What could I do after that but go back to wrestling with the bow? By the end of our time together that day, I’d gotten it to bend halfway, sending the arrow tumbling to the ground not far from my feet. Then Amenophis took some practice shots of his own. It was incredible how the bow changed him from an ill-assorted collection of knobby joints, spindly limbs, and bulging belly into a noble figure, fit to be included among the royal images at the great temple.
My arms were aching when I came back to my rooms that afternoon, but I didn’t mind. I found Berett beside the long pool, playing her harp for her own pleasure. I sat beside her, paddling my feet in the cool water, and said, “You’ll never guess what I did today.” She looked interested, so I told her all about it. We often had those one-sided conversations. I hoped that if I talked to her enough, the day would come when the countless silly, happy, pleasant, ordinary fragments of life now would beat back the past horror of her sister’s cruel death and let Berett speak once more. I ended my story as I always did, by asking, “And what did you do today, Berett?”
Usually all I got for an answer was a shrug, a smile, a few vague attempts at gestures that told me very little. Berett would mimic the acts of wandering through the women’s quarters, of eating, of drinking, of writing. Sometimes, if she’d seen something remarkable, she’d draw a picture of it in the dirt for me.
This time, everything changed. Instead of her customary gestures, Berett got up, ran into our rooms, and came back with her practice tablet. She wrote out a few lines of clean, precise symbols, then handed it to me.
Now why didn’t we do this earlier? I mused as I took the tablet from her and began to read: My name is not Berett. I am Nava the Habiru. Thank you for being good to me. May the One bless you always. I love you very much.
“Oh, Bere—Nava!” I cried, dropping the tablet and embracing her. “I love you very much, too.”
Even though Nava and I now had a better way of communicating with one another, I didn’t abandon my intention of getting her to talk again. What would help achieve that goal? What could have the power to draw her back into the world of voices? I kept my eyes open, eternally on the alert for some new trick to try.
I found one from an unexpected source: When the season of Harvest was nearly over, Thutmose came seeking me in the women’s quarters, his cat Ta-Miu in his arms.
“Nefertiti, I need you to look after Ta-Miu,” he said, putting the cat in my lap as I sat cross-legged in the shade, playing a game of Hounds and Jackals against myself.
“Well, since you ask so nicely,” I said. It was nearly a full year since I’d met Thutmose, and I no longer bothered to refrain from sarcasm when he annoyed me with his highhanded ways. And why should I hold anything back? Nothing I said or did made any impression on him.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I have important things to do today and I can’t bring her with me.”
“She’s a cat,” I said, as if speaking to an infant. “She’ll be happy roaming the palace until you return.”
“If she wanders free, she’ll be caught. I can’t stand the thought of that happening again.”
“Again? You mean that time your mother used Ta-Miu to make you court me?” He nodded. “Why would she want to do that again?”
“Because you are a stubborn donkey.” Thutmose’s fear for his beloved cat flared up against me. “You know that you’ll have to marry me one day, but you insist on putting it off, making Mother angry, making her blame me when it’s all your fault! We haven’t spent any time together all this season except for when we have to share meals with the family, and she’s noticed.”
“I’ve—I’ve been busy,” I said, praying that he wouldn’t care enough about me to demand details.
“You?” His scorn was poisonous. “Busy with what? Your mirror? Your little songs and dances? I’ve been busy, too, but my time’s been spent on important matters. When I am Pharaoh, I still won’t be safe from those who plot against me. I’ll need strong allies to guard my back from traitors. That’s why I’ve spent so much time with the priests of Amun. They have as much wealth and influence as Pharaoh himself; maybe more. I want that.”
“If they’re so strong, don’t you think it’s foolish to give them even more power?” I said. “Who’s going to rule this realm, Pharaoh or the Amun priests?”
He sneered at me. “Now you sound like Father. He’s tried to cut away some of their influence, and he’s had some success, but ultimately he’ll fail. No man can stand against the supreme god!”
“And you’re talking as if the priests are Amun and not just his servants,” I countered.
Thutmose shook his head. “I knew you couldn’t under stand. Try to grasp this instead—it’s simple enough: If my mother’s agents get their hands on Ta-Miu while I’m away, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together, like before. Except this time, Mother might insist that we stay in each other’s company for as long as it takes to make you accept our marriage now.”
I put my arms around Ta-Miu protectively and kissed the white star that marked her brow. “I won’t let her out of my sight.”
Thutmose was amused. “That’s what I thought.”
I kept my word. There was no way I’d risk being shoved into a renewed “courtship” with him. Fortunately, Ta-Miu was willing to cooperate. The small, spotted cat was very affectionate, soaking up head scratchings and belly rubs like dry earth at the Inundation. She even let me tap her gold ear hoops with my fingertip as long as I atoned for my impudence by feeding her. I sent Kepi to fetch meat from the kitchens and was just giving Ta-Miu the last bite of a baked fish when Berett—I mean Nava —came in.
Those two took an immediate interest in one another. Nava awakened the kitten in Ta-Miu, and soon Thutmose’s cat was bounding all over our rooms, chasing the supple branch Nava had plucked from one of the trees outside. When Thutmose returned to claim his pet, Nava’s sorrow was real.
“You know, if you ever need to leave Ta-Miu again, I’ll be happy to help you,” I told him.