Walk with me, O Queen, O Pharaoh! I prayed. Lend me your courage.
We left the pylons behind as we came into the main temple building. I saw a courtyard filled with people—nobles, court officials, representatives of the other gods, their wives and the slaves and servants attending them. To one side stood a platform shaded with an elaborately painted and fringed canopy. I turned to face it and bowed low to Pharaoh, his Great Royal Wife, and the sons and daughters she had given him. I couldn’t think of her as Aunt Tiye in that moment, nor could I look up and see Sitamun as my friend, Thutmose as my enemy, Amenophis as my beloved. They had all come so splendidly arrayed, so dazzling and so dignified that they seemed to belong to some other world. There was also such an air of solemnity, grandeur, and significance lying over the house of the goddess that for a moment I forgot what I’d been told about the trickery at play within these walls. I could almost believe that when I testified to my innocence, it would be Ma’at herself who answered.
My guards stepped back, joining the other soldiers positioned to keep watch over the crowd. A priest came forward and beckoned me to follow him. I was brought to stand inside a circle of white feathers, facing the dark entryway to the goddess’s shrine. The chatter of the crowd dwindled and was gone. The stone walls surrounding us held nothing but a silence.
“Mew!” A cat’s strident cry pierced the stillness, making the crowd murmur nervously. Thutmose has brought Ta-Miu with him, I thought. He’s so smugly certain of how this will turn out that he’s flaunting the very evidence of my innocence. I glanced back at the royal platform and saw him looking at me with a hyena’s grin. He was tasting my doom.
I might not be able to escape your jaws, Thutmose, I thought resolutely, but let’s see if I can’t break a tooth or two for you before that happens.
I turned to the priest and saluted him with reverence. “Shall I speak now?” I asked.
He looked pleased that I’d asked. “First we will invoke the goddess with prayer and song. I will let you know when you should address Ma’at. Know, Lady Nefertiti, that this is not a court of law. You are not here to plead a case but to submit to the verdict of the goddess. She is immortal and all-seeing: She knows every step that brought you into her presence, and she has witnessed every act and every piece of evidence that will decide your guilt or innocence. All that you will do is call out to her for judgment.”
I bowed my head. “When the time is right, I will call out for justice,” I said. I don’t think he heard the difference in my words.
The priest gave me a benevolent look that might have been sincere. “The prayers and songs of praise are long. Would you like me to summon a fan-bearer to attend you, or some slaves to hold a sunshade over you?”
“No, thank you. I’m standing in the presence of the goddess. Let her see that I’m strong enough to stand on my own.”
The priest looked confused for a moment by my response. I think he was expecting me to be a different sort of girl, one who clung to others for help, one who fled from the harsher parts of life. I had endured much worse than having to stand unprotected under the Aten’s life-giving rays, especially so early in the day. If the ceremony were taking place under the unforgiving blast of noon, I would have accepted the priest’s offer of a fan and a sunshade. I was strong, not stupid.
I felt every eye upon me as I stood there, hearing the priests chant the praises of Ma’at, listening to the hymns glorifying the goddess who weighs every human heart. I stood as tall and dignified as I could, keeping my eyes on the gateway to the goddess’s house. Where are you, little priest? I mused. Are you already hiding inside the image of Ma’at, or do you have some other way to make your voice speak for her? What will you say when I finish speaking? Will you demand my death here and now, or will you merely proclaim my guilt and leave the details of my punishment to others? Will you roar with divine rage against me or sigh with regret over my “crimes” before condemning me? And when this is over, will you be proud of what you’ve done?
My legs grew stiff from standing so still for so long. Many of the people in the crowd shared my discomfort; I could hear them muttering and fidgeting. No matter how beautiful the poetry and songs offered to the goddess, they were long. If there was one prayer in everyone’s heart, it was for the priests to be done with all this and get to the event that everyone had come to see.