The Heretic Queen

me. She has fallen into ruin.” Seti groaned, grasping the heavy linen covers in his hands. “For a hundred years, the Hittites have threatened to invade. They think to rule Egypt when I am gone. All of the treasury’s gold has gone to the stables. To my charioteers. Now the Hittites will become your problem . . .”

“We have just tasted victory over the Sherden! We have brought them here as prisoners to train with your army—”

Pharaoh Seti struggled to sit up. It was difficult for me to believe that this was the same man who had picked me up and sat me on his knee when I was a child. Eyes, voice, flesh: everything about him appeared shrunken, as if he was turning into the mummified Osiris before us. “I am past care, Ramesses. The physicians say it is a condition of the heart. The heart is weak,” he wheezed.

Ramesses opened his mouth to argue, but Seti raised his hand. “There’s not enough time. Bring me the maps.” His watery eyes fell on a low-lying table. “My projects.” Pharaoh Seti breathed heavily. “These are what you must finish for me.”

That very morning, we had been celebrating our triumph. Now I realized we might be mourning Seti’s death before the day ended. It occurred to me that the gods held life on Ma’at’s silver scales. Great happiness must be balanced by great sorrow.

“There is my tomb in the Valley,” Seti said. “The paintings are done. All that is left is to carry my sarcophagus into its chamber.” A violent sob escaped from Tuya, and I pressed my lips together so that I wouldn’t sob as well. But Pharaoh Seti carried on. “And this palace.” His breathing became labored. “Be certain to restore this palace, Ramesses. Make it your capital so that you can be closer to Hatti. If you can defend the city of Avaris, Egypt will never fall.”

“Egypt will never be conquered while I am Pharaoh—”

“Then you must not let the Hittites take back Kadesh. Without her, our lands are vulnerable.” Pharaoh Seti sighed. “And Nefer.”

Ramesses glanced at me. “Do you want to speak with her?”

“No!”

He was vehement, and I pressed my back to the door.

“Let her remember me as I was. Nefer—” His voice began to fail. “Nefertari is the mother of your eldest sons. A clever princess . . . but the people still don’t want her.”

“Who told you this?” Ramesses demanded. Woserit looked across the chamber at me, and we both knew at once: Henuttawy.

“It doesn’t matter who told me this. I have heard. The people are what’s important, Ramesses. You know what happened to Nefertiti. The people killed her—”

“The priests killed her,” Ramesses argued.

“And the priests are the mouths of the people. Akhenaten—”Pharaoh Seti grasped the covers, and I imagined that I could hear his heart rattling in his shrunken chest. “Wait at least another year before you choose your Chief Wife.”

“Abi,” Ramesses protested. “It’s already been a year.”

“Do not risk what this family has built! Wait at least another year. Promise me.”

I held my breath and waited for Ramesses to make the promise. But Ramesses didn’t speak.

“Promise!” Pharaoh Seti exclaimed, and Ramesses whispered, “I promise.”

I closed my eyes and slipped quietly out the door, shutting it behind me. The pain in my chest felt as if it burned with flame, and I ran to the Audience Chamber to be alone. The door was slightly ajar. As I stepped inside I almost cried out, but for the sound of voices from behind a pillar. I crept along the wall toward the front of the chamber, listening.

“I have bought you a year, and you will wipe that ugly scowl from your face and look me in the eye,” whispered Henuttawy.

“The gods will see what you’ve done—” Iset swore.

“What we’ve done.” Henuttawy’s voice was calm. “Every servant in Avaris saw you with that cup last night.”

“Because you gave it to me!”

“And who was there to see that? And anyway, all we did was speed his interminable passing. The longer we wait, the stronger Nefertari will grow. No one may ever question this,” she said, “but if I should remind them—” Henuttawy glanced over her shoulder at the empty chamber before continuing in a harsh whisper. “You shall find a way to repay me, or as I am bound to Isis, I will take back everything I have ever given you! If he makes that girl queen, she’ll have him banish us to Mi-Wer, and don’t think I won’t sacrifice you to save—”

There was noise outside the Audience Chamber, and their conversation fell silent. I escaped through the door and steadied myself with several deep breaths in case they should see me. Woserit appeared in the hall with Paser, followed by Ramesses and Queen Tuya.

Ramesses looked as pale as alabaster. “He’s gone, Nefer.” He shook his head and was not ashamed to weep. “Gone to Osiris.”

I took him in my arms as Henuttawy and Iset appeared with cups of shedeh.

Seeing our tears, Henuttawy cried out, and Iset placed her hand across her mouth.

I buried my face in Ramesses’s chest so that no one could see how sick the sight of them made me. Ramesses removed himself from my embrace. “Letters will have to be drafted . . .”

“With Your Highness’s permission, I will take care of the letters,” Paser said.

Your Highness.

The words struck Ramesses a visible blow. There would only be one Pharaoh of Egypt now.

“And what would you like me to do?” Henuttawy asked.

I wanted to shout that murdering the King of Egypt was sufficient, but the words stuck in my mouth and the burning in my chest increased.

“Go with Iset and Woserit,” Ramesses said. “They will take my mother to the Temple of Amun where she will let the gods know . . .” He hesitated, since the truth was too terrible to speak. “She will let the gods know that my father is coming.”

When everyone turned to leave, I motioned for Paser, and he saw me hovering near the door to the Audience Chamber.

“Nefertari, what are you doing?” he demanded.

“He should never have died!” I whispered fiercely.

Paser looked behind him, but the hall had cleared.

“When I left the chamber I heard Henuttawy speaking with Iset. They were talking about a cup,” I said frantically. “Henuttawy told Iset that she had bought another year. Another year,” I repeated.

“We all saw Iset pass Pharaoh a cup last night . . .” Paser replied.

“But it was Henuttawy who gave it to her! And now she has a secret she can use to ruin Iset if Iset won’t give her whatever she wants. And what she wants is to banish Woserit to the farthest temple in the Fayyum, then rebuild the Temple of Isis so that she’ll control the largest treasury in Egypt.”

“This only comes to pass if Iset becomes queen—”

“And now she has another year to try! You heard Ramesses’s promise, and even if he doesn’t honor it . . . if Henuttawy could kill her own brother . . .”

For the first time, I saw fear in Paser’s eyes. “The physicians said it was Pharaoh’s heart. No one suspected poison.” He looked at me. “Who else has heard this?”

“No one,” I promised.

“Then keep your own counsel. I will tell Woserit—”

“And Ramesses? Pharaoh Seti was his father!”

But Paser shook his head. “And there is no proof of what you’ve heard.”

“A physician can determine if it was poison.”

“Or he might determine that it was his heart, and you will have wrongly accused the High Priestess of Isis. Keep your silence. Ramesses may believe you; he may even summon a physician, but how will we know he’s not in the pay of Henuttawy? There are politics in everything, Nefertari.”