The Heretic Queen

by Michelle Moran

  “Give it back!” I cried. “I was sick.”

  I made a grab for the papyrus but Ramesses held it higher.

  “If you want it,” he teased, “you’re going to have to catch it!”

  He sprinted across the courtyard, and with my arms full of scrolls, I gave chase. Then a shadow loomed across the stones and he stopped.

  “What are you doing?” Henuttawy demanded. The red robes of Isis swirled at her feet. She snatched the scroll that Ramesses had taken and shoved it at me. “You are a king of Egypt,” she reminded him sharply, and her nephew flushed. “Do you realize that you have left Iset all alone to decide which instruments shall be played at the feast?”

  The three of us looked across the courtyard at Iset, who didn’t seem all alone to me. She and her friends were huddled together, whispering. Ramesses hesitated, and I saw how keenly he felt Henuttawy’s disappointment in him. She was his father’s sister, after all. He glanced apologetically at me. “I should go and help her,” he said.

  “But first, your father wants you in the Audience Chamber.”Henuttawy watched, waiting until Ramesses was inside the palace before she turned to face me. Her slap was so hard that I staggered, spilling Paser’s scrolls across the courtyard floor. “The days when your family ruled in Malkata are over, Princess, and you will never chase Ramesses around this courtyard like an animal! He is the King of Egypt, and you are a child who is tolerated in this palace.”

  Henuttawy turned and strode toward the billowing white pavilions. I bent down to pick up Paser’s assignments, and several servants came running.

  “My lady, are you all right?” they asked. The entire courtyard had seen what had happened. “Let us help.”

  One of the cooks from the kitchen bent down to collect the scattered scrolls.

  I shook my head firmly. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

  But the cook piled my arms with papyrus. At the entrance to the palace, a woman’s hand took me by the shoulder. I braced myself for more of Henuttawy’s violence, but it was Henuttawy’s younger sister, Woserit.

  “Take these scrolls and place them in her room,” Woserit ordered one of the guards. Then she turned to me and said, “Come.”

  I followed the hem of her turquoise cloak as it brushed across the varnished tiles and into the ante-chamber where dignitaries waited to see the king. It was empty, but Woserit still swung the heavy wooden doors closed behind us.

  “What have you done to anger Henuttawy?”

  I still held back tears. “Nothing!”

  “Well, she is determined to keep Ramesses away from you.” Woserit watched me for a moment. “Tell me, why do you think Henuttawy is so invested in Iset’s fate?”

  I searched Woserit’s face. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Haven’t you wondered whether Henuttawy has promised to help make Iset a queen in exchange for something?”

  I placed two fingers on my lips in a nervous habit I had taken from Merit. “I don’t know. What could Iset have that Henuttawy doesn’t?”

  “Nothing, yet. There is no status or bloodline that my sister could offer you. But there is plenty that she can offer Iset. Without Henuttawy’s support, Iset would never have been chosen for a royal wife.”

  I wondered why she was telling me this.

  “There are a dozen pretty faces Ramesses might have picked,” Woserit continued. “He named Iset because his father suggested her, and my brother recommended her due to Henuttawy’s insistence. But why is my sister so insistent?” she pressed. “What does she hope to gain?”

  I sensed that Woserit knew exactly what Henuttawy wanted and I suddenly felt overwhelmed.

  “You have never thought of this?” Woserit demanded. “This court is going to bury you, Nefertari, and you will join your family in anonymity if you don’t understand these politics.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Decide which path awaits you. Soon, you will no longer be the only young princess in Thebes. And if Iset becomes Chief Wife as Henuttawy wishes, you will never survive here. My sister and Iset will push you from this court and you’ll end your dusty days in the harem of Mi-Wer.”

  Even then I knew there was no worse fate for a woman of the palace than to end up in the harem of Mi-Wer, surrounded by the emptiness of the western desert. Many young girls imagine that marrying a Pharaoh will mean a lifetime of ease spent wandering the gardens, gossiping in the baths, and choosing between sandals beaded with lapis or coral—but nothing could be further from the truth. Certainly, there were some women, like Iset’s grandmother, the prettiest or cleverest, who were kept in the harem closest to Pharaoh’s palace. But Malkata’s harem could only house so many women, and most were sent to distant palaces where they were forced to spin and weave to survive. The halls of Mi-Wer were filled with old women, lonely and bitter.

  “Only one person can make sure that Iset never becomes Chief Wife with the power to drive you away,” Woserit insisted. “One person close enough to Ramesses to persuade him that Iset should be just another princess. You. By becoming Chief Wife in her place.”

  I had been holding my breath, but now, it left me. I sat down on a chair and gripped its wooden arms. “And challenge Iset?” I thought of rising against Henuttawy and suddenly felt sick. “I could never do that. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” I protested. “I’m only thirteen.”

  “You will not be thirteen forever. But you have to start behaving like a princess of Egypt. You must stop running wild through the palace like some harem girl.”

  “I’m the niece of a heretic,” I whispered. “The viziers would never accept it. Rahotep—”

  “There are ways around Rahotep.”

  “But I thought I would study at the edduba and become an emissary.”

  “And who appoints the emissaries?” Woserit asked.

  “Pharaoh.”

  “And once my brother is gone? Remember, Pharaoh Seti is twenty years my senior. When he is called by Osiris, who will assign his emissaries then?”

  “Ramesses.”

  “And when Ramesses is off at war?”

  “His viziers,” I guessed. “Or the High Priest of Amun. Or—”

  “Pharaoh’s Chief Wife?”

  I stared at the river mosaic on the wall. Fish swam across the brightly painted tiles while fishermen lay idly on the river’s banks. Their lives were quiet. They were carefree. The fisherman’s son didn’t have to worry about what he would become when he reached fifteen. His destiny was certain, and his fate rested with the Gods and the seasons. No maze of choices lay before him. “I cannot begin a war with Iset,” I resolved.

  “You won’t have to,” Woserit said. “My sister has already begun it. You want to be an emissary, Nefertari, but how will you be able to do that in Iset and Henuttawy’s Thebes?”

  “I can’t challenge Henuttawy,” I said with certainty.

  “Perhaps not alone. But I could help you. You aren’t the only one who suffers if Iset becomes Chief Wife. Henuttawy would love to see me banished to a temple in the Fayyum.”

  I wanted to ask her why, but her tone had a finality I dared not question. It occurred to me that in the Great Hall, she never spoke with her sister, even though they both sat at the same table beneath the dais.

  “She won’t succeed,” Woserit continued, “but that’s only because I am willing to rise up against her to stop it. There are many times when I go to my brother’s feasts simply to make sure that Henuttawy isn’t destroying my reputation.”

  “But I don’t want to have anything to do with court politics,” I protested.

  Woserit searched my face to see if I was serious. “Soon, life is going to be very different, Nefertari. You may change your mind about challenging Iset. If you do, you will know where I am.”

  She offered me her arm in silence, and when I took it, she walked me slowly to the door. Outside, the tiled halls still teemed with bustling servants. They rushed about us, carrying candles and chairs for the wedding feast. All t
he palace had talked about for ten days was Iset. What if it was always like this, and the excitement of a new princess and possibly a child meant that Ramesses was lost to me forever? Woserit’s figure receded down the hallway, as servants polishing the tiles with palm oil stood quickly to bow to her as she passed. Their eager chatter about the feast resumed, until my nurse’s voice cut through the noise.

  “My lady!”

  I turned and saw Merit approaching with a basket of my best sheaths in her arms.

  “My lady, where have you been?” she cried. “I sent servants to the edduba looking for you! They are moving your chamber!” She took my arm as Woserit had done, and I struggled to keep up with her as she trotted through the maze of passageways. “Lady Iset is to have your room! Queen Tuya came and said that Iset is moving from the harem.”

  “But there are plenty of rooms in the royal courtyard,” I protested. “And two are empty!”

  “Lady Iset insisted that yours was meant for a princess. Now that she will be the highest-ranked princess in Malkata, she asked for your chamber.”

  I stopped in the hall beneath an image of Ma’at holding the scales of truth. “And the queen didn’t deny her?”

  “No, my lady.” Merit looked away. “She’s moving in now, and I took what I could. But she’s demanded to sleep there tonight.”

  I stared at Merit. “And where am I to go? I have had that room since I was born. Since my mother—” My eyes welled with tears.

  “Oh, no, my lady. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying,” I insisted, but the tears rolled fast and hot down my cheeks.

  “They have found you a new room that’s just as pretty,” she promised. “It’s also in the royal courtyard.” Merit put down her basket and took me in her embrace. “My lady, you will still have me. You will still have Tefer.”

  I swallowed a sob. “We should go before Iset decides that she wants my ebony chests as well,” I said bitterly.

  Merit straightened. “Nothing of yours will go missing,” she vowed. “I saw her with your mother’s gold and lapis mirror and I have ordered the servants to watch everything.”

  “Nefer!”

  Ramesses was standing at the end of the hall, and as he strode toward us, Merit took out a small piece of linen and quickly wiped the tears from my face. But Ramesses could see that I had been crying.

  “Nefer, what’s happening?”

  “Lady Iset is moving from the harem,” Merit explained, “into the princess’s chamber. Since this is the only room that my lady has ever known, where her mother’s image looks down on her at night, you can understand that she is very upset.”

  Ramesses looked at me again, and his cheeks blazed an angry red. “Who gave permission for this?” he demanded.

  “I believe it was the queen, Your Highness.”

  Ramesses stared at Merit, then turned sharply on his heel and commanded, “Wait here.”

  I glanced at my nurse. “Is he going to try and change her mind?”

  “Of course! She could have asked for any room. Why yours?”

  “Because it’s closest to Ramesses.”

  “And who says that her chamber must be near to Pharaoh’s? She isn’t Chief Wife.”

  “Not yet,” I said fearfully. We waited in the hall, and when Ramesses returned, I saw his face and grasped Merit’s hand. “She said no,” I whispered.

  Ramesses avoided my gaze. “My mother says the move has already been made and that she can’t go back on her word.” His eyes met mine and he looked deeply unhappy. “I’m sorry, Nefer.” I nodded and he continued, “My mother wants me back in the Audience Chamber. But if there’s anything you need . . .” His words trailed away. “All of the servants are at your disposal . . .”

  I shook my head. “Merit is here.”

  “My mother says you’ll still be in the royal courtyard. I made sure of that.”

  I smiled thinly. “Thank you.” I could see that he didn’t want to be the first to leave, so I picked up Merit’s basket and said impassively, “We should go. There’s a great deal to pack.”

  Ramesses watched us walk away, but I closed my eyes as I heard him turn and the sound of his footsteps faded.

  Inside my chamber was chaos. The perfumes and necklaces that had been in my ebony chests for thirteen years lay strewn in baskets, without any thought of how to keep them from breaking. My Senet board had already been removed, but someone had dropped its gaming pieces, now lying abandoned across the tiled floor.

  “What is this?” Merit bellowed, and Iset’s harem servants shuddered to a halt, chests still in hand. Even the royal attendants regarded Merit with timid amazement. “Who was responsible for this?” she demanded, and when no one answered, Merit muscled her way through the tangle of baskets and chests. “Somebody is going to clean this up! No one will treat Princess Nefertari’s belongings with carelessness!”

  Servants began picking up the scattered pieces at once, and Merit stood over them with her hands on her hips. I waited in the doorway and noticed that Iset’s belongings had been placed on a new cosmetics table. There was a fan of ivory and ostrich feathers, and a dress of netted faience beads in a basket. Someone has bought all of this for her, I realized. I wondered if they were wedding gifts from Ramesses, for no one could afford such luxuries in the harem. A gilded bed had been placed against the wall where mine had been, and long silver linens wrapped around its posts. They would be let down at night to cloak Iset from the light of the moon as it fell across the blue tiled walls. My walls.

  “I know you are small, but I’d rather not walk over you, Nefertari.” Iset swept past me with her arms full of sheaths and before I could reply, I saw my mother’s wooden naos. The gold and ebony figure of Mut had been taken from the shrine in order to move it, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw that the statue had been broken in two.

  “You broke my mother’s statue?” I shrieked, and the commotion in the room came to a second complete halt. I leaned over the goddess my mother had prayed to as a little girl and gathered her in my arms. Her feline head had been separated from her torso, but it might as well have been my body that had been broken.

  “I didn’t break it,” Iset said quickly. “I’ve never touched it.”

  “Then who did?” I shouted.

  “Maybe one of the servants. Or Woserit,” she said quickly. “She was here.” Iset looked over her shoulder at the other women, and their faces were full of fear.

  “I want to know who did this!” Merit said with soft menace in her voice, and Iset stepped back, afraid. “Woserit would never have touched my lady’s shrine! Did you break this image of the goddess?”

  Iset gathered herself. “Do you have any idea whom you are speaking to?”

  “I have a very good idea who I am speaking to!” Merit replied, rage shaking her small, fierce body. “The granddaughter of a harem wife.”

  Color flooded Iset’s cheeks.

  Merit turned away. “Come!” she said sharply to me. In the hall, she took the broken statue from my hands. “Nothing good will come to that scorpion. Don’t worry about your shrine, my lady. I will have the court sculptor fix it for you.”

  But, of course, I couldn’t stop worrying. Not just about my mother’s shrine, which was dearer to me than anything I owned, but about Woserit’s warning, too. Her words echoed in my head like the chants we sang in the Temple of Amun. Already, life was changing for me, and not for the better. I followed Merit’s angry footfalls to my new room on the other side of the courtyard. When we arrived, she pushed open the heavy wooden doors and made an oddly satisfied noise in her throat. “Your new chamber,” she said.

  Inside, the windows swept from ceiling to floor, overlooking the western hills of Thebes. I could see that Tefer had already found his place on the balcony, crouched as proud and confident as a leopard. Everything about the chamber was magnificent, from the tiled balcony to the silver and ivory inlay that shone from the paintings of Hathor on the walls. I tu
rned to Merit in shock. “But this is Woserit’s room!”

  “She gave it up for you this morning while you were in the edduba,” she replied.

  So Woserit already knew that Iset had taken my chamber when she had spoken to me. “But where will she stay when she comes to the palace?”

  “She will take a guest room,” Merit replied, then regarded me curiously. “She obviously has an interest in you.” When I didn’t respond, she asked temptingly, “Do you want to see the robing room?”

  In most chambers, the robing room is very small, with only enough space for three or four chests and perhaps a table with clay heads for keeping wigs shapely. In my old chamber, the space could barely fit a bronze mirror. But Woserit’s robing room was nearly as large as her bedchamber itself, with a limestone shower as well, where water poured down from silver bowls. Merit had arranged my makeup chest near a window that looked out over the gardens. I opened the drawers to see my belongings in their new home. There were my brushes and kohl pots, razors and combs. Even my mother’s mirror, in the shape of an ankh with a smooth faience handle, had been carefully laid out.

  “If the High Priestess hadn’t given me her chamber,” I asked, “where would I have gone?”

  “To another chamber in the royal courtyard,” Merit said. “You will always remain in the royal courtyard, my lady. You are a princess.”

  A princess of another court, I thought bitterly, as a soft body rubbed against my calf.

  “You see?” Merit added with forced cheerfulness. “Tefer approves of his new home.”

  “And you’ll still be next door to me in the nurse’s quarters?” I looked across the room, and near the foot of the bed I saw the wooden door, that for royalty meant that aid was only a softly spoken word away.

  “Of course, my lady.”

  That evening, I climbed into my bed with Tefer while Merit swept a critical eye over the chamber. Everything was in place. My alabaster jars in the shape of sleeping cats were arranged on the windowsills, and the carnelian belt I would wear the following day had been laid out neatly with my dress. All of my boxes and chests had arrived, but my shrine was missing. And tonight Iset would be sleeping beneath the mosaic of Mut that my mother had commissioned.