The Heretic Queen

guessing that’s Woserit’s cloak? You don’t have enough sense to dress yourself properly for a drunken revel, let alone the Feast of Wag.”

“Why have you come here?”

Henuttawy took a step forward to see if she could frighten me, but I didn’t move.

“Like a cat standing its ground. Or maybe you’re just too scared to move.” She looked up at the painting of my mother. “A pair of green-eyed little kittens, and just as curious.”

“I think you’ve come because you knew you’d find me in my family’s temple.”

Henuttawy narrowed her eyes, and her beauty looked cold and hard in the torchlight. “It’s no wonder Woserit took you in. She’s always taken pity on fools. It will come as a great surprise to know that the court doesn’t revolve around what Princess Nefertari is doing. But it may interest you to know I’ve come for Iset.” She opened her cloak and took out a small silver jar. “Of course, I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but since you’ve been such a good little friend to Ramesses, you might as well know.” She leaned close and whispered, “His wife is carrying the heir to the throne.”

I tried to hide my shock while Henuttawy placed Iset’s silver jar on the shrine below my mother and Horemheb’s image.

“Even Ramesses hasn’t been told,” she said with delight, “but when he finds out, there is no one at court who will doubt that he will make her queen. In light of such good fortune, it is only natural that Iset would want to thank her akhu. As a queen, she’ll want everyone to remember that her grandmother was Horemheb’s harem wife. So, you see, this was your family’s temple.” Henuttawy looked up and placed her hand on my mother’s cheek. “But when Iset is crowned, I wouldn’t be surprised if she changes a few of the paintings to remind the gods of her grandmother’s importance at court.”

She turned, and as she disappeared through the doors of the temple, I looked up to the painting of my mother and gasped. “Henuttawy!” I screamed, and two children who had come to gawk at the paintings inside the temple ran away in fear. I put my hand on my mother’s cheek, where Henuttawy had scraped her fingernail along the side of her face. My mother’s beauty was marred. I felt the kind of blinding hatred that whole kingdoms must have for invading armies. As my voice echoed through the corridors of the temple, Merit hurried in with a reed torch before her.

“My lady, what is it?” she cried.

I pointed to my mother’s cheek. “Henuttawy,” I said between clenched teeth. “She’s ruined it!”

“We will tell Pharaoh Seti!” she vowed.

“And who will he believe? You saw her tonight. She wears him like a cloak!”

The tears coursed down my cheeks, and Merit placed her arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry, my lady. We will hire a painter to fix it.”

“But this is all that I have of her,” I sobbed. “And even if a painter comes, what does it matter when her entire image is going to be erased?”

“Says who?” Merit cried.

“That’s why Henuttawy was here. She came to tell me that Iset is pregnant with Ramesses’s child. And if Iset is made queen, she’ll take this temple for her akhu.”

Merit narrowed her eyes. “She’s seen tonight that you are competition and wants to frighten you away. By telling you this, she imagines you’ll have no incentive to return to the palace.”

“Then she is wrong!” I swore. And suddenly, I could see the future clearly. I was going to be relegated to a temple in the Fayyum, just as Woserit had predicted. I would never be allowed at court, and if I was, Henuttawy and Iset would be there to make life miserable for me. Ramesses would make Iset Chief Wife, and when he shared a joke with her, Iset’s laugh would ring hollow as a reed. But no matter. She would be his queen and mother to the crown prince, and he would tolerate her ignorance for her great beauty. If ever he thought of me, it would be only to wonder where I had gone and why I had chosen never to come back. And my closest friend would be lost to me forever. I looked at Merit beneath the moonlight and repeated, “Then Henuttawy is very, very wrong.”

I had every incentive to return.

CHAPTER SEVEN

PRAY TO SEKHMET

  IN THE TEMPLE of Hathor, Aloli pressed me for details on what happened that night. For several days, I avoided her questions, until finally I blurted, “She’s already pregnant!”

Aloli stood up her harp, and frowned. “Who’s pregnant?”

“Iset.” I blinked away tears. “With Ramesses’s first child.”

Aloli’s look was compassionate. “It might be a girl,” she said helpfully. “Or she might not even carry it to term. What’s most important is what he said. Had he missed you?”

I thought of the way Ramesses’s cheeks had reddened when he looked at my beaded dress, and I nodded. “Yes. Woserit thinks that by the time he returns from battle, he’ll have made his decision about who will be Chief Wife. If the army is victorious, she wants me to attend his procession.”

Aloli clapped her hands. “That’s excellent news!” She searched my face. “So why aren’t you happy? You were his closest friend when you were children. And now you are a woman. A beautiful woman. What more could he want from a queen?”

“A child.”

“So who’s to say you won’t give him one?”

“Aloli,” I said miserably, “my mother died in childbirth with me.”

She sat back and her jewels caught the light of the oil lamps. “And you think the gods won’t watch over a princess of Egypt?”

“My mother was a queen, and they didn’t watch over her! Besides, what if I don’t want a child?”

Aloli sucked in her breath. “Every woman wants one.”

“Even you?”

She waved her hand, as if swatting at one of her loose curls. “Who cares about me? I’ll never become queen.”

“But would you risk childbirth?” I persisted.

“I suppose that if I ever find a man who can afford to keep me in necklaces and jewels,” she said lightly, “then yes. I will want to have children with him.” She saw my look and swore earnestly, “I’m not lying! When I dream at night, I never see just a man. It’s always a family.” She frowned. “Why? What do you dream about?”

I flushed.

“You dream about Pharaoh!” she exclaimed.

“But there are never any children! It’s always just the two of us.”

“Alone? In bed together?”

I knew my cheeks were red, but I nodded.

“And are you practicing what we’ve been talking about?” she asked swiftly.

“Aloli!”

“This is important!” she cried.

“Yes. Since Ramesses left with the army, I can’t stop thinking about him. In the baths, at the shrine, even here in the eastern sanctuary.”

“Then if you are dreaming of him every night,” she said eagerly, “he must be dreaming of you!”

I stared at her. “How can you possibly know that?” I demanded.

“Because you’ve caught his eye.” She smiled widely. “Trust me, Princess. And when he returns, he’ll be looking to make those dreams come to life.”

I wondered if Ramesses’s dreams were like mine, and whether he could smell the scent of my hair the way I could smell the scent of his skin when I closed my eyes. Did he imagine us lying alone together, with only the warm summer’s air between us? Or tumbling on his bed between the soft linen sheets perfumed with lavender? I thought of everything Aloli had taught me, about where to kiss tenderly and places where my kisses could bring him to tears, and soon my dreams became more vivid. In the night, I lay in his imaginary arms, and in the day I worried about what was happening in the south, and whether he would ever come back to Thebes.