“Ah, the first is Heket, who protects women in childbirth, and the second, that’s Taweret. Very few creatures are fiercer, more protective mothers than hippos. You must never go near them, young mistress.”
“I know that,” I said stiffly. “I’m not a baby.” I cast a look back to where Mery was cradling my new sister and felt a pang of envy. Now that she’s here, will Mery still love me?
“Of course you’re no baby, young mistress.” The younger midwife was done with her chores, so she knelt beside me and pointed to a very strange image, a brick with the head of a woman. “See this? This is Meskhenet, goddess of the birthing bricks themselves. All of them had the power to keep demons at bay, shielding mothers in childbirth and their babies.”
I dared to trace the outline of Taweret, with her strong arms, bulging belly, and crowned hippo’s head. “Are they good at it?” I asked.
“What a question, young mistress!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the young midwife clutch the amulet around her neck. “They are gods!”
Then why did my mother die when I was born? I wondered. But I didn’t ask that out loud. I knew better. It was a very great sin to question the gods. It could bring horrible misfortune crashing down on your head in this life and condemn your heart to being devoured by a monster after you died. I loved Isis because she was beautiful, and the stories Mery told me about her proved she was also brave and clever—everything I wanted to be and feared I never would—but the other gods made me uneasy. Every morning when I stood with Father and Mery to offer up our family prayers, I felt as if I were giving honey cakes to a gang of bullies, hoping they would accept the bribe and leave me alone.
“Nefertiti, sit with me, please.” Mery patted a place beside her and the baby. I clambered onto the bed, happy to be near her and to feel her fingers twirling my lone lock of hair the way she always did. “You are a very lucky girl, do you know that?” she said. “The gods favor you. They gave you the gift of meeting little Mutnodjmet even before your father does.”
That was true. Father had left the house even before breakfast, because he had some unknown, grown-up business to discuss with the chief priest of Amun’s temple. Still, I had to ask: “Why is that a gift? What can I do with it?”
“It’s a good gift because it gives you a great power over your sister: the power to give her a name.”
“She has a name!” I protested. “You gave it to her.”
“Yes, but I don’t want everyone calling her by that name. Names are magic. When Isis used her wits to learn the secret name of Ra, the almighty sun-god, she became as great as he! You and I need to protect this baby until she’s old enough and strong enough to carry the name I gave her. Until then, she needs to be called something else, to keep her safe from evil spirits who could harm her if they knew her true name.” Mery let go of my youth-lock and stroked my cheek. “Will you do this for my baby? Will you give her a good name?”
So that was how I became the one to call my sister Bit-Bit, which means a double helping of honey. When Father came home from the temple and heard the name I’d chosen, he praised me. “Mut-is-the-sweet-one and honey is the sweetest thing I know. You’re a very clever girl, my little kitten.”
I shrugged. “I just like honey. Besides, she’s too puny to have a big name.”
“That will change,” he replied. “Meanwhile, so you’ll like your sister as much as you like honey, I’m going to give you a double portion of the best honey under this roof, right now. Does that please you?”
I nodded vigorously. “I’m glad I didn’t name her Penu,” I said. (And I almost had named her Mouse because she was so small.) “Even if you call me Kitten all the time, I’d never want to eat that.”
The days passed and Bit-Bit grew quickly. She was a sweet-tempered baby, even when her teeth began to come in. Every time I was allowed to hold her, she smiled at me and patted my face with her tiny, chubby hands. Soon I was begging Mery to let me take care of her every day, and though it got harder and harder for me to carry her as she grew, I refused to give up the right to take my baby sister everywhere. My playmates saw less and less of me. When Mery finally insisted I spend time with someone besides Bit-Bit, they snubbed me because I’d ignored them for so long. I didn’t care. I still had Bit-Bit.
One day, when Bit-Bit was old enough to walk and could even run a little, we were playing on a shaded bench in the covered walkway that faced the garden. It was the hottest part of the day, when the sun-god Ra blazed most fiercely.
“I’d better rub some oil on your skin, Bit-Bit,” I told her. “Otherwise you’ll dry up and blow away.” But when I came back from the kitchen with the olive oil, Bit-Bit was hiding under the bench, and when I tried to put the oil on her, she squirmed out of my slippery grasp and took off. One of the servants must have left the garden gate unlatched, because before I knew what was happening, she’d pushed it open and was toddling swiftly down the street outside our house.
I raced after her. It was easy enough for me to catch up to her, running along on her plump little legs, but the instant before I could snatch her up, I heard her let out a horrible yowl. She sat down hard on her bare bottom, arms and legs flailing, and her cries rose to a shrill shriek of terror.
“Bit-Bit, what’s the matter?” I cried, throwing my arms around my sister. Then I saw it.