We entered the nursery. It was a long, high room with windows and doors to the terrace now covered with bright curtains. In the centre was a long, low wooden table. Alcoves contained beds. Toys of remarkable invention and beauty of construction overflowed from trunks. Papyrus collections of stories were packed onto shelves. Little statuettes and votive figurines were lined up along a shelf. The walls around each bed were hung with drawings, stories and poems on beautifully illustrated papyri. Servants were apprehensively attempting to restore some kind of order to the room’s colourful and lively chaos.
At the table sat three girls on low stools; Meretaten stood at the head. As we entered they all looked at me expectantly. Their mother was in all of them. Their faces were fine and haughty, their hair black and glossy, their skin pure, their postures elegant and perfect. They sat as if posing, straight-backed and self-conscious, not with the indolent pleasure of my girls. Their governess introduced me to them: Meretaten, then Meketaten, Ankhesenpaaten and Nefernefruaten.
‘I don’t know if I can remember those names straight away,’ I said.
Meretaten stared down her nose at me. ‘Then you must be a fool.’
There was a little silence while the other girls waited to see how I would react. I asked her how old she was.
‘Fourteen.’ She gazed at me.
‘And you other girls?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Ten.’
‘Seven-and I’m not the youngest. Nefernefrure and Setepenra are already asleep.’
I sat down with them, at their level, on a low stool. The silence continued. The girls looked uncertain. I realized there were a number of women in attendance, waiting and watching. I whispered to the governess to ask if I could be left alone with the princesses.
‘It is forbidden for men to remain alone in the nursery,’ she replied.
‘Then could you perhaps dismiss the attendants, and stay yourself as the chaperone?’
She considered it, but it was Meretaten who nodded her agreement and clapped her hands. The attendants filed out of the room and closed the door behind them. As soon as they were gone, Meretaten relaxed slightly. Meketaten got up from the table and went to sit, cross-legged, on her bed, her sleek sidelock falling over her ear as she repeatedly combed it through.
‘Do you mind if I talk to you all a little?’ I said.
‘That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’ said Meretaten. She looked at me curiously now.
‘Are you a seeker of mysteries?’ asked Ankhesenpaaten.
‘I am a detective in the Thebes Medjay, and your father has ordered me here. Perhaps you are aware of the reason why?’
‘Because the Queen has disappeared,’ said Meretaten. Those were her words, spoken with a strange kind of bitterness. No mention of the fact that it was her own mother who had vanished. She must have seen the look of surprise on my face, for she covered her tracks quickly. ‘That’s what people are whispering.’
‘And what do you think?’ I asked.
‘I think you’re here to find her. Which means she’s been kidnapped, or stolen. Or she’s dead.’
I was shocked by her casual tone.
‘I must be honest with you and admit I don’t yet know what has happened to her, but I believe she is alive, and I am determined to find her and bring her back to you. She must miss you as much as you miss her.’
I heard behind me a little snuffle. Nefernefrure had appeared, silent tears trickling down her face.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ said Meretaten.
The governess took the child in her arms and comforted her. The tears subsided, and the tiny girl glared suspiciously at me.
‘I know how difficult it is to talk,’ I said, ‘but I wanted to meet you all because I need your help. I need you to tell me anything you remember about your mother in the days before she disappeared. Or anything about your mother you think I should know. Can you do that?’
The girls all looked at Meretaten, as if they were silently discussing an agreement. Then Meretaten took up and set spinning on the table a faience top. It whirled on its single point of balance, the bright colours blurring together so that the image of a smiling face appeared where, in stillness, there had been nothing more than lines. It was a rare and surprising object.
‘That’s a beautiful spinning top. Who gave it to you?’
‘Our mother,’ said Meketaten, pointedly.
We all watched the top in silence. The princesses were mesmerized. Gradually it lost its poise, wobbled, subsided, and then fell over. Meretaten seemed to read its behaviour as a tool of prophecy, or at least decision- making, for she considered it for a little while before eventually nodding. They drew a little closer to me.
‘She was behaving strangely. Her face was dark, sad. Full of shadows and worries.’ The lamplight flickered in Meretaten’s eyes as she spoke.
‘Do you know why?’
Meketaten, lying on her divan, called out, ‘She and father had a fight.’
‘No they didn’t,’ said her older sister.
‘Yes they did. I heard them. Then she came in to say goodnight, and you were all asleep. She was crying but she was trying not to show it. I said, “Why are you crying?” And she said, “No reason, my darling, no reason.” And she said it was our secret, and not to tell. Then she kissed me and hugged me like I was a doll or something, and then she told me to go to sleep and not to worry because she’d make everything all right.’
‘And when did this happen?’ I asked.
‘I don’t remember the day. But not long ago.’
‘And did she talk to any of you other princesses in the same way?’
They looked at each other and shook their heads. Meretaten was angry and silent now. ‘I thought you said it was a secret. You’ve said it out loud now.’ She glared at her sister, who glanced back at her, but wilted under Meretaten’s angry look.
She turned back to me. ‘They have fights. Everyone does. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Have they had lots of fights?’ I asked.
Meretaten refused to reply.
Ankhesenpaaten, along the table, was playing with a mechanical toy of a wooden man and a big dog worked by strings and pulleys. As she turned the peg the wooden man raised his arms to defend himself as the dog leaped at him to attack. Over and over, the dog biting the man. The white fangs and the wide red eyes and the raised hair along his back. The little girl laughed and pointed at me. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘It’s you!’
I was disconcerted. Then I thought of something.
‘I should also pass on a message to you all,’ I said. ‘It’s from Senet. She wanted me to tell you she misses you all.’
Meretaten’s face hardened. ‘Tell her-’
Then the door opened behind me. The girls stood up and hurried to their beds. The governess trembled.
‘Who permitted this
Her voice was like nails scraping on a board. There was a horrible silence. We all stood like statues, looking at the floor. I felt like I was back at school. I had to speak.
‘Highness, I am to blame.’
By the shuffling noise they made I knew her feet were weak and old; her breath came short with anger. For all the finest perfumes of the land, she stank. It was the sickly-sweet stench of decaying flesh. Then she reached out and grabbed my face. I was shocked by the contact, and jumped. She gripped me with bony, resilient strength, and I had to make myself stand still while she drew her fingers, with their long, nasty nails, down across my face.
‘So you are the fool who believes he will find her. Look at me.’
I did so. Time had withered her beauty into a wizened mask of rage. But for the crazy opulence of her dress- veils and robes draped around her bones-and the dyed lengths of her own hair, she would seem a madwoman, a wild nomad from the desert. Her mouth was like an old leather purse, her eyes milky, the colour of the moon. They
