‘Wine!’ Intef shouted. He could hardly make himself heard above the din. He was standing in the crowded courtyard of the Temple of Amun along with half of the population of Thebes.
He grabbed a passing servant by the arm. ‘Get me more wine,’ he demanded. He drained the contents of his cup and handed it to the man. ‘Now!’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said the man, scurrying away.
Intef looked out over the jubilant crowd, which had spilled out of the temple courtyard and into the streets. Never before had there been such a gathering. Sun-baked farmers raised their cups alongside march-weary soldiers. Deadly Nubian mercenaries sang odes to chubby Theban babies. An infantry officer from the late Pharaoh’s army sparred with an archer from Setnakht’s ranks.
It would never have been possible until today. Not only had the battle been averted, but Egypt was united once again. There would be no more bloodshed, no more civil war, and the blood of Rameses the Great Ancestor would live on.
The servant returned to Intef with two cups of wine, one of which Intef downed in a single gulp. He tossed the young man a gold deben—enough gold treasure to pay for a year’s worth of bread. ‘What are you waiting for?’ barked Intef, holding up his empty cup. ‘More.’
Now was not the time to lose himself in drink, yet Intef could not think of what else to do. His dream had finally come true: there would be no more fighting. He could meet his father in the afterlife and finally hold his head up. So why did he feel like the most odious creature on the face of the earth?
Two soldiers approached Intef, clanking their cups together. ‘To the Hero of Thebes!’ they shouted. Intef had to look twice. One man wore the pleated kilt and copper cuffs of an officer in the pharaonic army; the other wore the red armband and tattered rags of Setnakht’s personal guard.
Intef forced a grin, then guzzled down another cup. Until this day, the only time he would have seen such men together was fighting one another on the battlefield.
But that very day, when Setnakht rode out to parlay with the High Priest, a miracle had taken place. The Priest had not only conceded the double crown to Setnakht, he had agreed to give over command of his army right then and there, as long as Setnakht promised to keep him in his position as High Priest of Amun.
General Setnakht had agreed and, when he had announced the news to both armies, he had added that every single man would receive a bonus in pay to celebrate the great news—that Egypt was finally united.
‘Pharaoh Setnakht! Pharaoh Setnakht!’ the men had shouted.
And it was that moment that Setnakht chose to introduce his son’s betrothal. ‘The divine blood of Rameses the Great Ancestor shall be united in marriage today!’
The High Priest had bound the couple’s hands and said the holy words.
‘And you are all invited to the feast!’ Setnakht had shouted.
It was as if after a long drought the sky had opened up and the gods had deluged the people of Egypt with blessings. The cheering had been so loud that it had been heard all the way across the river in Thebes.
Now the two soldiers clapped Intef on the back. The story of Intef’s heroics had already become legend. ‘We heard that you discovered the Princess by listening to a crack in the rock,’ said one soldier.
‘And that you had to fight demons to free her,’ said another.
‘Ha-ha-ha,’ Intef replied. ‘Ho-ho-ho.’
He had no energy to correct them, nor could he bear to lie about his true purpose in the tomb, for the General had sworn him to secrecy.
Hence Intef merely bowed humbly before the soldiers’ praise and drained his cup. Where was that cursed servant?
Another group of soldiers approached, followed by another, and Intef found himself repeating the routine until finally the entire courtyard began to spin.
‘Long live the Hero of Thebes!’ someone shouted and Intef was lifted into the air upon a tall man’s shoulders. ‘Praise for the mighty Beetle!’ another shouted and he seemed to be floating above the crowd.
‘The mighty Beetle!’ they began to chant.
Intef wobbled atop the man’s shoulders, trying to keep his balance. But when Intef opened his mouth to speak, the only thing that came forth was wine. It spewed out of his mouth like a fountain. The drunken crowd roared with laughter as Intef was set back on the ground and a battery of servants came to clean up the mess.
Getting his bearings, Intef found himself annoyingly sober once again. He spotted Ranofer surrounded by a bevy of women. His fellow tomb raider was motioning to Intef. ‘Come here, you drunken fool!’ he shouted. Intef ducked his head and tried to get lost in the crush of bodies.
He spied a platform along the western edge of the courtyard. A large crowd had gathered around it as if awaiting some official address. Next to the platform there was a doorway that appeared to open out to the river.
Keeping his head down, Intef headed towards the doorway. He had almost reached it when he heard a voice sing out atop the platform. ‘Honourable Egyptians, I give you Prince Rameses the Third and his new wife, the Great-Granddaughter of Rameses the Great Ancestor.’
Intef’s heart went into his throat and he studied the ground. They had not even said her name.
‘Intef!’ called a woman’s voice. He looked up and there she was, stepping through the doorway.
‘Aya!’
Following behind her, Rameses caught her by the waist. ‘This way, Wife,’ he said, forcibly turning her body towards the platform. He nodded at Intef, then whisked her up the stairs to the roar of the crowd.
‘To the newlyweds!’ shouted the announcer.
‘To the newlyweds!’ repeated the crowd, erupting into a cacophony of cheers.
Intef darted through the exit and put his hands over his ears. He did not want to hear any more cheers. He had saved many lives that day, but two lives were ruined—hers...and his.
Aya gazed up at the high open windows of the royal bathrooms and imagined she was a bird. She looked down, pretending her feet were talons. The warm bathwater poured across her shoulders and she shook it off, as a bird might shake off its feathers.
Her two young body servants frowned, then began rubbing the soap into her skin. Soon her dust-caked flesh was covered in the mixture of oil and salts.
‘Now the rinse, Princess,’ said the elder of the young women and poured more warm water over her head. Aya watched the water trickle down through the drain in the bath chamber. It was as brown as mud.
‘There was no time to bathe before the wedding,’ Aya explained.
‘Of course,’ said the elder. ‘It must have been a very long day for you, Princess.’
‘What is your name?’ asked Aya.
‘I am Maya,’ said the elder, then nodded to the younger.
‘And I am Meryt,’ said the younger, who was already applying a new layer of oil and salts to Aya’s skin. Maya took up her own handful of soap and started in on Aya’s hair.
It felt strange to submit to the care of servants. In the past, Aya had always been the one to do the scrubbing.
Aya tried to relax and imagine herself alone, but the silence was too large. ‘We were married on the battlefield, you see,’ Aya said by way of filling it.
‘So we heard, Princess,’ said Maya. ‘It must have been exciting!’
Aya smiled, but found she did not know how to respond. ‘Before that Intef and I were many days inside Tausret’s House of Eternity,’ she said instead. ‘The tunnel that we chiselled out was very long.’
The young women exchanged a look.
‘What is it?’ Aya asked. ‘What is the matter?’
‘It was our understanding that you were discovered in Seti’s tomb, not Tausret’s,’ said Maya.
‘And that you were alone,’ said Meryt.
Aya stared at the clear-eyed young women. ‘Apologies, I do not understand.’
‘We were told that the hero Intef chiselled the tunnel from the outside in, not the other way around,’ Meryt said.
‘Ah,’ said Aya. So the story had already been changed. It was not Tausret’s tomb, but Seti’s that would be remembered in the tale. And there would be no account of the pillaging that had taken place, despite Setnakht’s sudden wealth and magnanimity. Tausret herself was central to the story, yet her role in it was already being quietly erased.
Worse, earlier that day when Aya had gently asked her new husband if he would dedicate some royal resources to restoring Tausret’s tomb, he had flatly refused. ‘I am going to move her into Bay’s tomb,’ he had explained. ‘It is smaller and more appropriate for a woman.’
Aya’s mouth had hung open. ‘What will happen to her own tomb?’ she had asked.
‘Oh, it will belong to my father,’ he had said and grinned. ‘Is that not poetic?’
Tausret’s fate was sealed, just as Hatshepsut’s had been. The men who came after her would simply deny her existence. They would not only chisel her name off monuments, they would replace her in her very own tomb.
Aya suppressed a sob.
‘It is normal to be confused, Princess,’ Maya remarked. ‘You have been through such an ordeal.’
‘Soon you will be as good as new,’ Meryt said cheerfully.
Aya smiled, her heart near to bursting with despair. No, she would never be as good as new. Tausret’s tomb was desecrated, her afterlife destroyed, her memory to be erased, and there was no chance to save any of it, for Aya had just been married to the son of Tausret’s enemy.
She had saved lives, but it seemed she had failed her beloved Pharaoh—her mother—once again. The servants could rinse her a thousand times: she would never again be clean.
‘Do not weep, my lady. It is a joyous day,’ said Meryt.
They rinsed Aya once again and soon Aya’s skin was luminous with the sheen of expensive oils and redolent with sweet-smelling perfumes.
‘Here is your bed gown,’ said Maya, passing Aya a nearly translucent garment of fine linen. ‘Is it not lovely?’
Aya stared at the gown without seeing it. Tausret’s commanding voice resounded suddenly inside her heart: Do not become some selfish man’s brood mare.
‘Do you have something else? Something more modest?’ asked Aya. The women exchanged another look. Maya departed, but when she returned, it was not a garment she carried, but a cup. ‘It is the milk of poppy, Princess. It will help you through the night that is to come.’
‘Gratitude,’ Aya said, accepting the cup, but not yet taking a sip. She gazed down at her exposed breasts. ‘May I bring my tunic with me anyway?’ she asked. ‘It will be a comfort to have it near.’
‘Of course,’ said the two women, speaking as one.
They led Aya across a hall and pulled back the beads of a sprawling chamber. ‘Prince Rameses has requested that you wait for him on the bed,’ Maya said, gesturing to a large mattress atop a wooden frame at the centre of the chamber.
Aya did as she was told, setting the milk of poppy on top of a table just beside the bed and her clothing in a discreet corner of the chamber.
A single torch smouldered on its perch near the bed, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Aya waited atop the downy bed mattress in quiet despair. It felt as though she were sinking through the floor.
Any moment Rameses would come through the door and take his husbandly right. And he would do it again and again, without any precaution, until Aya was fat with the heir to the throne. Aya gazed at the cup of poppy milk sitting beside the bed.
Inside her heart, Tausret was nearly shouting now: Do not become some selfish man’s brood mare!
Aya glanced about the sparsely decorated chamber. In a far corner, she spied a brazier and its poker, a fine copper wash basin and matching bedpan, along with numerous chests she assumed to be full of clothes.
Across the chamber there was a small sitting area that included several lounging couches atop a sprawling red carpet. A fine glass table stretched between the couches. It was the stage for a single, long-stemmed rose that had been placed inside an alabaster vase.
Beside the sitting area was a tall curtained window and Aya wandered towards it and stepped between the curtains.
She gazed out at a long, elegant colonnade that meandered past the palace walls and down towards the distant gardens. Where the colonnade disappeared around the bend, Aya spied the lovely river, shimmering beneath a blanket of moonlight. Two guards wandered down the colonnade, moving away from her towards the river. If she sneaked away right now, she might be able to evade their notice. She could dash across the grounds and slip into the river...
She was turning to retrieve her tunic when she heard the sound of laughter outside the door.
She scrambled back to the mattress just as Rameses swept into the chamber, followed by two women clad in little more than beads.
‘Hello, Wife,’ he said, shooting Aya a nod.