The Heretic Queen

“Otherwise they will be erased.”

“And Horemheb will have succeeded.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE WAY A CAT LISTENS

  THE HIGH PRIESTS divined that Ramesses should marry on the twelfth of Thoth. They had chosen it as the most auspicious day in the season of Akhet, and when I walked from the palace to the Temple of Amun, the lake was already crowded with vessels bringing food and gifts for the celebration.

Inside the temple I kept to myself, and not even Tutor Oba could find fault with me when the priests were finished. “What’s the matter, Princess? No one to entertain now that Pharaoh Ramesses and Asha are gone?”

I looked up into Tutor Oba’s wrinkled face. His skin was like papyrus; every part of it was lined. Even around his nose there were creases. I suppose he was only fifty, but he seemed to me to be as old as the cracking paint in my chamber.

“Yes, everybody has left me,” I said.

Tutor Oba laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

“Everybody has left you!” he repeated. “Everybody.” He looked around him at the two hundred students who were following him to the edduba. “Tutor Paser tells me you are a very good student, and now I wonder if he means in acting or in languages. Perhaps in a few years, we’ll be seeing you in one of Pharaoh’s performances!”

I walked the rest of the way to the edduba in silence. Behind me, I could still hear Tutor Oba’s grating laugh, and inside the class I was too angry to care when Paser announced, “Today, we will begin a new language.”

I don’t remember what I learned that day, or how Paser began to teach us the language of Shasu. Instead of paying attention, I stared at the girl on the reed mat to my left. She was no more than eight or nine, but she was sitting at the front of the class where Asha should have been. When the time came for our afternoon meal, she ran away with another girl her age, and it occurred to me that I no longer had anyone to eat with.

“Who’s in for dice?” Baki announced, between mouthfuls.

“I’ll play,” I said.

Baki looked behind him to a group of boys, and their faces were all set against me. “I . . . don’t think we allow girls to play.”

“You allow girls every other day,” I said.

“But . . . but not today.”

The other boys nodded, and shame brightened my cheeks. I stepped into the courtyard to find a seat by myself, then recognized Asha on the stone bench where we always ate.

“Asha! What are you doing here?” I exclaimed.

He leaned his yew bow against the bench. “Soldiers get mealtimes, too,” he said. He searched my face. “What’s the matter?”

I shrugged. “The boys won’t allow me to play dice with them.”

“Which boys?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.” His voice grew menacing. “Which ones?”

“Baki,” I said, and when Asha rose threateningly from the bench, I pulled him back. “It’s not just him, it’s everyone, Asha. Iset was right. They were friendly to me because of you and Ramesses, and now that you’re both gone, I’m just a leftover princess from a dynasty of heretics.” I raised my chin and refused to be upset. “So what is it like to be a charioteer?”

Asha sat back and studied my face, but I didn’t need his sympathy. “Wonderful,” he admitted, and opened his sack. “No cuneiform, no hieroglyphics, no translating Muwatallis’s endless threats.” He looked to the sky and his smile was genuine. “I’ve always known I was meant to be in Pharaoh’s army. I was never really good at all that.” He indicated the edduba with his thumb.

“But your father wants you to be Master of the Charioteers. You have to be educated!”

“And thankfully that’s over.” He took out a honey cake and gave half to me. “So did you see the number of merchants that have arrived? The palace is filled with them. We couldn’t take the horses to the lake because it’s crowded with foreign vessels.”

“Then let’s go to the quay and see what’s happening!”

Asha glanced around him, but the other students were rolling knucklebones and playing Senet. “Nefer, we don’t have time for that.”

“Why not? Paser is always late, and the soldiers don’t return until the trumpets call them back. That’s long after Paser begins. When will we ever see so many ships? And think of the animals they might be bringing. Horses,” I said temptingly. “Maybe from Hatti.”

I had said the right words. He stood with me, and when we reached the lake, we saw a dozen ships lying at anchor. Above us on the dock, pennants of every color snapped in the breeze, their rich cloth catching the light like brightly painted jewels. Heavy chests were being unloaded, and just as I had guessed, horses had arrived, gifts from the kingdom of Hatti.

“You were right!” Asha exclaimed. “How did you know?”

“Because every kingdom will send gifts. What else do the Hittites have that we’d want?”

The air filled with the shouts of merchants and the stamps of sea-weary horses skittering down the gang- planks. We picked our way toward them through the bales and bustle. Asha reached out to stroke an ink-black mare, but the man in charge chided him angrily in Hittite.

“You are speaking with Pharaoh’s closest friend,” I said sharply. “He has come to inspect the gifts.”

“You speak Hittite?” the merchant demanded.

I nodded. “Yes,” I replied in his language. “And this is Asha, future Master of Pharaoh’s Charioteers.”

The Hittite merchant narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if he believed me. Finally, he gave a judicious nod. “Good. You may instruct him to lead these horses to Pharaoh’s stables.”

I smiled widely at Asha.

“What? What is he saying?”

“He wants you to take the horses to Pharaoh Seti’s stables.”

“Me?” Asha exclaimed. “No! Tell him—”

I smiled at the merchant. “He will be more than happy to deliver Hatti’s gifts.”

Asha stared at me. “Did you tell him no?”

“Of course not! What’s the matter with delivering a few horses?”

“Because how will I explain what I’m doing?” Asha cried.

I looked at him. “You were passing by on the way to the palace. You were asked to do this task because you are knowledgeable about horses.” I turned back to the merchant. “Before we take these horses from Hatti, we would like to inspect the other gifts.”

“What? What did you tell him now?”

“Trust me, Asha! There is such a thing as being too cautious.”

The merchant frowned, Asha held his breath, and I gave the old man my most impatient look. He sighed heavily, but eventually he led us across the quay, past exquisitely carved chests made from ivory and holding a fortune in cinnamon and myrrh. The rich scents mingled with the muddy tang of the river. Asha pointed ahead to a long leather box. “Ask him what’s in there!”

The old man caught Asha’s meaning, and he bent down to open the leather case. His long hair spilled over his shoulder; he tossed his three white braids behind him and pulled out a gleaming metal sword.

I glanced at Asha. “Iron,” I whispered.

Asha reached out and turned the hilt, so that the long blade caught the summer’s light just as it had on the balcony with Ramesses.

“How many are there?” Asha gestured.

The merchant seemed to understand, because he answered, “Two. One for each Pharaoh.”

I translated his answer, and as Asha returned the weapon, a pair of ebony oars caught my eye. “And what are those for?” I pointed to the paddles.