Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,145

had clearly been shocked by the notion. She put back a lock of intrusive hair and sighed. She was terribly beautiful and very stupid, but she had at least not offered up her sister to the fire in her place. Any other woman may have leapt at that chance to save her own life. Or at the next offer which she proceeded to disclose.

‘Huy then laid a hand on my thigh and told me that if I mated with him he would save me. He smirked at me, the animal! The Great Royal Nurse Tey urged me to accept, but I had the soldiers throw him out. I was so shocked by my husband’s perfidy that I resigned myself to die. Then the soldier from the Widow-Queen Tiye came and offered me a potion to deaden the pain. I thought that it might be poison, to cheat my husband of his sacrifice—the Widow-Queen Tiye has never liked me—but I took it anyway, and woke up here. It is very strange and I suppose I should be grateful, but how could he? How could he?’ She wept again.

I met Aapahte’s eyes over the bowed royal head. He shrugged. I allowed my burden to cry for a little longer, then shook her gently. I needed more information.

‘What then of Mutnodjme, lady? Is she safe?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ That wasn’t enough and she saw or felt that. ‘Yes, the Widow-Queen said that she would look after her. Besides, Mutnodjme is strong and clever. She should have been a man. And your friend is the scribe of the general, of Horemheb Cunning in Battle, isn’t he? He won’t let any harm come to her. But what will become of me? Not queen anymore, my children abandoned to the care of their father who does not love them, what will become of Nefertiti?’ she lamented, and this time I let her weep unmolested.

What would become of all of us? I still felt that mysterious connection to Mutnodjme, and all I felt was sorrow. Deep, aching sorrow, which lay on the stomach like lead.

I slept with sorrow and woke with mourning. I was perhaps mourning my own life, Meryt and the Nubians lost, my office and titles stripped from me by my own hands, the loss of all that I once owned. My wealth would now go to satisfy the greed of Bakhenmut’s wife. Henutmire would enjoy my lands and my estates, probably converting them into jewels to decorate her already overdecorated person.

Fortunately, she could not retrieve what I had rightfully given away in my lifetime. My parents would still own their estate, my Master Ammemmes his house full of old scribes and his vineyard. Both those gifts had been from my private fortune, the salary and presents which the lord Akhnaten—may the breath of life be removed from his nostrils—had given me freehold. Once they had changed hands not even Ay the miser could get them back.

So here I was. Free of all burdens. Possessed still of my scribal tools. Possessed also of a despondent queen of Egypt, a pectoral of eye stones belonging to the Widow-Queen Tiye, a monumental headache and with all I loved lost and gone.

For the moment, just for the moment. The red-headed woman would inform Kheperren and Mutnodjme of my safety and whereabouts, and even though I might not see them, perhaps for years, I would know they were there. And surely Kheperren would pass the palace of Sitamen, which was where I surmised that we were going, and perhaps if Mutnodjme tired of Amarna she could come and live with me.

That thought was comforting, and I slept until I woke in the morning loaded with misery, and wondered if both of them were imprisoned or worse, for they had seen my ‘death,’ and the mad king might have taken revenge upon them. If they were dead I thought I would have known, but this twin-feeling was too new and untried to rely upon.

Morning bought brisk activity on deck. Feet thudded over our heads. The vessel rocked and swayed as they pushed her into midstream. The doleful queen Nefertiti and I ate bread and salt fish and drank sour beer. She could not eat much, saying that the food was coarse, which it was. I was weighted down with a dread for which I could not account. I was in little danger here, under guard in a boat on the Nile, and in any case known to be dead. Anyone