Princess of Egypt (The Mummifier's Daughter) (Volume 2) Read online

  Princess of Egypt

  A Novel Set in Ancient Egypt

  NATHANIEL BURNS

  Heiken Marketing

  Copyright © 2013 by Nathaniel Burns

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Heiken Marketing

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Lorenzo Di Mauro

  "King of Kings am I, Ramesses. If anyone would know how great I am and where I lie, let him surpass one of my works."

  ― Ramesses II

  A BROWN FISH EAGLE hovers in the cloudless sky, its wingtips playing in the breeze as it floats almost motionlessly above the Nile, waiting for the fish to surface. Below, crocodiles sun themselves in the morning sun as wild Egyptian geese and white cranes wade through the reeds in search of insects and plant bits.

  Water splashes against the sides of the wooden bark as the river’s current conveys it on the final leg of its journey toward the new capital city, having departed from Memphis at first light.

  Neti breathed a sigh of relief. Their journey had taken longer than she had anticipated, with a string of delays having hampered their progress; the mayor’s failed escape attempt and the subsequent loading and off-loading of the bark had only served to irritate her.

  She stood as far up the prow as she could and gazed out over the water. Her white slip moved gently in the slight breeze and provided some respite from the oppressive humidity that shrouded the bark. Earlier, there had been children playing along the river’s edge, with women doing their washing. Though the farther they moved into the delta, the fewer humans they encountered.

  Turning to look back at the men, she listened as Pa-Nasi once again complained about his treatment, with the bark’s captain mumbling something vile in response. She, however, only shook her head when she heard something along the lines of “bloodying him and throwing him to the crocodiles.” The captain had not been welcoming of the disgraced Theban mayor and made no attempt to hide his animosity toward Pa-Nasi, which had made the journey to Pi-Ramesses tortuous.

  Neti had opted to remained distant from the men, especially since a few of them had leered at her in an impious fashion. Though they had treated her no differently than any of the others onboard, she preferred to keep to herself.

  Shabaka’s arm was still in a sling, and as she glanced over at him, she could not suppress the strong sense of agitation that came over her. When they had embarked on their journey, she had hoped that his insistence for her to accompany him implied interest. However, since their departure, he had not given her any clear indication of what his intentions were or whether he even had any. Her attraction to him had only grown, and she was uncertain whether it was because of his attentiveness toward her or his insistence that the others should respect her.

  She had on occasion caught him staring at her, appearing to be deep in thought, and though she knew she was different from the other women in Thebes and that her origins could not be fully traced, she had hoped he would at least look past that. She was not obtuse; she knew he held a position of rank, which alone implied that he derived from upper class descent, possibly close to the pharaoh.

  He appeared more at ease the closer they came to the new city, and it gave Neti a lingering suspicion that not everything was as it appeared.

  In many ways, she was thankful that they were to moor the following afternoon, because she felt an oppressive need to place some distance between them, if only to organize her thoughts, for it was difficult to remain aloof while they shared such a confined space with the others.

  1

  RAMESSES THE GREAT was seated in his assembly hall with all his advisors when the gilded doors opened and a young messenger came running into the hall. The young man dropped down on his knees before the pharaoh and bowed his head, wheezing as he awaited acknowledgement.

  “Yes, Moses, what is it?” the pharaoh calmly spoke, his voice not as strong as it had been all those years ago.

  “My gallant Lord,” the young man spoke between pants, “the bark from Thebes has arrived.”

  Ramesses looked at the young man before speaking. “Are the prefect Shabaka and the embalmer’s daughter on it?”

  With his head still lowered, the young man replied, “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Good.” The word sounded more like a sigh of relief. “Return to the waterfront and inform him that I wish to see both of them, immediately.”

  “Yes, my Lord.” The young man rose from his position and firmly nodded before turning to leave the room. Ramesses watched as the young man set off once again at a hard pace, and for a moment he envied him his youth and vigor.

  “You cannot mean to have her enter here!” an overly obese man close to him said. “You have heard the reports about this woman.”

  “Reports from whom, may I ask, Khay? The very mayor they have captured stealing from me?” Ramesses reproached the vizier. “His word carries no weight anymore. He has proven himself a thief, and we all know that thieves are also liars.”

  “But surely you cannot allow a tainted one to enter the house of a god,” Sahure, the treasury advisor, said, “for it will certainly bring misfortune to the kingdom.”

  “I will do as I like. This is my home you speak of, thus my wish to have her here. So I will not care for another word to be spoken about it.”

  Those surrounding Ramesses nodded their heads and looked among themselves, exchanging concerned glances.

  A short while later, the great doors to the hall opened again to admit a small group of people, with two of the palace guards bringing up the rear.

  Ramesses looked them over, his gaze moving from the mayor and the men walking with him to Shabaka and the petite woman who walked next to him. He was taken aback by her appearance, and his gaze remained fixed upon her as they approached him. His mind flirted back to when Maathorneferure had been such a captivating young lady, for she had looked strikingly similar, with the same delicate face and fine lips. However, Neti was still too far from him for him to see her eyes, but he imagined they would be as expressive as Maathorneferure’s. Hittite women were strong, honest, and loyal to their men, and he could understand his prefect’s enthrallment.

  The group came to a halt not far from him, and Shabaka knelt, with Neti-Kerty and the others following his example. The mayor remained defiant until one of the guards smacked him with a staff, and then he too finally sank down to his knee and lowered his head.

  “Rise, my prefect,” Ramesses spoke, “for you have served me well. Word has traveled of your deeds, and of those who have helped you.”

  Shabaka rose and looked at the god-king.

  “You too, Neti-Kerty,” Ramesses said, and he watched as she rose to her full height, almost a full head shorter than Shabaka, and lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were the eyes of her people, clear and expressive.

  His gaze moved toward the mayor, who had attempted to rise only to have the
guard once again push him down.

  “I believe, Shabaka, that you have brought before me the person responsible for the pillage.”

  “From the records we recovered, my Lord, it is apparent that his was the mind behind it.”

  “And the other one?”

  “He escaped capture, my Lord, but they are seeking him.”

  “And I am certain he will be captured,” Ramesses spoke, turning his attention to the mayor. “It appears I may have been deluded by your loyalty, Pa-Nasi, and that I have chosen a quisling and a thief to care for the old city in my absence. For even with the knowledge that disloyalty to either me or Egypt is punishable by death, you have heeded the words of the gods of greed and sloth. You chose to steal from your king, and for that you will be suitably punished.”

  Pa-Nasi made to speak up but was silenced by the guard, who once again whacked him with his staff, harshly commanding “Do not interrupt the Pharaoh!”

  “A charge of defiance shall be added to those of theft and betrayal. And, if found guilty of these charges, you will be flogged forty times before being placed in the lion’s den,” the pharaoh continued, undeterred by the man’s insolence as he turned toward his vizier. “Khay, does he have any kin?”

  “No, my Lord, none that are known of,” the corpulent man replied.

  “Then his punishment will remain on his shoulders alone,” Ramesses concluded, and indicated for the guards to take him and the others away, leaving only Neti and Shabaka before him.

  Once they had left the room, he returned his attention to Shabaka. “My prefect, you spoke of records; I expect you to produce these.”

  “I have handed them to the young slave you sent to meet us.”

  Ramesses nodded in reply. “Yes, he is one of my most loyal,” he said, before turning toward the men gathered around him. “Homer, I know that he would have taken the documents to your office. I want you to go over them and report back to me, tonight.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” a tall, refined man spoke before rising from his seat. “If you will relieve me of my duties here I shall tend to the matter immediately.”

  Ramesses dismissed him before demanding “Where is Nebty? For she will have another to attend,” while he looked at Neti.

  “I have been told that she has left the palace to see to her family,” Khay replied.

  “Then who, pray tell, is tending to my daughter?” Ramesses demanded, turning to look pointedly at the man.

  “One of the palace servants, my Lord,” Neferronpet, Khay’s assistant, replied.

  Ramesses’ gaze returned to Neti. “I apologize, my dear, for not only have the tales of your beauty done you injustice, it seems that the palace is not properly prepared to receive you.”

  Neti remained silent for several moments, glancing at Shabaka before replying “Thank you, my Lord” and inclining her head.

  Ramesses in turn glared at those around him before indicating them to leave. Once the others had left, he released a relieved sigh and turned his attention back to Shabaka and Neti. “They become more bothersome by the day,” he pronounced, and then looked from one to the other, wondering how truthful the rumors of them were.

  He focused his attention on Shabaka. “I trust your family will be happy to see you again,” he said, and as he spoke he noticed how Neti’s body immediately stiffened, the action quickly followed by a startled sideways glance.

  “As I will be to see them,” Shabaka replied sincerely.

  “I expect you desire to return to your quarters and rest after your journey. Therefore I will detain you no longer, but I expect you to join us to break bread this evening.”

  Shabaka lowered his head in acknowledgement. “As you desire, my Lord.”

  “I will have your companion shown to her quarters as soon as a servant arrives.”

  “That will not be needed,” a calm yet firm voice from the side said, causing everyone present to turn and look in its direction. The queen had entered through one of the side doors, dressed in the sheerest white gown Neti had ever seen. Her gold necklace was emblazoned with turquoise stones and a lined sash hung from one shoulder. She gracefully moved farther into the assembly room, as if floating.

  Shabaka quickly dropped down on one knee, and Neti, enthralled by the woman’s presence and carriage, followed her progress as she approached them.

  “Maathorneferure, my queen,” Ramesses said as she came to a halt near Neti. His voice snapped Neti out of her stupor, and she quickly knelt before the queen.

  “My Lord,” the queen replied, and then looked at the woman before her, whom she addressed in her native tongue. But Neti did not respond. She spoke again, this time her tone harsher, and still got no response. “I see you do not speak Nesili,” Maathorneferure spoke finally, causing Neti to look up at her. “Perhaps you have been in Egypt too long to remember any.”

  Neti simply looked at the woman, her uncertainty written clearly across her face.

  “Rise, young one, you are to come with me,” Maathorneferure said gently. “Do not let these men and their ways overawe you.”

  Neti rose from her knee and brushed her slip back into place. She had not had the opportunity to clean up since their arrival, and her appearance was unbefitting the privilege of being the queen’s escort.

  “My queen,” Ramesses spoke as Maathorneferure turned to leave.

  “She will remain in the care of my servants, that way I can forewarn her of the intentions of palace men, and the attentions of a Pharaoh,” Maathorneferure teasingly returned.

  “As if I see any other for you,” Ramesses was quick to riposte.

  “And what of your other wives, you tell them the same?” she playfully challenged him.

  “That I do not, for you are my primary and most loved,” Ramesses professed with his hand over his heart.

  “Be that as it may, I understand your attentions better than most, my Lord,” Maathorneferure quipped teasingly before leading Neti from the room.

  Ramesses turned toward Shabaka once they were alone. “You have chosen well, but I am not certain whether you have yet won her heart or her loyalty. If she is anything like my wife, you will have a difficult time convincing her of your affections.”

  Shabaka nodded before he spoke. “Thank you, my Lord.”

  “I trust you have not told her of your family or your origins.” Shabaka shook his head in reply. “Then I will not demand your presence at court until such time as you have.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Go, rest. You deserve it.”

  2

  SHABAKA released a frustrated sigh as he walked along the newly completed road. The morning sun had already warmed the bricks in the road, and soon enough the temperature would soar. When he had left for Thebes, the masons had only just started to pack the road; its completion only gave credence to the duration of his absence.

  He knew Neti would be safe at the palace; it was not that that irked him. It was the fact that ever since they had left Thebes he had found it difficult to talk to her, difficult to find a common subject to discuss with her. His desire always seemed to override his thoughts, and it made him wonder whether he had indeed done the right thing by bringing her to the new city, especially considering his current destination. He had wanted to show her around the new city, to spend some time with her during her stay, to court her without people breathing down their necks. However, it seemed that he would be denied even that as he made his way to one of the affluent estates.

  He had considered requesting a chariot, for it would have shortened his trip considerably. However, his arm was not yet fully healed and the strain from the horses would have only retarded his recovery. His injury had been another thing that had held him back. He wanted to be fully able when he pursued her, not the fumbling invalid he had recently become.

  He shook his head as he approached the small gathering crowd, for a moment thinking that they were just like the people of Thebes. Only those in Pi-Ramesses did not part for him to pass as
those in Thebes had. He actually had to push his way through the gathered crowd, on several occasions bumping his arm and grunting from the jolt of pain that shot up it.

  The guard on duty let him pass into the estate grounds, and he made his way up to the ostentatious home, glancing about it as he entered. He hoped that whoever was dead had simply died in their sleep, a notion that became probable when another guard directed him toward the main sleeping chamber. He felt a frown form on his forehead at the number of guards present and looked around the room, realizing that in all likelihood it was some highborn citizen and that in accordance with regulations, the cause of his death had to be appraised by a healer, with any possibility for murder dismissed. A heavy sensation settled over his heart when he realized that it was highly unlikely that he would spend time with Neti until the matter had been resolved.

  Even before entering the sleeping chamber he could hear the men inside arguing, and he felt his anger rise. Too many people at the scene would disturb it, and if the man had not succumbed to natural causes, any hope he had of finding his murderer would be eliminated.

  He stepped into the room just as Ptahhotep, one of the high priests, beseeched Ramesses, “My Lord, please reconsider your decision one more time. She is unclean, and the gods will be horribly angered!”

  Shabaka looked past the gathered group, partially listening to their conversation while he attempted to identify the vast unclothed body that lay on the divan, finally recognizing it as the vizier, Khay.

  Ramesses turned to Ptahhotep and fixed him with a hard stare.

  “I must agree with the priest, my Lord,” Sahure, the treasury advisor, added.

  “Disaster will strike the land!” Djet, Sahure’s assistant, proclaimed.

  Ramesses looked at each in turn and then shook his head. “Nonsense!” he angrily replied, brushing their objections aside with a sweeping gesture.