The Heretic Queen

below, Pharaoh’s closest advisers and friends would be eating on the highest step. Ramesses had not yet taken his throne. I imagined that he was probably in his chamber, changing from his armor to a long kilt and thick cloak. He would probably put on his blue and gold nemes crown, since the khepresh was tall and burdensome. And then what would he do? My heart raced. Would he speak with me at the table? Or would he have eyes only for his pregnant wife?

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Aloli murmured. I had forgotten that it was her first time in the Great Hall. Harpists played in all corners of the room, and the rich scents of roasted beef and wine filled the warm chamber. Every woman had come attired in her best jewels, and at night, their thick collars of gold would reflect in the light of the oil lamps. In the polished glaze of the tiles I could already see a thousand sandaled feet reflected, walking and dancing and secretly touching under the tables.

As we moved through the crowded hall toward the dais, someone approached from behind a column and touched my shoulder. I turned, and there was Ramesses, dressed in a long linen kilt, trimmed with gold thread and painted with images of charioteers at war. His belt was wide, and beneath the gold pectoral on his chest was a fresh scar where he’d been hurt in battle. I opened my mouth to exclaim about the wound, but Ramesses put a finger to his lips. I glanced at Woserit, who took Aloli’s arm and escorted her toward the dais. Ramesses never stopped looking at me.

“It’s true,” he whispered.

Suddenly, I was aware of how close we were standing, so close I could touch the square of his jaw or the chiseled planes of his face. “What’s true?”

“You are as beautiful as I remembered. Nefer,” he said, and his breath came quickly. “Perhaps you want to simply remain my friend, but when I was gone, all I could think about was you. When I was supposed to be thinking about the rebellion, or how my men would find fresh water in the desert, all I could think of was how you wanted to be hidden away in the Temple of Hathor. Nefer,” he said passionately, “you can’t be a priestess.”

I wanted to close my eyes and step into the shelter of his embrace, but beyond the column the entire court was gathering. “But if I’m not to be a priestess,” I asked him, “where will my place be in Thebes?” I held my breath, waiting for the right answer to come, willing it into his heart. Then he took me in his arms and brushed his lips against mine.

“With me,” he said firmly. “As my queen.”

LEAVING BEHIND the entire court, now feasting in the Great Hall, we headed directly to his chamber, and Ramesses immediately barred the door. His room was neatly kept, and the blue and green tiles of the floor had been polished for his arrival. Cuneiform tablets were stacked on a low table, and a Senet board that could not have been used in many months was ready to be played. He took my hand and led me to the bed, stopping only to whisper, “And you are sure you want me the way I want you?”

I didn’t respond. I simply brushed my lips against his, then kissed him the way I had imagined kissing him all of those nights when he had been gone in Nubia. We fell together on his pillows, and the victory feast might as well have been in another kingdom.

“Nefer.” Ramesses pressed his hands against the bed so that his muscular arms were on either side of my face. I reached up and stroked him the way Aloli had told me I should. He closed his eyes, allowing me to trace my finger along his shaft.

“Let me taste you,” I whispered.

He rolled so that his back was against the pillows, and I began with the inside of his thighs, licking my way up to his chest and the tender flesh around his new scar. He cupped my breasts in his hands, feeling the nipples harden beneath my sheath, and he groaned as I licked my way back down to the hardness between his legs.

“Undress for me,” he begged.

I knelt above him, slowly unfastening the cloak, then my sheath, and finally taking off my wig so that my nakedness was covered only by my hair.

“You are even more beautiful than I thought.” Ramesses sighed. I’m sure that I flushed at being called so. Henuttawy was beautiful. Iset was beautiful. But as I straddled him in the position that Aloli promised would increase fertility, I wondered for the first time if it might be true. His breath was ragged, and as I balanced above him, he thrust his hips forward in his eagerness to be inside of me.

I had dreamed of what it would be like with Ramesses a hundred different times. Yet when the moment came, everything that Aloli had taught me flew out of my head and I knew nothing but the feel of his body against mine, the taste of his skin, and the burning sensation that began as pain and soon became pleasure. When it was done, and Ramesses had spent himself inside of me, I looked down at the linens. I was no longer a virgin.

In the amber light of a setting sun, Ramesses caressed my cheek. Our reverie was only broken when a heavy fist pounded on the door outside of his chamber. He looked at me, and then both of us were rushing to find our clothes.

“Your Majesty,” someone called from without. “The feast has begun and Pharaoh wishes to know where you are!”

“How long has he been knocking?” I exclaimed.

“Probably for a while!” Ramesses laughed, then took me in his arms. “You must move back into your chamber,” he said. “No more of the temple.”

“I shall have to ask Woserit,” I said coyly.

“Forget Woserit! If I make you my wife, she can’t take you back. I need you here.” He cupped my breast in his palm. “I want you here.”

“And they want you in the Great Hall,” I said teasingly.

EVERY NIGHT since he had been married, Ramesses had entered the Great Hall with Iset. But that night, on the celebration of his first victory as leader of Pharaoh’s army, he would enter with me and everyone would know where he had been. From the table on the dais, Henuttawy would see us, and Iset would turn to her ladies from the harem and unleash a storm.

Be brave, I told myself. Iset is the granddaughter of a harem wife but I am the daughter of a queen. We left the royal courtyard as the chill of evening had settled over the palace. I sheltered beneath Ramesses’s strong arm, and as we passed through the halls the whispering began. I heard my name behind me and I shivered.

“You’ll grow used to it,” Ramesses promised.

“The whispering or the cold?”

He laughed, but as we approached the Great Hall and the herald who would announce our presence, my stomach clenched. I could already hear the murmur of surprise from within.

“Pharaoh Ramesses II,” the herald declared, “Lord of the Two Lands and son of Pharaoh Seti.”

Ramesses stepped forward and waited for me.

“Princesses Nefertari, daughter of Queen Mutnodjmet and General Nakhtmin.”

Ramesses took my arm, and as we moved through the hall a horrified murmur passed through the court, that on this night—of all nights—Ramesses should appear with me instead of his wife, who would bear his child. I caught my name several times before we reached the royal thrones, and at the table on the dais, a servant hastily added a chair between Pharaoh Seti and Ramesses. Iset’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits, and next to her, Queen Tuya’s face became hard as stone. Her iwiw, Adjo, sniffed at the air, and though there was no one else in Thebes he seemed to dislike he raised his lips in a silent growl as I passed.

I took my seat in the uncomfortable silence, and it was Queen Tuya who finally spoke. “How nice of you to escort the princess Nefertari into the Great Hall. I would have thought you might have chosen to escort your wife.”

Woserit caught my gaze across the table, and I knew that she was willing her strength into me. I kept a smile on my face and replied, “I’m afraid it is my fault, Your Highness.”

“What does it matter?” Seti demanded. “My son is returned from war, and the Nubians are crushed!” He raised his cup, and the rest of the table did the same. “So Nefertari,” Pharaoh Seti exclaimed with mock surprise. “Not so little anymore.”