When Sitamun said Canaanites, Nava pricked up her ears, then began scribbling madly on her tablet. When she was done, she urged us to read it: My people are Habiru. We come from Canaan. My sister told me so. I want to see my people.
Sitamun didn’t understand why Nava would make such a request. “These Canaanites aren’t your people, Nava. I think they might be Amorites or something, not Habiru.” But Nava insisted, tapping the last sentence on her tablet repeatedly, her eyes pleading.
We decided to give her what she wanted. What harm would it do? As royal princesses, Sitamun and I were free to attend the ambassadors’ reception with as many personal attendants as we liked. That was how I happened to be present when Pharaoh made the announcement that this would be the last court event for some time to come.
I’d heard him address the assembled nobles, priests, and petitioners before. I knew he would speak to them in the affected, artificial style that tradition demanded on such occasions. When he spoke so pompously it always made me want to giggle, because Pharaoh himself was one the most down-to-earth people I knew. Since it would never do for a princess to giggle when Pharaoh spoke, I prepared myself to keep a straight face.
I couldn’t prepare myself for what I heard him say: “It is my will to travel to Dendera, to the holy temple of Hathor, the Golden One, the Lady of Life and Beauty, there to worship the goddess for the blessings I have accepted from her. It is likewise my will to depart tomorrow, accompanied by my beloved Great Royal Wife, Queen Tiye. Because of the love I have for him, my son the crown prince Thutmose will be my eyes, my ears, my hands, and my mouth here in Thebes until I return. When he speaks, hear my voice! So will it be.”
I smothered a gasp. Thutmose to reign here, in Pharaoh’s place? O Isis, no! I stole a glance at the crown prince, who was ascending the steps of the throne to stand beside his father. He was grinning like a crocodile.
Pharaoh Amenhotep and my aunt Tiye departed for Dendera the following morning. The royal ship that would take them there was twice as sumptuous as the one that had carried me to Thebes. Even the oars were gilded, and the cabin in the shadow of the towering mast was a finer shelter than many common people’s houses. I stood under a blue and gold striped canopy on the dock, watching as the helmsman turned the ship’s prow into the current. The painted sail remained furled; the wind wasn’t favorable for a downstream journey. Even though the current was on their side, the sailors had to man the oars if they hoped to make any significant progress.
The ship seemed to take an eternity to pass from sight. Thutmose had commanded that all of his sisters, his brother, and I witness Pharaoh’s departure. We were ordered to remain standing where we were until the royal ship was truly gone. My legs ached. Sweat trickled down my spine and my mouth became parched. I could hear the priests of Amun chanting prayers for a safe journey, but when I tried to turn my head to see them, a strong hand closed on my shoulder.
“Show respect for your Pharaoh, Nefertiti,” Thutmose said, his voice making my skin creep. I tried to edge away from his touch, but his fingers tightened. “Respect,” he repeated.
When we were finally permitted to leave, I took off as if a pack of hyenas were after me. I didn’t stop running until I was back in my rooms, letting the cool shadows calm me. I was all alone. Nava came and went as she liked. She was growing up and growing bolder. It made me happy to see how much more independent she’d become in only one year’s time, but now I was the one who needed somebody to cling to, and I wished she’d been there for me.
“Nefertiti?” I heard Sitamun’s voice calling me from the out room. “Nefertiti, are you in here?”
“Back here, Sitamun!” I called. When she joined me, I sat at the edge of Nava’s small bed and motioned for her to take a seat on mine. We sat facing each other in silence for some time.
Finally Sitamun took a deep breath and said, “Well, little sister, are you planning to spend the rest of your days hiding away in here?”
“Just until Pharaoh comes back from Dendera,” I replied with a smile. “Please remind my servants to shove a plate of food under the bed for me from time to time.”
We laughed. Then Sitamun said, “It’s time for our writing lesson.”
It wasn’t. I gave her a quizzical look but didn’t question her. There was something about her manner that forbade any argument. I gathered up my scribe’s pen case and palette and followed her to our customary rooftop classroom. Nava was already there, bent over her tablet, intently copying words from the papyrus scroll that Henenu held open in front of her. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.
“Greetings, little Seshat. We will begin our lessons soon. While you wait, will you please fix that for us?” He indicated a part of the rooftop where the ropes holding up our shading canopy had come undone. “It’s not a good idea to spend too much time under the burning eyes of Ra.”
I looked at the half-collapsed canopy. “I don’t know if I’m tall enough to reach that.”
“Well, I’m certainly not,” the little scribe joked.
“Sitamun is taller than—”
“It’s no job for Pharaoh’s daughter. Try.”
More puzzled than before, I went to examine the fallen canopy. As I lifted one corner of it, a hand darted out of the shadows and clasped mine.
“Ah!” My cry of surprise was answered with an urgent shushing noise from under the folds of cloth. Amenophis huddled against the wall, motioning frantically for me to be quiet. I ducked under the makeshift shelter and crouched beside him. “So you’re my writing lesson,” I said, so very glad to see him.