I finished eating and went into the garden. Early morning light bathed the statue of Isis in a golden glow. I recalled all the riches I’d seen the night before in the house of her high priest. How much of that wealth was taken from the goddess? I wondered. Does Isis live in such splendor within her temple walls? No one but the priests would ever know. They’re the only ones supposed to be pure enough to serve the gods face to face. That man, “pure”? I shook my head, thinking of how the high priest had abused his authority, trying to take my life and break Father’s heart. Isis, forgive me, but I can’t believe that we aren’t just as pure as your priests and just as worthy to stand before you.
I knelt before the goddess and gazed up into her serene face and spoke to her from my heart.
“O Isis, why can’t Father understand that I’ve changed? I don’t need to hide behind these walls, afraid of people’s stares or whispers. What do they matter? Mahala the Habiru slave had worse to fear; she didn’t let that stop her from doing what was right. She had nothing—not even her own life—but she had courage. I can’t give back her life the way she gave back mine, but I can give her spirit a better gift than a little shrine, a saucer full of grain, and a dribble of wine.”
I went back into the house, to Father’s office, where I found a small piece of papyrus. Next I went to the kitchen yard and took a bit of charred wood from underneath the cooling bread oven. It took a lot of work to get a fine enough point on something so crumbly, but I managed, and soon I was back in the garden, placing the papyrus scrap between the goddess’s feet. If anyone in our house noticed it there, they wouldn’t dare disturb it. It was hers now.
“Great Isis, be my witness,” I said, weighing down the papyrus with a white stone. “This is my vow, my own words: I promise to live with the same bravery that Mahala taught me when she gave her life for mine. It’s not enough to be born free; I have to live my freedom! I swear to do this in honor of her memory, no matter how many battles I’ll have to fight. May you give me strength and blessing, and may Mahala’s spirit find rest.”
When I finished my prayer, I went straight to my bed and slept until it was time for dinner. The next morning I woke up at dawn and returned to the garden, expecting to find my small papyrus scrap gone, blown away on the night wind, but it was still there, at Isis’s feet. “A good omen,” I said with a smile.
The great sun-boat of Ra was only a sliver of gold in the east when the messenger arrived. We were eating breakfast, and Father had just made a joke about how glad he was that this day couldn’t possibly be as bad as the past two. He was not pleased to have our meal disturbed when one of the servants brought the stranger in, but when the man bowed and stated his business, Father’s expression went from mild irritation to outright alarm.
“My lord Ay,” the messenger said solemnly. “I bring word from your august sister, Queen Tiye, Great Royal Wife of the divine Amenhotep, may he live a thousand years. You and all your family are commanded to travel to join her at Abydos, where it is her will to honor you as no servants of Pharaoh have ever been honored before. A ship awaits your pleasure.”
“My pleasure has nothing to do with my sister’s ship,” Father muttered. If the messenger heard, he gave no sign. Father raised his voice and said: “You are welcome in my house. Eat, drink, and rest. Then return to my sister and say that we will obey her … invitation at once. We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”
“So much delay, my lord?” The messenger looked nervous. “Queen Tiye won’t be pleased. She’s very eager for your arrival. If I go back without you …”
Father laughed mirthlessly. “Then you’ll go back with us. But we’re not going to undertake the journey in haste. Who knows how long my sister will want us to stay? I still have business to conduct on Pharaoh’s behalf. I have to make arrangements so that things here in Akhmin don’t suffer in my absence, and I am not going anywhere if it means leaving my house in disorder behind me. When we reach Abydos, I’ll tell the queen that the holdup was all my fault. You won’t suffer for it.”
The messenger gave him a look that said That’s what you think, but since he couldn’t do a thing to sway Father’s decision, he submitted to it. “Lord Ay, I am your servant in all things. My mistress, Queen Tiye, also commands me to give you this.” He reached into the leather pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out a many-stranded necklace of gold, lapis lazuli, and rock crystal beads, with an enameled pendant of the goddess Hathor. It was far more impressive than anything Mery owned. When he held the regal gift up for us to see it in all its splendor, the gems captured the shafts of sunlight pouring down from the hall’s high windows. All of us gasped at such a rich gift, even Father.
“My sister is too generous,” he said, holding out his hands.
The messenger looked uncomfortable. “Lord Ay, this gift—that is, your gifts from Queen Tiye await you in Abydos. It is the desire of her heart to fill your hands with riches, so that you will never doubt how much she favors you. But this—this is sent as a gift for your firstborn daughter, Nefertiti. I am commanded to place it around her neck with my own hands and let her know she has Queen Tiye’s eternal love.”
“Eternal, is it?” Father raised one eyebrow. “Well, do what you must. Nefertiti, receive your aunt’s gift.”
I rose from my stool and allowed the messenger to put the necklace on me. It was even heavier than the one I’d borrowed from Mery. Bit-Bit gazed at me with a mixture of admiration and envy. I smiled at her and made signs to let her know that I’d let her try on my gift. She bounced in her seat and grinned, all envy gone.
The rest of the morning became a flurry of work as Mery saw to the preparations for our departure. All of our best clothing was taken out of the storage chests, inspected, and given to the servants and slaves for any washing or mending that might be necessary. There was a moment of absolute panic when Bit-Bit discovered that she had outgrown her leather sandals. No one wore shoes unless there was a special occasion, so it was easy to lose track of such things.