“But you would have it be so, if you could.”
“You wouldn’t?” He sounded defeated.
Ahmose swallowed hard. She made herself say, “In truth, I’ve never considered it. Not because you aren’t a wonderful man. You are. But I love my husband.”
He nodded. “And you’re the queen.”
“Soon to be God’s Wife, too, if all goes well. Oh, what if it doesn’t?”
“It will. It’s a wicked thing we do, though, Ahmose.”
“Is it really? With Thutmose gone, there is no one to check Mutnofret. She’ll drive me from the throne.”
“I know all that. It’s this.” He tapped the scroll against his knee. “It’s a lie. The gods don’t favor liars.”
This was the first misgiving Ineni had expressed. It took Ahmose aback. It was a lie, and a cruel one. Gods willing, Nefertari would never find out about the letter. Ineni – clever, bright Ineni – had done a masterful forgery of the old woman’s shaky hand. He’d studied all the notes she’d sent to Ahmose and practiced for weeks. No one would question it. It signed away the title, though not the wealth. Ahmose would leave her that.
It was wicked, truly, to take what was not hers. But the gods intended the throne for Ahmose. They gave the throne to Ahmose. If this was the only way to keep Mutnofret at bay so Ahmose could do the gods’ work, then she would be forgiven. Ineni, too. Ahmose felt sure of that. But oh, if only luck would be with her. If only Nefertari would go to the next life without ever knowing. She sent up a prayer to Iset to make it so.
Ineni reached across the wings and took Ahmose’s hand. She allowed it. The gods alone knew when they might be together again. It would be a lonely life in the temple, with just Twosre for company. “I’ll miss you, Ineni.”
He made no reply. They rode to Ipet-Isut in silence.
Ahmose stayed curtained in her litter as the sentries questioned her soldiers. Her heart was like a trapped bird, all flutter and beat. She couldn’t look at Ineni, couldn’t look at the wings. She closed her eyes lightly and prayed through the avenues of the temple complex. At last the sensation of lowering. At last the bump of the platform against the ground.
Ineni motioned for her to wait. He got out himself, spoke a few quiet words to someone outside. Then louder: “Inside, I say, and prepare the sanctuaries. I bring Ahmose, the god-chosen. Do as I say, or the Pharaoh will hear your name!” His face peeked back inside, hands clutching the curtain tight about him so no one in the courtyard could see into the litter. “It’s time.”
With difficulty, she pushed herself to her knees and shuffled about until her feet were outside the litter. Then it was a matter of levering her body, constrained by the snug gown, upright. She braced her hands against the canopy’s supports and shoved hard. She teetered on her feet, nearly overbalancing; Ineni’s thin arm was around her waist in a flash, righting her. She smiled at him, laughed nervously. “This dress.”
“It’s enough to make anyone fall over.”
“Get the wings for me, will you?” Whoever had been in the forecourt of the Temple of Amun was gone now. Ineni had sent them packing quick enough. Even the litter-bearers had their backs turned. Ipet-Isut was still and private in the cool blue of early evening. No one could see.
He slid the fine white wings onto her arms. Ahmose held them out. The faintest breeze moved from the west. It tugged at her feathers, pulled her arms insistently. Now she would fly. Above Mutnofret, above the court. She would set herself loose upon this breeze and sweep her will over the land. She was a sacred queen, beloved of the gods. What she did was right. She could do no wrong. She moved toward the temple door with her bright goddess wings outstretched.
The temple’s huge anteroom was empty, though faintly, she could hear the voices of men – servants or priests. They were urgent and forced. Whatever Ineni said to clear the forecourt, it had worked well. She faltered in the emptiness of the anteroom. Ineni was at her back. He ducked under her right wing and strode out into the room.
“Hear me, High Priest of Amun! The consort of your god comes! The God’s Wife approaches!” Ineni’s voice rang like sword on shield. Before the echo of his words faded, the High Priest swept into the room, draped in his leopard skin, a press of lesser men and women at his back. When he saw her standing there, winged, gilded, crowned, he fell to his knees, sank forward until he was lying flat on the floor. The priests behind him did the same. A murmur went up, a sound tight with wonder.
She had to do nothing but stand before them, poised and manifestly female. She caught sight of herself in a great plated mirror on the temple wall: the setting sun streamed in from the doorway behind, casting her form in a halo of light, dust dancing in the air around her wings, each mote a faceted jewel. She glowed. She shone. She was as vivid as the goddess from her dream, walking on a river of light.
“Mut,” the High Priest whispered, choking. He stared up at her from the floor, tears in his eyes.
In the end, they’d hardly needed the forged letter. Ahmose’s appearance, white-winged, backlit by Ra’s holy light, young and vital, had convinced the High Priest. When she fell limp and babbling into Ineni’s arms, the words she spoke brought the regiment of lesser temple servants to her as well. My consort comes! My partner on the earth, come to heal the river! Maat, maat, maat!
It had not been a part of their plan. When she came to, Ineni was staring into her eyes, shocked.
“I’m all right, Ineni.” He pulled her upright again, steadied her, took the wings from her. Oh, what a bitter thing, to lose them!
“What was that?” he murmured. “What were you talking about?”
“She’s the mouthpiece of the gods.” The High Priest bowed to her, palms out. “Those were Amun’s own words you heard. Not since her grandmother has Egypt seen such a favored woman. The gods are all around her. I can feel it.”
Ineni paled. He looked from Ahmose to the High Priest, uncertain.
Ahmose nodded weakly. “I’ve never had it come on me so strongly before. It was Amun. I can still feel his presence. But I’m all right now.”
The High Priest sent for cold wine and bread. “So you come to bring maat, then? It’s well that you do. For days now when I’ve prayed I’ve seen nothing but chaos in the smoke of my offerings. The gods demand a restoration of the righteous order. The scales are close to tipping. I fear for the army in the North.”
Tut. No. “It’s why the gods have brought me here. I am the one to restore righteousness. The Pharaoh will strike the bodies of the Hyksos, and I will strike their spirits.” When she said it, it felt so right that it had to be true. She still shook with the power of Amun’s touch. “I will spend my nights in the Temple of Mut, and I will lead all the priesthood in prayer. I need only a modest room. I must be near the gods, if I’m to do their work.”
“Of course, Great Lady.” The High Priest bowed.
“I cannot give up my service to the throne, though. Not entirely. In the daytime, I will be at the palace, supervising the court. The gods want a strong, young, righteous ruler on the throne, with the Pharaoh away at war.”
She turned to Ineni. Sweet, clever Ineni, her dearest friend. She had just committed herself to daily and nightly work. Holy work, to be sure, but it would leave her little time for anything but court and prayer. Would she and Ineni see each other again? Of all the things she was giving up for Egypt’s sake, she would miss him the most. “Bring Twosre to me, and a trunk of my clothing. She’ll know what to pack. I’ll begin leading prayers this very night, and I won’t be back at the palace until morning.”
Ineni’s shoulders slumped. “As you will, Great Lady.”
TWENTY-ONE
Ahmose returned to the palace early in the morning. She’d hardly slept that night. Alive with her new power, Ahmose had danced and sang and smoked semsemet at the shrines, crying aloud from the force of the divine fire that burned inside her. She’d whirled and clapped with the sistrums until her arms and legs were as weak as grass. She’d pra
yed on her knees, bending her back, howling to the gods, and the priestesses howled with her. Such a music they’d made! The gods’ eyes were surely on the Pharaoh now, far to the north. Ahmose was feverish with power.
She arrived in the throne room before anyone else. Dressed in the white smock of a priestess with a simple wig and a golden cobra circlet, she was as understated as she had been at her wedding feast, but now at last she was radiant with confidence. No queen’s treasure could outshine her.
She ascended the steps to her throne and sat as gracefully as if all the eyes of Egypt were upon her. The great hall stretched out before her, its pillars alive with the stories of kings of the past. The wind catchers along the eastern wall let in shafts of golden-pink light. These, too, were like pillars, brilliant bright pillars sparkling with the early motes of morning. Soon enough, this hall would fill with her subjects, the people of her land, looking to Ahmose for guidance. Looking to the God’s Wife for judgment. Now, though, she let the silence reach into her bones, fill her up with peace and pleasure. She felt like a queen at last. A true queen, strong and beautiful on her throne. Nothing could shake her.
First one, then three, then a dozen stewards and servants moved into the hall. They were like a trickle of water from a jar, hesitant and thin, speaking low so as not to disturb Ahmose’s peace. She watched them go about their business, set up their tables and benches to mind the petitioners, sweep the floors free of sand and pebbles. One servant approached her and asked if there was anything she might wish from the kitchens. Ahmose waved the man away. She was full of the gods’ power. She needed no other sustenance.
At last, Mutnofret made her appearance in the hall, just as the crowds were beginning to gather outside the great double doors. Ahmose could hear the voice of the gathered people like a wind in an orchard. The second queen came in through the rear door, behind the dais. Ahmose heard her voice, too, and did not deign to look around. Mutnofret was ordering refreshment from the serving man, and calling for her body servant to bring a lighter wig. Mutnofret was here, and Ahmose had pulled the power and the peace of the morning deep into her bones. It was time to move as the God’s Wife.
Mutnofret climbed the dais, her round belly swaying, leaning on the arm of one of her women. She settled onto her throne, sighed, and turned to Ahmose.
“What are you wearing? You look like an apprentice from the temples.”
“Good morning, sister.”
“You can’t attend court looking like that. Go back to your rooms and change. And be quick! There’s already a crowd gathered.”
“I will not change my dress. I am the God’s Wife of Amun. If these people wish to see me, let them see me as a priestess.”
“God’s Wife? You? Did Nefertari hand you the title?”
Ahmose said nothing.
“Well,” Mutnofret went on, “you look like a fool. And your eyes are all red. By Hathor, Ahmose! You should at least try to look like a queen.”
Ahmose turned her face, sharply, and stared into Mutnofret’s eyes. The second queen pursed her lips, but she fell silent.
Beer and bread arrived, and Mutnofret turned her attention to breaking her fast. Ahmose surveyed the hall. It was nearly ready now, the stewards just beginning to fall into position. The pillars of light had crept only a hand’s breadth across the floor.
Mutnofret finished her food, waved the platter away, and nodded to the chief steward.
Ahmose’s mouth quirked. Amusing, that the second queen should think it was for her to begin court. Ahmose rose smoothly from her seat and took the flail from its support beside Tut’s empty throne. She held it across her breasts. Mutnforet glared at her. “Steward,” Ahmose said, “you may open the court.”
She remained standing as the crowd entered the hall, filing into their orderly lines where the stewards directed them. She looked commanding with the flail, she knew. Powerful. “The throne of the Pharaoh welcomes you. Let the spirit of righteousness guide us here. Maat.”
The chief steward raised his voice. “You will be directed to the stewards first. If your petition requires adjudication, you will then be directed to either the Great Royal Wife or the second queen.”
Now was the time. Ahmose took a step forward. “I regret to inform the court that the second queen will not be attending this court session. Her pregnancy troubles her.” Ahmose turned to Mutnofret and smiled, sweetly. “I have excused her from her duties. Perhaps when her child is born, she will feel well enough to join us again.”
Before the court, Mutnofret could do nothing without looking like a contentious child. Any action she might take, except to retreat to her chamber, would be unseemly. Mutnofret stood, holding Ahmose’s eye steadily for a long, tense moment. Then she waved a servant to her side, and waddled down the steps. At the base of the dais, she turned to look up at Ahmose.
“You are too kind to excuse me from the burden of duty, sister. Won’t you please come visit me this afternoon, so that I might thank you properly?”
Ahmose twitched the flail at her sister, a dismissal. She would not go to Mutnofret’s rooms, this afternoon or any other. The God’s Wife was stronger than the second queen. The God’s Wife had the power to sidestep Mutnofret’s traps. The God’s Wife would let Mutnofret remain in her apartments and claw the walls in her useless rage.
The God’s Wife had taken the throne.
TWENTY-TWO
“Another boy.” Twosre stood, arms folded, eyes severe, in Ahmose’s modest chamber. “She calls him Amunmose.”
Ahmose bit her fist to smother a yawn. She’d spent a long night dancing and chanting with the Mut priestesses. Her muscles were tight and sore. Their official mission had been to strike fear into the hearts of the Hyksos warriors, but when an apprentice brought word that Mutnofret had gone into labor early that evening, Ahmose had slipped in a few private pleas to make the child a girl. “How is my sister recovering?”
“Quite well, Holy Lady.”
Sometimes even women who’d borne before died of complications. It would be convenient for Mutnofret to slip off to the afterlife and free the Horus Throne of her oppressive presence. No such luck, though. She would carry on as capably as the brood mare she was, it seemed. Ahmose cleared her throat. “Did she ask for me again? At the birthing?”
Twosre made a funny little grimace, eyebrows up, mouth down. No need to answer. The woman’s face said it clearly enough. No, of course not. After Mutnofret’s dismissal from court, the last thread between them was cut forever. They were sisters no more.
“And the new baby? Is he well?”
“Quite strong and healthy. He cries like a bull calf.”
“I’m sure the Pharaoh will be glad to hear it.”
“Holy Lady…” Twosre hesitated. Ahmose nodded for her to go on, trying to erase the anger from her face. It was not Twosre who enraged her. “It’s not my place to ask, Holy Lady, but all the palace servants want to know. Have you had any success with the Pharaoh? With the heirship for Prince Wadjmose?”
Ahmose’s frown deepened. “No. I get few letters from the Pharaoh these days, and they’re all full of battle stories. They made Tyre a base for many weeks, and cleared the surrounding land of Hyksos. Most of the vermin have fled north. The Pharaoh pursued them. They’ve had several battles along the way, he said. Heavy losses at a few. The Hyksos ambushed them from the highlands near Kadesh. They nearly lost that one, but Tut…Thutmose turned it around on them.
“His last letter spoke of pushing even further north. He thinks to rout them from Ugarit, and set up an outpost there. He believes he can bring the local people to him, and expand the borders of the empire. I’ve seen maps. Ugarit is so far to the north. I don’t see how he’ll hold it, but he has a way with soldiers, I know. If anyone can do it, the Pharaoh can.
“That’s all he tells me, though. I don’t know whether the heirship is even on his mind. I don’t want to push the issue too hard, you see.”
“Of course not,” Twosre said.
/> Ahmose was about to say more, but hands clapped lightly outside the chamber door.
“Come,” Ahmose said.
An old priest bowed in the doorway. “Holy Lady, your chariot is ready. I am to drive you to the palace.”
“Court calls,” Ahmose said, taking Twosre by the hand. “Come. Ride back with me. We have little time for gossip anymore. You can tell me all the latest stories on the way to the palace.”
Twosre came along happily enough, chattering about the harem women and the servants. Ahmose listened with half her heart. The other half recalled the look on Mutnofret’s face when she’d dismissed her from the throne room, and she still didn’t know whether she was pleased or ashamed.
***
Ahmose had borrowed a plain frock from an apprentice girl. Unbleached linen, coarse and scratchy, loose-fitting. A plain wig, too. She lined her eyes thinly with kohl but left the rest of her face untouched. The simplest of leather sandals were tied onto her feet. Looking for all the world like a rekhet woman paying a visit to the Holy House, she walked out from her chamber, through Amun’s courtyard, out along the pillared avenue as the sun set. No one glanced at her twice as she left the complex, pacing out onto the wide road, eyes down, her sandals slapping in the dust. Waset shimmered on the horizon, seeming to float above the earth where the heat rippled the sky into the land. The growing season was nearly at its end. The desperate, thin harvest would begin soon. It was Shemu-hot, even as evening drew on.
The Sekhmet Bed (The She-King) Page 17