Sphinx's Princess

She thought better of it once we were on the road. The men carrying our chair couldn’t seem to stay in step with one another. We jounced and lurched horribly. Berett still held tight to my neck, hiding her eyes, refusing to look at the marvels of Abydos. The tawny stones, the towering obelisks, the countless statues of gods and kings all slipped past her, unseen.

 

Our bouncy journey came to an end when our bearers passed under a massive gateway that opened into a broad courtyard. The walls were brilliant with the etched and painted images of gods and kings, but my eyes were drawn to the carvings I could read. Prayers and praises to Amun were everywhere, along with tributes to the kings who had enriched the god’s temple. Is this Amun’s house? I wondered, deeply troubled. Why were we carried inside? No one had the authority to enter a temple in such regal style. It was an insult to the god. Even if it’s not our fault, we’ll still be punished. Oh, Berett, and after I swore I’d keep you safe—! I hugged the child close. The instant that our chair touched the ground, I leaped off and away. Bit-Bit looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. My sister liked being treated royally and didn’t seem aware of our surroundings. She stepped down from the chair with unusual dignity and plenty of reluctance.

 

I hurried over to my parents. “Father, are we in trouble?” I whispered.

 

“Why should we be?” My question puzzled him.

 

“Isn’t this Amun’s temple?” I glanced around at the words on the walls.

 

“You read too much, Nefertiti, when you shouldn’t be reading at all.” Father was suddenly serious. “Remember, I don’t want my sister finding out about your … interest. There’s no reason to fear: We aren’t in the god’s house. I remember this place from my younger days, serving in Pharaoh Amenhotep’s court. It’s where the king and his people stay while paying homage to the gods of Abydos. So many people make the pilgrimage here—nobles and commoners—that several temples maintain lodgings for them.”

 

As he spoke, slaves came trailing in from the street, carrying our boxes on their backs. They grumbled to find us lingering in the courtyard, since they couldn’t set down their burdens until someone let them know where we’d be staying. Just then, a tall man emerged from a doorway framed by the arched body of the sky-goddess, Nut. He carried an impressive staff that he struck against the ground and hailed Father by name and with a flood of flattering phrases. Unfortunately, his fine words were delivered in a singsong, nasal voice that grated on the ears. It was a relief when he reached the end of his recitation and said: “Your humble and unworthy lodgings are this way, if you will consent to follow me.”

 

We followed. I can hardly begin to say how long we followed him, how far we walked, how many rooms we passed through, big and small, or how any human being could find his way through such a vast building without getting lost. In the end, we reached a garden that could have enclosed four of our green refuges at home. Our guide gestured with his staff, assigning us our chambers.

 

“My lord Ay, let it please you and your wife to accept this room. My lady Nefertiti, you will honor our house by entering that room, beyond the lotus pool, and your sister Mutnodjmet will take this room.” He indicated the doorway next to the room he’d given to our parents.

 

I gazed across the serene surface of the lotus pool, fragrant with vibrant blue flowers. Why was I being lodged apart from my family? I glanced left and right, seeing several other doorways, including one right next to Bit-Bit’s room. Were they already occupied? Oh well, it’s not worth making a fuss about this, I thought, and started toward my room.

 

The tall servant moved so fast that he seemed to appear in my path by magic. “If my revered lady Nefertiti will allow me, I will take charge of this”—he nodded at Berett—“for you.”

 

“Berett stays with me,” I said firmly.

 

“Ah?” One brow rose and vanished under the fringe of his wig. “I beg my lady Nefertiti to forgive me. I was told by the royal messenger who announced your arrival that you were traveling with a slave, not a … um …” His cool self-possession deserted him for a moment as he asked, “What is this child to you, great one?”

 

“She’s—she’s—” I paused. What was Berett to me? She was given to me as a slave and I’d done nothing to change that. My heart yearned to free her, but I didn’t know how to do it. By our laws, slaves were property, the same as a cow or a house or a bracelet. I’d overheard enough of Father’s conversations to know that if I wanted to give Berett a new life of freedom, it would have to be done exactly according to the law or she would still be a slave. A slave—but I don’t want to call her that, I thought. “This child is—”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” A familiar voice boomed across the garden. “This child is the lady Nefertiti’s friend and companion.” I turned with a joyful heart to see Henenu come rushing forward with his unique, rolling gait, his arms held wide in welcome.

 

I wanted to hug him, but that was impossible. As soon as he reached us, Berett raised her head, took one look at the scribe, and squeaked like a newborn kitten in distress. Her grip on me tightened so sharply that it squeezed the breath from my body and made me stagger. Henenu couldn’t help laughing.

 

“I’ve heard of close friendships, but this is astonishing. She’s stickier than a split date, this one. Where did she come from? She looks foreign.”

 

“She’s a Habiru,” I replied. “Her name is—we call her Berett. She’s a musician.”

 

“A good name for her, in that case.” Henenu might have said more, but a sharp, insistent tapping drew his attention. The tall servant was drumming his staff on the ground impatiently and looked ready to bite someone. “Yes?” the scribe said, matching him glare for glare. “Did you want something?”