Queen of the Heavens Read online

  The servant helped me into a tight-fitting dress and mantel of white linen. I also donned an overdress of pleated linen as fine as a mist, which I bound at the waist with a golden sash that dropped nearly to the ground. Standing behind me, Tamit placed a wig atop my head, and atop that a cone of ox tallow that would release the sensuous odor of jasmine throughout the day as it softened in the heat.

  I slipped on several bracelets of finely tooled gold and copper, and fastened to my lobes golden earrings studded with amethyst. Around my neck, I placed a beaded collar that included much turquoise, and on my fingers several rings, including one carved from alabaster in the form of a scarab. Most of these adornments had been given to Mother by Father and lent to me for this occasion. The earrings, though, had been in Mother’s family for generations, and passed down by the women. Someday they would belong to me, and then to one of my daughters.

  Finally, Tamit fastened a delicate cord around my neck that held an icon of Isis with wings. It was made of silver, which was three times more valuable than gold. The talisman had been presented to me by a wealthy landowner in gratitude for a healing I had performed on his son.

  “It is good that you wear the image of Isis,” Tamit said. “She will bring you many blessings.”

  I slipped on leather sandals, walked outside and faced the dawn. Rays from the sun god Ra warmed and invigorated my body. At my heart center I felt a flutter, as if Isis were moving her wings so that we might soar together into the heavens.

  By this time, Mother was up and about. Her clothing was similar to mine, but she appeared drab by comparison.

  “You’ve loaned me your best jewelry,” I commented to her as we sat down at a small table in the garden for a morning meal of melon and bread. “Are you sure you wish to do this? You, too, will be meeting the Vizier Ramesses.”

  “Don’t be concerned,” Mother replied. “You, not I, should be the center of attention. You look radiant.”

  “How could I not, with all the beautiful adornments I’m wearing?”

  “It’s not the jewelry. Your beauty comes from within.”

  “It is the beauty of Isis that you see, Mother.”

  A detail of soldiers arrived soon after we finished our meal. An officer escorted Mother and me to a large, statley chariot drawn by two magnificent horses, one white and another speckled gray. I walked with my head high, feeling quite regal, and took my place in the back of the conveyance opposite Mother and behind our officer escort, who served also as charioteer. We proceeded at a quick pace through the garden gate with six spear-carrying foot soldiers hurrying behind us. Fortunately for those afoot, the journey was not a long one.

  We entered the palace grounds through the main gate and proceeded along a limestone path, past colossal buildings covered with brightly colored frescoes depicting stories of the gods and great military victories of Pharaohs. The royal gardens, groomed to perfection, humbled the beautiful garden at my home that I had grown to love so much. Father awaited us in front of the largest building of the palace complex.

  “You are most beautiful today, Tuya,” Father said as he took my hand and helped me from the chariot. He assisted Mother in the same way. Father wore his finest kilt, and a cloak onto which he had fastened three golden flies, which attested to his prowess at “stinging” foes in battle.

  “I’m pleased you are wearing your decorations,” I said. “Ramesses should know of your bravery.”

  With the officer in the lead, Father behind him, and Mother and me side by side behind Father, we climbed the steps of the building and entered the main corridor. Sunlight poured through openings in the ceiling onto a rectangular pool in which ibises and ducks, and even a heron, waded among lotus and papyrus. Grapevines climbed trellises, and birds fluttered and sang high above. As I walked past the mural walls and dozens of brightly painted wooden columns, I resisted the urge to gawk. Though awed by my surroundings, I innately knew this was where I belonged.

  We stopped before a huge wooden door. A guard opened it a crack and the officer exchanged words with someone on the other side. Within moments, the guard opened the door fully, and the old emissary who had come to our home beckoned us to pass through.

  “Before you sits the exalted Ramesses, Vizier of Egypt,” the emissary said to us in a loud voice.

  Ramesses leaned back in a large black and gilt chair located on a dais. My parents and I walked forward. Standing abreast of each other with me in the middle, we bowed from the waist.

  “This is Raia, an officer of the Royal Guard,” the emissary said to Ramesses. “He is accompanied by his wife Ruia and their daughter Tuya.”

  Ramesses, wearing the simple white vestment of a Vizier that reached from his chest to the floor, rose and walked down the three steps to me. He put his right hand on my chin, lifted my head and looked directly into my eyes.

  “So you are the healer I’ve heard so much about,” Ramesses said.

  “I am honored to be in your presence,” I replied, staring up at a man a head taller than I. Ramesses, wearing a wig but little jewelry, was older than Father. His skin had lost its luster, but there was an air of great dignity about him, and great energy. Kindness, too, seemed to flow from his dark brown, deep-set eyes.

  “My aide did not mislead me. You are quite beautiful,” he continued.

  “Thank you, My Lord.”

  Ramesses returned to his chair and sat down. “I’ve been told you speak with Isis. Is this so?”

  I did much more than speak with the Queen of the Heavens. Isis dwelled within me, but I remembered Maya’s warning from years before that I should not tell this to anyone, lest they think me possessed not by a goddess, but by a demon.

  “Yes,” I answered, telling the truth, but not all of it.

  “How do I know this is so?”

  “I’ve performed miraculous healings, far greater than those accomplished by the finest physicians. How could I have done this without Isis’ assistance?”

  “A good point, Tuya. Do you know why you are here?”

  “You’re looking for a wife for your son.”

  “Would you like to be his wife?”

  “Is it not the wish of every woman to be the wife of the man who will be Pharaoh?”

  “Pharaoh? I’m but a Vizier. My son Sety is not in line for the throne.”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  Ramesses smiled. “You’re well-versed in Egypt’s politics, Tuya. Tell me about Isis. Have you always spoken with the goddess?”

  “Not always. Some years ago, I visited the realm of the Neters and first met her there.”

  “You’re most fortunate. Did you see other gods and goddesses as well?”

  “Yes. Ptah and Sekhmet. Anubis and Hathor. Horus, Thoth and others. They all greeted me.”

  Ramesses looked at Father. “Is this true?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Father answered. “Tuya entered a trance for three days and we feared for her life. When she awoke, she told us of her journey. Some time later, she began performing healings.”

  “Would Isis approve of your marrying my son?” Ramesses asked me.

  “Undoubtedly she would.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “Isis is Queen of the Heavens. She would want me to know as well what it is like to be a Queen.”

  “Tuya is an intelligent young woman,” Ramesses said to Father.

  “She’s educated, too,” Father replied. “Tuya knows how to read and write, and she’s quite accomplished at playing the harp and sistrum.”

  “She’s also stunning in appearance, which my son would most appreciate. Bring in Sety,” Ramesses said to a guard, who opened the door to an anteroom.

  My breath left me as a young man, bare-chested and wearing a kilt, short wig and golden bracelets, entered the great hall. The muscles of his arms and legs looked as if they had been carved by an artisan from stone. He was taller than Ramesses, handsome and in command, the very essence of a warrior. His eyes, surrounded by black
paint made from kohl, were deep-set and brown like his father’s, but from them flowed not kindness, but determination and desire. Energy emanating from him entered through the vortex of my heart center and excited my whole body.

  “Is this to be my wife, Father?” he asked Ramesses.

  “Perhaps,” Ramesses said. “Tuya, meet my son Sety.”

  I bowed at the waist. “I am honored.”

  “As am I,” Sety said. “They tell me you are a healer who talks with Isis.”

  “This is so.”

  “Perhaps you will introduce me to her.”

  “She is closer to you than you think.”

  “Why then do I not I see her?”

  “Perhaps you do but cannot recognize her for who she is.”

  “How could I not recognize the Queen of the Heavens?” he asked, smiling, apparently amused by our banter.

  “Isis can take on different forms,” I answered. “Once she chose to be a kite, and in this form conceived Horus.”

  “Would you conceive a child for me?”

  Sety’s brashness startled me. Though I was being assessed for my suitability for such a task, I didn’t expect to be asked about it so abruptly.

  “It would be my honor,” I answered, with a bit of a stammer.

  “And if I were to become ill, would you heal me?”

  “It is Isis who does the healing. I merely carry out her commands.”

  “Then would Isis heal me?”

  “That would be up to Isis, and to you.”

  Sety looked at his father. “She’s charming.”

  “We will investigate further to see if she is suitable,” Ramesses said. “The astrologers and numerologists must have their say, and there are many fine women who would be a good match for you.”

  “I know, but I like this one,” Sety continued. “She has a certain fire in her, and she’s quite beautiful.”

  Ramesses looked at Father. “Your daughter appears to be a fine young woman. I commend you and your wife for bringing her up so well. My aides will be in contact with you.”

  “I am at your service,” Father said as he bowed deeply to the Vizier.

  Mother and I also bowed. As the three of us were leaving, Sety spoke: “Tuya. If you become my wife what would you like as a marriage gift?”

  “I turned toward Sety and without hesitation answered: “A temple for healing in which Isis can do her work.”

  “You ask for a great deal. I’d have to be Pharaoh to afford such a gift.”

  “I will wait, and so will Isis.”

  Sety laughed. “All right, Tuya, but if I build a temple in which Isis can work her miracles it will be dedicated to her beloved Osiris, for Isis worshipped him as you will worship me.”

  I bristled at Sety’s words. I, who had Isis within her, was the one to be worshipped.

  “As you wish,” I said, straining to maintain my composure as I left the hall.

  In the days following the audience at the palace, I found it difficult to still my mind. Part of me longed for the carefree time of childhood, but my body had matured and so had my desires, and I thought constantly of the handsome and virile Sety. I even found his brashness and arrogance appealing, for they would make life with him a challenge, and I relished challenges.

  Father had been summoned by Ramesses’ aides several times to answer questions about me, our family history, and the status of our land holdings. Because of this, I became quite confident I would be chosen to marry Sety.

  As the days turned into months, however, my confidence gave way to doubt and then to despair. The Pharaoh and his courtiers had left Memphis for Thebes, the capital of Upper Egypt, as they did each year when the cooler weather arrived. Were I to be Sety’s consort, I surmised, Ramesses would have notified Father before departing.

  How foolish I was to think so much. After a walk one morning on the riverbank in which I attempted to consign my sadness to the waters of the Nile, I returned home to find the old emissary in the garden talking with Mother.

  “I have good news, Tuya,” he said as I approached. “Your numbers and stars align well with Sety’s. Ramesses has sent a message from Thebes. If an adequate dowry can be agreed upon, you and his son are to become husband and wife.”

  The emissary’s words left me speechless.

  “Tuya. Are you not pleased?” Mother asked, but I did not answer.

  My life is yours, Isis. I said silently. All is divine perfection. All is as it should be.

  VIII

  A few days later, Father walked through the gate of our home and saw me sitting by the lotus pond. “It’s done,” he announced. “The old emissary and I have agreed upon your dowry.”

  “What did you offer?” I asked.

  “Much grain, a herd of goats, and several oxen. I’ll personally take a measure of gold the size of my fist to Ramesses in Thebes. The old emissary was more than fair in negotiating for the Vizier. He could have asked for silver instead of gold and I would have given it gladly. Obviously, Ramesses wants you in his family.”

  “You’ll be coming with me to Thebes?” I inquired, surprised and delighted by the prospect. I had assumed I would be traveling alone to be with my husband, and did not look forward to a journey up the Nile without friends or family to comfort and reassure me.

  “Both your Mother and I will be going with you. We’ve all been invited to the great celebration honoring the twentieth year of Lord Harenhab’s reign,” Father said proudly.

  “The Pharaoh would invite us to his celebration?” I asked.

  Father smiled. “You’re marrying the son of a Vizier, Tuya. Accept your new status. Not only has the Pharaoh invited us, he’s supplying a palace boat for our voyage.”

  “A palace boat!” I exclaimed. I had seen the magnificent vessels on the Nile but never imagined that someday I’d be traveling in one.

  “Obviously Lord Harenhab is taking great interest in this marriage, and why wouldn’t he? He expects you to be Queen someday,” Father said as he walked toward the house. “I must tell Ruia the good news. We need to start preparing for our trip immediately.”

  The following day, I began packing my clothing, jewelry, wigs and oils in a trunk. I wrapped the statues of Sekhmet and Isis in linen and placed them in the trunk as well. In rummaging through my possessions I came across my dolls and a toy lioness I had played with as a child. The lioness had a hinged lower jaw that opened and closed when I pulled on a string protruding from its head.

  I’ll give the dolls to the child of a servant, but the lioness comes with me. I’ll never be too old to play with her, I said to myself. I pulled on the string and its mouth closed. I let go and it opened. I smiled, and imitated a gentle growl. “May I go through life with the power of a lioness,” I whispered. “I’ll need such power as Queen.”

  Later in the day, a woman who made clothes for the royal court came to our home to take Mother’s and my measurements for new dresses.

  “My daughter is to marry Sety, son of the Vizier Ramesses,” Mother boasted to the woman. “We’ll be traveling to Thebes in a few days for the great anniversary celebration for Lord Harenhab and we must have the dresses by then.”

  The clothes maker raised her eyebrows. “I’ll work into the night, if necessary, to make certain they are finished on time. I wish to please such worthy patrons.”

  “The garments must be of the finest linen,” Mother said.

  “I work only with the best materials.”

  “The dresses must have many pleats,” I added.

  “Of course, my dear, and the pleats’ edges will be as sharp as obsidian blades.”

  “You’ll be the most beautiful woman at the celebration, Tuya,” Mother said.

  “Yes, she will,” the clothes maker noted, “but don’t underestimate yourself. You, too, have the beauty to turn heads at court.”

  Mother blushed, but I could tell by her effort to suppress a smile she was more pleased than embarrassed by the comment.

  In the days
just prior to our departure, I made a point of seeking out people to say goodbye.

  “You’re very fortunate to be marrying the son of a Vizier,” my friend Peshet said when I stopped at her home.

  “I know,” I replied. “Sety is very handsome.”

  “He’s also very rich,” Peshet commented with a note of envy and a hint of bitterness in her voice. “I’ve been betrothed to Ibana, the scribe’s son. He’s studying to be a scribe like his father.”

  “Scribes are important people. You’ll live well.”

  “He’s not the handsome son of a Vizier. Ibana is the boy we used to laugh about because we thought he looked like a toad.”

  He also was the boy I feared my parents would choose as a husband for me.

  “I’m sure Ibana will love you very much, and you’ll be happy together,” I said, silently thanking Isis for sparing me from the fate that had befallen my friend. “I’ll miss you,” I continued as I prepared to leave. “I’ll see you when I return from Thebes.”

  “No you won’t, Tuya. You’ll be too busy in the royal court. You won’t have anything to do with me.”

  “That’s not so. You’ll always be my friend,” I assured Peshet. As I walked home, though, I wondered whether I would ever see her again. I was leaving for a new life, far different from the old one, and I sensed the friends of my childhood would not be a part of it.

  The next morning, Pentu came to instruct me in hieroglyphs.

  “This will be my final lesson with you,” I told him as I opened my writing box. “Soon I leave for Thebes to be with my husband Sety, the son of the Vizier Ramesses.”

  “I know,” the old scribe said. “Your Father told me. This may be your last lesson, but you will pay attention as if it were your first. I have no intention of wasting my time with a young woman who’s thinking of her new husband instead of her studies.”

  Can’t this angry old man ever say a kind word to me? I asked myself. He has taught me much, but soon I’ll be free of him!

  Pentu began by speaking words and phrases and having me write them on ostraca. He would then look at my work to correct the mistakes, but there were none. I seldom made mistakes. After that, Pentu had me read a sad story from a scroll of lamentations written in ancient times, when the gods withdrew their favor from Egypt and the country fell into disarray for many years. Pentu loved the lamentations because he thought they were so well written and their messages so powerful, but I found them depressing.