What will I say? I wondered. Should I say anything at all? How do I address him? What if I trip and fall when I approach him? What if I tear this dress? What if I lose my voice, or squawk, or get the hiccups? What if—? What if—? What if—?
I was so absorbed in reviewing that unending series of humiliating possibilities that I barely noticed when the older woman stepped to one side at a lofty doorway and motioned for me to pass through. I obeyed her without thinking and found myself in a large room, bathed in the glow of dozens of lustrous alabaster oil lamps. A group of musicians sat in the corner to my left, playing sweetly on double flutes, harps, lutes, drums, and tambourines, while a choir of at least nine rich-voiced male singers sang to my right. As soon as they saw me, they stopped.
I almost didn’t notice. My gaze was set on the group of seven people seated straight before me, behind a scattering of low tables covered with food, drink, and flowers. I recognized Aunt Tiye at once. She sat in the second-finest chair, her short wig crowned with a double ostrich plume and a gold disk and horns, so that she looked like the living image of the goddess Hathor. Anyone with eyes would have known her royal husband, whose seat was even grander than hers, although he was more simply dressed. He wore a striking gold pectoral, but no crown, only a wreath of blue flowers like the one Sitamun had given me and that had been destroyed.
Thutmose sat stiffly on a chair between his mother and father, his wig, clothing, and jewelry even more elaborate than Aunt Tiye’s. He’s eating dinner with his family, I mused. Who does he need to impress? Sitamun sat with her four sisters, on stools at Aunt Tiye’s other side. The only other seat I could see in the twinkling light was an empty chair next to Pharaoh. My mouth went dry. I was nervous enough to be meeting the living god; I didn’t know how I’d fare if I had to eat an entire meal with his eyes on me.
“My dear Nefertiti, come to us and be welcome!” Aunt Tiye stood up gracefully and swept her arms wide, as if they were divine wings. I bowed to Pharaoh, then crossed the floor until I stood with one of the short feasting tables between us and bowed again. All of the courage I’d learned from Mahala’s brave and selfless act deserted me. I was a shy little girl again. I didn’t know what to say, and my silence, like the sacred river at the Inundation, seemed to rise and flood the room, drowning me.
Running footsteps and jagged breath cut through the heavy hush. A wheezing voice cried, “I’m sorry! I’m—I’m sorry I’m late, but I had to make something for—Oh! You’re here.”
I raised my head and turned to face Amenophis, his hands quaking as he held out a wreath of flowers. “This is for you.”
Gods, is he out of his mind? I stared at him in disbelief. I thought he was a mouse, and yet here he comes, barging into Pharaoh’s presence. And for this? Aunt Tiye’s going to have him whipped, or worse!
“Um … thank you,” I said, and in a whisper added: “You should go now. Really.” I took the wreath and tried to put it on my head, but I was so worried about the punishment in store for poor, frail, crazy Amenophis that I wound up with a loop of flowers tilted over one eye. Sitamun’s sisters tittered and I heard Aunt Tiye muttering darkly.
But Pharaoh laughed. “Would you look at that? She’s even beautiful when she doesn’t look perfect! Ah, Tiye, what a treasure you’ve brought back to us. Amenophis, don’t just stand there like a plucked goose; help your brother’s bride!”
“Yes, Father.” Amenophis carefully adjusted the wreath so that it sat properly on my hair. “Is that all right?” he asked me in quiet voice.
I couldn’t say a word. My shock was so total that I couldn’t even make a sound—no, not even if a jackal had been gnawing on my leg! The words your brother’s bride and yes, Father resounded through my head like the throb of a giant drum. I was still speechless when Amenophis took me by the arm and led me to my place before taking the empty chair for himself. I was seated on a stool at Thutmose’s feet. I hadn’t noticed it at first because it was hidden by the feasting table.
Somehow I got through that dinner. The food was delicious, but I ate sparingly, still dealing with the revelation that my timid, awkward “servant” was actually the crown prince’s younger brother. I kept darting incredulous glances at him throughout the meal. Pharaoh was tall and muscular, a good-looking man with a hearty voice who looked ready to take on the whole world just for the fun of it. My aunt was dainty and attractive. The gods had given Thutmose and Sitamun the best parts of their parents’ looks, and the other four princesses were pretty girls. Homely, rawboned Amenophis didn’t fit in at all.
I was thankful when Pharaoh took one last mouthful of honey cake and stood up, the signal that the meal was over. “I hope you will be happy with us, Nefertiti,” he said while the servants and slaves scurried to clear away the dishes and the tables and the entertainers bowed low and vanished from the hall. “We didn’t speak much tonight, but you’re tired from your journey here. You and I will have plenty of time to talk in the future. Would that please you?” All I could do was nod.