The Heretic Queen

“So Seti’s death will go unpunished?” I clenched my fists to keep the rage from shaking my whole body.

“No evil deed ever goes unpunished.” He raised his eyes to a mural of the goddess Ma’at, who was weighing a heart against the feather of truth. Because the heart had been honest in life, it was equal in weight to the feather, and in the painting, the man was smiling. His ka would not be devoured by the crocodile god. His soul would go on to live for eternity.

“Henuttawy’s heart will outweigh the feather,” I swore.

Paser looked suddenly sad when he replied, “Yes. It probably will. Eat nothing that Merit hasn’t prepared for you, Nefertari.”

Paser left me standing alone in the hall. I had birthed two sons, I had gone with Ramesses into battle against the Sherden, and I thought selfishly of how all of those triumphs would be forgotten now that Pharaoh Seti was dead. The words that the soldiers had chanted this very morning would become songs of mourning by tomorrow. In the nearby Temple of Amun, Henuttawy and Iset were already weeping false tears with the queen, tears for my truest protector at court. It was as if everything I touched turned into ash.

That evening, dinner in the Great Hall was solemn, and Ramesses left his father’s chair empty on the dais. When Iset suggested that he take his place in it, he asked sharply, “Why?”

The court knew enough to be silent after that.

Later that night, in the privacy of my chamber, I bit my lip to keep from telling Ramesses what I’d heard. He sat on the gold and ebony bed I had slept in during every childhood summer in Avaris. Raised on a platform in the middle of the room, it overlooked the gardens that Seti had let grow untended. Layers of scum stretched unbroken over the pools, and I wondered if the fish had survived such neglect.

“Have you seen my father’s stables?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want to speak about his father’s death. He will carry it with him like a heavy chain around a prisoner’s waist, I thought. “They are massive,” he said, though his voice was distant. “Five thousand warhorses in all.”

I pressed the covers to my chest. Even the fires in the braziers did nothing to warm me. “That’s more than all of Thebes.”

“And they are well kept,” he said, a flicker of life in his eyes. “He had weaponry for more than ten thousand men, and four thousand chariots are polished and ready. He was serious about war with the Hittites, Nefer.”

“The Hittites have threatened war for generations—”

“Not like this. Look around. Do you see the disrepair? All of the treasury’s gold has gone to preparation for this! Since the Hittite emperor conquered Mitanni, there remains no buffer between ourselves and Hatti. My father recognized how dangerous that was. He knew it was only a matter of time. Paser says that Muwatallis will move as soon as he hears of my father’s death.”

“Another battle?” We had just returned from victory over the Sherden. There was a funeral to plan. Too much sorrow had fallen on us.

Ramesses gazed into the brazier ruefully. “No, not another battle, Nefer. A war.”

ON THE deck of Amun’s Blessing the next morning, Pharaoh Seti’s body was wrapped in linen and placed on a small dais surrounded by myrrh. His lips were curved in a gentle smile, released now from his watch on Egypt’s northern wall. In twenty days we would arrive in Thebes, and after seventy days of mummification, Seti would sleep in the tomb he had chosen, among Egypt’s greatest kings.

Ramesses stood at the prow, and a single flag painted with an image of the mummified Osiris flapped solemnly in the breeze. Women lined the quay dressed in their long white robes of mourning. They floated lotus blossoms ahead of the ship and beat their chests with their hands so the gods would know of our plight. All along our passage south, I watched villagers and fishermen kneel on the shore in honor of their Pharaoh. If only they knew the truth of his passing, how many of them would be content to quietly bow and weep?

When we reached the palace of Malkata, Woserit warned, “Do not let your sons from your sight. Not even to bathe.”

“And Merit?”

“You may tell her what you heard.” There were deep half-moons beneath Woserit’s eyes, and I wondered if Paser had comforted her through the nights the way I had tried to comfort Ramesses.

Inside my chamber, Merit greeted me. I felt guilty over the pleasure I took in seeing my children while the rest of Egypt was in mourning. The milk nurses stood and watched as my sons raised their hands to me. “Look how they’ve grown!” I cried. We had been gone for a month, and my sons were nearly unrecognizable. They smiled when I called each of them by name, and I marveled at how clever they already were. “And their hair!” My sons’ heads were like crowns of the finest gold.

“Like the king himself,” Merit replied, but as soon as she said his name, she thought of Seti’s death and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was sorry to hear of Pharaoh, my lady.”

“It happened as soon as we arrived in Avaris.”

“We heard that the Sherden had been conquered, then news came that Pharaoh was ill, but no one could believe it. They said it was his heart—”

“It was poison,” I said harshly.

Merit covered her mouth. She waved the milk nurses back into their chamber, and when they had shut the doors, I told Merit the full story.

“I can’t understand . . .” Merit cried. “What happened to his tasters?”

“He dismissed almost all the palace servants,” I said. “To pay for war with the Hittites, and to buy armor from Crete.”

Merit pressed her fingers to her lips. “Henuttawy has given up her ka to make Iset queen. She will come for you,” she said with certainty. “You must hire a taster of your own.”

I recoiled from the idea, but Merit persisted.

“Ramesses has tasters.”

“Because he is Pharaoh.”

“And you will be queen! If you use a taster, Henuttawy will know, and she will never risk poison. Think of your sons! What would become of them if something were to happen to you? Do you think that Iset would keep me in this palace to watch over them? I would be sent with Woserit to the farthest temple in Egypt, while they lay here, defenseless.”

I felt my limbs grow cold. It was true. I looked at my children, beautiful princes of Egypt who might someday be kings. “Hire a taster,” I said.

“And if Pharaoh asks?”

“I will tell him . . .”

“That you are afraid of Hittite spies?” Merit said helpfully.

Henuttawy and Iset were liars. I didn’t want to lie to Ramesses as well. I should tell him the truth, I thought: that I am afraid his own aunt will kill me with a cup of wine or sip of shedeh.

There was a knock at the door, and before Merit received it, she turned to me. “Another year, my lady . . . Do you think he will keep his promise?” she asked.

I tried to ignore the hurt of Pharaoh Seti’s request. “He has never broken a promise,” I said.

“Even when Pharaoh Ramesses knows he made it to honor a lie? The people in Thebes heard from the messengers what happened to the pirates. They are starting to call you the Warrior Queen. They are saying that you risked your life for Egypt.”

But I repeated, “Ramesses has never broken a promise.”

Her shoulders sagged and she answered the door. “Your Highness!” She was startled in the doorway, quickly straightening her wig. “You have never knocked before . . .”

“I heard voices and thought Nefer might be telling you what happened in Avaris.” Ramesses entered my chamber and saw me with our sons. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I am sorry for what happened to your father. He was like a father to my lady as well. Always kind, always gentle.”

“Thank you, Merit. We will all be moving down to my father’s court at Avaris as soon as his funeral has been held.”