The Heretic Queen

he’s gone they only go on smiling and laughing because you help them.”

“That’s a lie!” Asha stood up angrily. “No one here feels that way.”

I looked around, but none of the other students came to my defense, and a shamed heat crept into my cheeks.

Iset smirked. “You may think you’re great friends with Ramesses, hunting and swimming in the lake together, but he’s marrying me. And I’ve already consulted with the priests,” she said. “They’ve given me a charm for every possible event.”

Asha exclaimed, “Do you think Nefertari is going to try and give you the evil eye?”

The other students in the edduba laughed, and Iset drew herself up to her fullest height. “She can try! All of you can try,” she said viciously. “It won’t make any difference. I’m wasting my time in this edduba now.”

“You certainly are.” A shadow darkened the doorway, then Henuttawy appeared in her red robes of Isis. She glanced across the room at us, and a lion could not have looked at a mouse with any less interest. “Where is your tutor?” she demanded.

Iset moved quickly to the side of the High Priestess, and I noticed that she had begun to paint her eyes the same way that Henuttawy did, with long sweeps of kohl extending to her temples. “Gone to see the scribes,” she answered eagerly.

Henuttawy hesitated. She walked over to my reed mat and looked down. “Princess Nefertari. Still studying your hieroglyphs?”

“No. I’m studying my cuneiform.”

Asha laughed, and Henuttawy’s gaze flicked to him. But he was taller than the other boys, and there was an intelligence in his glare that unnerved her. She turned back to me. “I don’t know why you waste your time, especially when you’ll only become a priestess in a run-down temple like Hathor’s.”

“As always, it is charming to see you, my lady.” Our tutor had returned with a handful of scrolls. He laid them on a low table, as Henuttawy turned to face him.

“Ah, Paser. I was just telling Princess Nefertari to be diligent in her studies. Unfortunately, Iset does not have time for that anymore.”

“What a shame,” Paser replied, looking at Iset’s discarded papyrus. “Today, I believe she was going to progress to three lines of cuneiform.”

The students snickered, and Henuttawy hurried from the edduba with Iset in tow.

“There is no cause for laughing,” Paser said sharply, and the room fell silent. “We may all go back to our translations now. When you are finished, come to the front of the room and bring your papyrus. Then you may begin work on Emperor Muwatallis’s second letter.”

I tried to concentrate, but tears blurred my vision. I didn’t want anyone to see how much Iset’s words had hurt, so I kept my head low, even when Baki made a hissing noise at me. He wants help now, I thought. But would he even glance at me outside the edduba?

I finished my translation and approached Paser, handing him my sheet.

He smiled approvingly. “Excellent, as always.” I glanced back at the other students and wondered if I detected resentment in their eyes. “I must warn you about this next letter, however. There is an unflattering reference to your aunt.”

“Why should I care? I’m nothing like her,” I said defensively.

“I wanted to be sure you understood. It seems the scribes forgot to take it out.”

“She was a heretic,” I said, “and whatever words the emperor has for her, I am sure they are justified.”

I returned to my reed mat, then skimmed the letter, searching for familiar names. Nefertiti was mentioned at the bottom of the papyrus, and so was my mother. I held my breath as I read Emperor Muwatallis’s words.

You threaten us with war, but our god Teshub has watched over Hatti for a thousand years, while your gods were banished by Pharaoh Akhenaten. What makes you think that they have forgiven his heresy? It may be that Sekhmet, your goddess of war, has abandoned you completely. And what of Mutnodjmet, Nefertiti’s sister? Your people allowed her to become a queen when all of Egypt knows she serviced your Heretic King in his temple as well as his private chamber. Do you really think your gods have forgiven this? Will you risk war with us when we have treated our own gods with respect?

I glanced up at Paser, and in his expression seemed to flicker a trace of regret. But I would never be pitied. Clenching the reed pen in my hand, I wrote as quickly and firmly as I could, and when a tear smeared the ink on my papyrus, I blotted it away with sand.

WHILE COURTIERS filled the Great Hall that evening, Asha and I waited on a corner of the balcony, whispering to each other about what had happened in the edduba. The setting sun crowned his head in a soft glow, and the braid he wore over his shoulder was nearly as long as mine. I sat forward on the limestone balustrade looking at him. “Have you ever heard Iset so angry?”

“No, but I’ve never heard her say much at all,” he admitted.

“She’s been with us for seven years!”

“All she does is giggle with those harem girls who wait for her outside.”

“She certainly wouldn’t like it if she heard you say that,” I warned.

Asha shrugged. “It doesn’t seem she likes much of anything. And certainly not you—”

“And what have I ever done to her?” I exclaimed.

But Asha was saved from answering when Ramesses burst through the double doors.

“There you are!” he called across to us, and Asha said quickly, “Don’t say anything about Iset. Ramesses will only think we’re jealous.”

Ramesses looked between the two of us. “Where have both of you been?”

“Where have you been?” Asha countered. “We haven’t seen you since your coronation.”

“We thought we might not ever see you again,” I added, a little more plaintively than intended.

Ramesses embraced me. “I would never leave my little sister behind.”

“How about your charioteer?”

At once, Ramesses let go of me. “It’s done then?” he exclaimed, and Asha said smugly, “Just a few hours ago. Tomorrow I begin my training to be an officer of Pharaoh’s charioteers.”

I inhaled sharply. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was waiting to tell you both!”

Ramesses gave Asha a congratulatory slap on the back, but I cried, “Now I’ll be the only one left at the edduba with Paser!”

“Come,” Ramesses said, placating me. “Don’t be upset.”

“Why not?” I complained. “Asha is going to the army and you’re getting married to Iset!”

Asha and I both looked at Ramesses to see if it was true.

“My father is going to announce it tonight. He feels she’ll make a good wife.”

“But do you?” I asked.

“I worry about her skills,” he admitted. “You’ve seen her in Paser’s class. But Henuttawy thinks I should make her Chief Wife.”

“Pharaohs don’t choose a Chief Wife until they’re eighteen!” I blurted.

Ramesses studied me, and I colored at my outburst. “So what is that?” I changed the subject and pointed to the jeweled case he was carrying.

“A sword.” He opened the case to produce an arm-length blade.

Asha was impressed. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he admitted.

“It’s Hittite, made of something they call iron. It’s said to be even stronger than bronze.” The weapon had a sharper curve than anything I had seen before, and from the designs carefully etched onto its hilt, I imagined that its cost had been great.

Ramesses handed the weapon to Asha, who held it up to the light. “Who gave this to you?”

“My father, for my coronation.”