The Heretic Queen

“What’s wrong with you?” Merit challenged from the door. “Every afternoon you come out here. These groves haven’t changed since yesterday.”

“I’m missing everything! When Thoth comes and a new year begins, I’ll miss the Feast of Wag, too.” Wag is the only night when a person’s akhu can return to the land of the living and enjoy the earthly food that’s presented to them.

But Merit shook her head slyly. “I don’t believe you will miss the feast. Yesterday, I saw the High Priestess while you were practicing harp. She said that in two months you will have been away from court for an entire year, and that soon . . .” Merit paused for effect. “You may be ready to return.”

ON THE tenth of Thoth, Merit shook me out of bed. “My lady, the High Priestess is waiting!”

I sat up and wiped the sleep from my eyes. “What?”

“You are not to study with the vizier today. The High Priestess wants to see you instead!”

We rushed to the mirror, and I sat patiently while Merit applied my paint. “We will use the malachite,” she determined, and opened the jar of expensive green powder. I closed my eyes while she applied it to my lids, and she spent extra time outlining my eyes with kohl. When Merit took my wig from its box, I saw that she had added green faience beads. “How—”

“For the occasion,” she said eagerly.

In all the many months since I first entered the Temple of Hathor, Woserit had rarely seen me. Merit hennaed my nails with a brush meant for kohl, and when she gave me my gown I saw that it was new. I stood, and Merit sucked in her breath. “You are a woman,” she said, as if she could hardly believe it. She narrowed her small eyes as she studied my face, my gown, my nails. When she came to my sandals, her face smoothed itself out and she said frankly, “You are ready.” Her voice choked with tears and she embraced me tightly. “Good luck, my lady.”

“Thank you, mawat.” I pulled away to look her in the eyes. “Thank you,” I said again. “Not just for coming here with me but . . . but for everything.”

Merit straightened her shoulders. “Go. Go before she changes her mind!”

Woserit’s chamber was not far from mine, but even so, the walk had never felt so long. I glanced up at the painted walls with their images of Hathor and Ra and wondered if this would be one of the last times that I would ever see them. At her door, a servant bowed. “The High Priestess is waiting for you, my lady.”

She opened the door and inside, Woserit was sitting at her table, surrounded by flowers for Thoth and the new year. The bright blooms had been arranged in faience vases, and the lilies perfumed the entire chamber. She looked up, and when she saw me, the expression on her face went from one of deep surprise to pleasure.

“Nefertari?” She stood from behind her table and came over to me. “Look at your cheeks,” she gushed. “They’ve filled out! And your eyes . . . they’re absolutely stunning.” She made me turn around a first time, then a second, and the third time she exclaimed, “Look how you’ve changed.” She reached over and pinched the back of my gown so that she could see the outline of my waist and breasts. “Enough of these shapeless sheaths,” she announced. “I want Merit to measure you for new gowns. You have grown into a woman while I was busy! When Iset gets big and fat with Ramesses’s child, you will still be light and beautiful,” Woserit promised. “And you will never complain. I can promise you, Ramesses will grow tired of her whining.”

“He doesn’t love her?” I asked quickly.

Woserit raised her brows. “I didn’t say that.”

“But what does he like about her if she whines?”

“Oh, she can be charming when she wants, and she’s exceptionally beautiful. But her charm and beauty will be a lot less appealing once he has you to compare her with eight days from now.”

“On the Feast of Wag?” I exclaimed.

Woserit smiled. “Yes. I think we are ready.”

CHAPTER SIX

THE FEAST OF WAG

1282 BC

  AT THE END of our lesson on the eighteenth of Thoth, Paser put down his reed pen and asked, “Are you prepared for the feast tonight?”

“Yes.” I tried to hide my excitement. “My nurse has prepared an offering bowl of food for Pharaoh Seti’s temple, and another bowl—”

“I don’t mean food,” Paser interrupted. And there was irony in his voice when he said, “I’m sure Pharaoh’s akhu as well as yours will be very happy with the offerings you bring them. What I’m wondering is whether anyone has prepared you for the shock of visiting the court. Especially when you won’t be remaining there.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “Woserit has warned me I may only speak to Ramesses briefly.”

Across the table Paser nodded. “And you will not be staying for the three nights of drinking. Unless you want to see Henuttawy falling over herself,” he said under his breath as he stood. I snickered, because I had heard the same stories about Woserit’s older sister. “Nefertari,” Paser said, growing serious, “soon our lessons are going to become less frequent. And as Pharaoh Ramesses becomes more involved in the Audience Chamber, so will I. Besides, there’s not much more that I can teach you. You already have an extraordinary command of each of the eight languages we’ve studied.” He walked me to the door of Woserit’s chamber. “But I hope you have taken Woserit’s advice to heart. Woserit is a wise woman and if anyone can chart your path to the throne, it is she.”

“Not Henuttawy?” I asked curiously.

“Henuttawy knows how to trick and lie. She might teach Iset how to beguile, but eventually, that spell of enchantment will wear off.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing? Tricking and beguiling?”

“By keeping away from Pharaoh Ramesses?” Paser asked. “No. You’ll simply remind him of the friendship he’s been missing.”

When I entered my chamber, I was surprised to see both Woserit and Aloli. They were standing with Merit over two pairs of sandals. “The pair with the thick heels and braided gold,” Woserit decided. “She’ll be walking tonight, but we don’t want her looking like a shepherd’s daughter trekking through the hills.”

Aloli spoke to me first. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, even as I realized that the only hooded robe I owned would never match the sandals that Woserit had just chosen for me. The Feast of Wag always began with a pilgrimage to Pharaoh Seti’s mortuary temple in Thebes. Once we paid obeisance to Seti’s ancestors, we were allowed to carry food to the mortuary temples of our own akhu. There was no mortuary temple for my family. Every year I went to see Horemheb, who had stolen my grandfather’s temple in the city of Djamet and made it his, carving my family’s faces from the walls—with the exception of a single image of my mother. The progress began once the sun had set, and although the nights of Thoth were warm, in the temples it could be cold and dank. What would I do without a proper robe? I glanced at Merit. “What will I wear?”

“The High Priestess has been kind enough to give you this,” Merit said, and she indicated an exquisite white cloak on the bed. The hood was trimmed in fur, and the flowing sleeves were elaborately edged. With the sandals that Woserit had chosen, I would be a vision of white-gold in the dark of the tombs.

“This may be the festival that will change the course of your life,” Woserit said. “Merit has altered one of my dresses for you as well.” She went to the bed and lifted the cloak, revealing a netted dress of faience beads. “The lapis beads will match your eyes. When I return,” she said, moving toward the door, “I expect you to be ready.”

She left, and I went over to the bed, astonished by a garment so delicate and revealing.

“It’s a rare dress,” Aloli said. “I have never seen the High Priestess give it to anyone, even to repair. Hold up your arms.”

I took off my sheath and did as I was told. Aloli eased the dress over my head while Merit pulled it down over my thighs. Then I put on the cloak and seated myself in front of the mirror.

“We are not going to use lapis for your eyelids,” Merit determined. “It won’t stand out in the half light.” She opened a jar of gold dust and mixed it with oil. “Even if no one can see your hair beneath that cloak,” she promised,