Nefertiti

She was silent. The only sound was the kitten’s pitiful mew.

I rolled my eyes. “All right. But you can take care of it.”

When my father arrived with my mother in tow, their serving lady had a basket filled with luxuries from the palace I didn’t need. He frowned at the sight of Ipu crouched by the divan, dangling a string and calling softly to something underneath.

“What is she doing?” he asked.

The serving woman put the basket on the table, and the three of us turned to look. There was the flash of a gray paw, then a startled scream as the string disappeared. “The naughty creature won’t come out!” Ipu cried.

“What is it?” My mother peered closer.

“Nefertiti sent me a kitten,” I said flatly. My father studied my expression. “I only took it because Ipu wanted it,” I said. The kitten scampered down the hall.

My mother grinned. “Have you named her?”

“Him. His name is Bastet.”

“The patron of felines,” my mother said approvingly.

My father looked at me in surprise.

“It was Ipu’s idea.”

My mother began unpacking various linens from the basket, and my father and I strolled out into the garden.

“I heard my sister came to visit you yesterday.”

“She thinks there is a chance of success in Kadesh,” I told him, waiting for his response.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “It’s possible, Mutnodjmet. But it’s nothing I would wait for. He is gone. We have all lost loved ones to Osiris.”

I fought back tears. “But not like this!”

“Nefertiti didn’t know,” my father explained. “She is beside herself. The child is due at the end of Thoth, and the physicians say if she doesn’t get rest and begin to eat she will lose it.”

Good. Let her lose it, I thought. Let her know what it’s like to wake up robbed of everything she holds dear. Immediately, however, guilt overwhelmed me. “I hope she finds peace.” I bowed my head. “But even if she didn’t know about the herbs, she allowed Nakhtmin to be taken.”

My father said nothing for a while. Then he warned, “She will want you at the birth.”

I bit my tongue. My father knew the irony of what he was asking. “When the time comes,” I whispered.

Queen Tiye visited me for a second time. She swept up the steps of the villa with seven ladies in tow, each of them carrying large willow baskets.

“Ipu, find Bastet!” I shouted. “We can’t have him running around attacking the queen’s ankles.” This was Bastet’s new game. He would find a piece of furniture under which to hide, and then run out to bite the ankle of anyone who passed. “Bastet,” Ipu wailed. “Come here, Bastet.”

I could hear the queen’s ladies drawing closer. “Bastet!” I commanded, and the little ball of fur pranced out from his hiding place, marching up to me as if to demand what I wanted with him. “Ipu, take him into the back room.” I pointed.

He looked at Ipu and gave a plaintive cry.

“How come he comes for you and not for me?”

I looked down at the proud little kitten. Even though Ipu was the one who fed him, it was my chair he sat under and my lap he curled up on in front of the brazier. Arrogant miw, I thought.

A knock resounded throughout the house, and Ipu rushed to open the door. Outside, two servants held a peacock sunshade over my aunt’s head to protect her from the sun.

“Queen Tiye.” I bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you.”

My aunt held out her hand so that I could escort her inside. The rings on her fingers were dazzling, great chunks of lapis set in gold. She took a seat on a feather pillow in the loggia, studying the torn tapestry on the wall. She fingered the loose threads. “The kitten from Nefertiti?” She smiled at my surprise. “There was talk in the palace when it wasn’t returned.”

At once my ire rose. “Talk?” I demanded.

“Someone suggested that all might be forgiven.” She watched me carefully while color darkened my cheeks.

“And did someone suggest that a gift won’t buy a child? Won’t buy back a man’s life?”

“Who would say that to your sister? No one challenges Nefertiti. Not I, not even your father.”

“Then she does what she pleases?” I asked her.

“The same way all queens have. Only with a greater passion for building.”

I gasped. “There can’t be more building?”

“Of course. There will be building until the army finds a leader who will lead them in revolt.”

“But who could be powerful enough to revolt against Pharaoh?”

Ipu brought in tea with mint. My aunt raised the cup to her lips. “Horemheb,” she said frankly.

“Which is why Horemheb was sent to Kadesh.”

My aunt nodded. “He was too popular. Like Nakhtmin. My son saw danger where he should have seen advantage. He is too much a fool to see that with Nakhtmin in your bed, he would never have revolted.”

“Nakhtmin would never have led a revolt,” I said quickly. “With or without me.”

Tiye raised her sharp brows.

“He wanted a peaceful life.”

“He didn’t tell you that in Thebes, when Akhenaten was ready to take his brother’s crown, soldiers came and asked him to lead a rebellion? And that he agreed?”

I lowered my cup. “Nakhtmin?”

“There were viziers and soldiers who convinced him that a rebellion was the only way to achieve Ma’at once Prince Tuthmosis was killed.”

I stared at my aunt, trying to determine whether she was truly saying what I thought she might be. That Tuthmosis had been killed not by a fall from his chariot, but by his own brother’s hand. She saw my question and stiffened.

“I hear servants’ gossip as well as anyone else.”

“But his chariot fall—”

“Might have killed him regardless. Or he might have recovered. Only my living son and Osiris now know the truth.”

I shuddered. “Only there was no revolt.”

“Nefertiti arrived and the court believed she would be Egypt’s salvation from my son.”

I sat back. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked her.

My aunt put down her tea. “Because someday you will return to the palace, and either you will return with your eyes wide open or you will be buried with them shut.”

Twenty days later, Tiye was sitting on an ivory stool between the rows of my garden, quizzing me about plants, wanting to know what other uses the licorice root had besides sweetening tea. I told her that when it was used instead of honey, it prevented tooth decay, and that eating onions instead of garlic would do the same. My father came upon us between the feathery green herbs; I hadn’t even heard Ipu greet him at the door.

My father looked first to her, then at me. “What are you doing?”

My aunt stood up. “My niece is showing me the magic of herbs. A very clever girl, your daughter.” She shaded her face with her hand. I couldn’t tell whether the look in my father’s eyes was one of pride or displeasure. “And what brings you here?”