Tiy and the Prince of Egypt (3 page)

The sandstorm raged on with unrelenting strength. Despite her consuming regret for the third boy, Tiy fell into an exhausted sleep, her body demanding the energy to heal. She awoke to the sounds of voices calling across the desert. Turning her ear toward the calls, she tried to understand their words, but heard no more than muffled shouts. The wind had ceased and the sand had settled, but when she opened her eyes, she still saw nothing but blackness. Had the sand damaged her eyes as well as her ears?

“It must be night,” one of the boys croaked, answering
her unspoken question.

“Yes, it must,
” Tiy agreed, her shoulders dropping in relief. Her voice wasn’t as hoarse as his, but it was much lower than its normal high-pitched timbre. She cleared her throat and winced at the burning pain.

“My eyes
are sore,” the boy said.

“Mine too.”

There was a long silence between them. Tiy thought to call out to the voices, but her mind was foggy. She couldn’t seem to grasp the idea that the frantic calls could be for them.

“Thank you
,” the boy said in a whisper. “For getting me out of that storm.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think those voices are
calling for us,” he said after several long minutes. “Come with me. Our healers will take care of you before you return home.”

Home.
Tiy’s chest knotted into bundle of nerves. “My parents are probably worried about me,” she said.

A large hand
reached in the tiny crevice and grasped her arm, tugging her toward the outside. A scream escaped her lips, quick and painful. She knew she shouldn’t be alarmed, that the hand probably belonged to one of the prince’s servants, but she found herself pulling against the strange grip.

The boy crawled out after
her and coughed as he stood.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he
said, his voice raspy. “They won’t harm you.”

At the sound of his voice, even as grating at it was, the man holding
her released her arm and dropped to his knees. “The great god Amun has saved Prince Amenhotep! Prince Amenhotep is found!”

Woops and shouts of
joy filled the air. Several servants pushed Tiy aside as everyone fell to their knees. She stumbled to the ground, her legs unable to counter balance the enthusiastic shoves from the servants. She didn’t mind, however. Prince Amenhotep was alive! Even the stars seemed to brighten at the revelation that Prince Amenhotep had survived. With the added light in the night sky, she gazed into his face. He did not look pleased.

“This is no time for celebration,”
he stated with authority. “Heru has fallen. We must find his body and prepare him for the Afterlife.”

A hush fell over the people followed by a blanket of sadness almost as thick as the storm.
As Prince Amenhotep’s gaze fell to the ground, Tiy’s gaze traveled from his face to his neck, and then to his shoulders, chest, arms, and legs. Her mind swirled with alarm at what she saw. His skin was no longer honey brown, smooth and healthy, but red with heat and pain. Sand stuck to every surface of his skin, darkening with blood as it oozed from thousands of tiny wounds.

Prince Amenhotep squared his shoulders and looked back into the faces of the nearest soldiers
, his expression free from any hint of pain. “Ramose is inside the cave. He is in need of immediate care.”

The boy called
Ramose was pulled from the crevice and hoisted onto the shoulders of a broad soldier. The soldier jumped onto the platform of a nearby chariot and whipped the horses into action.

Another soldier reached for
Prince Amenhotep. “I will take you to the healer,” he said.

Prince Amenhotep waved a dismissive hand and glanced at Tiy, offering his hand to help her to her feet.
Several servants gasped at the gesture.

“What is your name?”
Prince Amenhotep asked. She thought she saw him wince as he lifted her to her feet, but when she looked again, his face only showed calm control.

“I am Tiy,
Your Majesty. Daughter of Yuya, Superintendent of Cattle, and Tuya, Singer of Hathor, of Akhmim.”

Amenhotep turned toward the gathering of servants and soldiers
. “Tiy, daughter of Yuya and Tuya, of Akhmim has saved my life. You will attend to her needs before you attend to mine.”

Another gasp rumbled through th
e gathering crowd. Tiy’s brow creased in confusion. There was nothing wrong with her. What needs did she have? And then she realized how badly she shook, her small frame quivering enough to rattle her teeth. She looked down and sucked in a sharp breath. Every scrape and raw surface of her skin screamed for attention. Her eyes blurred until she saw nothing but red—red, raw skin that bled just as badly as Prince Amenhotep’s, if not worse. She licked her dry, cracked lips. Lightheaded and out of breath, she swayed on her feet.

Before
she could take note of any other discomforts, a pair of strong arms snatched her off her feet and held her close to a leather-protected chest. She wondered if she had worn leather instead of linen, if she would have fared better in the storm. But her musings fell away as she succumbed to darkness.

Tiy awoke to her mother’s face hovering over her, worry etched into her brow. Neither she nor her father appeared as angry as Tiy thought they would be. Either their anger had worn off while she slept, or they were too shocked to discover she had been the one to save Pharaoh’s son. Tiy didn’t care which it was; she was just relieved to be greeted by expressions filled with love rather than disappointment.

“Oh look!
She’s awake,” her mother said. “Yuya, she’s awake!” She nudged her father.

“Yes, I
am aware,” her father said, somewhat annoyed. He never had much patience with her mother.

Tiy
glanced around at her unexpected surroundings. A large tent stretched above her with lush white fabric hanging from the ceiling and swooping to the sides. Flourishes of gold wrapped around the drapery and hung to the floor. Two female servants stood at the entrance with their heads bowed and their hands clasped in front of them, bangles of gold adorning their wrists. A plush rug protected the wooden furniture that, to her, seemed too delicate and fine for a traveling tent.

“How are you doing
?” her mother asked.

Raising
her head, Tiy peered at her body. Bandages of fine linen covered her from head to toe. She had no idea how she was doing—she couldn’t see any portion of her skin, nor could she feel it.

“
Fine, I think,” Tiy said, but it came more as a croak than actual words. She cleared her throat. “My throat is a little scratchy.”

Her
mother grabbed a nearby goblet and brought it to Tiy’s lips, lifting her head off the pillow with one arm. “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”

I
t did help. Warm cinnamon liquid slid down her throat and soothed the raw burning.

“Thank you,”
Tiy said with a much clearer voice.

Her mother
patted Tiy’s forehead and brushed her hand across her hairline, tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ears.

“
You lost your wig,” her mother said.

“Did I?”
Tiy reached up to touch her head, but her hands were covered in so many layers of wrappings that she couldn’t feel anything.

“It doesn’t matter
. I’ll let you have one of mine.”

Her mother
had more wigs than anyone could ever count. She had short, round wigs for strolling along the garden paths, curled wigs for special occasions, jeweled wigs for excursions into town, and several others stuffed behind all the newer ones. Her mother kept her head shaved like all the other Egyptian women, a practice Tiy never understood. They were convinced a bare head helped them stay clean and cool in the hot desert, but Tiy wasn’t so sure. She doubted having her head shaved would make her feel any more comfortable, no matter the weather.

But
Tiy was too tired to care about her wig. Maybe she could wear a shawl over her head on the way home. Not that a shawl would keep people from staring at her. With all the time she spent following the boys, her face and arms would be covered with freckles by the time she healed. Unlike her mother, Tiy made a great deal of effort to blend into the background—as much as her pale skin and blue eyes would allow—and freckles would not help.

“Are you feeling al
l right, dear?” Her mother questioned.

Tiy blinked.

“There is something your father and I need to discuss with you.”

“Not now, Tuya,”
her father said. “She has only just opened her eyes. Let her gain strength before we burden her any further.”

“We don’t have time!
Pharaoh Tuthmosis will learn that she has awakened. We must prepare her before he comes to see her.”

“Prepare me for what?
” Tiy asked, offended. Didn’t they think she knew how to behave in front of important people? “I won’t embarrass you,” she added. And then she let what they said settle into her mind. Pharaoh, son of Ra, wanted to come see her. She bit her lip to hide her fear.

Her
mother waved her arm in the air. “It’s not that, dear. You have saved Pharaoh’s son from certain death. Pharaoh wants to grant you a personal request.”

“Not now, Tuya!”
her father said.

“Yes, now
! You don’t know her as well as I do. She is strong enough for this change in her life.”

“Tell me,
” Tiy said a little shaky.

Her father threw up hi
s hands, and her mother failed at suppressing a smirk.

“I want to know.” Tiy said.

Her mother took a deep breath, leaned in, and spoke quickly, almost too quickly for Tiy’s covered ears to hear.

“There is a school within the palace at Memphis
where children of a few select officials and viziers are invited to attend, along with the children of the royal family. The education within that school exceeds all others. A world of opportunity would be open to you if you were to attend—”

“They’ll never accept her,”
her father interrupted. “Especially those brats the viziers call their children.”

“Hush!”
Her mother’s face turned red. She glanced at the lady servants to see if they had heard his blasphemous comment. Their heads were still bowed, their countenances unchanged. Her voice lowered, but the force of it was the same. “They
have
to accept her. Not only did she save Prince Amenhotep, but Pharaoh has just taken the Mitannian princess to wife. Tiy’s appearance will not seem so different with a Mitannian in the palace.”

“I don’t want to go away,”
Tiy said.

“Yes
, you do,” her mother said. “You will be taught among the royal children. Don’t you see what a gift this is? You were meant to save Prince Amenhotep. I know it! You will bring our family great prestige with the education you receive.”

Tiy
wanted to roll over and cry. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She didn’t want to leave. True, she didn’t have any friends in Akhmim, but her nursemaid, Nebetya, was so kind to her. She didn’t want to leave her.

Tiy’s
insecurities crept into her throat, choking any argument. Maybe Nebetya treated her like a friend because she thought she had to. Who would be her friend in a palace full of children raised to despise foreigners?

No on
e.

She
was too different to pass as Egyptian-born. So what if Pharaoh had taken the Mitannian princess to wife? That didn’t change centuries of ingrained traditions. The new princess would be an outcast too, just not to her face. Tiy, on the other hand, would be teased without mercy, despite her ancestry hailing from Mitanni as well. Officials or not, her parents couldn’t keep the children from laughing and pointing at her.

“Please don’t make me go,”
Tiy said. “I can bring honor to our family here in Akhmim.”

“Don’t be silly,”
her mother said. “You will not let this opportunity pass, do you hear?”

Tiy
grimaced. She knew arguing was of no use. Once her mother decided on something, nothing changed her mind.

Whatever
medicines they had given her seemed to burn off suddenly. She moaned and squirmed in discomfort, regretting the small movement as soon as the wrappings rubbed against her raw skin. She never wanted to move again.

Just as she was about to succumb to a mind numbing stupor, the tent flaps parted and t
he soft drapery over her bed fluttered. The servant women bowed at the waist, their heads lowered as they moved aside to admit Pharaoh.

Pharaoh Tuthmosis stepped into the room with much less gusto than Tiy imagined an entrance of his could involve. He wore the Double Crown of Egypt and a white cloak over his shoulders that clasped at the front with a golden cartouche. Hints of old age etched his face, but his eyes were brightened by eternal deity. With two soldiers at his heels, he strode toward the bed and knelt on one knee. Tiy noticed her mother’s eyes widen, the hint of a smile on her lips. The Pharaoh of Egypt bowed to no one.

Surprised by
his respectful display, Tiy wasn’t sure how to respond. She should be the one kneeling at
his
feet! She tried to rise from her bed, pulling her elbows underneath herself to hold her weight, but the effort caused a sour expression to spoil her face and a small cry to escape her lips.

“Do not
arise for me, child” Pharaoh Tuthmosis said.

Tiy w
ouldn’t disobey him, but every instinct told her she was committing blasphemy by failing to kneel before her king. She laid there without speaking, showing further disrespect by not responding to him. She pressed her lips into a line. No matter what she did, it was wrong. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. Why did she have to over-think everything? She just needed to be truthful to her king.

“Are you in pain?” he inquired
, motioning for the woman servant to bring more salves and ointments.

“Thank you for your hospitality,
Your Majesty,” Tiy said, her voice still rough. “I am in no pain.” She cringed. So much for being truthful. But he didn’t need to know. Or maybe Ma’at, the goddess of truth would tell him. Tiy flushed at the thought.

“Amenhotep tells me you saved his life a
nd the life of Ramose.” His eyes sparkled with gratitude.

She
swallowed. Couldn’t she just go home without the uncomfortable displays of gratitude or the granting of special requests? She did what anyone would have done in her position. She didn’t deserve any special treatment.

Pharaoh
continued, taking Tiy’s silence as affirmation. “He tells me you swooped in as if you were the goddess Nekhbet herself. He said you reacted with the power and decision of deity. You have protected him from the grips of Osiris.”

The
hot flush in her cheeks spread to her neck. Did Prince Amenhotep really compare her to a goddess? She wasn’t sure how to respond. Maybe her silence would persuade him to continue speaking until he got to the part where he granted her request. She knew what to say then; she had practiced it in her mind.

Her
mother cleared her throat and glared at her with angry bug-eyes. Pharaoh didn’t seem to notice, for which Tiy was glad.

“I am grateful for your show of courage,” he continued, “and for
the sacrifices your body made to protect my son. For that, I would like to fulfill any desire you may have. As Pharaoh of Egypt, and a god of this land, it is within my power to grant whatever you wish.”

“Thank you,
Your Majesty,” she said. “I have enough happiness to satisfy me, knowing Prince Amenhotep is safe.”

Tiy’s mother
stumbled back. She steadied herself and set her jaw in a way that told Tiy she would get an ear full later.

Tiy wanted to shake her head. She wasn’t disobeying her
mother; she was merely showing what little respect she could to Pharaoh.

“Nevertheless, I
would like to grant a request,” Pharaoh said.

Her
mother leaned on her toes.

Tiy took a deep breath.
“If it pleases you, Your Majesty…” She looked at her mother, who nodded her head like a lizard bobbing for a fly, her eyebrows so high they disappeared into her wig. Tiy swallowed. “I would like the join the royal school in Memphis,” she finished in a rush.

Pharaoh
’s eyes flickered to her sunshine hair and then back to her face, his mouth forming a frown. He knew she wouldn’t fit in.

“
Are you certain?”

Tiy nodded.

“Very well,” he said as he gathered himself to his feet. “You will be escorted to Memphis as soon as you are well.” His eyes flickered to her hair again. “You may bring a hand-maiden to accompany you.”

“Thank you,
Your Majesty.” She was pleased with the turn of events, happy that she could bring Nebetya. She wouldn’t have to go alone, after all.

Pharaoh
left the tent and the two servants bowing at the tent’s opening sprang into a flurry of action, pampering Tiy like never before. Every few hours, for several days in a row, they covered her skin with ointment and linen wraps. Her bandages were changed so often she didn’t have to endure the pain of her raw skin again. Her skin healed, and the number of freckles on her arms and face were fewer than she had expected.

Tiy
enjoyed watermelon and grapes, chickpeas and cucumbers, beef and lamb. She even had her own pair of feather bearers who created a soft breeze over her tender skin.

After
weeks of recuperation Tiy grew anxious to return home but her mother enjoyed the royal treatment too much to return so soon. They agreed to stay a few more days. Her father, however, left after Pharaoh spoke to her on the first day.

At the end of their final day,
Prince Amenhotep entered her tent.

“May I have a word
?” he asked.

Tiy nodded.
She couldn’t deny the prince an audience, not that she wanted to. The confusing curiosity she felt toward him still felt unsatisfied somehow, despite the hours she spent following him and leaning next to him in the crevice. Would her curiosity for him ever lessen? She doubted it.

He glanced at
her mother and then at the women servants and feather bearers. “You are excused. I will escort Tiy to the river after we have spoken. The papyrus boats have been prepared for you.”

Her
mother grinned and pressed her fingertips over her lips to hide a nervous laugh. Tiy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was sure her mother was imagining wedding parties and names for future children. She should have known her mother would read too much into Prince Amenhotep’s desire to be alone with her. They were only children themselves, too young for any romantic feelings. It was absurd her mother couldn’t recognize that.

“Some adventure,” he said once everyone had left.

Tiy smiled. “I guess you could call it that.” She was surprised to find that her usual discomfort around others was absent. How odd that she should feel so comfortable speaking to a prince of Egypt.

“I don’t get many opportunities to have
adventure anymore,” he said. “All I do is study and work, and train. I’ll be eighty before I know it.”

Tiy
giggled. “You’ll have a crooked back and smelly breath.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said to a prince!

His ey
es widened, no doubt mirroring her own. And then his shoulders relaxed, and a small laugh forced its way through his nose as if he had forgotten how it was done. He chuckled louder at the sound he had made. “I’ll have big ears and bushy eyebrows,” he said.

Tiy
lowered her hands, exposing her smile. He watched her as if waiting for her to say something else funny, giving her permission to continue their made-up game.

“Hairy toes and no teeth!”
Tiy said between giggling breaths. She had never had such careless fun with anyone before. She knew Prince Amenhotep wasn’t a friend of hers, but it was gracious of him to pretend for a few minutes.

Once t
heir laughing subsided, Prince Amenhotep slumped his shoulders and cast a forlorn look to the ground. “And I’ll still not have had much fun,” he said.

“There is still time
,” she said.

He shrugged again
. “Your hair is so light,” he said after a pause. “I didn’t notice that before.”

Tiy
took a breath and bit her bottom lip. She didn’t feel like talking about why she didn’t look like an Egyptian. “It was dark before, so you couldn’t see it.” She wanted to crawl underneath the covers and hide. Now he knew who she really was.

“Even so,
it is the color of corn silk. No, it is the color of the sun. It’s as if you carry the desert sun with you where ever you go. I like it.”

Smiling, Tiy ducked her head. Perhaps the students
at the royal school would accept her, after all. If a prince could accept her without question, why not the rest of the children? But an ache flared in her chest, reminding her it was too much to hope for. Her mother warned her about becoming a pessimist, but as far as Tiy was concerned, a pessimist was just an optimist with experience. She knew better than to dream of acceptance.