmose’s praise.

“
Not just a steward. An architect, sometimes, eh, Ineni? He designed the expansions your father made at Ipet-Isut.” Thutmose reached for Ineni’s shoulder, no doubt to squeeze it in a gesture of approval, but the steward flinched. Thutmose let his hand fall again, smiling. “Ineni isn’t good at talking to pretty women when he doesn’t have a stick to hit nobles with, but he’s always very good at reading lists. He was just going over the wedding gifts with me. Why don’t you listen, Ahmoset? You can claim anything you like for your new apartments.” Thutmose waved for Ineni to continue with his scroll.

“
From the jewelers’ guild, eighteen casks of jewelry for the wives of Thutmose.” Ineni’s voice was shook. “From the steward of cattle, six black bulls. You can sacrifice them or breed them, whichever you like. From the merchant Hirkhepshef, a pleasure barge with rowers. From the carpenter Huy, many pieces of fine ebony furniture. From the horse-trader Pawera, six black stallions and sixteen red mares; very fine animals from what I hear.”

“
Excellent,” Thutmose said, rubbing his hands together. “Anything you like, Ahmose? I think the pleasure barge would look nice in your room.”

She laughed. “Perhaps so, but I couldn’t choose from the gifts without Mutnofret.”

Thutmose looked around. “Where is she?”

“
I last saw her out in her litter, in the courtyard.”

Thutmose dismissed Ineni. He stepped closer to Ahmose. The smell of him came to her powerfully, myrrh and horse-sweat and leather. It made her thoughts all a muddle until she exhaled. “Mutnofret told me you lost a friend three days ago, Ahmoset. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“
Aiya,” she said, caught off guard; and her eyes filled with tears.

Thutmose laid his hand on her cheek, softly. His thumb brushed a tear out of the corner of her eye, then lightly rubbed, fixing her kohl. “No tears now. She is with Osiris. Her baby, too.” His eyes were gentle, comforting.

“
I am trying to set it aside, so I can enjoy our wedding feast.”

“
There is no need to set your friend aside, or your grief. Honor her by remembering her. But Aiya’s spirit is watching you. Remember that, too. Although you can’t see her, she is here with us tonight, celebrating with us. She is happy for you, don’t you think? And she will be your friend forever.”

Thutmose
. She wanted to say his name aloud, to show her gratitude for his kindness. His soft words made her feel calmer, more centered, the way she had always felt while spinning with Aiya. “I can feel her with me,” she managed at last. “Thank you.” Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, and said again, “Thank you, Thutmose.”

He leaned in close, so their foreheads nearly touched. His scent overwhelmed her. “Call me Tut,” he whispered, as if they conspired in some secret mischief.

“
Tut,” she breathed.

***

Mutnofret still had not showed by the time the stewards herded Ahmose and the king from the great hall. They were ushered to a waiting room, comfortably appointed and supplied with a senet board and a harpist. They played a distracted game of senet, chatting and joking as the hour before the celebration fled. He told her stories of his battles and showed her a fearsome scar on his scalp, impulsively pulling off his wig. She had to help him reposition it; they both laughed as she fussed with it. By the time Ineni appeared to announce the hour, Ahmose was more confident with Thutmose than she’d ever been.

“
Where
is Mutnofret? Is she trapped in a privy?”

Tut jackal-laughed. “I’m sure she’ll show up. She probably wants to make a grand entrance.”

Ahmose’s shoulders raised like a wary animal hackling.
A grand entrance?
The grandest entrance Nofret could imagine wouldn’t be enough to shake Ahmsoe’s composure. She had to tell herself that several times.

“
Pharaoh,” Ineni called from the door.

Tut rose from his chair and adjusted his long, many-pleated kilt. He looked so handsome and powerful in the formal dress. “It’s time to go play king.”

Ahmose followed him from the waiting room and down the corridor to the great hall’s entryway. The noise of many voices carried through the great double doors. She was suddenly all a-flutter over the feast, welling up inside with anticipation and pride. She didn’t think she could stand being alone, even for a few minutes while Tut was formally announced.

He stopped, turned back to look at her. She reached up to straighten his Eye-of-Horus pectoral; he caught her wrists. “A kiss for luck,” he said, and before she could blink, his lips touched her own. His kiss was there and gone in an instant, but her mouth tingled as he walked away. The complement of guards on the feast hall’s doors bowed to him, swung the huge carved and gilded doors wide.

“
The heir to the Horus Throne, Thutmose,” the steward called. Hundreds of voices rose in a cheer.

Ahmose leaned against the wall beside the doors, where none of the guests could see her. She pressed a hand to her heart, squeezing her eyes shut, willing her breath to steady.
Confidence. Confidence is all a queen needs. I will make them see me as a queen
. When the shouts of the people died back, Ineni coughed politely, gestured. She sprang away from the wall. When she moved into the great hall, her steps were even and confident.

“
The Great Royal Wife, King’s Daughter, God-Chosen, Queen Ahmose.”

The guests were on their feet, clapping, shouting their approval, raising their drinking-bowls in her direction. She walked down the wide aisle between rows of tables, her eyes on the three thrones at the head of the room. Thutmose sat upon the center one, grinning at her. His smile was all that mattered.

When she reached her throne, high-backed and adorned with a shining sun disc, Ahmose had one brief, soaring moment to look down on her approving subjects.
I am their queen. They know it.
Her proud bearing had been all she needed to win their love. She had won their hearts.

But she had hardly settled into her chair when the steward announced Mutnofret. Her sister swept into the hall like the Nile’s flood, undeniable, essential, rich. Far from being understated, Mutnofret was a glimmering vision. She wore unbleached linen of the loosest weave; every part of her body shone through the earthy fabric, more revealed than covered. Her breasts beamed like goddess’ faces, her nipples were dark jewels, her navel a pool to quench any man’s thirst. About her hips was a belt of golden links, hung with bright-beaded fringe. As she swayed toward Thutmose the fringe danced and parted, revealing the triangle at her groin, a brazen invitation. Her arms were bound in countless cuffs and bracelets, sparkling like the river; gems clustered all about her, glowing, enthralling. Ahmose gasped, torn between admiration for Mutnofret’s beauty and shock. She had expected deception. She hadn’t expected Mutnofret to look like perfection made flesh – like Iset, like the queen of the gods herself.

Ahmose only realized how loudly the crowd had cheered Mutnofret when at last they quieted. She was unable to meet any eye, suddenly and shamefully aware of how poor and child-like she truly looked.

Thutmose’s full attention was on his second wife; he helped Mutnofret fix her perfumed wax cone to her lovely gleaming wig, touched her soft hand, told her she was beautiful, so beautiful.

Ahmose’s belly soured.

The night dragged on forever. Mutnofret was a perfect woman, graceful and winsome, smiling her approval at all the performers, brushing her arm now and then against Thutmose’s, her cheek against his shoulder. Thutmose was not unmindful of Ahmose, to be sure; he offered every dish to her first, asked her opinion of each performance. But all his attentions had the flavor of duty, not the adoration she craved.

Is this to be my marriage, then? A dutiful husband who cannot take his eyes off my sister, even for a moment?
Then she recalled Meritamun, sacrificing everything for Egypt, and stilled her heart. The gods had given the throne to Ahmose, for reasons only they knew. She had never failed the gods before, and she would not now. If her divine task was to be a dutiful queen, then so she would be. The harem women may read their love stories and dream of romance, but for Ahmose her heart and body could only be given to Egypt. This was the fate of a princess – the obligation of a princess.

She would do her work, and Thutmose would do his. If she was lucky, their mutual work would grow into – something. Friendship, she may hope. But love? She leaned her elbows on the table to look past her husband at Mutnofret. The second queen was laughing musically at something Thutmose had said.

Mutnofret would have his love, it seemed, while Ahmose must be content as his partner in duty.

EIGHT

The feast dragged on mercilessly. When it finally ended, thank all the gods, Ahmose escaped to her new quarters. The Great Royal Wife had an entire arm of the palace, a great pillared hall separated from the larger body of the complex by a courtyard, dappled now in moonlight. She nodded to the pair of guards on her chamber door, allowed them to open the ornate doors for her.

Happily, a brazier had been lit earlier in the evening. The oil was low, burned nearly away while the feast went on and on. The flame was weak. A fire box was on the floor, full of twigs, striking stones, and a jug of oil. She dismissed the guards back to their post and lifted the jug herself, trickled new oil carefully into the charred bowl, watched as the flame resurrected. The growing light revealed another brazier further along the wall. She filled it, then carried a burning twig to it, lit the oil; its pool of light reached yet another brazier. When the third was burning, the red-orange glow showed her an empty cavern of a room. All of Meritamun’s fine things were gone, moved to a large estate to the south, which she would now share with Nefertari. The gallery of the chamber echoed like a temple.

The floor was exquisitely tiled in bits of faience; an image of Mut with her perfect white wings outstretched spanned the length of the room, five times as long as Ahmose was tall. Several doors were set into the walls around her. One must be her bedroom. When these apartments had been Meritamun’s and full of beautiful objects, Ahmose had never noticed how large and grand the room itself was. It took an eternity just to walk across Mut’s figure to the line of doors.

Ahmose was lucky. The first door she tried revealed the bedroom, nearly as large as the anteroom. There was no need for a brazier here. The rear wall was a series of flat-faced pillars, soaring rectangular columns divided by spaces the width of two hands. The gaps reached from floor to ceiling; ample light from moon and stars poured into the room, turning the great bed – its only furnishing – to dull, beaten silver. In the center of one pillar, the largest, a doorway opened like a friend’s palm onto a private garden. Ahmose sighed in deep relief at the sight of it. So she would have a refuge, a place of peace.