THE GOD'S WIFE

by LYNN VOEDISCH

  “If you wish it, I won’t tell her a thing.”

  The Pharaoh leaned forward as Neferet related the story of last night and the possible assassination attempt against Kamose. He’d been told of the break-in but little of the details. She explained her terror of going home and how she spent the night in the palace.

  “Why would you be involved in this intrigue?” the Pharaoh asked.

  “Kamose and I …” she looked off toward a window in her embarrassment. “Have become close.”

  The Pharaoh responded by standing, pulling Neferet to her feet and throwing his gentle arms around her. He hadn’t hugged her like this since she was twelve years old, and the skin-on-skin sensation felt delicious.

  “This is my greatest wish! Truly, the gods are smiling on my royal house and on me. My favorite son and my only daughter, the God’s Wife, are in love.”

  What her father said rang with truth. She indeed had fallen in love. Just the thought of Kamose made her skin feel fresh, as if she were rising clean from the priest’s bathing pool.

  Neferet backed away when her father released her from his happy embrace. She closed her eyes, feeling peril in what she was about to say.

  “Father, there’s a problem. I’m afraid that Zayem is behind the attempts to kill Kamose. And, in addition to this madness, he wants to marry me. He has told me as much.”

  Her father looked down at Neferet’s face, wearing the official dour look of state, sober and judging. It only took him seconds to lapse into this regal mode. Neferet rushed on, before he could say he didn’t believe her story. She told him of Zayem’s sacrilege in the temple, of his attack on her and his threats to tell Meryt that the God’s Wife wasn’t doing her duties. She ended when she told him it was Meryt’s plan to marry the two of them — Zayem and Neferet — to assure Zayem’s ascendancy to the throne.

  The Pharaoh sat back in the chair and covered part of his face with a hand. Deep furrows showed on his brow, wrinkles that normally would be covered by his royal striped nemes scarf and crown of the Two Lands. She noticed for the first time that gray had started peppering through his short hair. It made her sorry she brought more discord to this powerful but beleaguered man — who just happened to be her father and protector.

  “In a marriage like mine, the union of two powerful families, many concessions have to be made,” he said, lowering his hand and fixing her with a patient, but careworn, look. “I’m sure you’ve heard it was no love match between your mother and myself. She was married before and was not young when I entertained the idea of her as my Great Wife. It was a business transaction brought about by your grandparents. Meryt’s father, who makes most of the papyrus parchment in the kingdom and sells to the palace’s scribes at a discount. He also agreed to pay higher taxes to feed the army. In turn, I made Meryt the Great Wife, Queen of the Two Lands.”

  Neferet listened as if hearing this for the first time. Certainly tales were told in school and in the women’s quarters of the coolness between the Pharaoh and his Great Wife. But she had never heard it explained quite like this — straight from the source. She tried to hide the prickly way it made her feel inside. It would be rude to pry any further, so she dropped her head.

  “And my half-brother Zayem?” she asked as emotionless as possible, even though she still wanted to tear that toad to bits.

  “He came along with the bargain, and I accepted him as if he were my own son,” her father said. “But, as you well know, he is not. And he is not in line to become the next Pharaoh, no matter what Meryt or anyone else thinks.” For emphasis, he banged his hand on the arm of the chair. Neferet knew she had touched a nerve but remained silent for a time. “If what you are telling me is true, Meryt has severely overstepped her bounds,” he continued. “If Zayem has turned into a would-be killer, we have a sensitive problem on our hands.”

  He stood up and walked to the window. He stared out at the lands he governed as if trying to draw strength from the Great River itself. Neferet hated herself for having to speak again. But she knew this was her only chance.

  “There’s more,” she said. She took a deep breath and told him of her first experience as God’s Wife and of the rape.

  #

  Ra had barely ridden to one quarter of the sky when Neferet left the palace and returned to her quarters near Karnak. A chaotic jumble of fabrics and overturned furniture met her when she stepped though her front door. Her main servant got on her knees, sobbing at Neferet’s feet. Several of the other servant girls worked picking up strewn clothing, broken chairs and slashed and ruined curtains.

  “It happened in the middle of the night,” the servant said. “When we were sleeping, some men came through the windows. We could not stop them.”

  The freed Hittite woman was crouching with the rest of the workers, picking up the mess. She could not speak the language, but she shot despairing glances Neferet’s way. Neferet knew her fright. She probably had thought she might be the victim of another raid. How much had that woman suffered? Neferet walked over to her and led her to an undamaged chair. The woman, now washed and wearing a proper linen sheath, trembled but sat at Neferet’s urging. The God’s Wife stroked the woman’s shoulders and spoke soothing words that she knew were not understood. Eventually, the tremors stopped.

  Neferet turned to her head servant and asked if the priests had been alerted. As if on cue, chief priest Nebhotep appeared at the door, shielding his eyes from the disaster.

  “I was just with the Pharaoh,” Nebhotep said. Neferet figured he must have been summoned when her own talk with her father had finished. The Pharaoh would honor his promise not to tell a word of Neferet’s story to her mother, but he needed to get facts straight with the head of Karnak temple. That much was clear. Nebhotep needed to report the damage to Neferet’s quarters. How was her father feeling now that the lodgings of his own daughter were ravaged? How much additional stress had she put on her father?

  Neferet nodded at Nebhotep and beckoned him forward.

  “This is the work of Zayem,” she told him. “Or his accomplices.”

  “He had a busy night then,” the old man said, surveying the disorder. “If this is Zayem’s doing, it is no wonder the Pharaoh looked so frustrated.” He looked at Neferet with those enigmatic, half-closed eyes of his. “How did you manage to escape?”

  “I wasn’t here. I slept at the palace last night, in a sentry’s bunk.”

  Nebhotep’s eyelids rose to almost wide open at that news, but he didn’t ask for an explanation. He turned and looked about and appeared to be tallying up the damage.

  “What do you think it means, my child?”

  Neferet straightened in irritation at the old man’s forgetfulness. She was not to be addressed as a mere student anymore. But she decided to let the gaffe slip for Nebhotep was off his bearings in this predicament. The old man probably never saw a break-in at the high temple. Who would dare it?

  “I think it is a warning,” Neferet said, fingering a rare cedar chair, which remained intact. “Robbery was not the motive or many of these items would be gone, including my jewelry.”

  A servant looked up. She was counting and hanging up each of Neferet’s priceless necklaces and bracelets. From the expression on her servant’s calm face, not a bracelet was missing.

  “A warning? Why?”

  “I think it’s a puzzle for me to figure out. All I need from you and the other priests are more guards.”

  “Where were the bodyguards last night?” he asked.

  Neferet shot an inquiring glance over to her workers.

  “Drugged,” one said, her head bowed. “We found them outside, half asleep.”

  “That means they knew the attackers well enough to accept an offering of wine,” Neferet said, contemplating the high priest. “They’d all know Zayem well enough to accept a bottle or two. Our new guards must not talk or socialize with anyone when on duty.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he mumbled as he started to leave, then turned back t
o address her. “I’ll have a man come up and bring new bedding. And a man to fix the tables and chairs.”

  “Thank you, Nebhotep. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  She walked over to the Hittite woman again, wondering how to communicate with her. For some odd reason, she felt there was a connection between this displaced princess and herself. Perhaps she had seen something in the night and understood more than the servants.

  Neferet placed her hand on her own chest.

  “Neferet” she said, enunciating each syllable.

  The woman stared in a confused manner for a second. Neferet tried again, saying her name slowly and touching her heart.

  “Deena,” the woman said, making a similar gesture. “Deena.”

  Neferet’s joy made her forget the destruction around her. She’d get that army captain over here and start teaching Deena the language of Kemet as soon as possible. Deena would be Neferet’s eyes and ears when she must be absent.

  “Deena,” Neferet said, taking the woman’s hand. The woman let a slight smile work on her lips.

  Then, there she heard it again. That buzz. Someone’s eyes were looking though Neferet’s own. She didn’t stand alone, and she knew this captive foreigner was of particular interest. Neferet felt a significant kindness in her heart when she beheld Deena now. Get to know her. The foreigner was a key — but to what? One thing was certain, she wasn’t going to let this mystery slip away unsolved. It was good for her heart and soul to solve the puzzle.

  “Nef … Neferet,” Deena said. A real smile came out of hiding.

  Neferet gazed at the Hittite in wonder. Out of the rubble, she had found a ruby.

  #

  In the cool palace gardens, fish swam in the fresh water pond as lilies shifted positions in the breeze. Neferet let her eyes rest on the water as she thought, wishing the goddess Eset would bring her a moment of inspiration. She knew she couldn’t go running to her father every time Zayem acted like a ruthless thug. This wasn’t going to be the first time he turned her life upside down.

  She stood straighter and surveyed the world about her with a curious state of detachment. Ever since she first saw the world through those different, foreign eyes, she knew more magic existed in the world than she had guessed. Of course, she had learned about temple magic during her many years as a student. There were simple charms to overcome an enemy or produce more wheat. However, now she knew, thanks to her strange dreams, that there was a place somewhere where people talked to each other at great distances with little pieces of metal in their hands. It was a place where common citizens moved about in metal containers not pulled by animals of any kind. It was much like the priests’ tales of old Atlantis. A world of wonders.

  However, it wasn’t really the magic that inspired her; it was the quiet confidence she’d picked up from that other world. Somehow, there she existed as more than a confused and harassed sixteen-year-old girl. She was a woman of style and grace, one whom others looked up to and called “a star.” Neferet gazed into the sky, even though it was day, and wondered if she really could exist in the heavens some day as a star. That’s where the pharaohs went when they died: to the imperishable stars. Maybe if she could just visit the stellar lights, she’d learn always to have the self-assuredness she needed to be a God’s Wife whom people heeded, instead of a victim who suffered the taunts of bullies, such as Zayem. Even a politically favored marriage to Kamose could not make up for the fact that, right now, Neferet needed a protector. She hoped to dispel that image and become an imposing figure in her own right. Right now, it took more effort than she had available to her.

  As she strolled among the greenery, her skin cooled and the perspiration dried. Footsteps tapping behind her made her turn her head. It was Kali, the temple worker who had taught her so much about the proper ministrations to Amun. Neferet owed her much gratitude, and she smiled in greeting to the woman hurrying along the path.

  “Neferet, my lady,” Kali said, bowing.

  “Don’t bother with formalities, Kali. You are my friend,” Neferet said, pulling her by the hand to an upright, standing position. Kali’s amber face flushed.

  “There is news from the temple,” she said.

  A tingle ran through Neferet’s body as she expected to hear that Zayem had been caught. She inclined her ear, waiting for the information.

  “They inspected the Holy of Holies and found an illegal entry point. They now know how an intruder sneaked in.”

  Not the news she wished, but it a sign of progress nonetheless. She made a movement with her hand indicating Kali should continue.

  “Well, there are boards on the side that show signs of having been moved. On the rear of the chapel, there is a false backing. There is space between the false walls that has just enough room for a man to stand. Someone pried open the inner wall so it would allow a thin person to slide inside.”

  Neferet bit her lower lip. Zayem stood as skinny as a snake. He must have squeezed into the false back of the shrine until he heard the approach of Neferet or even poor, dead Maya. Then, probably, he slipped inside the shrine and hid behind the statue. All very slick.

  “What have they done to remedy the situation?” Neferet asked, bidding Kali to sit at a nearby bench.

  “Several young priests are at work now repairing the wooden slats. There will be no more room for an intruder to squeeze in when they are done working.”

  “And Amun?”

  “He remains untouched in his normal position. There is no worry about disturbing him.”

  “Praise the gods.”

  Neferet realized she perspired again despite the cool air. Now that she knew how Zayem sneaked inside the sanctuary, could this be the prudent time to publicly accuse him of the crime? Ordinarily, her mother would have her head if she made such a claim that was not supported by solid proof. However, Kali shot down that idea with her next statement.

  “It seems something else has been discovered. The half-prince Zayem …” Kali hesitated, her voice unsteady.

  “My half-brother, yes, I know,” Neferet said, nodding.

  “He’s gone missing. Not only did Kamose’s men find no trace of him, but Zayem’s quarters have been cleaned out of clothing and personal items.”

  “So he’s gone into hiding.” The coward. It’s to be expected.

  “It appears that way. The Great Wife has made no public statement about it. But it seems there’s some trouble in the palace, because she refuses to be seen in public. She’s repaired to her apartments and won’t come out.”

  So, that’s the effect of my conversation with my father, Neferet thought.

  Neferet got to her feet and smoothed the linen gown so it unwrinkled as if by magic — a trick the high priests used to impart a sense of awe.

  “I must attend to an errand,” she told the mystified Kali, who nodded her head and stood ready to return to the temple. They parted with smiles. Neferet hurried down the path toward the palace. If there ever was an occasion to cultivate spies of her own, the time was now. Everything had to take place in its own way, however. She couldn’t force things. At the moment, she rushed to find friends of Kamose. It was too early to be seen going to him, but sending a message ranked of high importance. With Zayem on the lam, mischief could break out at any given instance.

  Before she could exit the garden, a messenger from the palace stopped ahead of her. He greeted her with the usual, tedious formalities and then delivered news that pounded her in the gut.

  “The Great Wife Meryt desires your attendance at the palace,” he said, after bowing so low he practically scraped the ground with his nose.

  Neferet shrugged and turned, about to continue on her way, when the sentry’s voice became urgent.

  “That would be immediately, Divine Adoratrice. She is waiting now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Rebecca grabbed Sharif by the arm and yanked him through the front door, away from her roommates, who stared like gapers at a traffic accident.

&nb
sp; “What the hell are you doing here?” She felt hot, upset that her invitation had been purloined, worried about making time for a shower, wondering what to wear, and now — like a magic — this man shows up in a tux. It was all too much.

  Sharif gave her a look that she saw as transparently insincere. He had plenty of explaining to do.

  “Don’t you need someone to escort you to the dance-company dinner?”

  Steam built up inside Rebecca’s head. How could he have known about this evening’s predicament? And who packs a tux on a brief visit to Chicago? Didn’t he say he was here only through Tuesday? Which was tomorrow? Baloney.

  “Wouldn’t I be going to a dinner with Jonas, my boyfriend? What gives you the idea he isn’t on his way over right now?” She narrowed her gaze. “How do you even know I was invited to anything? I didn’t even know myself until about an hour ago.”

  Sharif put his hands together and gave her a formal bow.

  “I’m afraid someone took the liberty of lifting the invitation from your mailbox at the dance company,” he said. When he straightened, his eyes pierced her like laser bolts. “As for your Jonas, well, we hoped you’d have such a last-minute surprise that he’d be too preoccupied to accompany you. An educated guess, that one.”

  Rebecca resisted the impulse to slap him across his toffee-colored cheeks. Raiding the contents of her mailbox, indeed. And who would do that? Only one person.

  “Lenore?”

  Sharif didn’t react, neither did he answer. His sandy-brown, curly hair ruffled in the breeze coming through the front window. With his dark-lashed eyes and regal demeanor, he excited something deep in perturbed Rebecca. His glance dazzled; he had a way of grabbing hold of her eyes and dancing with them. There was nothing model-handsome about him, but his skin exuded a sensuality that made Rebecca sense her control slipping away. He held her in his gaze, and she saw herself wanted and pampered. Reason told her she was in love with Jonas. She shook her head to dislodge the seductive thoughts.

  Rebecca needed to decide to go with him to the dance or send the impertinent jerk packing. Logic said this interloper ought to go out the door on his ass. However, she found she couldn’t pull away from him. He knew so much about her from that night at Stroll the Waterfront. They shared fantasies, stories of Egypt. What else did she give away? A conflicting anger and irrational allure coursed through her veins. While she knew she could attend the dinner alone without causing a flutter at the dance company, she wasn’t happy about the battle going on in her emotional world.