The Heretic Queen by Michelle Moran

Author:Michelle Moran
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: , Fiction, Egypt - Kings and rulers, consort of Ramses II, Historical fiction, Ramses, ca. 1320-1200 B.C, Queens, King of Egypt, Historical - General, Egypt - History - Nineteenth dynasty, Biographical, Biographical fiction, II, Historical, Nefertari, Fiction - Historical, Egypt, Queen, General, American Historical Fiction, Queens - Egypt
ISBN: 9780307381750
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2008-08-27T07:00:00+00:00

NIGHT AFTER night Ramesses came into my chamber, regardless of whether it was his time with Iset, but instead of translating foreign petitions with me, he sat at the brazier and studied strange sketches made on papyrus. Knowing that he still wanted to come to me, even when there was nothing I could translate for him, filled my heart with such intense love I thought it would burst. Iset is wrong, I thought fervently. He’s not waiting for her to have a son. He’s waiting for the people to accept me as his wife before declaring a queen.

But even though I was happy, I grew afraid for Ramesses’s health. In the middle of the night he would crawl from my bed, searching through sketches his architects had submitted, hoping to find something that looked promising. He’d hunch over the low flames of the brazier and wouldn’t move until the sun rose in the sky and his eyes looked as red as the High Priest of Amun’s.

When Penre had been gone for a month, I wrapped my arms around Ramesses’s shoulders and whispered, “Let yourself rest. Without sleep, how can your thoughts be clear?”

“There’s only a month before it will be too late to plant. Why didn’t my father search for a solution? Or his father? Or Pharaoh Horemheb?”

I ran a soothing hand through Ramesses’s hair. “Because the Nile never ran so low.”

“But my father knew!”

“How could he have predicted that the Nile wouldn’t overflow for four years? He was busy planning war in Nubia and Kadesh.”

Ramesses shook his head in frustration. “If there was more time we could have sent emissaries to Assyria. We could have asked the farmers—”

I took his hand. “Come to bed. Stop for tonight.”

Ramesses let himself be led away, but in bed, I knew he wasn’t sleeping. He tossed beneath the linens, and I closed my eyes, willing him to be still. Then I heard three soft knocks outside our chamber. Ramesses looked across at me, and in the warm glow of the brazier, I saw his eyes widen. He rushed to the door, and Penre, the architect who had traveled to Amarna to find and unseal the tomb of Meryra, was standing with sheaves of papyrus in his hand. Behind him, Asha was dressed in a traveling cloak, his long braid arranged in a neat loop at the back of his neck. I scrambled from the bed and put on a robe to cover the thin linen sheath I was wearing.

“Asha! Penre!” Ramesses cried.

Asha stepped inside to embrace Ramesses like a brother. Penre bowed deeply at the waist. I took Asha’s arm and led him to the brazier. “It’s good to have you home,” I said truthfully. “Ramesses hasn’t slept for weeks.”

Asha laughed. “Neither have we,” and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“Your Highness, our ship arrived in Gebtu this evening. We took a chariot the rest of the way, knowing that what we found couldn’t wait.”

“Everything. Tell me everything!” Ramesses exclaimed. Without his nemes crown, his hair fell over his shoulders like brilliant sheets of copper.

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