Sphinx's Princess

He gave me a mistrustful look. “Why?”

 

 

“One, she was no trouble. Two, I like to watch her play. And three, we both know why no one else will guard her as faithfully as I will.” I crossed my arms, challenging him to argue that last point.

 

He couldn’t, and so Nava’s heart was gladdened nearly every day when Thutmose gave us Ta-Miu and went off to his strange business with the priests of Amun.

 

Now that the cat was a frequent visitor, I decided to try to use her as a means to coax Nava out of her silence. The child had gone almost a full year without speaking. I thought that was long enough. As we sat together one afternoon, I casually said, “Ta-Miu is such a pretty cat, but do you think she’s smart?”

 

Nava stopped feeding the cat—she was always feeding the cat, who was beginning to look like a fur-covered cheese ball—and nodded emphatically.

 

“Really?” I acted surprised. “But … how do you know? They’re sacred animals, yes, but so are some fish, and how smart are they? A dog will come when you call him, do what you tell him to do, answer to his name. It’s why we do give dogs special names, but not cats. They’re all called ‘cat’ or ‘she-cat,’ because it’s a waste of time naming a creature that doesn’t come when you call it. I knew at least twenty Mius and Ta-Mius back in Akhmin, and not one of them understood a single word you said to them.”

 

Nava glared at me and shook her head again, with more vigor. Then she looked left and right, on the hunt for something.

 

“You don’t have to fetch your practice tablet, dear one,” I said mildly. “You could fill line after line with your opinions and I still wouldn’t be convinced. It will take proof I can see and hear to make me believe Ta-Miu is as smart as you think.” With that, I left the two of them alone in the safety of our rooms. I didn’t know if I’d succeeded in using Nava’s devotion to Ta-Miu to plant a good seed or a speck of dust. I hoped I’d stirred her up enough so that she’d find her voice again, if only to call out a cat’s name and show me I was wrong.

 

I made a lot of noise as I left, then stole back to our doorway to eavesdrop, silently praying that there would soon be something to overhear. The day was warm and still, with most of the inhabitants of the women’s quarters taking their midafternoon sleep. A child’s fretful cry drifted across the garden and was soon hushed. Ta-Miu’s purr from inside my apartments was loud.

 

Then I heard something else come from that room. Faint, tremulous, and hoarse, it was the tentative sound of someone clearing her throat. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and prayed.

 

“There you are!” Thutmose’s voice boomed in my ears, drowning all other sounds. He grabbed me by the shoulders from behind, spun me around, and pushed my back against the wall. His jaw was clenched, his face bloodless with rage. “Traitor,” he rasped. The fingers of one hand dug painfully deep into my arm, the other shook a piece of broken pottery under my nose. I glimpsed a thread of writing, but I could only catch sight of a few of the words—“… meet me again …”

 

“Let me go,” I growled, giving Thutmose scowl for scowl. His grip didn’t slacken. “I said, let me go!” I shouted, and kicked his leg as hard as I could. My own legs were strong from many years of dance and from learning how to stand solidly balanced in a moving chariot. My heel struck his knee with all the force in me. He howled in pain and let me go.

 

“Don’t ever touch me again!” I shouted.

 

“You dare to tell me —?” Thutmose gasped, indignation overcoming pain. “After what you’ve been doing? I ought to—”

 

“Be quiet,” I said, dropping my voice abruptly. I held up a warning hand, laid one finger to my lips, and looked at Thutmose meaningly. “Listen.” My skin was prickling; I felt a host of curious eyes peering at the scene the two of us were making. The midday peace of the women’s quarters had become a low hum of many voices, a windstorm of whispers.

 

He looked around. Though no one else was in sight, he, too, could sense the hidden watchers. “In there,” he snarled, and dragged me into my own rooms before I could stop him from laying hands on me a second time.

 

We stood facing each other in the outer chamber. Nava and Ta-Miu were nowhere to be seen. They’d remained in the inner room, and after hearing Thutmose’s outburst— the blessed dead could have heard that!—the two of them were probably hiding under my bed. I folded my arms. “Well done, Thutmose,” I said. “You just made a fool of yourself in front of all of your father’s women. And over nothing.”

 

“This is not nothing.” He waved the shard. “I caught my miserable brother in the act of writing this. The palace teems with people continually conspiring to rob me of what’s mine, rightfully mine, and Amenophis knows it. It’s been that way since I was born. Why must he be like them? Why is he trying to steal you away from me?”

 

“And why are you making me sound like a pair of earrings or a box of incense or—or a slave?” I returned. “I can’t be owned or given or stolen. Even if I could, your brother would never—”

 

“Don’t try denying that this is meant for you. Your name is here for anyone to read.” He threw the pottery fragment in my face.