“Wellll … we did sleep. But not a lot! And we ate fish. I caught one all by myself!” She looked very proud.
“That’s true,” Amenophis said. “I wish you could have seen her, Nefertiti. She’s a little osprey, this one. She waded in the shallows, watched patiently, then … splash! She dropped onto her prey with both hands and came up clutching a fish that was more than half as big as she is.” His severe, chiding manner was gone, and I was pleased to see it go.
“Careful, Amenophis,” I joked. “Ma’at doesn’t make special exceptions for fishing stories. Nava, dear, I hope I will get to see you catch many more fish before this journey’s over. You’ll be able to feed us much better than I. All I’ve got to share with you are these.” I reached into the cloth sling at my waist and handed my friends Idu’s gift of bread. They greeted the small loaves as if they were the finest roast meats at Pharaoh’s table. I was hungry myself, but watching them tear into the bread comforted me nearly as much as having a full stomach. While they ate, I told them of my own adventures since the hippo’s rampage.
I ended my tale by saying, “You don’t need to be concerned about me showing proper respect to the gods, Amenophis. I know what a great debt I owe them for saving me from the hippo, the river, and the old man’s schemes. Even so, meeting one person with a heart as kind and honest as Idu’s is worth ten rescues, and I owe the gods thanks for that as well.”
“I didn’t mean to scold you, Nefertiti.” My friend looked and sounded deeply sorry. “The gods have my thanks, but if I could, I’d give my gold to that young man instead of to them as a reward for all he did for you.”
“For us,” I reminded him. “He steered me onto the right path, the path that brought us back together.”
“And not one instant too soon. We’d given up hope. Nava and I were about to go back to Thebes. I was going to place her in my sister Sitamun’s household for protection and then surrender myself to Thutmose. I didn’t care how harshly he’d punish me.” He sighed. “I didn’t care about anything anymore.”
“Then I’m doubly glad I found you when I did,” I told him. “You must never lose heart, Amenophis. Even if I’d never come back to you, you shouldn’t give up. What your brother tried to do to me wasn’t right—it was an offense against Ma’at—and it was made worse by the fact that he had the priests of Amun in on the plot with him.”
“Priests!” Amenophis exclaimed bitterly. “They’re so fastidious about keeping their bodies clean and pure for the gods, but what does that matter when they value wealth and power more than truth?”
“Then you should learn from their bad example and live better,” I said. “Your brother’s wrongdoing wouldn’t vanish just because I did. It would still be your duty to turn him back to Ma’at’s way so that one day he’ll be worthy to wear Pharaoh’s crown. Even if I died, you would have to—”
“Don’t say that again, Nefertiti.” Amenophis’s eyes pleaded for my silence. “I promise that I’ll do as you say—be brave, go on, help my brother be a better man if I can—but don’t make me think of losing you ever again.”
“Anyway, you’re not fair to Amenophis,” Nava piped up. “He wasn’t going to give up on anything until he saw those men. That’s why we were hiding here.”
“What men?” I asked.
“Soldiers,” Amenophis said, stone-faced. “Armed men from the royal palace. I recognized at least three of them, but there were more, maybe six. We were only a little way upstream when a kind breeze brought me the sound of their feet pounding the ground behind us. Who would need to go running along this side of the river? No one sends messengers to the dead.” He looked southwest, to the golden cliffs that guarded the valley where so many pharaohs lay entombed.
“They weren’t messengers to anyone,” Nava said. “They all had swords, Nefertiti—I saw them!—and some of them had bows and quivers full of arrows. They were hunting us.” She leaned her head against me. “Amenophis dragged me into the rushes before they could see us, but we got to see them when they ran by.” She put her arms around my waist and clung tight.
“I didn’t know they were soldiers at first,” Amenophis said. “I just knew that there was no good reason for a group of men to be racing along this side of the river. The peasants who farm here are too busy working their land. That leaves the men who work on constructing and adorning the royal tombs, and their settlement must be farther downstream or we’d’ve encountered it.”
There are also the men who rob those tombs, I thought. But they wouldn’t be running along the bank, in a group, in broad daylight. Those jackals stick to the dark places and the dark hours. Great Lord Osiris, let your might protect the dead from their greedy and impious hands!
“The gods were gracious to us,” Amenophis said, continuing his story. “I got a good look at the men when they jogged past our hiding place, but they didn’t see us. I thought it might be safe to go on after they were well away. Then I looked again, to the river, and saw—”
“Boats!” Nava broke in. “I saw them, too. Not just the boats we saw when we were on the river together. Those boats got out of the way when these went by, all full of men carrying more weapons, and one boat even bigger than that, with a sail and—”
“Thutmose,” Amenophis said. “He’d send his men ahead in small boats, but he’d never set foot on any ship that wasn’t worthy of Pharaoh. Having others cast nets and set snares for us won’t satisfy him. He has to be part of the hunt or he won’t be able to triumph in the moment of our capture.”
“Then he won’t enjoy anything,” I declared, speaking with a calm certainty I didn’t wholly feel. “There won’t be any capture, and the only triumph will come when he sees us standing safe and secure beside your parents in the holy presence of Hathor herself.”
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