Queen Tiye straightened her shoulders. “May the gods protect you,” she said coldly. Pharaoh nodded, but there was no love in his eyes.
Amunhotep straightened his tunic self-consciously, and when he saw that the soldiers and servants were watching he cried out violently, “Move!”
My body servant appeared and shouted, “Into your litter!”
I scrambled inside. The caravan surged forward. I was behind Nefertiti and Amunhotep, who rode together. I parted the curtains and waved to my aunt. She waved back. The Elder, I noticed, looked solemn. We departed in a cloud of dust, riding the short distance to the bay that surrounded the palace. The glare off the moving water could be seen through the strips of linen protecting me from the sun, and then the caravan stopped where a fleet of impressive Egyptian ships had been moored. We were lowered in our litters and the royal family was taken onto the barges. Because we were part of the royal family now, my mother, father, and I would be traveling on Pharaoh’s barge with golden pennants flying from the mast. Panahesi and his family had their own private ship. I was glad for the separation; no vessel could have held both Nefertiti and Kiya.
The barges could fit fifty-two soldiers rowing at the oars and another twenty passengers above or below decks. In the midst of the ships were wooden cabins with two chambers inside. The cabins were built of wood and covered in linen. “To protect against the heat,” my father said.
“And where will the soldiers sleep?” I asked him.
“On the deck. It’s warm enough now.”
The ships looked handsome in the water. The ebony oars, inlaid with silver, caught the light, and the calls of an ibis searching for its mate echoed across the bay. I watched from the steps as treasures from the Elder’s palace were packed: copper bowls, cedar wig chests, alabaster statues, and an altar of granite that was inlaid with pearl. The slaves strained under the weight of the many heavy baskets, loading Egypt’s finest jewels onto the vessels last so that the guards could watch over them.
When the ships set sail, I went to find my parents in our cabin. My mother was playing Senet with the wife of Egypt’s most honored architect.
My mother used her chin to indicate the stern of the ship, but she didn’t take her eyes from the game. Like Nefertiti, she was good at Senet. I wandered out to the stern and heard my father’s voice before I saw him.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he demanded.
“Because I knew you would be angry. But Horemheb is on our side. He understands what we are doing.”
I peered beyond the door of the cabin and saw my father shake his head. “You are making enemies for this family faster than we can make allies. The sands of Memphis will swallow us whole, and if the people rise against you…”
“But they will love us!” Nefertiti promised. “We will build them greater temples than they have ever seen. We will hold more feast days, and we’ll
“And yours?”
She hesitated. “Don’t you want to be remembered?”
“For what? For taxing the temples?”
A short silence hung between them.
“You will be the most powerful man in the kingdom,” she pledged. “I shall see to it. While he builds temples, you will rule this kingdom. He has no interest in politics. Everything will be left to you, and Panahesi will be like bronze to your gold.”
BY THE SECOND of Pachons, I began to recognize the sailors on board our ship. They nodded as I passed, but they were wearied and beaten, driven all day in the sun with only water and soup to sustain them. They always had time for Ipu, however. When she walked the decks with her heavy gold earrings and swaying hips, the men talked to her the way a brother might talk with his sister, and quietly, when no one was looking, they laughed. But they never spoke to me except to mumble politely, “My lady.”
By the third day of the voyage, I had grown bored. I tried to read, learning about trees that grew in the Kingdom of Mitanni far to our north where the Khabur and the Euphrates overflowed their banks. I read all seven treatises that Ipu had collected in the markets of Thebes by the time we had spent seven days without disembarking. Then, on the eighth night, even Amunhotep grew weary of constant travel, and we were taken to shore to build fires and stretch our legs.
The servants gathered wood to roast the wild geese they had caught on the river, and we all ate in the Elder’s best faience bowls. It was a glad change from the hard bread and figs we had been eating, and Ipu joined me at the fire, holding a cup of Pharaoh’s best wine. Across from us, at a dozen different fires, soldiers were getting drunk and courtiers were playing Senet. Ipu stared into her cup and smiled.
“As good as anything I’ve ever tasted,” she said.
I raised my brows. “Even the wine from your father’s vineyard?”
She nodded and leaned close. “I think they have opened the oldest barrels.”
I sucked in my breath. “For
She glanced at Amunhotep, and I followed her gaze. While the courtiers laughed and Nefertiti spoke in low tones with our father, Amunhotep was staring into the fire. His lips were drawn into a thin line and the bones in his face appeared hollow in the flickering light. “He only cares about getting there,” Ipu replied. “The faster he arrives in Memphis, the sooner he can take up the crook and flail of Egypt.”
Panahesi was making his way toward our circle with an obviously pregnant Kiya. As they drew near the fire, Nefertiti turned and pinched my arm roughly. “What is she doing here?” she demanded.
I rubbed my arm. “She’s coming with us to Memphis, remember?”
But Nefertiti didn’t hear my sarcasm. “She’s pregnant. She should be back on the ship.”
One of Kiya’s ladies spread a feathered cushion on the sand and Kiya sat across from Amunhotep, resting her hand on her large hennaed belly. She was soft and fresh, natural in her pregnancy, while across the fire Nefertiti glittered with malachite and gold.
“We are halfway to Memphis,” Panahesi announced. “Soon, we will arrive and Pharaoh will be enthroned in his palace.” The small group around the fire nodded, murmuring among themselves, and my father watched him carefully. “Are the plans going well for the building, Your Highness?”
Amunhotep straightened, awakening from his stupor. “The plans are coming magnificently. My queen has a great mind for design. We have already sketched a temple with a courtyard and three altars.”
Panahesi smiled indulgently. “If His Highness should need any help…” He spread his palms and Amunhotep nodded at his loyalty.
“I have already made plans for you,” he said. At nearby fires, the courtiers stopped playing Senet. “When we reach Memphis,” Amunhotep announced, “I want you to see to it that General Horemheb succeeds in collecting taxes from the priests of Amun.”
The fire snapped and hissed, and Panahesi hid his shock, looking quickly to Nefertiti to see if she’d known, gauging how far the Pharaoh trusted her now. Then all of the viziers began talking at once.
“But Your Majesty,” one of them interjected. “Is that prudent?”
Panahesi cleared his throat. “Of course, it is prudent. The temples of Amun have never been taxed. They hoard Egypt’s wealth and spend it as their own.”
“Exactly!” Amunhotep exclaimed. He struck his fist into his palm and many of the soldiers turned to hear what Pharaoh was saying. I looked at my father, whose face was a blank courtier’s mask, but I knew what he was thinking:
Panahesi leaned over and said to the king, “My daughter has missed you these eight nights at sail.”
