would risk the wrath of the gods?”
This was clever, for no one would accuse Pharaoh himself of purposefully angering Amun. The angry chant died away again, and Ramesses turned to me.
“It’s true!” I shouted. “I am the niece of a heretic. But if you are not responsible for your grandfather’s crimes, why should I be? Who in this crowd has chosen their akhu? If that were possible, wouldn’t we all be born into Pharaoh’s family?”
There was a surprised murmur in the crowd, and Ramesses’s grip on my hand relaxed.
“Weigh each heart on its own,” I shouted, “for how many of us would pass into the Afterlife if Osiris weighed our hearts with those of our akhu?”
Ramesses looked at me in shock. There was silence beyond the gates. It seemed as if nobody moved, as if no one was breathing. “Return to your homes!” he cried. “Let the palace of Malkata mourn in peace.” He stood motionless, watching as the human sea beneath his feet began to ebb.
Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. Some of the women still shouted “Heretic,” and a few made vows to return, but the immediate danger was over. After some minutes of silence, Ramesses turned to take my hand. Inside the palace, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” I told him. Yet secretly I knew better. One day, she will convince him that I really am a heretic, and nothing I do will ever be able to change his mind.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ANOTHER LIFE IN RETURN
ALTHOUGH FOR TWO nights Ramesses did not visit, new light still found its way into the darkness of my chamber. By the second of Pachons my body gave me confirmation of what Merit had suspected for a month. I whispered it to Woserit and Paser, and when Merit heard, she sent up such a whoop of joy that Tefer scampered fearfully from the bed.
“A child?” she exclaimed. “You must tell Pharaoh Ramesses! When he hears—”
“He will think of Prince Akori and wonder if Iset was right.”
Merit stepped away from me. “You must never repeat that.”
“Iset accused me of stealing her child’s ka, and now I’m pregnant with my own.”
“Pharaoh could never think such a thing! The princess is a superstitious fool. You must tell him.”
“If he comes.”
“He will, my lady. Give him time.”
But several days passed, and on the fifth night, when it was clear he wasn’t coming, I wept into my pillow, emptying all of my sorrows into the linen as Merit stroked my hair. It wasn’t just loneliness. It was the sadness that hung over the palace like a shroud. I saw Ramesses every morning in the Audience Chamber, but he never laughed, and even when the viziers brought news that the farmers were finding success with his invention, his face was still grim. In the Great Hall, courtiers watched me with suspicion, and even Woserit had very little to say. I begged her to let me tell Ramesses that I was pregnant, but she made me swear not to reveal anything to him until he visited me on his own.
So I waited, and on the seventh of Pachons, Ramesses arrived as the sun rose. He came to the very edge of my bed, and when I sat up to embrace him, tears stained his cheeks. It was as if all of his joy and rash optimism in life had been drained away.
“The priests tell me it was the will of the gods,” he whispered, “but how could it be their will that a child of Pharaoh, his first son, should be stolen by Anubis?”
He held his nemes crown in his lap, and I caressed his hair. “I can’t pretend to understand,” I told him. “But perhaps when the gods saw your terrible loss, they gave you another life in return.” I took his hand and placed it on my stomach, and his breath caught in his throat. “A child?”
I smiled cautiously. “Yes.”
Ramesses stood and crushed my hands in his. “Amun has not abandoned us!” he cried. “A child, Nefer!” and he kept repeating it. “Another child!” He pulled me up with him, then searched my face. “You know that night on the balcony—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said quickly.
“But I never really believed—”
I placed my finger on his lips. “I know you didn’t,” I lied. “Those are peasants’ superstitions.”
“Yes. She comes from superstitious people. And without Akori she’s become irrational. And inconsolable,” he admitted. “I promised to begin a