she promised brightly. “The priestesses do it every day before their afternoon meal.” She took off her robe and bundled it under her arm. Beneath, she wore the same blue sheath that I’d been given. “We will clean the hall leading out into the groves. The men come through with mud on their sandals and dirt in their kilts. Every priestess has her own hall, and this one is mine!”
She strode ahead and I followed. I didn’t understand why she was so merry until she opened the doors leading onto the groves. As she bent over to clean, the barrel-chested grove workers watched as her sheath moved slowly up her thighs. She made no effort to move herself from their view. I squatted over the tiles at the other end of the hall and arranged my sheath over my knees. I dabbed a piece of linen into a bowl of water, then leaned over and wiped it gently across the floor.
“It will go easier if you are on your knees.” Aloli laughed. “Don’t worry, no one will be watching you. They’re all watching me.”
WHEN THE piercing sound of trumpets sent the workers heading to their homes beyond the temple, Aloli handed me my robe. An eternity of scrubbing, over at last.
We entered the Great Hall with its towering mosaics of Hathor, the scent of roasted duck in steaming bowls of pomegranate sauce filled the lively chamber. Row upon row of polished cedar tables were taken up by priestesses who had already taken their seats.
“Where do we sit?”
“Next to the High Priestess.”
I could see Woserit’s crown above the heads of even the tallest women, and when she saw us, she gave a small nod. I sat on Woserit’s right, and Aloli sat to her left. As I reached for my bowl, Woserit said sharply, “I hope you don’t snatch your food like that in the palace.”
I looked around me, in fear that everyone had heard her rebuke, but the other priestesses were deep in conversation.
“You don’t grab for your bowl like a monkey,” Woserit said. “You start by rolling up your sleeve.” She illustrated, taking her left hand and delicately holding up the sleeve of her right while reaching for the soup. Then she let her sleeve fall into place as she brought the bowl to her mouth. When she had taken a sip, she didn’t let her lips linger on the bowl as I might have. She replaced her bowl the same way she had taken it. I imitated what she had done, and she nodded. “Better. Now let me see you take the duck.”
The other women had rolled up their sleeves and were taking the meat in both hands and eagerly picking it apart. When I began to do the same, Woserit’s look grew dark.
“That is fine for a common priestess, but you are a princess.” She lifted her sleeve as she had done before, then held the meat between her forefinger and thumb and nibbled on it slowly, using a linen she kept in her left hand to wipe her mouth should the pomegranate paste dribble. “I’m shocked you’ve never learned this before, sitting at the table beneath the dais for seven years. But then I suppose that you and Ramesses never paid attention to anything besides yourselves.”
I hid my shame by lowering my head, then took the leg of the duck in my right hand, just as she had done. She passed me her linen, and when I used it to keep sauce from falling on my robe, her gaze softened. “The next time you come into the Great Hall,” she said, “I expect you to bring a table linen with you. Have Merit make it from an old sheath.”
I nodded. “And sit straight. And raise your head. None of this is your own personal failing, Nefertari. You are here to learn and that’s what you’re doing.”
WHEN THE meal was over. I followed Aloli through the halls to the eastern sanctuary. “I think I will like it here,” I lied.
Aloli marched ahead, and her long robes swished back and forth. “The cleaning and the rituals, you’ll get used to them,” she promised. “And while we’re practicing harp,” she gloated, “the other priestesses will be out greeting pilgrims.”
I stopped walking. “I’m the only one practicing harp?”
“The entire temple can’t play, can it?” Aloli turned around. “Only a few priestesses have the talent. I’m one of them.”
We entered the eastern sanctuary. Tiles of highly polished blue and gold covered