A month of shivering in the cool desert air has me thinking the handmaidens’ quarters sound entirely blissful.
“I would also like you to teach me to read,” she adds.
I look at her. “Your Highness does not know how?”
She shrugs. “I had no desire. My destiny is to be a good match for my father to marry off. But since the passing of my sister Nefertiri, I am thinking I would like to have other options.”
I remember Nefertiri, the eldest of Pharaoh’s daughters. She died in childbirth, as so many women do, the babe shortly after. At best, there is a fifty-fifty chance of survival, though Father and I tried our hardest to increase those odds. Despite labour being a miraculous experience, it can also be a devastating one. I myself have no wish to get married, although I am of age. Marriage leads to babes and based on what I’ve seen, those may very well lead to death.
“Sesha!” Ky shouts, racing up to me in the high-ceilinged hall, voice echoing, Tutan and a sopping Anubis at his heels. “We were giving Anubis a bath, but Mau came in and he jumped out and chased him all over the palace.” The boys are breathless with laughter, colour high in their cheeks. Anubis barks joyfully, shaking himself off.
“Who is Mau?” I ask, thinking of some poor servant being terrorized by the four-legged fiend, in addition to the two-legged ones.
“One of my pets,” Tutan says, looking around. “He’s around here somewhere.”
“Where is your tutor?” Merat chides. “Letting you two roam free through the halls? What of your lessons today?”
“Ky helped me finish my work,” Tutan says. “Besides, he and Anubis very much needed a bath.”
I look over at Ky. With his dark hair plastered to his head, his condition is slightly more noticeable. Despite this, he looks better than he has in weeks. He notices my examination and self-consciously pulls his fresh robes tighter around his body. “I am fine, Sesha,” he says. The colour in his cheeks confirms his words and I nod.
“Good news, Ky. I will be attending temple to continue my studies.” Despite the circumstances, I cannot keep the grin from my face.
“Gods be praised, my sister.” Ky throws his arms around me. “Now you can leave me alone and let me play in peace.” He turns to Tutan, rolling his eyes. “Even when we were begging on the streets she would have me write out scripts in the sand, so as not to forget them.”
I’m about to retort when a wriggling feeling under my robe has me hopping around in circles, frantically patting at something crawling in the cloth. A small green lizard falls to the floor and scurries off for safety. Anubis lets out another joyous bark.
“There he is!” Tutan exclaims to Ky. “Mau must have fallen onto Sesha when you hugged her.” He chases after the lizard, who has disappeared through the same doorway Merat came out of earlier, followed by Ky and Anubis. The dog looks back at me apologetically before bounding off. There is a high-pitched scream followed by more excited shouts and barking.
Merat looks at me, still patting myself wildly to make sure there are no other creatures making themselves at home on my person, her lips twitching. “Brothers can be most vexing, don’t you think?”
“Quite,” I manage, adjusting my robes into as dignified a fashion as possible, and we walk down the halls of the place that is to be my home. For now.
The handmaidens’ quarters are beyond opulent compared to where Ky and I have been squatting this past moon. Unmarried women from the Royal Harem come here to serve Pharaoh’s immediate family. The large, airy room is currently empty, as everyone is about their tasks for the day. Fatigue pours over me like water from a jug, and I struggle to stay on my feet as Merat shows me to the woven mat that is to be mine. It is all I can do to keep from flopping on it. Her words buzz in and around my ears like a pesky mosquito. “… start lessons … soon … Sesha?”
“Yes, Your Highness?” My bleary eyes tear themselves away from the bed.
She gives an acknowledging smile and I am struck by how much like her mother she looks. Queen Anat had four children. Nefertiri, who died at seventeen, fifteen-year-old Merat, five-year-old Tabira, and nine-year-old Tutan, destined to be pharaoh one day. “Rest now, Sesha. Your glazed expression reminds me of my brother when he is being lectured by his tutor.”
“Thank you.” I bow and she turns to leave.
“We will commence my training soon.”
“As you wish, Princess.” Nodding, she leaves. Collapsing onto the mat is like sinking into the plush feathers of a thousand ibises. Before my eyes even close, I feel myself descend into oblivion.
Waking, I blink, momentarily disoriented. Used to hovering on the periphery of sleep, I find it remarkable what a warm bed and the absence of worry about the safekeeping of one’s body can do for the quality of one’s rest.
It is night and I am not alone in my quarters. A few girls titter off to the side of the room and I wipe at the drool on my cheek self-consciously, patting down my hair.
“Greetings.” I nod at the curious faces, some familiar, most not. I used to have a few friends at the palace, but it all seems so long ago now. Mostly it was Father and me, learning, studying, working together. Up until the last few months before his death, we’d been inseparable, unless his duties at temple and the palace demanded otherwise.
“So the gods have returned you from the dead, Sesha.” A tall girl steps forward. I try to remember her name; it starts with a K?
“Yes … Kewat.” The name comes to me and I smile. But it is not returned.
“I wonder what you have done to find such favour with them as to survive this past moon?” she says, raising a brow. “Or with Pharaoh and his family, for that matter.”
I’m unsure if I should apologize for being alive or what I have done to earn her resentment. She makes my appearance in the quarters and at the palace seem a personal affront. The other girls form a small cluster behind her. One steps forward. She is small, like a bird, with light brown eyes.
“Sesha’s father was much loved and respected by Pharaoh,” she says, voice high and breathy. “It is only natural he wants to care for his children.”
Or is it just a convenient way to keep a close eye on them? Regardless, I am grateful to my defender. She, too, looks familiar. Her words disperse the group and she flits toward me as the others go about their duties, some leaving to wash, others murmuring to each other as they adjust their beds to their liking.
“Peace to you, Sesha.” She bows. “Do you remember me?” Her voice is gentle, curious.
“Bebi?” I say, the name appearing on my tongue.
“Yes,” she chirps, hands coming together. “You and your father saved my mother when she was in childbed with my sister.”
I remember her more fully now, fluttering anxiously around the room during her mother’s labour. “The baby was turned.” It had been a difficult birth.
“But you and your father brought her safely into this world, without much loss of Mother’s lifeblood.”
“The gods guided our hands.” I smile at her. This one is returned. “Why would you think I would not recall you?”
“It is said that the shock of your parents’ passing caused you and your brother to forget who you were.” She cocks her head at me. “Why else would you wait so long to return to the palace?”
Why else indeed? My smile freezes in place. Be careful, Sesha.
8
“SO THAT IS WHAT people are saying?” I address her comment about the shock of my parents’ death addling our minds, keeping my tone light. I am not sure whether to be offended at the suggestion I’d lost my wits, if only temporarily. However, I suppose it is better than the alternative reason: that I suspect someone at the palace may be capable of murder. And though Bebi seems kind, let that nugget get out and I will be sleeping somewhere a lot less comfortable than the handmaidens’ quarters. “I should have known it would take mere hours for some story to circulate.”
“Is it true?” Bebi asks, curious.
“My
parents’ death was … very traumatic,” I say. It is not a lie. “I do not even know where they are buried.” I hope that they made it to the afterlife. Their bodies were probably not in much shape for the trip. Tears fill my eyes and Bebi gives me a sympathetic pat on the back.
“I do not mean to upset you, Sesha. We will speak no more of this.” She sits on the mat beside mine. “I sleep here. So if you need someone to tell your dreams to in the morning, I am here.”
I offer her a watery smile and a “thank you,” refraining from adding that she would likely not want to hear them.
I turn over to face the pale moon shining in through the small high window. My hours of sleep have left me restless and famished again. I also feel the ingrained urge to check on Ky. He has rarely left my sight this past month and his absence is like the severing of a limb. Shivering, I think of the vengeful vendor and his wife clutching Ky’s arm. We had been lucky. If it weren’t for Anubis … As if summoned by my thoughts, the click of toenails on the floor announces his approach.
“Hello, friend,” I whisper to the dog as he trots toward me, tongue lolling. “Can you take me to Ky?” No doubt he is sleeping safely with Tutan, somewhere within the harem of women and children. But the need to see him resting soundly for myself has me getting out of bed and following the dog, tiptoeing past somnolent handmaidens, out into the cool hallway. Torches flicker in the darkness, lighting our way. Though I mostly know where we are going, I am grateful for the company.
Deep voices float toward me and I duck behind a statue of one of Queen Anat’s ancestors, heart thudding. Wandering the palace late at night unaccompanied is something mainly concubines do and I have no wish to be mistaken for one. Anubis slinks back into the shadows beside me.
“And you are sure this is a sound idea?” Pharaoh’s usual commanding tone is uncharacteristically dubious. Footsteps echo down the hallway as they draw closer to our hiding spot.
“She may know something,” Wujat answers as they pass by. Shrinking back against the wall, I try to make myself smaller than a speck of sand. “It is imperative we find the scroll and we are running out of time. Even now there are reports of enemies at our borders, and even in our midst. A battle is imminent, Your Highness. We need to be prepared.”
“The Hyksos are a warrior people,” Pharaoh says. “We will need to proceed with caution. Perhaps there are ways they can be placated while we continue our search.”
Wujat makes a noncommittal noise in his throat. “We need to show our strength. Egypt has languished too long under these barbarian invaders.”
“The priests will not like Ay’s daughter poking around their quarters,” Pharaoh says. “I have heard talk of much friction between him and the others …”
I swallow, my constricting throat the only muscle moving in my entire body.
“Leave that to me,” Wujat says, murmuring something else that I do not quite catch. Pharaoh gives a low chuckle and I strain my ears harder to hear.
“… And how are the food supplies?” Pharaoh inquires.
“Dwindling.” Wujat’s tone is frank. “The last harvest was poor, and the one before it barely mediocre. We have enough for the next few months but let us pray the gods see fit to bless us this season. One more bad harvest will be cause for serious concern.”
So that explains the recent lack of variety in the marketplace. Though, based on my last few hours here it is clear that the palace has yet to feel the pinch. And who or what did Father have friction with? The priests?
“The people must not know,” Pharaoh says. “I do not want to give them reason to worry; my guards say there is already some unrest in the village. I have my hands full with these pesky Hyksos as it is …” The voices fade as the two men disappear around a corner.
Exhaling, I emerge from my hiding place, Anubis with me, our shadows dancing along the walls. I consider the overheard conversation as we continue noiselessly down the corridor. My thoughts spinning, Anubis and I turn several more corners until at last we reach the large chamber that houses the younger royal children and those who care for them.
Poking my head in, I see bodies curled on every surface. Lesser wives wrapped around their babies, toddlers with nurses and older siblings. Scanning for Ky’s head, I find him, one hand flung carelessly across Tutan’s leg, both boys off content in the land of dreams. My breath comes easier and I watch him sleep for a moment, warm and safe. A baby cries, startling awake its mother who sleepily shushes it, bringing the small child close to her chest for a feeding.
Ky stirs and rolls over, eyes flickering, then opening. I am not the only one who has learned to sleep lightly. Brown eyes find mine and he blinks dreamily, starting to get up. I shake my head and bring a finger to my lips in a quieting motion, then bring my palms together and to the side of my tilted head, indicating he should go back to sleep. Obliging, he rolls over, pulling the blanket over him and his friend. Anubis licks my hand then goes to lie beside his master, body pressed against the small back. Reassured of my brother’s well-being, I retreat into the hallway, contemplating where my best chances of finding something to eat lie. I could go to the kitchens to see about begging for some scraps, but want to be alone to think more about Pharaoh and Wujat’s words. Remembering the central courtyard in the palace, resplendent with date palms, I try to recall how best to reach the inner gardens, and I start out in their direction.
The silence of the palace feels thick somehow, an invisible weight pressing in from all sides, making me wish for the solid presence of Anubis. Passing another statue, I feel its eyes follow me down the hall, boring into my back. It takes all my resolve not to run. Even so, my pace quickens and after a few wrong turns, where I thankfully don’t bump into anyone or anything, I emerge into the cool night air, gulping down several giant breaths. Here, at the heart of the palace, palm fronds blow to and fro in the inky blackness.
Scaling up one of the trees and reaching for some of the lower-hanging specimens, I manage to pluck a few plump dates then inch back down the rough bark, sitting my bottom firmly on the ground. I rest against the palm and devour the sweet fruits, feeling steadier. Licking sticky fingers and now with a full belly, I think more about the evening’s revelations. Famine is not good for political stability, particularly when combined with whispers of war. A seed of fear, which took root on my walk here, sprouts in my stomach alongside the dates. Not wanting to nourish it, I turn again to Pharaoh’s comment on my father. What kind of friction was he referring to? Could someone from the temple have been involved in my parents’ death? A rival? Not that I am necessarily ruling out Pharaoh’s own involvement, but his generosity is well-known and there are those who will always seek favour with the king, hoping to reap the rewards.
I had never known Father to do anything for his own gain, yet his passion and talent for medicine — and perhaps a word from Wujat? — had attracted Pharaoh’s eye. And now, with some careful manoeuvring, I also seem to have found favour with the ruler of all the land, personally requested to carry out this task of recovering the missing scroll. A forceful breeze rustles the fronds and I shiver. Father used to say that courting “favour” is like dancing with a lion.
Though worries of war, food shortages, and conspiracy are fertilizer to the sprout of fear, I am surprised to also discover a small bud of elation at the thought of resuming my studies. To immerse myself once again in words and learning, to apprentice and help those who are ill, to answer the calling of my own soul is a gift and one that I know Father would not want me to waste. And then there is Ky; I will need all the knowledge at my disposal to help him. If, as my father hoped, there is something in the scroll that can save him — a procedure, an operation, some type of treatment — it must be found as soon as possible. My shoulders straighten. Despite reservations about Pharaoh and Wujat’s motives, which something tells me to remain wary of, at the moment their interests are aligned with mine. And that is enough.
Standing, I inhale the fresh night air and, with a nod at th
e deity travelling across the sky, address him by name. “Watch over me, Khonsu. Something tells me I am going to require all the help the gods can offer.”
9
“NOW, REMEMBER TO BEHAVE at the palace,” I instruct my brother after breakfast. “We are here by Pharaoh’s good graces and don’t want to cause unnecessary trouble.”
“Ky is no trouble.” Tutan waves his cherubically imperious hand. “If anything, he is not trouble enough!” He nudges my brother conspiratorially, who giggles.
“Don’t worry, Sesha, these two have their studies to occupy them,” says Harwa, the prince’s long-suffering tutor. “There is much history to learn.”
“A future king should not have to concern himself with things that happened so long ago,” Tutan says, hands on pudgy hips.
“You are wrong, my son.” Queen Anat strides over to us, voice commanding, robes swishing. Harwa, Ky, and I bow to the Great Royal Wife. “Part of becoming a great king is having the knowledge of and respect for those who came before you. Harwa is tasked with teaching you about our ways and our gods. You must come to know everything about them, for you will need to know the proper one to invoke at what time, when tasked with running the kingdom.”
“Yes, Mother,” Tutan mutters, looking at the ground.
The queen turns to me. “Sesha, Pharaoh would like to speak with you. Come.” She turns without waiting for my response and I swallow. Ky sends me a nervous look and I attempt a reassuring smile.
“All is well,” I whisper, squeezing his hand with a fervent prayer for the gods to protect him, then turn to follow quickly after the queen down the hall. She walks briskly, her thick black hair shining in the sun like polished ebony. Most royal women shave their heads, wearing a variety of wigs; however, Queen Anat’s hair is beautiful and I do not blame her for wanting to keep her own. I try not to wonder at the honour of having the Great Royal Wife summon me herself, but I know from hearing Father talk that the queen is very much involved in the day-to-day affairs of running the palace and its politics. It is said her brilliance in such matters surpasses even her beauty, which itself is nothing to blink at. Privately, if I had to choose one, it would be the former attribute. In contrast to the latter, it does not diminish with time but grows ever more powerful. I recall Pharaoh’s doting eyes for his queen earlier. Though, I suppose both have their uses. The queen’s ever-present handmaidens accompany us, walking as silently as shadows at our sides.
The Lost Scroll of the Physician Page 4