We followed him through the great doors of carved bronze, and I was shocked by how large the room really was once I was inside of it. Not even Paser’s careful model had captured the true grandeur of the hall. This is where my mother sat with Nefertiti when she was my age, I realized, and where she ruled alongside Pharaoh Horemheb. I studied the long expanse of polished tiles and the vaulted roof of gold. The limestone columns depicted scenes of previous kings in their triumphs. Ebony chairs with ivory inlay were clustered around Senet boards throughout the chamber. I imagined that courtiers usually filled those seats, laughing together and ready to entertain Pharaoh whenever he grew bored.
Henuttawy and Woserit watched our entrance, and as we reached the thrones, the heated whispers between the viziers increased. Courtiers gathered like thick clusters of grapes around the dais while we held out our arms in obeisance and bowed. When I arose, Ramesses met my gaze.
“Princess Nefertari.” Pharaoh Seti smiled. “You have returned to Malkata to be married to Ramesses. But tell me.” He leaned forward. “Is this what you wish?”
I closed my eyes briefly and nodded. “More than anything,” I whispered.
“And you are certain of this? My son can be very persuasive. If you’re afraid to hurt his feelings, he’ll recover.”
“There is nothing for him to recover from except my excessive love,” I said.
“Very pretty.” Henuttawy clapped. “If the Passion Plays of Osiris are missing an actress we will know who to send them.”
“It’s not an act,” I said simply, and something in my voice prompted Pharaoh Seti to sit back. He regarded me for a moment, and I hoped he could see the earnestness in my stare.
“Let them be wed,” Seti pronounced with a wave, and I exhaled.
Ramesses stepped down from the dais and took my hand firmly. It was real. We were going to be married.
“Think of what the people will say,” Henuttawy shrieked. “Brother, think of what you are doing!”
“There will not be a coronation. Yet,” he conceded. “Simply a marriage.”
From behind the table, Woserit asked lightly, “What is it that you have against this princess, Henuttawy?”
Henuttawy replied with terrifying sweetness. “I suppose it’s that she’s so ambitious and clever,” she said. “Clever Nefertari, who began life as a worm and emerged as a butterfly.”
“Enough!” Pharaoh Seti warned. He looked to the High Priest. “I wish to see them joined in marriage before my court leaves for Avaris. Arrange a royal wedding.”
The hyena stepped forward, and his bald head reflected the late afternoon light. “Within two days?” he questioned. “Perhaps it would be better if His Highness waited until the auspicious month of Pharmuthi.”
When Iset will give birth, I thought.
“We will marry tomorrow,” Ramesses swore. “If it’s not possible to ready the Temple of Amun, I’m sure that Hathor or Isis can be readied.”
Rahotep’s face lost some of its color. “Amun’s temple can be ready, Your Highness.”
Henuttawy and the other viziers made to speak, but Pharaoh Seti stood and pounded his crook on the dais. “The proclamation will read as such: Tomorrow, there shall be a wedding between Pharaoh Ramesses and Princess Nefertari.”
For the first time, Queen Tuya spoke. “I don’t understand why it has to be so soon.”
“Because if not tomorrow, then when?” Seti asked. “How do you know when the gods will bring us back to Thebes? Or do you propose to miss our son’s Marriage Feast?”
Tuya’s hand tightened around her iwiw’s leash. “I am sure he will have many Feasts of Marriage we will miss.”
“Perhaps. But none to a princess of Egypt.”
Queen Tuya settled unhappily back into her throne, and when her hand rested lightly on Adjo’s head, the iwiw wagged his tail contentedly.
“So will she greet the people?” Henuttawy demanded. “If she’s going to be queen, she should walk through Thebes and meet her subjects.”
Woserit glanced at her brother. “Nefertari doesn’t need to go among them yet.”
“Why not?” Pharaoh Seti frowned. “Let them become accustomed to seeing her with Ramesses.”
I was too full of my own joy to see then what Henuttawy had done.
Court business being concluded, we left the chamber and Ramesses took me in his arms. “By tomorrow, you will be at my side in the Audience Chamber, and there’s no one who will dare to say a word against you.”
And of course, because I was naïve and hopeful, I allowed myself to believe him—even though I knew what the courtiers thought. They believed I had my aunt’s blood and that I’d be the new Heretic Queen. Merit came to my side and her face was as bright as an oil lamp.
“Congratulations, Your Highness. It is a union sure to be blessed by Amun.”
“Thank you, Nurse. I was hoping Nefertari would join me in the Arena. Do you think that will be possible?”
“With a dozen things to do and arrange before tomorrow?” Merit cried.
Ramesses laughed, and I knew he hadn’t really expected her to say yes.
“There is the matter of a dress to arrange,” she said, “and a wig and malachite paint . . .”
“I believe she’s saying no,” I told Ramesses, and he put his arms around my waist.
“Then may I come to you tonight?” he asked quietly.
Courtiers were watching us and I forced myself not to look back at them. They will always be watching us, I reminded myself. I will never enjoy a private kiss. There will always be eyes upon me, and I must simply get used to it. That was the price for loving a Pharaoh. “Of course you can come to me.”
A hundred pairs of eyes followed my walk through the halls with Woserit and Merit, and one of them was Henuttawy’s. I smiled widely. If I had been a commoner about to marry some farmer’s son, the women of my house would never have allowed my husband to climb into my bed before he had carried me over the threshold of his home. But Ramesses was Pharaoh. He could do as he pleased. By coming to my room before our wedding, he was telling the court that a single night couldn’t be wasted in trying to create an heir with me.
CHAPTER TEN
A PHARAOH’S MARRIAGE BEGINS ON THE WATER
IN THE GREAT Hall that evening, the whole court appeared to see the worm that had turned into a butterfly. Everyone was eager to see the niece of the Heretic Queen, whom Ramesses was going to take to wife.
At the long, polished table on the dais, a servant led me to my seat between Ramesses and Woserit, while Iset had been placed at the side of Queen Tuya. I felt sorry for Iset, who didn’t have the sense to laugh and pretend to be joyful. Though she should have felt triumphant in knowing that she was carrying Ramesses’s first child, her face was as sour as a tamarind. I wondered if it was because he had not turned out to be the husband she’d imagined. I knew she enjoyed the exquisite jewels and fur-lined cloaks, but what did she and Ramesses have in common? But if Iset appeared dark and glowering, then across from her, Henuttawy was at her best. The viziers were laughing at her jokes, and when she saw me, she announced brightly to the table, “The butterfly emerges.”
But Ramesses heard the edge in her voice. “She is like a butterfly,” he said. “Hidden away for a year, and emerging more beautiful and talented than ever.”
“When she told me she was not going to become a priestess of Hathor, I was worried she would not find a place in Thebes.” Woserit turned to her sister. “But it seems that she has found a place on the highest step of all.”
Henuttawy’s smile vanished, and Rahotep’s face looked immensely pained.
“Come,” Woserit said cheerfully, “let us raise our cups.” She lifted her wine and the rest of the table did the same. “To the princess Nefertari,” she said.
“To the princess,” Vizier Anemro repeated, though I wondered which princess he meant.
“And let us all hope that the curse of the Heretic King does not run in her veins.”
Henuttawy had gone too far. Pharaoh Seti clenched his cup in his hand. “Nefertari is no more of a heretic than you are. I trust that she will make good decisions in the Audience Chamber. She may not be popular yet, but she’s certainly no fool.”
Everyone at the table knew who he meant, but no one dared to look in Iset’s direction.
Queen Tuya shook her head, and Ramesses added indignantly, “She’s also my wife.” But Pharaoh Seti remained silent, and soon steaming bowls of roasted duck were brought from the kitchens.
Ramesses turned to me. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
I smiled the way Woserit had taught me to smile in the face of disappointment. “I believe the court is waiting for your blessing.”
Ramesses looked to his father, who nodded, then stood from his throne while the room fell silent. “We dedicate this feast to Pharaoh Seti the Great, beloved of Amun and Reconquerer of a dozen lands.” A loud cheer went up in the hall and Ramesses proclaimed, “May the gods watch over your journey to Avaris, and may they watch over the joyous union tomorrow that shall precede it.”
The court’s cheers reverberated beneath the columns, because it would have been foolish to do otherwise. But I wondered how many of them were like the High Priest of Amun, who had fathers and grandfathers murdered by Akhenaten and Nefertiti.
As the cheers still echoed, Seti leaned over and whispered to me, “I am allowing you to put yourself in danger at this court. But there is no one else in the kingdom of Egypt I would rather see on the throne with my son than you. . . . Did you know that if Pili was alive, this would have been the year of her marriage as well? You would have been like two sisters in your bridal boats.” He patted my hand, and I saw in that moment why his care for me had always been so tender.
I took my free hand and placed it over Pharaoh’s. “Thank you,” I told him. “I will try never to disappoint you.”
He smiled, but not at me. His look was far away, and only later would I understand how a son’s marriage can be both happy and sad. Of course, a father is hopeful for all of the events in the future, but he is also reminded of the family members who are not there to celebrate with him. And when a son begins producing heirs, spinning Khnum’s potter wheel of creation faster and faster, he must begin to imagine his own potter’s wheel slowing down. But I was too young to understand this then.
IN THE tiled hall outside my chamber, Asha was waiting. His arms were folded over his chest, and in the light of the torches, I searched his face to see if he was angry. As soon as he saw us, he straightened, and Woserit was discreet enough to join Merit inside my room.
“Asha,” I said cautiously. “I’m sorry I missed you in the Great Hall tonight.”
“You were surrounded by courtiers. I’ll have to grow used to that now.” I felt as though a heavy stone had been lifted from my chest, and when he stepped forward to embrace me, I did the same. “I’m very happy for you,” he said.
“But you told me—”
He nodded. “That was before I knew how much Ramesses needed you.”
I flinched at the word. Did he need me, or love me?
“But I still think you’ve chosen a dangerous road. Tomorrow, Pharaoh wants you to meet the people. He wants Ramesses to see their reaction before he makes a choice about Chief Wife. There are many other women in the harem.”
“If you have come here to insult me—”
Asha grabbed my arm. “Nefertari, I’m only trying to tell you the truth. Pharaoh Seti and Ramesses live their lives sheltered inside this palace. I see the people on the streets. I hear what they say, and you need to be careful tomorrow.”
I saw the concern in his eyes and nodded. “We will take guards,” I assured him.
“Make sure there are enough. At least two dozen, no matter what Ramesses says.”
“Do you think they’ll be that angry?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. There are many people who still remember . . .” But he didn’t finish. “This will be the fourth year that the Nile has been low, and there’s talk that in the poorer sections of Thebes people are already starving. If the river doesn’t flood its banks by the end of this month, famine will spread, and the people will want someone to blame.”
I felt the color drain from my face. “Not me?”
“Just be prepared.”
“I will,” I promised. We parted and I entered my chamber. In the light of the brazier, Woserit’s face appeared sharp and beautiful.
“How is Asha?”
“Concerned about what might happen tomorrow,” I told her.
“Then he’s a good friend to have. I will not always be in the palace to help you, Nefertari, so you must learn to recognize who can be trusted and who cannot. Once you marry Ramesses, there is no one in Malkata who will tell you the truth.”
“Merit,” I protested.
“Yes, Merit. She will be able to hear the whispers in the halls of the palace, but who will tell you about the conspiracies closer to your throne? Those conspiracies inside the Audience Chamber?”
I thought of Seti’s words about the dangerous road I had chosen. “On the evenings that Ramesses is with Iset,” she suggested, “meet Paser in his chamber. You may trust him to tell you what is truly happening in Thebes. And whenever I can, I will be there as well.” The flames of the brazier illuminated the paintings in her old room, and as I stood there in her rich cloak, I wondered again why Woserit was doing so much for me. She reached into her linen belt and produced a small statue of Hathor. “For tonight. Place it under your pillow and she will bring you fertility.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. I brushed the goddess’s face with my thumb. She had been carved from ebony and wore the tall modius headdress that Woserit did, with its small horns and sun disc.
“All will be well tomorrow,” she promised. “Be strong of heart.” Woserit embraced me, and as the door clicked shut behind her, Merit burst from her chamber next to mine.
“Have you decided which oil you want for your hair?”
I shook my head.
“Then what cream shall we use?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, hurry, my lady! Pharaoh is coming!”
Inside the robing room, I slipped from my sheath, and Merit filled the basin with hot water. “What’s the matter, my lady? Tomorrow you marry and it will be done!” She tested the surface with her hand, and beckoned me in.
“Asha just told me I should be prepared for anything,” I confided. Rainbows swirled over the surface of the water as light from the lamps filtered onto my bath. As I stepped into the tub, I could smell the lotus oil that Merit had added to keep my skin smooth.
“And what is anything?” Merit scrubbed at my hair.
“This is the fourth year the Nile has been low . . . what if they blame me?”
“Why would you say such a thing? You are a princess of Egypt, not some all-powerful goddess. I’m sure the people know the difference.”
When my bath was finished, Merit dried my legs and handed me a fresh sheath. I sat before the mirror, studying my reflection while she combed my hair. I opened the lowest drawer of my chest and took out the cream Merit had gone to the farthest market in Thebes to purchase. I rubbed it over my arms, then down my legs.
There was a knock at the door. Merit’s chin wobbled furiously. “Hurry!”
I rushed to prop myself up against the pillows, allowing my hair to spill onto the white linen, and when Merit opened the door I held my breath just in case it was a dream.
But she bowed very low. “Your Highness.”
“Nurse Merit,” Ramesses said in greeting.
“The princess Nefertari is waiting for you.” She gestured toward me on the bed, and when she reached the door to her chamber, said loudly. “Good night, my lady.”
When the door swung shut, Ramesses looked at me, and both of us laughed. “She’ll be waiting on the other side of the door all night,” I whispered.
“As a good nurse should,” he teas
ed. “In case you should scream and want to run away.” He approached the bed, and I slipped the nemes crown from his brow, running my fingers through his hair. “As you did once before,” Ramesses said quietly.
The pain in his eyes wrenched at my heart. “But now I am here,” I promised, and let the sheath I was wearing fall from one of my shoulders. “Here with you for eternity.”
“And this time I won’t let you run away.”
WHEN RAMESSES and I emerged from his chamber the next morning, we walked together to the lakeside, and the cheers from the courtiers who were waiting for our arrival must have reached the ears of the gods themselves. Ramesses took my hand in his, and the viziers of Seti’s court surrounded us, talking and smiling as though they had supported my marriage all along. Although Iset had claimed an indisposition and remained inside Malkata, the rest of the court was in attendance. Even Queen Tuya spared a smile for me. Her iwiw bared his fangs, and a low growl rumbled in his skinny throat.
“Hello, Adjo,” I said cheerfully.
I smiled at the thought that I might never have to see him again. Tonight, there would be a feast of both celebration and farewell, and tomorrow Pharaoh Seti would sail with his half of the royal court to the palace in Avaris. Ramesses had been fully trained in the Audience Chamber; now he would rule Upper Egypt on his own. His father, in his advancing age, would reign in the capital of Lower Egypt, where less would be required of him. This move had been planned for many years, yet even though Ramesses had always known it was coming, I saw his lips turn down in sorrow when he gazed across the lake. The eastern horizon was obscured by his father’s towering ships. They floated like pregnant herons on the water, their decks filled with some of the most valuable treasures in Thebes: ebony statues and granite tables, rare sedan chairs with wide lion’s-paw feet. While some kings were content to remain in the same city as their coregents, governing from the very same Audience Chamber, Pharaoh Seti now wanted a simpler life. Once he reached Avaris, there would not be so many petitioners, and in his summer palace closer to the sea, there would never be the kind of heat that sucked the life from the air as it did nearly every month in Thebes.