Meryatum pressed through a patch of reeds and stepped out onto the portico facing the royal harem. The night was at its most quiet, when even the night owl had taken shelter, but the queen was still awake. She stood beside her sally door, a single candle raised high, the watcher in the night.
He went to her, stepping into the small circle of light surrounding her before her aged eyes could see him. Lowering her candle, Nefertari smiled at him with the warmth of a hundred suns. "Meryatum."
"Mother." He collapsed into her waiting arms, holding her tenderly. "I need your counsel."
She stroked his back, the small gesture filling him with comfort. "Of course you do. Come in."
He followed her into her private chamber. A small fire was banked low in the central brazier. He took a seat beside it as she set a kettle of tea in the coals. She always kept a satchel of his favorite blend on hand in case he stopped by to visit, one of a hundred little ways she showed her favor.
"You wear many burdens, my son." She sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, a frail little dove with the grip of a lioness. How many times had she held him so, a young boy plagued by visions and omens, her gentle touch banishing his nightmares from whence they came? Even now, a man in his fifties, her presence still soothed him.
"I fear we are on the eve of something terrible," he confided, careful not to damage her bones as he squeezed her hand. "I have never seen so many signs of isfet. Pharaoh is dying. His heir also courts the grave. Our enemies harass us from both inside and outside of our borders. Our world is splitting at the seams and I am tasked with preserving order." He dropped his head into his hands, a sharp pain arching across his mind. "I... I am failing, Mother."
"Shhhh." Nefertari rose to her feet, collecting him in her arms. She rubbed his shoulders and rocked him gently. "Peace, Meryatum. Peace. You borrow troubles you are not meant to bear."
He wished it were that simple, but if he did not keep watch over Egypt, who would? Seti had already proven himself incapable of the task. He tried to push her away, but Nefertari grabbed his chin and forced him to meet her loving gaze.
"Your father was so proud of you. Had you not been drawn to the temple, he would have named you his heir." Her dark eyes teemed with pride. "You would have sat the throne well, My Son—so well, some part of you has taken on that responsibility although another holds the title. But you must listen to me."
It was the urgency in her voice that made him sit up. Nefertari seldom offered direct advice. Her way was to listen, allowing Meryatum a safe arena to explore his thoughts and come to his own decisions. "Yes, Lady of Grace. I am listening."
She released his chin, her hand cupping his face gently instead. "You are very gifted, Meryatum. But sometimes, when the Gods favor us, we forget our own limitations. You cannot control everything. Isfet is a part of our world, the same as ma'at. One cannot exist without the other. The pendulum swings both ways. Even Pharaoh is hard-pressed to keep balance."
He nodded, hearing the wisdom of her words. Chaos and Order. The light and the dark. Helen and Paris... Isfet and ma'at, cosmic opposites swirling around each other in their eternal struggle. Perhaps the two foreigners truly did belong with one another. The Gods taught mankind the way of ma'at, but the Immortals' actions were oft as violent as they were peaceful. Even Amun-Re burned with his light as often as he healed. The goal, for any who observed the Mysteries, was to preserve the balance.
"Whatever it is that you fear, Egypt will survive," Nefertari vowed. "We are eternal."
That struck a deeper concern in the high priest. If the visions in the temple were true, balance itself would be broken. The scale was tipped beyond recovery. If the world burned, the legacy of his forefathers, the great dynasties of Egypt, would be laid low. Was the life of one man worth that risk?
He rose from his stool, embracing Nefertari with a kiss on each cheek. "Re's light shine through you, Mother. I am grateful for your counsel." He turned to the door.
"So soon?" He hated the note of disappointment in her voice. As his duties increased with Merneptah's illness, these meetings had grown infrequent. One look at Nefertari's careworn face reminded him, she too, was not long for this world. "Stay for a cup of tea, at least?"
"One cup." He smiled, unable to deny her. "I must see Pharaoh. I have another matter that demands my attention."
She poured out two drams of the hot liquid, the scent of mint and rose hips filling his nostrils. The tea did wonders for soothing the burn in his chest. He helped his mother to her seat, the process taking far longer than it had a year ago.
"Would this matter have anything to do with our guests?"
"Why would you say that?" Meryatum tensed, reluctant even now to share his thoughts on the pair.
"You took Helen to the temple tonight." Nefertari's tone was innocent although her dark eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge. "It bears to reason that something happened in her ritual that upset you."
It was a futile practice to keep secrets from Nefertari. The queen, as always, was two steps ahead of the conversation. "It is not just the princess who plagues my thoughts." He chewed the leaves of his tea until they became a bitter swill coating his tongue. "I took the Trojan to the temple as well."
"Alexandros?" She sat up, a line of concern constricting her face.
He shifted in his seat, her reaction taking him by surprise. "Do you know him?"
Her eyes dropped to her lap, a shade of embarrassment shading her face.
"Mother, it is important. I must decide if he lives or dies tonight."
Nefertari's eyes shot wide. "Why must you do that?"
She did know the prince. It was in her bearing. He took a deep breath, determined not to scare her further. No one could make Nefertari talk if she did not wish it. "The attack on Seti, the dark omens I told you of, it all points to Prince Paris, not Helen. He is a cursed man." Nefertari spun away from him, walking to the far corner of her room, as though to remove herself from listening. "Please, Mother, if you know something of his character, I'd have you speak of it. His life may very well depend upon it."
She did not turn but gripped the end of the long table until her knuckles turned white. He feared she was in the grips of another seizure.
"Omens and dark tidings," she finally spat, the first note of disapproval he'd ever heard her utter about his calling. "They said the same things when I married your father. 'A falcon does not lie with a sparrow. The fruit of this union will produce poisoned seed.' Did you know that?"
Meryatum froze, one hand stretched out to comfort her. "What are you saying?"
She turned to him, her eyes rife with pain. "It was against tradition for Pharaoh to marry a commoner. It broke ma'at, and the temple priests told Rameses to cast me aside. Such a violation of our established law would invoke the wrath of the Gods. They knew nothing about me, nor our feelings for one another. Such trifles did not matter when the good of Egypt was concerned."
Meryatum's chest constricted, and he backed away from his mother. If what she said were true, then his brethren denounced the union of his parents, and the 'poisoned seed' they foretold about was him. "Re save me. Shelter me in your light," he whispered the urgent prayer.
His knees buckled beneath him and he fell, his flailing arms knocking a small table over and scattering tea and kettle across the floor. His breaths came in shattering heaves, and he steadied himself on hands and knees. Lifting his head, he gazed up at the woman who had out-shone all others in his life: Nefertari, Lady of Grace, Beloved of Mut and the All-Father, The One for Whom the Sun Shines, the greatest queen Egypt had seen in a century. The queen who should never have been...
"Why didn't you tell me?" He could not help but feel betrayed by her silence.
She watched him with her sad, dark eyes, the shade of her youthful beauty faded but not lost. "Tell you? So you could doubt yourself? You, Meryatum, High Priest of Re, First Prophet, the most talented seer to hold the office since Heliopolis was founded? The pr
iests were wrong. Wrong about you, wrong about me. Rameses saw it and trusted his heart to show him the right path."
He shook his head. "But that can't be true, not if there were signs—"
"My Son!" She approached him as fast as her weak legs would allow. "You cannot see with your inner eye alone. If you view the world through visions and omens you will be blinded to the possibilities all around you. A man is not the sum of what others claim of him. What of his actions?" A tear streaked down her lovely cheek. "Your actions? Is that not a better way to measure your worth?"
He rocked back on his heels, his heart twisting with the realization of why his mother chose to confide this dark history now. He regained his footing, and stood with her eye to eye. "The Trojan?"
Her resolve weakened and she nodded her head. "Yes, I know him. He is a man with a gentle heart. One of compassion. His noble birth fits him far better than many who claim greater privilege with their title. He respects the power and majesty of our Gods. If he did not, he wouldn't have stepped foot on our soil to seek their aid. No matter how you wish to interpret the events of that fool hunting trip, he saved Seti from a horrible death."
A well intentioned man could still heap ruin, but Meryatum had to concede that last fact. Setnakhte claimed as much as true. Still, Meryatum hesitated. Did one good deed wipe away the crimes that would follow? Would he look back on this day and wish he had eliminated this threat when he had the chance?
Did the priests wish the same thing of me?
Some bit of his misgivings must have played out on his face. Nefertari reached for him again, though he rejected her advances. She folded her arms under her bosom, any hint of softness gone. "You are right to fear him. Just as the priests were right to fear you. With your appointment to office you ended their family's long-standing influence over the region. They saw your birth as the end to the world they knew. They lacked the vision to see the good that would come after," she sighed. "The world is always on the brink of ruin, my son, and it will fare far worse if you remove an honorable man who has the power to influence it."
"You do not know that—"
"You are smarter than your predecessors, Meryatum," she cut him off, "but you cannot reason this out. You have to feel it. Knowing what you know now, what does your heart say?"
Meryatum looked away, ashamed. He was about to condemn a man for the very thing his mother claimed he was guilty of. If he, a high priest, could become a vessel for good despite a questionable birth, was a similar fate possible for the Trojan? With the guiding love of his Spartan princess, could he change his fate? Meryatum cleared his throat, finally seeing the truth Amun-Re had tried to reveal to him. "My heart says, 'that which is born of love is inherently good'." He lifted her hand to his lips and was rewarded by her graceful smile. "The Trojan will not be harmed by my hand or by those whom I command."
Nefertari was not one for grand expressions of affection. She held his hands lightly and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, her eyes teeming with unshed tears. "Your father would be proud of you. You are the child of his heart."
In that moment, he knew those words to be true. Pi-Rameses, Ozymandias, the second of his name, was the greatest sitting Pharaoh in Egyptian memory. He lived and bled for Egypt, shirking custom when necessary.
And his son, Meryatum, the High Priest of Re, would do no less.
The night was at its darkest when the high priest came before Pharaoh. Twosret watched the stoic man enter Merneptah's private chambers with a slight tinge of worry. What could bring the holy man to the palace at this hour? She sat beside her father, bathing Pharaoh's forehead with a cool washcloth, never taking her eyes off the priest. Fever gripped the king and he moaned softly as he slept.
"Good evening, Uncle." Seti rose slightly from his cushioned bench, an awkward move due to the brace binding his broken leg.
"My Prince." Meryatum placed a hand over his heart and bowed low. "How fares Pharaoh?"
"He wanes." Seti frowned. Like Twosret, he had not slept for fear he would miss their father's passing. Even the injuries he had sustained in the marsh could not keep him from Pharaoh's side. He had a team of slaves carry him in on a litter and another in the eaves waiting on him hand and foot. Two semi-nude Nubian women cooled him with ostrich-feather fans, nary a glance to the dying man in the center of the room.
Twosret hid her scowl behind a curtain of loose hair. Her husband cared little for the plight of Pharaoh save how it affected his ascension to the throne. He did not give their king the love a father deserved. Seti cared only for himself.
She tried to moisten Pharaoh's cracked lips, whispering encouragement to her father to take in a drop of the life-sustaining water. Merneptah's reign had been short, but glorious. He would leave behind him a legacy of strength and conquest, one she meant to protect at any cost.
"His time draws near," Meryatum intoned with prophetic formality. Twosret shivered, turning away from her uncle's unblinking gaze. The Gods could not have devised a man more carved of stone than the High Priest of Re. When he looked at her, she had the uncanny feeling he saw through her, that every dark sentiment she ever thought lay exposed.
"I had hoped to speak with him on a matter of some urgency." Meryatum sighed. "It seems the Gods insist I rely on my own counsel. Good night, My Prince. Princess." He bowed and turned to go.
"Uncle," Seti called after him, this time forcing his way to his feet. He shoved off the slave who offered an arm and limped his way forward. "I beseech you. Do not go away so burdened. You have often told me to take greater interest in the matters of the temple, and I ignored you. Let me atone for that now. Offer your troubles and hear my counsel."
Meryatum stiffened. As did Twosret. What inspired this earnest plea? It was unlike Seti. She watched her husband with renewed interest. Had his brush with death sobered his juvenile spirit? Or did Pharaoh's nearing end force his hand to appear more regal? From Seti's puffed up chest and wavering tone, she suspected it was the latter.
"Very well." The high priest crossed back into the room, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robe. "You'll remember that I have been telling you about a looming danger to the Two Lands, that the Gods speak of ruin on the eastern horizon."
Seti nodded, the clench of his jaw telling Twosret all she needed about his opinion on that matter. The priests always spoke of danger, insisting on more tribute to the Gods so they might keep Egypt's enemies at bay. She sneered. That tribute was best sent to their armies, to keep their military forces strong. Seti, however, liked having his royal coffers full. He dreamed of monuments soaring to the heavens, monuments bearing his name.
"In light of all we face," Meryatum continued, "and will face in the near future, I believe we should send the Trojan and his princess on their way. Their presence here is a distraction we can no longer afford."
A line creased Seti's brow, that decision clearly displeasing him. Twosret almost laughed. How unlike a king he looked. Their crown prince, a man-child who pouted over the loss of his new toy. Egypt would thank her when she put a knife through his heart.
"I see." Seti gathered himself. "If you think it best, Uncle, I will defer to your wisdom."
That answer surprised Meryatum. He looked to her for some inkling of the sudden change in behavior, but she had none. Again she shivered as his dark gaze bore into her, and she feared he read her thoughts. His eyes turned inward, and he had the look of a man weighing his next words carefully.
"There is more."
Her hand tightened on her sodden rag.
"To combat this looming evil," Meryatum continued, "I believe it is in Egypt's best interest to marry the two before they depart."
"What?" The word escaped her lips before she could think better.
Seti shot her a furious glare, daring her to speak again. "Is this what Prince Paris wants?"
"I assure you it is." The priest nodded. "Furthermore, it is what the Gods want. My hesitation rests with their fathers. Without their consent we risk offense."
They risked more than offense. If Egypt wed Helen, a tribute bride, to the wrong man, they could draw the ire of both Greece and Troy. She turned sharply to her husband. "You cannot be considering this."
But from the tense pinch of Seti's face, he was. "Silence, Wife," he snapped at her.
She bit her lip, silently cursing Bay and his delays. The man claimed that he owned a network of spies unparalleled in the Two Lands, but he could find no stain on the Spartan princess that Twosret could use to her advantage.
"The Gods have advised you to do this?" Seti asked of the high priest, his skeptical tone indicating how unusual a request it was.
"They have made their will known," came Meryatum's terse reply.
Seti waved over his servant, his pride no longer able to support him on his wounded leg. Together, they limped over to their father's bedside, and he took a seat beside Pharaoh, one hand rested on the king's shoulder as though he wished to claim authority through touch.
"The prince saved my life. Egypt owes him a debt of gratitude. If you are certain, Uncle, you should grant him this favor. Be it not said we turn our face from those who defend us."
Meryatum bowed again, this time with more respect. "As you wish, it will be done." He retreated out the chamber on silent steps, as swift as the wind.
Twosret struggled to regain her bearing. The fools! The pair of them! She cast one last furious glare at her husband and stormed out the room.
Ignoring the questioning looks she received from the palace guards, she rushed down the corridor. They knew better than to approach her when she was in a temper, and no fit she had previously displayed even approached what she felt now.
Seti's naiveté was to be expected. He had no respect for any authority save his own. Why should he care about offending two quarrelsome, and potentially dangerous, kingdoms? What truly alarmed her, however, was the stance of the high priest. Besides Pharaoh, the Temple was the single biggest power in Egypt. On matters of succession, they had remained ambivalent at best. If Meryatum changed that position, if he aligned himself with Seti, there would be no way to sway the court against raising her horrid husband to the throne.
The Princess of Prophecy Page 37