The Heretic Queen

“To Nefertari!” they echoed merrily.

“Of course, I don’t want to celebrate too long,” Henuttawy said, and her words were slurred from too much wine. “After all, I have to make obeisance in the morning.” She stood up and, as she looked at Iset, added bitterly, “Are you coming?”

Iset glanced at Ramesses. “Of course not. My . . . my place is here.”

Henuttawy narrowed her eyes. “Then I will see you all in the morning.” She smiled intimately at Urhi. “Good luck with your petition.”

Her scarlet robes disappeared through the double doors, and for the rest of the night, the Hittite prince sat alone, watching Ramesses anxiously. Finally, when the feast was nearly over, he asked, “Has Egypt made its decision?”

“I’m sorry, but we must consider it further.”

“Your Majesty,” Prince Urhi said passionately. “My throne has been taken. There is no chance I can raise an army on my own, but with you at my side, think of the triumph we would know! I would cede you all the lands that Pharaoh Akhenaten lost. Every last one in our empire.”

Though I could see that Ramesses was desperately tempted, peace was more important now. “I understand your proposal,” he began, then the doors of the Great Hall suddenly swung open and a servant cried, “The High Priestess of Isis has been murdered!”

There was a moment of stunned silence in the hall, and then the entire chamber was thrown into confusion. The courtiers rose, and Ramesses rushed from the dais, as I followed close behind. General Anhuri reached the boy first and took a bloodied knife from his hand.

“Move!” Ramesses shouted. “Move!” He grasped my arm, and as we approached Anhuri and the stained blade, Ramesses’s face became ashen. “Who did this?”

The young stable boy looked fearful. “Your Highness, I heard a scream coming from the quay. I took the other boys to see what it was, and the High Priest of Amun rushed into a boat. His robes were covered in blood, Your Highness. I called for the guards. They’ve already captured him!”

I tightened my hold on Ramesses’s arm as seven soldiers escorted the High Priest of Amun into the Great Hall. Bright smears of fresh blood stained Rahotep’s kilt, and when Ramesses stepped forward, his voice became enraged. “What have you done?”

There was a moment when I thought that Rahotep would deny it. But he caught sight of the servant who had seen him, and his shoulders tensed. “I have avenged Pharaoh Seti’s death, Your Highness,” he swore, and when he saw the baffled look on Ramesses’s face, he added, “Your father was poisoned!”

A murmur of shock spread through the Great Hall, and as Ramesses tried to comprehend this statement, Rahotep said bitterly, “If that news is so shocking to you, perhaps you should question the other viziers. Or your future queen, the princess Nefertari.”

Ramesses turned to me. “Is it true? Did you suspect—” He followed my gaze to Paser, and then shouted, “Did Henuttawy murder my father?”

His voice echoed through the Great Hall, and a fearful silence fell over the room.

Paser stepped forward in the crowd. “No one knows,” he said quietly. “A conversation was overheard in the Audience Chamber.”

“Between who?” Color bloomed on Ramesses’s cheeks.

“Between Henuttawy and Iset,” Paser replied. “It’s possible that Henuttawy gave your father poison.”

“And no one knows the truth?” Ramesses shouted. Rage and heartache broke his voice, and I realized how deeply we had all betrayed him.

“What could we have said?” I cried, but even as I spoke the words, I knew that I should have told him the truth. “To accuse a High Priestess and have her deny it . . .” I tried to comfort him, but he shook off my touch.

“No!” he shouted, and he looked at Rahotep. “You know,” he challenged. “What did she tell you?”

“That she murdered her brother with antimony in his wine.”

Ramesses’s rage seemed to crumble, and he looked around him. “Iset. She heard it from Henuttawy herself and never told me.”

“How could she have told you,” Rahotep demanded, “when your aunt would have blamed her for Pharaoh’s death? Henuttawy poured your father’s wine out of sight. She gave innocent Iset the cup. Your High Priestess was cunning.”

I saw what was happening. If no one challenged his story, Ramesses might pardon him for Henuttawy’s murder. But he had killed Nefertiti. He’d still set the fire that destroyed my family.

“She was a snake,” Rahotep went on proudly, “and now she’s dead.”

“But that’s not why he killed her.” The entire court turned to me. “He may tell you that he murdered her in your father’s name, but that is a lie. He killed Henuttawy to silence her. Henuttawy had no reason left not to accuse his daughter of murder. And she had every reason to try and save herself.”

“And who is his daughter?” Ramesses whispered.

I closed my eyes briefly, so I wouldn’t have to see the betrayal on his face, and when I opened them again, she was standing beside us. I nodded. “Iset.”

Ramesses turned to her in bewilderment. “The High Priest Rahotep is your father?” he demanded.

“How can I be certain?” she exclaimed.

Rahotep stepped forward, and this time, the guards didn’t pull him back. “Henuttawy wanted things my daughter could never give her. Gold, deben, promises of power. I killed her not just in the name of your father, but in the name of Iset.”

“Don’t believe him,” I swore. “He murdered your aunt just as he murdered mine. For vengeance.” I turned to face Rahotep. “I know that you murdered Nefertiti. Twenty years ago, Merit saw you at her chambers, just as this boy saw you bloodied tonight. But when you returned to Thebes as the High Priest of Amun, you threatened to tell the court that I was cursed by Amun as a heretic’s child. You threatened to have me banished from Thebes, and Merit kept her silence. But no one can keep me from the palace now.” I looked at Ramesses. “Ask him about the fire in Malkata. Ask him who killed my father, and my cousins, and what he did it for!”

The guards tightened their circle around him again, and this time, Rahotep’s voice shook with fear. “Remember what Henuttawy did to your father. She was a murderess!”

“Did you murder Nefertiti and set that fire?” Ramesses demanded, and when Rahotep saw he was defeated, he simply looked at me with loathing. “Strip him of his cloak,” Ramesses commanded.

Iset covered her mouth in horror, and Rahotep shouted, “I saved you from a murderess! I saved you from a lifetime of ignorance!” Two guards held Rahotep’s arms behind his back; his nostrils flared, reminding me of a bull that had been penned for the slaughter. He had escaped punishment for the murder of a queen, and now it was a lowly stable boy who’d brought him down.

“Why did she kill my father?” Ramesses asked. Rahotep’s red eye darted in every direction. “You can die by the blade or slowly of starvation.”

When I saw that Rahotep wasn’t going to answer, I said, “Because she wanted power over Iset. Henuttawy promised to put Iset on the throne, but she wanted to make sure Iset would never forget their bargain once becoming queen.”

“And what bargain was this?”

“To rebuild the Temple of Isis into something so vast that every pilgrim in Egypt would leave their deben at its gates.”

“Making her treasurer of the greatest fortune in Egypt,” he said slowly. He had awakened from blissful ignorance to a nightmare of intrigue he’d never known existed. He looked at Rahotep and drew himself up to his fullest height. “General Anhuri, escort Rahotep to the prisons. Give him death in whatever manner you think he deserves.”

Iset shrieked as her father was taken away, as her ladies fluttered helplessly around her. I pressed Ramesses’s arm firmly in mine and steered him through the commotion into the privacy of my chamber. When I had locked the door behind us, we sat together on the edge of the bed.

“I wanted to tell you,” I whispered. “It has haunted me for months, but everyone cautioned me to keep my word. Paser, Woserit . . . even Merit swore that if I ever spoke out, Henuttawy would find a way to make me look like a liar.”