The Twelfth Transforming by Pauline Gedge Read Free Book Online Page A

Mitanni left his cushions and strode to the foot of the dais, a thin, dignified man with white hair and stooped shoulders. He prostrated himself with ease and remained with his face to the cool tiling, and Tiye felt in her own body the drawing in of her husband’s frail resources before he spoke.
    “Mani, lover of the gods and true servant of Egypt,” he said at last, forcing his voice to ring out, deep and commanding, over the company. “For the skill and devotion with which you have carried out your duties, and as a sign of our continued approval, I award to you the Gold of Favors. Rise.”
    Mani did so, holding out his hands as Pharaoh began to strip himself of the jewelry that bedecked him, tossing each piece to the unsmiling man. Bracelets, rings, earrings, the heavy gold pectoral showered onto the tiles, clinking and rattling. Mani bowed. The people began to shout. Amunhotep disinterestedly signaled to his servants and left the dais. Tiye nodded at Kheruef, who approached Tadukhipa with smiles and a firm indication that she should also leave.
    “Have you had word yet from Memphis?” Sitamun asked.
    Tiye tore her eyes from the sight of her husband striving to remain erect as he shuffled through the doors of the hall. “No, only a communication from the Nile patrol to the effect that Horemheb and the prince arrived safely.”
    Sitamun emptied her goblet and, wiping a hand across her oil-smeared breasts, pulled down a ringlet from her wig and began to work the oil into it. “I think that when the river begins to sink, I will accompany Nefertiti to Memphis,” she said, not looking at her mother. “It will be a pleasant change. I always try to be close to my estates when the grapes begin to bud so that I may have some idea of what harvest to expect. One cannot trust even one’s stewards, as you know. In any case, I have three ships being built in the Memphis shipyard, and I want to be present when they are launched.”
    Tiye leaned slowly toward Sitamun, and the younger woman’s blue eyes swiveled to meet hers. “No, Sitamun, you will not,” Tiye said emphatically. “Your brother is not for you. You are to stay away from him. When Pharaoh dies, I will assess the situation, and if Ay and I consider it necessary, Amunhotep can have you, but until then you will devote yourself to your father. Your power is already great enough.”
    Sitamun’s eyebrows rose and she shrugged. “It is difficult to devote myself to a man who makes love all night to that boy and spends his days drinking,” she said crossly, her full lips drawn down in the pout that often mirrored Tiye’s own. “My life is incredibly boring. By the time you were my age, Mother, you had been empress and the most powerful woman in the world for a long time.”
    Tiye watched the light glint on flecks of gold dust caught in the damp curls falling on Sitamun’s forehead. Faint tracks of discontent showed through the rouge on her daughter’s round, burnished cheeks, and the strong black-painted brows were pulled together in a frown. Was my face already falling into lines of willfulness when I was her age? Tiye wondered. She rose and again the noise died away. “I would not like to have you disciplined, Sitamun, so be patient. Nefertiti will be empress, but it is possible that you will become second wife.”
    “I am already a second wife to one pharaoh and do not wish to spend the rest of my life being second wife to another. I have earned the position of empress. And do not think that you can discipline me in the harem as you did Princess Nebet-nuhe, Mother. I have a food taster in my pay.”
    Tiye gripped Sitamun’s stiff, bare shoulder. “I was a child, acting out a child’s groundless panic,” she spat. “You are too sophisticated to view this situation with such naiveté, Sitamun. Now go to bed. Herald! Tell Tia-Ha to join me in the garden if she is sober enough. I want to swim. Sleep well, Daughter.” She left the hall through the rear