Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,102

had no comfort for them and no comfort to carry, for I was going to tell my sister that her youngest child was dead.

Fortunately I found Tey in the corridor of glossy marble, lined with fresh pictures of bearers of tribute to the Aten. I caught at her arm as she hurried past me and knelt on the cool stone, a picture of submission.

‘Great Royal Nurse, please wait. Your humble daughter has that to carry which is heavy news for her sister, and wishes to consult with you about when to deliver herself of it.’

‘Setepenre is dead?’ snapped Tey, looking down into my face. I nodded.

‘Your behaviour is most becoming, daughter. I will tell the Great Royal Spouse. Make sure that no one else knows of this who might tell it carelessly. She will be sorry, but it can’t be helped. The body is disposed of suitably?’

‘By the Widow-Queen Tiye and my sister Merope, Lady.’

‘Good. Daughter, have you lain with the Great Royal Scribe?’ She knew this as well as I did.

‘Yes, lady, but I have obeyed your orders. I will not marry him.’

‘It is as you like,’ she said carelessly. ‘Your dowry will be paid to him by the temple of the Phoenix, so it does not concern your Divine Father Ay.’

It was typical of my mother that she forbade me to do something one day and then acted as if it was of no importance the next. Being Tey’s daughter had kept me on my toes for years, never certain from whence the next blow would come. The noise of the sed festival, which was attended with a lot of people blowing horns, came to us dully through the stone walls. A squad of soldiers passed, on the run, spears lowered. Still Tey kept me on my knees. Fortunately the service of Isis had given me strong limbs. I did not move and she relented. If I had been palace trained I would have been in agony, and I allowed a wince to appear on my face. It would never do to let Tey know how little she was inconveniencing me.

‘Very well, daughter,’ she touched my bowed head and went on. I let her get a good way along the passage before I climbed to my feet, rubbed my flattened kneecaps, and walked away.

I could not see Nefertiti in case she asked me about the baby, I did not have any tasks, and the royal women were mourning their loss. There was no room of books in the palace of the Aten, as the texts were still being written. I could not while away the time until the feast by consulting some old writings, because Amarna had no history. I still smelt divine and I wondered whether my lord was feeling as kindly towards me as I was to him.

In fact, I knew that he was, so I went to find him.

Ptah-hotep

I was in love as I had not been since I had first lain with my Kheperren, and I was more than a little confused. What had I to do with a woman, when I had given my heart to a man? What especially had I to do with loving a woman, when Kheperren lived and still loved me?

I banished all my servants and sat in my room, where her scent still lingered, and thought, closing my eyes. Somehow I was aware of her. I felt a sudden stab of sorrow—what had happened? It was not my sorrow, it was hers, it was flavoured with her emotions. What could I do to comfort her?

I sent Hanufer’s scribe to my lady with a present of perfumes, and felt her pleasure as she blended them and remembered me.

This was altogether strange and I did not know what to make of it. However, there it was and there is no use in continually re-testing something which is true, as my Master of Scribes used to say.

And after long reflection, I realised that I could love Kheperren, that I did love him as well as ever. He still had my heart, but so did my lady Mutnodjme. Unusual, perhaps, but my entire life had been marked by odd events. My mother had told me when I was still a naked child that a star had fallen when she gave birth to me, and that she knew I was destined for great things.

My parents were still proud of me. When the King allowed, I would go home to the Nome of the