The Heretic Queen

and as I made my way past the curious faces, it occurred to me that an important part of my life had finished. No tutor would await me ever again. And although I’d always thought I would feel like an animal released from its cage when my student days were finished, I felt more like a bird that had been pushed from its nest and told it must fly.

I followed Woserit down the path along the lake. Though my heart was pounding, she retained her usual calm, that always seemed to hint at some great purpose. “I visited Merit this morning,” she said, after some time. “Your most important belongings have been packed, and as soon as they’re loaded on Hathor’s ship, we’ll set sail.”

Thebes is a city cleaved in two by water. On the western bank of the River Nile is the palace of Malkata, and on the eastern bank are all of our most sacred temples. Each temple has its own ship, and this is what Woserit used each afternoon when she came to the Audience Chamber, or many evenings when she visited her brother in the Great Hall. Adult life, it seemed, meant movement. For fourteen years I had lived in the same chamber in the palace, and now, within fifteen days, I would be moving twice. Perhaps Woserit understood more than she let on, because her voice softened.

“Moving again and saying farewell will not be as terrible as you think,” she promised.

In the courtyard outside my chamber, a small group had gathered to watch the servants collect my belongings. When I noticed Ramesses and Asha, my heart leaped.

“Nefer!” Asha exclaimed, and Woserit raised her brows.

“Nefertari,” she corrected as he came over. “In the Temple of Hathor she will be properly known as such,” Woserit explained. “Ramesses.” She bowed politely to her nephew. “I will leave you to say your farewell.”

Woserit disappeared inside my chamber, and both Ramesses and Asha spoke at once.

“What does she mean?”

I shrugged. “I’m leaving.”

Ramesses blurted, “Leaving where?”

“To the Temple of Hathor,” I said.

“What? To become a priestess? To clean tiles and light incense?” Asha asked.

I am sure part of his shock was in knowing that priestesses must train for twelve months. And although they may marry, many never do.

I suppressed the urge to change my mind. “Yes. Or perhaps to be a temple scribe.”

Ramesses glanced at Asha, to see if he could believe this. “But why?”

“What else am I to do?” I asked solemnly. “I have no place in this palace, Ramesses. You’re married now and belong in the Audience Chamber. And soon you’ll be going off to war with Asha.”

“But it won’t last for a year!” Ramesses said. Iset entered the courtyard, and when she saw that Ramesses was with me, she halted sharply in place. “Iset,” he called, “come and bid farewell.”

“Why? Is the princess leaving us?” she asked.

“For the Temple of Hathor,” Ramesses said disbelievingly. “To become a priestess.”

Iset put on her most sympathetic look as she approached. “Ramesses will be so very sorry to see you go. He’s always telling me how much you’re like a little sister to him.” She smiled as she said little, and I bit my tongue against saying something nasty. “It’s simply unfortunate we didn’t know sooner. We could have thrown a feast of farewell.” She looked up at Ramesses through her long lashes. “After all, it’s not as though she’ll be returning.”

“Of course she’ll be returning,” Ramesses retorted. “A priestess’s training only lasts a year.”

“But then she’ll be serving Hathor. Across the river.”

He blinked quickly, and there was a moment when he might have embraced me, even in front of Iset. I could see that there was more that Asha wanted to say. But then Woserit appeared with Merit at the head of a caravan of basket-laden servants.

“You can visit her anytime,” Woserit promised. “Come, Nefertari. The boat is waiting.”

I reached around my neck and took off the simple ox-hair’s necklace that Merit hated. “What is that?” Iset sneered.

“I made it for her,” Ramesses said defensively, then met my gaze.

“Yes. When I was seven.” I smiled. “I want you to have it to remember me by.”

I placed the necklace in his hands, and it took all of my strength not to look behind me at his crestfallen face as I walked to the quay. From the deck of Hathor’s ship, I looked back at the life that I had always known. Ramesses and Asha waved from the banks, and a small group of students from the edduba had joined them.

“That was very clever, what you did back there. Giving him the necklace.”

I nodded numbly, thinking that it wasn’t cleverness, just love, and Merit placed her arm across my shoulder. “It’s not forever, my lady.”

I pressed my lips together. As I watched the fading shoreline, only one figure remained. She was dressed in red.

“Henuttawy.” Woserit saw the direction of my gaze and nodded. “She thinks that you’ve retreated now, and that it’s only a matter of time before Ramesses forgets about you and turns to Iset for his companionship.”

I prayed that she was wrong but held my tongue, for now I had placed all those prayers in Woserit’s hands.

IT WAS not a long journey to the Temple of Hathor, and as the boat neared the quay, Merit rose from her stool to gaze at the forest of granite pillars soaring above a polished courtyard.

“No wonder her sister is jealous,” she whispered out of Woserit’s earshot.

Towering obelisks rose against the sky, and beyond the temple, workers in blue kilts tended to Hathor’s sycamore groves. The fresh shoots of the goddess’s sacred trees shone like green jewels.

“Surprised?” Woserit asked us.

Merit admitted, “I knew this was the largest temple in Thebes, but I didn’t realize—”

Woserit smiled. “We have more pilgrims to Hathor in a single month than my sister has in the Temple of Isis in six.”

“Because Hathor’s temple is larger?” I asked.

“Because the pilgrims know that when they bring offerings of deben or lapis lazuli,” Woserit replied, “the offerings will be used to preserve the beauty of the goddess; in her groves, and in the way we keep her temple. But when pilgrims go to the Temple of Isis, their offerings are melted into jewelry that Henuttawy can wear to my brother’s feasts. The most beautiful room in my sister’s temple isn’t the inner sanctum of Isis. It’s her own chamber.”

Now that we had reached the quay, it was possible to see just how large the Temple of Hathor truly was. The painted columns were cast in the sun’s golden light, and gilded images of the cow goddess crowned every limestone pillar. Our ship was greeted by a dozen of Hathor’s priestesses, and servants stood on the shore to unload our belongings.

One of the young women in Hathor’s blue robes approached us with a pair of sandals, handing them to Merit and explaining, “Leather is forbidden in the Temple of Hathor. Sandals must be made of papyrus.”

“Thank you, Aloli,” said Woserit. The young priestess bowed, and a tangle of red curls bounced on her head. “Will you please take Lady Merit and Princess Nefertari to their chambers?”

“Of course, Your Holiness.” She waited while Merit and I replaced our sandals, and as my leather sandals were taken away, I wondered what other pieces of my old life I would have to lose. “May I show you to your rooms?” Aloli asked.

We followed the priestess through the heavy bronze gates of the temple, and through the chambers for the pilgrims to Hathor. As we passed through the halls, I was careful not to step on her sweeping train. Her hips moved with a mesmerizing sway, and I wondered where she’d learned to walk the way she did. “This way,” she instructed, and she led us into the cool recesses of the temple, where silent priestesses moved among the offerants, spreading incense from golden balls.

“The High Priestess has requested that you both be given chambers near to hers,” Aloli said. “But do not expect to see much of her here. This temple requires a great deal of care, and when she’s not in the palace, she’s out in the groves or meeting with pilgrims. This is where the priestesses eat.”