“Thank you, Nofret.”
Mutnofret’s answering smile was sad, but sincere.
***
Ahmose couldn’t force herself to sit still in the litter. The ride from the palace to the water steps was too long, too stifling in the confines of the loose-weave curtains. She craned her neck this way and that, watching the bustle of Waset distort and blur through the linen. There was a certain energy in the streets, shouting, hurrying. Ahmose wanted to be outside the litter, skipping through the alleys and merchants’ stalls, calling out her joy with the rekhet. The king had returned. Kush was defeated. Egypt was victorious.
Mutnofret sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, watching straight ahead as if the curtains weren’t there at all. Ahmose eyed her sister’s face, but could think of nothing to say, and held her tongue. In a moment, though, Mutnofret’s chin lifted slightly; her lips curved with the smallest touch of a smile. Ahmose squinted through the litter at the road in front of them. It swept downhill to the moorings. There were fish-sellers’ booths here, boat-renters and children leading cattle to water. The pungent smell of the waterfront invaded the litter. Ships rocked against their restraints like horses impatient to run. One, painted white and blue with a massive upswept prow, was surely Tut’s own war vessel; but through the linen Ahmose could see nothing more of it than a confusion of color and slashing shapes.
Mutnofret’s smile turned into a low, melodious laugh.
“What?” Ahmose said. “What do you see?”
“Look harder, little sister.”
Ahmose leaned forward, crooked a finger around the edge of the curtain. She drew it back just a bit, so a gap of unmuddled waterfront opened in front of her face. The great white-and-blue hulk must be Thutmose’s – it was the largest ship on the river. But something strange, long and dark, was affixed to the prow. Ahmose stared. It was a tree trunk with gnarled, brittle limbs. No – she truly saw it now. Not a tree, but a man’s body, dark and naked, desiccated, twisted. She gasped and let the curtain fall.
“Our husband is a true warrior,” Mutnofret said.
“Horrible!”
“This is war, Ahmose,” she said quietly. “People do horrible things when they are at war.”
Ahmose didn’t dare look at her sister’s face. She swallowed hard, and sat back on her cushions while the litter crept toward the river.
***
Thutmose met them at the head of the water steps. Ahmose walked to him as calmly as she could, took his hand in both of hers and kissed his fingers again and again. Oh, how she had missed him, their chariot rides, their conversations over dinner. She would not look at the prow of the ship. Her gentle, kind husband could never have hung a man’s body there. She would not look at it. She would not.
Mutnofret approached down the steps, her ladies trailing behind. She extended her hand to Thutmose. He took it gently. The second queen looked into his eyes and laid a hand on her stomach.
“Well.” He took Mutnofret by the shoulders. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
She blushed a pretty shade and covered her mouth, laughing lightly. “I’ve made offerings, so we will have a son.”
Tut shook his head, grinning, both hands stroking up and down Mutnofret’s arms as if she were a pet cat. “What news, what news! Nothing better to follow a war victory than a son on the way. When will he arrive?”
“Just a bit more than five moons.”
“Come,” Tut said. The great royal litter had arrived. Twelve soldiers, strong and tall, lowered it to the ground. Ahmose climbed inside gratefully. Her face flushed hot at the look in Tut’s eyes, the brightness of his eyes on Mutnofret’s body. Tut told them amusing stories of his expedition all the way back to the palace, and the three of them laughed together. But Ahmose was keenly aware of how Tut leaned toward Mutnofret, how his left hand was busy stroking at her neck while his right lay still on Ahmose’s own knee. She all but ran from the litter when they were within the palace’s walls again, and ground her teeth together when Tut invited her – and Mutnofret, of course – to his chamber. She ground her teeth, but she forced a smile.
Inside his lush chambers, freshly scrubbed and scented with the sweet smoke of myrrh and bundles of fresh herbs, they sat together on Tut’s long, low couch, the Pharaoh between the sisters, and shared their news. Tut told them of the battles, the journey, the treacherous travel through the white-water cataracts of Upper Egypt, the strange customs of Buhen. Mutnofret shared her pregnancy symptoms: sickness in the morning, and strange cravings. She had her eye on several young serving women with big bellies who might make suitable wet nurses for the prince, and these she discussed with Thutmose at great length. For Ahmose’s part, she had nothing to share but a few unusual dreams she’d read, and the disputes she’d adjudicated in her husband’s absence.
There was something she could share with Tut alone, though. When Mutnofret excused herself to the privy, she leaned in close to Tut’s ear. “Let’s go riding soon. Or take the boat out on the lake. Just you and me.”
His eyes wandered down to her chest, and she shifted her shoulders, unsure whether she intended to show or hide her breasts from his view. He licked his lips.
“You’ve changed since I’ve been gone, Ahmoset.” There was the shadow of a question in his words.
“Just to ride,” she said quickly. “I meant, just to…”
He patted her hand. “Yes, all right. We’ll go riding as soon as I get the chance.”
“Tonight! I’ve missed you so.”
Tut barked his laugh, a sound that made her bite her lips to hide her foolish smile. “Eager! Well, I confess I could use a good, swift chariot ride after all the time I’ve spent on a boat.” Mutnofret returned, golden, ripe; she remained standing, smiling at Thutmose, one coy hand playing with a braided strand of her wig. “I’ll come see you later tonight, Ahmoset, and we’ll take that ride.”
Ahmose’s face fell. Was she being dismissed? Perhaps Tut needed to rest or eat. The journey must have been very hard, in the heat of the day. “Yes, of course. Mutnofret, let’s leave our husband to rest.”
Mutnofret laughed, a low, hollow sound. She cut her eyes toward Ahmose, a look that said, stupid child. Tut was at Mutnofret’s side now, cat-petting her bare arms again, without so much as a glance for Ahmose. Nofret stared steadily at her over Tut’s shoulder. There was a fire of victory in her eyes, a desperate greed, a reveling. Your body may be changing, those eyes said, but I am still the one he wants.
Ahmose backed toward the chamber doors. She didn’t break Mutnofret’s gaze until Tut kissed her neck, and Nofret’s eyes closed.
FOURTEEN
Ahmose had long since changed out of the flimsy blue gown – useless, she thought, kicking it across the floor – and into something more suitable for riding. Still, Tut remained with her sister. An hour passed, then two. She crept up to her roof, dejected, and leaned on the parapet, watching the slim crescent of the moon move against an emerging field of stars. The sky had gone violet with the approach of night.
A timid voice called from the stair head. “Great Lady?” Ineni approached her like a mouse. She waved to him, trying to find a smile. None would come.
Her steward rested his forearms on the parapet, looking where she did, out into the night sky. The last breath of day still clung to the horizon, a smudge of blue, the careless finger of Osiris dragged across the space between heaven and earth.
“You seem sad, Great Lady.”
“Please call me Ahmose. I’ve had enough of Great Lady for now.”
Ineni said nothing, as if his silence could coax out an admission of all that troubled her. The quiet lay heavily on the roof as the day died, the blue at the horizon’s edge fading to dense black. At last she spoke. “You were right, that day when we went to visit Nefertari. Whoever bears sons will have Thutmose’s heart. And even at my most beautiful, even when I look like a woman and not a girl – no, hear me,” for Ineni had stirred as if he would object, “even then
I cannot hold his eye with Mutnofret beside me. He won’t want to come to my bed, even if I invite him. He has her. And who is more beautiful than Mutnofret?”
Ineni looked away. Insects were whirring in the gardens below. She remembered Aiya, the sound of the women in the birthing pavilion, the humming of the flies. The smell of the place. The knife in the physician’s hand.
“In any case, I shall not bear a son. It is not for me. It’s not my destiny.” Even as she spoke these words in despair, her skin tingled with a thrill of truth. Somehow, it seemed, Ahmose herself had always known she would never bear sons. Now, here in the emptiness of the night, she gave voice to her secret thoughts and the gods heard her. She had spoken their will into being.
“And the throne? Ahmose?” Ineni’s voice was soft.
The throne. She remembered her mother on the Horus Throne. How shocking it had been, to see a woman sitting there. A woman wielding power just like a man. Just like a king. And she remembered Nefertari, standing dark and quiet beside the throne. She saw it again, as clearly as if she were dreaming it. Nefertari’s hand on the queen’s shoulder. Nefertari silencing the queen on the funeral barge. Power. Power that she could wield, like a king.
“If I do not have the throne, Thutmose will eventually have no use at all for me. Even if I can’t have his love, I can share in the ruling of Egypt. And ruling Egypt is, after all, what the gods have chosen for me. No, I must not give up the throne.” With power, she could help Tut, guide him. She could take half the work, leave him more time to be free, to ride his chariot in the hills and sail his boat, to make love to Mutnofret and raise his children. She could take half the weight of Egypt onto her back. Half and more. She could give him this, if she could not give him sons. “That will be enough for me. But I must have something more than a son, if he’s still to want me as his Great Royal Wife. Ineni, the gods sent you to me tonight. I have a plan. It will take time. A good amount of time. And it must remain secret. Always. Can I trust you? Will you help me?”
Ineni’s hand jerked, as if it was under some strange power of its own; it crept toward her arm. One thin, cool finger brushed so lightly against her wrist. A moth’s touch; she almost didn’t feel it at all. “I am yours to command,” he whispered.
***
Tut came to see her long after Ineni had departed. He came alone, without stewards or guards. She knew it was her husband before he reached the rooftop. His steps were too hesitant on the stairs to be those of a servant, too heavy to be those of a woman. She said nothing as he approached. She did not smile in welcome, though she knew she should.
“I’m sorry it’s so late. I should have come sooner.”
“No doubt you had better things to do than go riding in the hills with a child.”
“You are no child.” His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “You’ve changed.”
“I have.”
“I’ve missed riding with you, Ahmose. And sailing, and sharing dinner together. I always feel closer to the gods when I’m with you. You put me at ease.”
These words slapped at her, stung her. They were all her heart longed to hear, yet he belonged to Mutnofret. His body craved Mutnofret. His eyes were for Mutnofret. He would sooner have Mutnofret as his first wife, as his Great Royal Wife, now that he knew the elder sister was the true woman. Now that he knew Mutnofret would give him a son. His love for Mutnofret would grow, and soon enough, as soon as the people were satisfied that Thutmose was as strong on the throne as he was in battle, Ahmose would be set aside.
Set aside, no matter what he’d promised so long before. Never to ride with him again, never to laugh with him again. Back to the harem, disgraced, to live forever in Mutnofret’s long shadow. The thought tore at her stomach. She pressed one hand there, tightly to push away the pain. He seemed to take it as girlish excitement. Confident, he stepped forward and cupped her chin, raised her face to look up at him. Something in her look made him stop with his mouth half-open. Whatever he had been about to say wilted on his tongue.
“Do you remember the first time we rode together at night?” she said. He was still holding her face, still held by the intensity of her eyes.
He nodded.
“I knew then that I loved you. But as surely as I know I love you, so I also know that I will not give you any sons, Tut.”
The conviction of her words made his hand drop from her chin. His brows came together in confusion. “But you will.”
She shook her head. “I tell you this now so you can set me aside now, if that’s what you wish.”
He laughed, but it was a small laugh, a puff of air. “Set you aside? What kind of foolishness is this?”
“Mutnofret would make a better Great Royal Wife.”
“No, she would not, Ahmose. Mutnofret may be beautiful, but she has nothing of a queen in her. She cares about gossip and appearances and not much other than that. You – you ruled Egypt while I was gone.”
“With the help of the stewards, yes. And with Mutnofret’s help. She took it seriously, Tut; I asked for her guidance several times and she always made wise choices.”
“But she didn’t pass final judgment, Ahmose. I’ve been a general long enough to know how these things go. Ruling an army isn’t much different from ruling a country. The final word is the general’s to speak, even though he receives wise counsel from those around him. The final word in every dispute was yours. You made all the choices. Mutnofret might have ruled differently – probably would have, knowing her – and would Egypt have fared so well under her rule?”
Though she bore little love for her sister anymore, Ahmose didn’t think Tut’s judgment was quite fair. Mutnofret was a gossip and as ill-tempered as a snake. But she wasn’t unmindful of justice. Nofret had believed her whole life she’d end up on the throne. She’d been trained for the role. And no matter what Tut thought, the advice the second queen had given at court had been useful. She was a woman capable of judging wisely, and fairly. Ahmose may be the only person in the world who could look past Mutnofret’s flaws to see her potential, but the truth was plain.
Still, Ahmose couldn’t bring herself to oppose Tut. Not in this. There was something about Mutnofret that all who knew her surely could see. Meritamun had named it on the day Ahmose had gone to her to plead on Mutnofret’s behalf. The second queen was full of heat, a fire that might burn out of control at any moment. The same flame did not burn within Ahmose. She was deliberate, calm. Perhaps this did make her more suited to rule, but there was still the problem of a queen’s first duty.
“Still, Tut, if I will not give you any sons then I am not a fit Great Royal Wife.”
Thutmose sighed. He ducked under the pavilion’s loose-weave screens and sat upon a cushion. Ahmose stared at him. “Well?” he said. “Isn’t this where you read your dreams?”
“You want me to read a dream?”
He nodded, bringing her inside with a curt wave. She sat, uncertain, across from him. In the wan light of the slivered moon, every thread of the pavilion’s screens stood out in sharp relief, so that Tut seemed surrounded by the filaments of a glowing spider’s web. He was a creature from the dream-world.
“Here is the dream I’ve had many times since I became General, Ahmose. Since I first met your father.
“I am climbing a steep hill above the valley. I am near death; there is some enemy behind me who I can’t see. He’s reaching for me, though, and I know that my time in the living world is almost up. I reach the top of the hill and a woman is standing there. Her back is always to me, and she is holding something in her arms.
“When she turns, there is a holy light around her. She is holding a baby. A boy. The boy wears the double crown. He looks at me and smiles. He reaches out for me. He knows me. I am his father.
“A voice says from the sky, ‘The spirit of Ra is righteousness. Be at peace, Thutmose. Even as you die, your son, the Pharaoh, restores righteousness to the land.’
“I always see the face of the woman who holds my so
n. I know she is his mother. It is your face, Ahmose. It has always been. Your face.”
The soul of Ra is righteousness. The words rang in Ahmose’s heart, a bell’s peal at the breaking of day. Maat-ka-ra.
“When I first saw you,” Tut went on, “a child at court, I could at last put a name to the face of the woman in my dream. You were still young, but your face has always been the same. This beloved face…” he reached out to brush her cheek “…the same one I saw in my dream. At first I thought it was blasphemy even to dream that dream, though what control does a man have over the things he sees in his sleep? I was only a general, born into a rekhet family, dreaming of fathering a child with the Pharaoh’s daughter. But it wouldn’t go away. It came again and again, many nights in a row. I couldn’t escape it.
“But that night – our ride – I knew it was a true dream. You told me your name that night as we rode through the fields, and the sound of your name was like a spear in my guts. I could see the boy in your arms, there in my chariot. And on the hill, while I watched you sleep. I know you were shocked like everybody else when your mother named me to the heir. But I wasn’t. I know you were surprised when she named you queen in Mutnofret’s place. I wasn’t. How else could you give me a son, a boy who will be Pharaoh, unless I became the king, and you my Great Royal Wife?
The Sekhmet Bed (The She-King) Page 12