Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,181
I suggested.
There was a silence which could be felt. The young woman who had been wailing had stopped and the next one had been so astounded that she had missed her cue.
‘Aunt, Aunt, you’re dreaming!’ Ankhesenamen shook her head at me. ‘He has to have me to have the throne.’
‘He doesn’t have to have your body, your person, he just has to have your consent to marriage,’ I pointed out.
I had asked Ptah-hotep about the law of marriage, and he had agreed that perfectly valid marriages could be made without one party being there. They could be repudiated later, of course, but that would not matter. It all depended on whether Ankhesenamen really meant to give up power.
‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘Wonderful. I’ll do it. I don’t actually have to be here to marry him, do I? Just to agree, or at least never to disagree. Yes, yes, I’ll do it, find me a scribe, where’s my seal?’
‘But you must leave the palace, leave all your wealth, for he will not let you take anything with you. You must leave everything,’ I said.
‘I don’t care,’ said the Great Royal Wife flatly. ‘I want to learn. I want to be able to read and write. I can’t bear a living child and I don’t like men; I never want to be fumbled by sweating hands again. They can keep their love. It’s all false. It’s not important. I have seen you, Aunt, reading cursive and even Hittite. I’ve got a good mind. I can learn. Let me out of this palace or I’ll go mad. If I leave, there must be somewhere I can go! I’m tired of pregnancy and pain.’
‘There is the temple of Isis,’ I suggested.
‘Would they take me? With nothing?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, for I knew that the Singer of Isis the lady Peri was back in charge. I also thought that Ankhesenamen would make a good scholar, and Isis appreciates dedication.
‘Here’s a papyrus roll, write my consent to the marriage with my revolting grandfather. Then all I need to do is stay for the funeral—poor Tutankhamen, he was a nice boy—and then I’m free.’ She clapped both hands together with joy.
‘But once gone, you cannot pine for your pretty fabrics and your jewels and return,’ I warned. ‘Ay is not scrupulous; you know that. I would not make any optimistic predictions about the length of your life if you come back and challenge his right to reign.’
‘My dearest Takha is coming with me,’ she said firmly. ‘She has already taught me the beginnings of my letters. See?’
She exhibited a child’s writing board with exercises in black ink, corrected in red. The maiden who had been wailing smiled shyly at me. This was the studious and learned young woman Takha. She could not have been more than eighteen. I looked at her hands. Yes, there was the flattened middle finger with the permanent ink-mark. This was a scholar.
‘Ptah-hotep the Just Judge shall write it, you will seal it, and I will deliver it to Divine Father Ay after you have safely gone. You must go to the funeral, as you say, poor Tutankhamen deserves that of you and he is to be buried in the full Osirian ritual, which requires your presence. Then, niece, we shall slip you out of the palace, and your grandfather need never come near you again. I will go now to the temple of Isis and arrange your admittance. If you are sure, Ankhesenamen? This is your last chance to change your future and be queen again.’
‘I am sure,’ she assured me, and she had always known her own mind, even as a child.
‘Give me a pectoral and a few pairs of earrings. You should not go to the temple unprovided-for and Ay has not done an inventory of your jewels yet.’
She handed over the gems. On my way out, I turned and said, ‘Don’t resume the wailing. It has served its purpose,’ and walked straight out of the room and into Divine Father Ay.
He was pot-bellied and double-chinned and hung about with gold. There was a greasy mark down his chest where he had spilled something sticky.
‘Daughter,’ he said. ‘You have been with the Great Royal Wife?’
‘I have,’ I said, instinctively stepping back a pace. His black eyes scanned me and focused on the bag I held in my hands. It was uncanny. I believe that he could smell the gold through the fabric.