The Heretic Queen

waiting for you. Come.” Henuttawy stretched out her bangled hand, and to my surprise, Ramesses refused to take it.

“There is new trouble in Kadesh. This is no time for feasting.”

A messenger burst into the Per Medjat, startling Iset. The young boy straightened his shoulders, trying to appear taller than his height.

“What is the news?” Paser demanded.

“The Emperor of Hatti,” he piped in reply. “He is here, Your Highness, in the Audience Chamber!”

We stood from our table and followed the messenger through the corridors of Pi-Ramesses. Courtiers still danced in the Great Hall, singing and laughing, and Ramesses turned to a passing servant and said, “Send for the Master of my Charioteers, the generals, and every vizier in this palace.”

The messenger opened the doors to the Audience Chamber, and while laughter filled the halls outside, within there was silence. A lone figure stood near the dais, covered from head to foot in a cloak, and I saw Ramesses tense. But the messenger boy approached the cloaked figure in the darkness. “Your Highness?” he said tentatively.

The man turned, lowering his hood, and I was shocked to see how beautiful he was. He did not have the angular jaw or handsome cheekbones of Paser, nor did he have the same bronze beauty as Ramesses with his sapphire eyes and bright red hair. He had a soft, youthful beauty, and I couldn’t imagine him as the Emperor of Hatti.

“I am Urhi-Teshub,” the cloaked man said in flawless Egyptian.

“And what are you doing in Avaris?” Ramesses demanded. “Is there an army with you?”

“If there was an army with me,” the prince replied bitterly, “I would be using it to defend my crown. Didn’t my message arrive?”

Paser held up the scroll. “It came tonight.”

“Then it came too late,” the Hittite said. “My father died in his sleep and now my uncle has seized the throne. The kingdom that my father left to me has been stolen by his brother. I have come to Egypt seeking the help of the Pharaoh they are calling Ramesses the Brave. I have heard extraordinary things about you—that you are a leader in battle unlike any other. I have heard of your ferocity, how you fought off a hundred of our chariots when your divisions were scattered and fleeing around you. If you will help me regain my throne, I will offer you the cities that your predecessor Akhenaten lost. All of the cities he gave away. They shall be yours, forever, ceded in exchange for your support,” he promised.

I glanced at Ramesses. He had not told me of any personal victories in battle, yet in the streets the people hailed him as a hero. The Hittite prince held out his hand. I wondered if Ramesses would take it.

“This is not something I will decide now,” he said. I heard Paser exhale. “I must summon my generals and my viziers. But you may stay with us until I have determined what to do.”

“And if my uncle demands my return?”

“You will find safe refuge here.”

“He will know I am here,” Prince Urhi warned. “He will ask that you send me back to Hatti so that he can receive me with open arms.” His tone was caustic.

“Then he will have to content himself with receiving your letters instead.” Ramesses turned to Paser. “Give the prince the largest guest chamber in Pi-Ramesses. Have someone escort him to the feast.”

“I will take him,” Henuttawy said quickly. “Let me show the Hittite emperor how we Egyptians celebrate.” She held out her arm, and as Urhi took it his dark eyes grew luminous.

When she led him away, Ramesses remarked smugly, “He may not want to return to Hatti after this.”

I wondered if the prince would be so radiant if he knew what Henuttawy really was.

We moved ourselves to the longest table in the room, and as the generals and viziers arrived, Asha glanced at Iset. “Wouldn’t you rather be in the Great Hall, Princess?”

“Would Nefertari rather be in the Great Hall?” she snapped.

“Yes,” I said curtly, “but the business of Egypt is more important.”

When the heavy doors to the chamber were shut, Ramesses saw that Iset had stayed and said kindly, “You may rejoin the feast.”

“Is Nefertari going as well?”

“No, Nefertari is remaining here,” he said calmly. “She can contribute to this meeting in a dozen different ways. Is there anything you would like to contribute?”

Iset looked between the viziers for their support, yet their faces were all set against her.

“Then I think your skills are best used in the Great Hall,” Ramesses said, and although he was not purposely slighting her, she turned on her heel and stormed from the chamber. The doors swung shut behind her with a crash that echoed through the room. The generals avoided Ramesses’s gaze. Ramesses looked at me, and even I looked away so he would know how shameful Iset’s behavior had become.

Paser cleared his throat tactfully. “Prince Urhi,” he began, “is the son of Emperor Muwatallis. He brings news that the emperor has died in his sleep.”

There was startled conversation around the table, and Paser waited while the generals speculated what could have been the cause. Rahotep said it must have been poison. General Kofu thought it might have been the stress of war.

“Whatever it was,” Paser went on, “the throne has passed to his son, Prince Urhi. But Urhi is seventeen and has never led an army. He is not Pharaoh Ramesses and the people don’t trust him. They have accepted his uncle, General Hattusili, on the throne in his stead.”

“So what does this prince want Egypt to do?” Anhuri’s voice was suspicious.

“He wants us to place him back on the throne,” Ramesses replied. “And he has arrived in Avaris with a very attractive offer.”

Paser spoke up. “Prince Urhi has offered a return of the lands that the Heretic lost.”

“All of them?” Asha challenged.

“All,” Ramesses replied.

“And how do we know he won’t change his mind?” Asha shook his head. “Look at Kadesh! No Hittite can be trusted.”

Ramesses agreed. “We could march into Hatti and discover a trap. We might discover that Urhi hasn’t been displaced from his throne at all. We could be ambushed, and all of Egypt would be lost.”

“I don’t think Urhi is that cunning,” I said. “He has never led an army into battle. Listen to what the Hittite servants in this palace have all said about him. They take their gossip from travelers who come by, and they call him pretty, they call him a prince, but never an emperor. Who among us would dare to call Ramesses a prince?”

None of the men at the table spoke up.

“If Ramesses were to follow him into Hatti, Egypt would profit, and Urhi wouldn’t dare to go back on his word. He’s not a fighter. But he may be a fool, and if that is the case, how can such a man be expected to keep a crown?”

The viziers nodded in agreement with me. Egypt could help return Urhi’s throne, but if he lost it a second time, then what was the purpose?

“And the truce?” Asha asked. “If the prince remains here, what will Hattusili do?”

“He may go back on his brother’s truce,” Vizier Nebamun predicted.

“But Hatti is not as strong as she was,” Paser argued. “While she was busy stealing our land in the north after the Heretic’s death, Assyria conquered the kingdom of Mitanni.”

“And now the Assyrians won’t be satisfied with Mitanni alone,” Ramesses mused.

Paser agreed. “They will move west to the cities that belong to Hatti. With the Assyrians at his throat, Hattusili can no longer afford to make an enemy of Egypt.”

Ramesses sat back in his chair, and the generals watched while he closed his eyes to think. “We will send Hattusili a treaty,” he said, haltingly. “A signed gesture of peace between Hatti and Egypt. The promise to send military aid to each other if the Assyrians attack. Hatti may be our rival, but Assyria has become the greater threat.”

“If Hattusili signs the treaty,” Paser added, “we could promise them aid in time of famine.”

“And in exchange for that,” Ramesses said with growing excitement, “they must give us access to their