Angry, Ramses fought his way into consciousness. He sat upright, forced his breathing to slow, and refused to acknowledge the tears warming his face. His fist slammed against the mattress. Why could he not rid himself of this fearful vision? It unnerved him more than an entire army of Hittites from Kadesh.
Ramses swung his feet over the edge of his bed, letting the coolness of the tile help him waken. He was as foolish as his daughter with her crocodile dreams.
He stretched his arms over his head to release tension in his back. If only this nightmare was as harmless and easily resolved as his daughter’s bad dreams. With a proper sacrifice to the crocodile god Beset, Merit-Amun would sleep peacefully and his Nefertari would no longer worry about their daughter.
But he had made sacrifice upon sacrifice, consulted the priests, and even approached the gods himself. Still the dream came, filling his spirit with corruptness so dank, he awoke gasping for breath.
Ramses motioned away the attending slave and poured water into a goblet. He ignored the trembling of his hands as he drank. He must clear his thoughts. The dream had plagued him every night for ten nights, each dream worse than the previous one. Tonight’s vision had been unbearable. Tonight he had lost…
“Awaken Nefertari and bring her to me.”
The slave bowed and backed away.
Ramses crossed to the window and stared at the sky. The moon taunted him, snickering with its lopsided grin, whispering Ramses’s fear to the numberless stars.
“No!” The sound of his own voice startled him, and he straightened his spine. He, Ramses II, harbored no fear. He was power personified, a mighty warrior, an architect of excellence, a builder of cities and temples. His decisions could never destroy Egypt, nor would he ever allow anyone, anything, any god, to rob him of—
“Ramses, my dear lord, you called for me?”
Nefertari stood before him. As always she had come quickly. She wore neither makeup nor wig and had tossed a drape over her sleeping clothes. He turned, not speaking.
“Did the dreams return to haunt you, Ramses?”
He nodded. She stepped forward, and he wrapped his arms around her, seeking comfort. She was here. She was real. He could feel the coolness of her skin against his sweat-dampened body, could smell the sleepy scent of her breath and hear her murmuring in his ear.
The nightmare lied. Nefertari had not left him for the land of the dead. The crown prince Amunhirkepshef lived, as well as all of his other firstborn sons. His daughters were beautiful. His army—powerful. Egypt thrived.
Nefertari pulled away, and going to a low table, she offered him a plate of sweetmeats.
Appropriate, thought Ramses. She serves me from the plate of life—the ankh plate. Her life is willing service to me. He ran a finger along the length of her neck and recalled the advice he’d heard her give their daughter.
“Ask your husband for everything, and he will give you nothing. Ask him for nothing, and he will give you everything.”
He’d married a woman of wisdom.
“Ramses, what was it this time?”
He shook his head, refusing to voice the horror, unwilling to see again the destruction of Egypt and this dear woman. The loss of this loved one would be unbearable. He would not test the gods, not help them remember their foul pranks.
“Sit with me, Nefertari. Tell me of your day.”
He watched her as she talked. Watched how she tucked her delicate feet beneath her. How could she still be so limber after having borne him four children? Her teeth flashed straight and white when she laughed about something—he wasn’t listening to her words—and her hands curved and fluttered as she spoke.
He cupped her face, searched the soft gold of her eyes, and saw their shadows.
“Nefertari, what troubles your ma’at? Your spirit is uneasy, too.”
“You know me too well, Ramses. Nothing is hidden from you.”
Stroking her neck, he waited.
“Merit-Amun.” A single line marred her forehead. “Her maids tell me that each night she cries out in her sleep and then leaves her bed to walk the halls.” Nefertari twisted her hands together. “She stops at the same place each time, the painting of the crocodile leaving the river.” She paused. “Do you know the one?”
He nodded.
“The next morning she has no memory of her actions.” Nefertari pressed her fingertips against her eyes. “I’ve asked if anything troubles her, but she speaks only of a lost necklace and how she wishes to find it.”
Ramses picked at the puzzle. What did these dreams mean? Could the river be the tears of Isis—she who created the waters? Did that represent sadness or a new creation?
The crocodile in the dream—he might be dangerous, but Taweret, goddess of birth, had a crocodile head. Was there to be a dangerous creation or a sad birth? Ramses looked sharply at his wife.
“Could Merit-Amun be with child?”
“No, my lord. She is watched.”
Ramses pursed his lips. The dream was confusing—even for him, high priest of all the land … and himself a god.
“She has consulted a priest? Made offerings to the gods?”
“Yes, my lord, several times, and the priests cannot agree.”
“If this continues, I will attend to it myself.”
Nefertari smiled and pressed his hand against her face. “You are so good, my lord.”
“Our other children, Nefertari, they are healthy?”
A shadow crossed her face. “Yes, all is well with our children except for Merit-Amun’s dreams.”
“The firstborn sons of my other wives are well also?”
“Yes, beloved. All are happy and content. There is no need for you to worry, dear man.”
“Yet you worry about our daughter?”
“Not her health. Her spirit is troubled. There is still a restlessness roaming within her ka which concerns me.” Nefertari twisted her robe into a knot. “I have prayed to the gods on behalf of her spirit, but the dreams haunt her at night and steal her joy during the days.”
She looked at her husband, and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t understand it, Ramses. All seems peaceful and yet I sense a darkness coming.”
Ramses pulled her closer, thankful for the dim light in the room. She must not see in his eyes anything that would disturb her ka. He must keep her safe. If anything happened to this wife, his true treasure, all the gold of Egypt could not take her place.