The Heretic Queen

ports. And to Kadesh.”

But Vizier Nebamun’s look was wary. “No kingdom in the world has ever made such an agreement with their enemies.”

Ramesses sat straighter in his chair. “We can be the first.”

We stayed in the Audience Chamber until the early hours of morning, discussing the terms of this treaty, and by dawn only Paser remained with Ramesses and me. Once the temple’s morning rituals were finished, Woserit came to bring us fresh fruit.

“Tell me about the treaty,” she asked, but Ramesses was too tired to speak.

“It will give Hattusili the chance at peace and to consolidate his throne,” I said. “But if he doesn’t want it, then he can risk a war with both Egypt and Assyria. And we still have the prince . . .”

Paser smiled wearily. “Pharaoh Ramesses is forging a new way of living among nations. If Hattusili won’t sign, then we will make the same offer to Assyria.”

“And we are offering more than just military aid,” I said. “If a criminal dares to run and hide in Hatti, they will have to send him back. And if a Hittite tries to do the same, we will send him to Hatti.”

Woserit saw my name at the bottom of the papyrus and glanced at me. My signature was now on official correspondence. In deed, if not in name, I had been made Queen of Egypt. I wanted to dance across the palace and shout the news from every window, but I knew enough to keep my silence. Unless Hattusili approved it, the treaty would remain a secret. But if he agreed, the entire court would know that I had signed it.

“You should get some sleep,” Woserit said with real pleasure in her voice. “This has been a long, though very rewarding night.”

“If the Hittites agree.” Ramesses sighed. He squinted against the early light of dawn, and we took her advice and retired to my room. As we settled into my bed, the linen sheets felt deliciously cool against the rising heat of morning. When I asked him if we should go instead to the Audience Chamber, he said, “Unless it’s a messenger with news from Hatti, there’s no one in Egypt I wish to see right now. Except you.” He reached out tenderly to caress my cheek, but a knock resounded throughout the chamber and he withdrew his hand.

“Nefertari?” A voice came through the door. I glanced at Ramesses, and the pounding came again. “Nefertari, open up!” someone shrieked. I recognized the voice as Iset’s.

“What is she doing?” Ramesses exclaimed.

“I don’t know.” I crossed the chamber and swung open the door. The rage in Iset’s eyes was so blinding, she didn’t seem to recognize Ramesses behind me.

“Is it true?” she demanded. At once, I knew that Rahotep must have told her. “Did Ramesses put your name on the message that’s being sent to Hatti?”

I opened my mouth, but it was Ramesses who came to my side and spoke. “Yes.”

Iset staggered backward. “You promised,” she whispered.

“Iset—” Ramesses reached out to stop her from leaving, but she shook her head angrily.

“No! You made a promise to me, and I should have known you would break it for her!”

“I have never betrayed a promise!” Ramesses swore.

“You have!” she insisted, and now wouldn’t move. A small crowd was gathering in the hall. Courtiers stopped to stare, and servants pressed themselves against the wall in fear. “On our wedding night, you promised to love me above all other women. You promised it!” she screamed, and there was a wildness in her eyes. “You took me in your arms—”

“Iset!”

“And swore there could never be a woman as beautiful or charming as me. You said the people loved me!” she cried. “But it’s not my name on that scroll. It’s Nefertari’s!”

Ramesses glanced at me to see my expression. The entire palace would know of it now.

“Go to your chamber,” Ramesses commanded. “Go to Ramessu and calm yourself.”

“How can I be calm,” she shrieked, “when you have slighted me in front of the entire court?” She looked around, and for the first time saw that it was true. Rahotep had come to see the commotion. Now he stepped forward to take her away. “Don’t touch me!” she shouted. “You are the one who convinced him to do this! You are the one who’s pretended to be my ally while speaking for Nefertari!”

“No one speaks for Nefertari,” Ramesses said sternly. “She speaks for herself. And that is why she will be queen when the feasts of Kadesh are finished.”

Rahotep stopped where he was in the hall, and Iset grew very still.

“You say you’ve never broken a promise,” she whispered. “Then what of your promise to your father to wait a year before choosing a Chief Wife?”

I held my breath. Then Ramesses said quietly, “It is the first and last promise I intend to break.”

There was nothing Iset could do or say. Rahotep led her away, and Ramesses closed the door. “She is not the same woman I took to wife,” he whispered.

I wanted to tell him that she was, that she hadn’t changed at all, but instead had grown desperate, knowing she would never be able to give Henuttawy what she wanted. Instead, I said cryptically, “Sometimes, we misjudge who people are.”

“Like the Shasu spies?” he asked miserably. “Perhaps I should leave the judging to you.” He took my hand and led me back to our bed. “You know, it’s true.”

“What’s true?”

“I have never broken a promise. This is the first promise I intend to break, and in a few days, Egypt will have another cause for celebration. A magnificent queen for its throne.”

BY EVENING, the entire palace of Pi-Ramesses had learned that I would be made queen. As I entered the Great Hall, where Henuttawy sat drinking with the prince of Hatti, I was flocked by courtiers wishing to congratulate me.

“It’s not done yet,” I told them demurely, but Aloli was among the women, and she exclaimed loudly, “Not done yet? All that’s left is to fit the crown!”

Woserit and Paser appeared arm in arm, and when they came to offer me their best wishes, Woserit squeezed my hand and I knew, at last, that our long struggle was over. For the first time in my life no one would look at me as the Heretic’s niece. In the streets, on the dais, in the Audience Chamber, I would be treated with the respect due to a queen. And in the temples, the images of my akhu would never be erased. Their names would be carved with mine until eternity, and the gods would remember them when they returned to walk among the living.

Woserit smiled. “It’s done.”

“There’s still the coronation,” I worried.

“And what do you think will go wrong by then?” She laughed with real joy, and I realized it was a sound I had heard very rarely from her.

Merit appeared with Amunher and Prehir on each hip, while about her servants rushed to light the hundreds of candelabra that would burn deep into the night. I looked to the dais and wondered what my reception there was going to be. Henuttawy was sitting with the Hittite prince, passing him wine and sipping from his cup.

Merit saw the line of my gaze and whispered, “She’ll still expect payment from Iset. And who knows what she promised to Rahotep to ruin your name.”

“I should think her body has been payment enough.”

“For Rahotep?” Merit’s upper lip curled. “She doesn’t know his history, then.”

I looked for the High Priest of Amun, but he was missing from his place at the dais.

Ramesses joined me in the doorway, dressed in a kilt striped with gold, and his smile was brilliant. “Ready?” he asked. He took my arm in his, and through a crowd of courtiers offering us their blessings, we approached the dais. For the first time, small wooden seats had been arranged for my sons, and because they were too young to behave themselves, there was an armed chair for Merit where she could sit and watch over them as they ate.

I took the throne to the right of Ramesses. The viziers stood, and Henuttawy announced with a sneer, “The princess who will be queen. Come. A toast to Nefertari!” She raised her cup and everyone at the table did the same.