The Heretic Queen (2 page)

I must have begged to go with him that night, or perhaps my nurse had been too busy at Princess Pili's bedside to realize that I was gone. But I can recall our passage through the silent halls of Amun's temple, and how Ramesses's face looked like a painting I had seen of women begging the goddess Isis for favor. I was six years old and always talking, but I knew enough to be quiet that night. I peered up at the painted images of the gods as they passed through the glow of our flickering torchlight, and when we reached the inner sanctum, Ramesses spoke his first words to me.

"Stay here."

I obeyed his command and drew deeper into the shadows as he approached the towering statue of Amun. The god was illuminated by a circle of lamplight, and Ramesses knelt before the creator of life. My heart was beating so loudly in my ears that I couldn't hear what he was whispering, but his final words rang out. "Help her, Amun. She's only six.
Please
don't let Anubis take her away. Not yet!"

There was movement from the opposite door of the sanctum, and the whisper of sandaled feet warned Ramesses that he wasn't alone. He stood, wiping tears from his eyes, and I held my breath as a man emerged like a leopard from the darkness. The spotted pelt of a priest draped from his shoulders, and his left eye was as red as a pool of blood.

"Where is the king?" the High Priest demanded.

Ramesses, summoning all the courage of his nine years, stepped into the circle of lamplight and spoke. "In the palace, Your Holiness. My father won't leave my sister's side."

"Then where is your mother?"

"She . . . she's with her as well. The physicians say my sister is going to die!"

"So your father sent
children
to intervene with the gods?"

I understood for the first time why we had come. "But I've promised Amun whatever he wants," Ramesses cried. "Whatever shall be mine in my future."

"And your father never thought to call on me?"

"He has! He's asked that you come to the palace." His voice broke. "But do you think that Amun will heal her?"

The High Priest moved across the tiles. "Who can say?"

"But I came on my knees and offered him anything. I did as I was told."

"
You
may have," the High Priest snapped, "but Pharaoh himself has not visited my temple."

Ramesses took my hand, and we followed the hem of the High Priest's robes into the courtyard. A trumpet shattered the stillness of the night, and when priests appeared in long white cloaks, I thought of the mummified god Osiris. In the darkness, it was impossible to make out their features, but when enough had assembled, the High Priest shouted, "To the palace of Malkata!"

With torchlights before us we swept into the darkness. Our chariots raced through the chill Mechyr night to the River Nile. And when we'd crossed the waters to the steps of the palace, guards ushered our retinue into the hall.

"Where is the royal family?" the High Priest demanded.

"Inside the princess's bedchamber, Your Holiness."

The High Priest made for the stairs. "Is she alive?"

When no guard answered, Ramesses broke into a run, and I hurried after him, afraid of being left in the dark halls of the palace.

"Pili!" he cried. "Pili,
no! Wait!
" He took the stairs two at a time and at the entrance to Pili's chamber two armed guards parted for him. Ramesses swung open the heavy wooden doors and stopped. I peered into the dimness. The air was thick with incense, and the queen was bent in mourning. Pharaoh stood by himself in the shadows, away from the single oil lamp that lit the room.

"Pili," Ramesses whispered.

"
Pili!
" he cried. He didn't care that it was unbecoming of a prince to weep. He ran to the bed and grasped his sister's hand. Her eyes were shut, and her small chest no longer shook with the cold. From beside her on the bed, the Queen of Egypt let out a violent sob.

"Ramesses, you must instruct them to ring the bells."

Ramesses looked to his father, as if the Pharaoh of Egypt might reverse death itself.

Pharaoh Seti nodded. "Go."

"But I tried!" Ramesses cried. "I begged Amun."

Seti moved across the room and placed his arm around Ramesses's shoulders. "I know. And now you must tell them to ring the bells. Anubis has taken her."

But I could see that Ramesses couldn't bear to leave Pili alone. She had been fearful of the dark, like I was, and she would be afraid of so much weeping. He hesitated, but his father's voice was firm.

"Go."

Ramesses looked down at me, and it was understood that I would accompany him.

In the courtyard, an old priestess sat beneath the twisted limbs of an acacia, holding a bronze bell in her withered hands. "Anubis will come for us all one day," she said, her breath fogging the cold night.

"Not at six years old!" Ramesses shouted. "Not when I begged for her life from Amun."

The old priestess laughed harshly. "The gods do not listen to children! What great things have you accomplished that Amun should hear you speak? What wars have you won? What monuments have you erected?"

I hid behind Ramesses's cloak, and neither of us moved.

"Where will Amun have heard your name," she demanded, "to recognize it among so many thousands begging for aid?"

"Nowhere," I heard Ramesses whisper, and the old priestess nodded firmly.

"If the gods cannot recognize your names," she warned, "they will never hear your prayers."

CHAPTER ONE

PHARAOH OF UPPER EGYPT

Thebes, 1283 BC

"STAY STILL," Paser admonished firmly. Although Paser was my tutor and couldn't tell a princess what to do, there would be extra lines to copy if I didn't obey. I stopped shifting in my beaded dress and stood obediently with the other children of Pharaoh Seti's harem. But at thirteen years old, I was always impatient. Besides, all I could see was the gilded belt of the woman in front of me. Heavy sweat stained her white linen, trickling down her neck from beneath her wig. As soon as Ramesses passed in the royal procession, the court would be able to escape the heat and follow him into the cool shade of the temple. But the procession was moving terribly slow. I looked up at Paser, who was searching for an open path to the front of the crowd.

"Will Ramesses stop studying with us now that he's becoming coregent?" I asked.

"Yes," Paser said distractedly. He took my arm and pushed our way through the sea of bodies. "Make way for the princess Nefertari! Make way!" Women with children stepped aside until we were standing at the very edge of the roadway. All along the Avenue of Sphinxes, tall pots of incense smoked and burned, filling the air with the sacred scent of
kyphi
that would make this, above all days, an auspicious one. The brassy sound of trumpets filled the avenue, and Paser pushed me forward. "The prince is coming!"

"I see the prince every day," I said sullenly. Ramesses was the only son of Pharaoh Seti, and now that he had turned seventeen, he would be leaving his childhood behind. There would be no more studying with him in the edduba, or hunting together in the afternoons. His coronation held no interest for me then, but when he came into view, even I caught my breath. From the wide lapis collar around his neck to the golden cuffs around his ankles and wrists, he was covered in jewels. His red hair shone like copper in the sun, and a heavy sword hung at his waist. Thousands of Egyptians surged forward to see, and as Ramesses strode past in the procession, I reached forward to tug at his hair. Although Paser inhaled sharply, Pharaoh Seti laughed, and the entire procession came to a halt.

"Little Nefertari." Pharaoh patted my head.

"Little?"
I puffed out my chest. "I'm not little." I was thirteen, and in a month I'd be fourteen.

Pharaoh Seti chuckled at my obstinacy. "Little only in stature then," he promised. "And where is that determined nurse of yours?"

"Merit? In the palace, preparing for the feast."

"Well, tell Merit I want to see her in the Great Hall tonight. We must teach her to smile as beautifully as you do." He pinched my cheeks, and the procession continued into the cool recesses of the temple.

"Stay close to me," Paser ordered.

"Why? You've never minded where I've gone before."

We were swept into the temple with the rest of the court, and at last, the heavy heat of the day was shut out. In the dimly lit corridors a priest dressed in the long white robes of Amun guided us swiftly to the inner sanctum. I pressed my palm against the cool slabs of stone where images of the gods had been carved and painted. Their faces were frozen in expressions of joy, as if they were happy to see that we'd come.

"Be careful of the paintings," Paser warned sharply.

"Where are we going?"

"To the inner sanctum."

The passage widened into a vaulted chamber, and a murmur of surprise passed through the crowd. Granite columns soared up into the gloom, and the blue tiled roof had been inlaid with silver to imitate the night's glittering sky. On a painted dais, a group of Amun priests were waiting, and I thought with sadness that once Ramesses was coregent, he would never be a carefree prince in the marshes again. But there were still the other children from the edduba, and I searched the crowded room for a friend.

"Asha!" I beckoned, and when he saw me with our tutor, he threaded his way over. As usual, his black hair was bound tightly in a braid; whenever we hunted it trailed behind him like a whip. Although his arrow was often the one that brought down the bull, he was never the first to approach the kill, prompting Pharaoh to call him
Asha the Cautious.
But as Asha was cautious, Ramesses was impulsive. In the hunt, he was always charging ahead, even on the most dangerous roads, and his own father called him
Ramesses the Rash.
Of course, this was a private joke between them, and no one but Pharaoh Seti ever called him that. I smiled a greeting at Asha, but the look Paser gave him was not so welcoming.

"Why aren't you standing with the prince on the dais?"

"But the ceremony won't begin until the call of the trumpets," Asha explained. When Paser sighed, Asha turned to me. "What's the matter? Aren't you excited?"

"How can I be excited," I demanded, "when Ramesses will spend all his time in the Audience Chamber, and in less than a year you'll be leaving for the army?"

Asha shifted uncomfortably in his leather pectoral. "Actually, if I'm to be a general," he explained, "my training must begin this month." The trumpets blared, and when I opened my mouth to protest, he turned. "It's time!" Then his long braid disappeared into the crowd. A great hush fell over the temple, and I looked up at Paser, who avoided my gaze.

"What is
she
doing here?" someone hissed, and I knew without turning that the woman was speaking about me. "She'll bring nothing but bad luck on this day."

Paser looked down at me, and as the priests began their hymns to Amun, I pretended not to have heard the woman's whispers. Instead, I watched as the High Priest Rahotep emerged from the shadows. A leopard's pelt hung from his shoulders, and as he slowly ascended the dais, the children next to me averted their gaze. His face appeared frozen, like a mask that never stops grinning, and his left eye was still red as a carnelian stone. Heavy clouds of incense filled the inner sanctum, but Rahotep appeared immune to the smoke. He lifted the
hedjet
crown in his hands, and without blinking, placed it on top of Ramesses's golden brow. "May the great god Amun embrace Ramesses the Second, for now he is Pharaoh of Upper Egypt."