When we reached the royal palace, Aunt Tiye was nowhere to be seen. The chariot that had carried her home stood empty, the driver stroking his horses’ downy noses and lavishing them with praise. At first I thought that my driver had made a mistake and brought me to the wrong place. I’d expected Pharaoh’s palace to be like the temples, made of monumental blocks of stone, a fitting home for the man who called himself a living god. Instead, the palace was built out of the same sun-dried mud bricks that were used to construct our home back in Akhmin and every other house I’d ever seen outside of a temple’s precinct. The size of the building was much bigger and the decoration of the high facade was strikingly elaborate, but it was nowhere near as impressive as the houses of our other gods.
A group of three sturdy young women stood waiting in the gateway to the building. As soon as I set foot from the chariot, they approached me with words of welcome. “We are here to serve you, Lady Nefertiti,” one of them said, her broad face friendly and serious at once. She looked about my own age, though she acted like a much older woman. “I am Kepi. Will you please follow us to your rooms?”
“Can we wait just a bit?” I asked. “There’s a little girl traveling with me. She’s coming here on foot with Henenu the scribe and I want her to see me before entering an unfamiliar place.”
“A little girl?” Kepi repeated. “One of your relatives, my lady? The gracious Great Royal Wife didn’t mention that. We’ll have to prepare rooms for her as well.” She turned to the other two girls and began giving quick, crisp commands.
“Please stop; that’s not necessary,” I said. The two girls, who’d started back into the palace in a panic-stricken rush, stopped in their tracks and looked relieved. “The child is my—my personal musician. She stays with me.”
We lingered in the shadow of the gateway until Henenu and Berett arrived with the rest of the queen’s entourage. The child’s face broke into a smile when she saw me waiting for her. I embraced her joyfully. “See? What did I tell you?” I said. She nodded avidly, her tiny white teeth shining.
His purpose as Berett’s guardian fulfilled, Henenu fell in with the rest of Aunt Tiye’s servants as they entered the palace. “We’ll see each other soon, Nefertiti,” he called out to me as they left, then with a wink added: “My lady Nefertiti.”
Now that I had Berett with me once more, I felt at ease following my new attendants deep into the royal house. I was quietly thankful for my journey to Abydos: The splendor of the temple-run lodgings there had prepared me for the sumptuous marvels of the palace. How odd to realize that my eyes were growing accustomed to seeing rare woods, brilliant wall paintings, and the gleam of gold everywhere I turned.
I was given a pair of rooms tucked away in a part of the palace where the air was sweet with perfume and bright with the sound of women’s laughter. A slender pool like a captive portion of the sacred river filled the courtyard just outside my doorway. Green reeds and pink water lilies half-concealed the vivid flicker of a fish’s scaly side. The rooms themselves were painted with riverside scenes of waterfowl—ducks, geese, herons, and cranes—and sometimes with the flight of a lone falcon above the water. The inner room, where my bed stood, showed a young woman on a raft, attended by two elegant cheetahs, watching while a royally dressed young man showed off his hunting skill in the thick of the marshes.
The chest of my belongings from Akhmin arrived soon after I took possession of my new place. It looked very small and shabby. Two of my attendants set about unpacking it for me, but soon enough they saw it was a job one girl could do in next to no time. As I watched them work, I wondered whether they were assigned to look after me from now on or if they were only supposed to get me settled.
What am I going to do with three servants? I thought. All I need is one. I’m never going to be able to come up with enough things to have them do for me. Servants complain when they’ve got too much work, but they’re bored and uncomfortable when they’ve got none, just like me.
“My lady?” Kepi broke into my thoughts. “I’ll have a sleeping mat brought for the child. Will that do?”
“I’d rather she had a bed,” I said, glancing at Berett. She’d nestled herself into one corner of the room and was playing a lively tune on her harp. With her eyes shut, she wrapped the music around her like a comfortable cloak, content.
Kepi cocked her head. “If you wish, my lady. But I swear by the Eye of Horus that it’s perfectly safe for her to sleep on the floor. For as long as I’ve worked here, and my mother before me, no one has ever seen a single serpent inside the palace walls.”
“Nevertheless, please bring her a bed,” I said. I wanted Berett to have every comfort now that we’d reached the place where I’d have to spend the next three years of my life.
Maybe more, I thought. I suppose I might like Thutmose. If that happens, I’m here to stay, but at least I’ll be happy. If it doesn’t— I tried to imagine myself three years in the future, telling Aunt Tiye that there was no way I could ever marry her son. How would she react? Would she let me go home with her blessing or would she force me into the marriage in spite of my refusal? Three years is a long time. Maybe she’ll find him a real princess by then and set me free. O Isis, let it be so, and soon! I sighed. I suppose there’s always the chance that he won’t want to marry me. That would solve everything. So much depends on Thutmose. I wonder when I’ll meet him?
I think that sometimes the gods hear our thoughts as well as our prayers. I was just about to ask Berett if she were hungry when an older woman came into the room and bowed to me. “Greetings, my lady Nefertiti,” she said. “My honored mistress, the king’s Great Royal Wife, requests your presence in the lesser hall of audience so that you may meet her son.”