Nefertiti

“He said he trusted Panahesi above any other vizier in Egypt. He told Kiya he’d give her father the highest position at court!”

Immediately, Nefertiti was at the door, commanding one of the guards to fetch Vizier Ay. Our father came at once, and the three of us sat in a circle around the king’s private brazier. If he returned, he would catch us conspiring about him.

My sister straightened. “I’m going to tell Amunhotep that Panahesi can’t be trusted,” she resolved.

“And risk his anger?” My father shook his head. “No. Panahesi can be avoided,” he replied. “The bigger threat is growing in Kiya’s belly.”

“Then perhaps we should kill it,” my sister said.

“Nefertiti!” She and my father both looked at me.

“The right mix of herbs in her wine…,” my father wondered. I didn’t want hear this. I didn’t want to be part of it. “But she would only get pregnant again,” he concluded.

“And the vizier would be suspicious,” Nefertiti replied. “He would tell Amunhotep and that would be the end of us. I will simply have to outwit her.”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” my father agreed. “He’s infatuated with you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean keep praising Aten?”

My father looked stern.

“It’s the only way to keep him,” Nefertiti said quickly.

“And it’s what Kiya does,” I pointed out.

“Kiya does nothing,” Nefertiti replied hotly.

“She listens to his poetry. And he doesn’t read it to you!”

“When we go to Memphis, he must be careful with the priests of Amun,” my father interrupted. “He cannot interfere with them. Nefertiti, you must make sure of this.”

I waited for my sister to speak of the deal Amunhotep had struck with Horemheb in the gardens, but she said nothing.

“If he grabs for too much power, it could topple us all. The Elder has other sons that could replace him if he should suddenly die.”

My breath caught in my throat. “The priests of Amun would murder a king?”

My sister and father stared at me again, and then ignored my outburst.

Nefertiti asked, “But what if he could take power from the priests?”

“Don’t think it.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because then Pharaoh would have total control of Memphis, and your husband is not wise enough to wield that kind of power.”

“Then you could have it. You could be the power behind the throne,” she tempted him. “You would be untouchable.”

Now this was something new. A king’s vizier could wield more influence if he only had to answer to Pharaoh, not to the priests and noblemen. I saw my father thinking, and my sister continued. “It’s what he wants. He will be busy building his temples to Aten. And who would rule better, you or the High Priest of Thebes?”

I could see that my father was thinking she was right. If there was going to be a shift in the balance, why not come out on the better end? He had a better knowledge of foreign and domestic entanglements than a priest walled up in a temple to Amun. “Tiye will not be pleased,” my father warned. “It’s a gamble,” he said. “It could all turn out wrong.”

“How else am I to remain the favorite?” Nefertiti rose dramatically. “Tell him he will fail? He will go through with this whether I support him or no.”

“Can’t you take his mind away from Aten?”

“It’s all he can think about.”

My father stood and went to the door. “We will play this slowly,” he decided. “There are men in this court neither you nor your husband would like to make enemies of.”

We listened as his footsteps slapped across the tiles back to his own chamber.

Nefertiti collapsed into a chair. “So while Amunhotep is reciting poetry to that whore, the Queen of Egypt is spending the night with her sister.”

“Don’t be angry or he will resent you,” I said.

She shot me a look, but didn’t mock my suggestion.

“I will sleep with you tonight,” she decided, and I didn’t complain. I wouldn’t have wanted my husband crawling into bed next to me after a night with another woman, either.

The next morning, I awoke at sunrise, then dressed myself quickly to pay obeisance at the shrine of Amun. I moved as silently as possible, but even so Nefertiti rolled over to grumble at me.

“You’re not going to the shrine?” she asked with disbelief. “You don’t have to pay obeisance every day,” she said.

“I enjoy speaking with Amun,” I replied defensively, and she made a disbelieving noise in her throat. “When is the last time you went?” I demanded, and she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. “Do you even know where Amun’s shrine is?” I challenged.

“Of course. In the garden.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to come. You’re Queen of Egypt.”

“And you visit every day. You make my offerings for me. I’m too tired.”

“To thank Amun?”

“He knows that I’m thankful. Now leave me alone.”

So I went into the gardens by myself, as I had every morning since our arrival in Thebes, and picked a crop of flowers to place at Amun’s feet. I took only the choicest flowers: irises as purple as deep summer’s night, and hibiscus with petals like bloodred stars. When I was finished at the shrine, it was still quite early, and only servants were out in the gardens, watering the tamarinds with their heavy earthen bowls. Nefertiti was certain to still be asleep, so I walked to my parents’ courtyard. My mother would be awake, placing offerings at Hathor’s feet.

As I moved through the palace, I enjoyed the silence. Cats crept through the halls, sleek black with bronze eyes, but they took no notice of me. They were hunting for the remains of last night’s dinner, a half-eaten honeyed fig dropped by a servant or a delicious morsel of roasted gazelle. I reached my mother’s courtyard and found her sitting in the garden, reading a scroll with a familiar wax seal.

“News from Akhmim!” she announced brightly when she saw me. The morning sun gilded the new lapis collar that she was wearing.

I walked eagerly to her bench and took a seat. “And what does the overseer say?” I asked.

“Your garden is doing well.”

I thought of my jujube with its ginger-colored fruit and the beautiful hibiscus I had planted last spring. I would not be there to see any of it ripen. “And what else?”

“The grapes are growing fast. The overseer says that in Shemu this vintage could produce sixty barrels.”

“Sixty! Will they send them on to Memphis?”

“Certainly. And I asked for my linen shifts to be sent as well. I forgot them in the rush to pack.”

We smiled at each other in the pale light of the courtyard, both thinking about Akhmim. Only her smile was wider and more innocent, because my father kept from her the things he couldn’t keep from me, and she didn’t see that we’d traded security for worry.

“So tell me about Nefertiti,” she said. “Is she happy?” She rolled up the scroll, tucking it into her sleeve.

“As happy as she can be. He did go to Kiya last night.” I settled against the cool stone bench and sighed. “So, we are leaving for Memphis.”

My mother nodded. “Amunhotep will only grow restless here, waiting for the Elder to die. Perhaps not even waiting,” she added ominously.

I glanced at her sharply. “You don’t think he would hasten the Elder’s death?”