Favored By Her Father

The courting continued, but now his notes included things we had done as children. He also spoke of his time in training and how it was the thought of me that kept pushing him.

One thing still bothered me, though. Jabari had said that he sent me letters, yet I never got any of them.

I visited the palace, leaving the children with Henut. I sought out Papa, hoping he would know something. He was in his study with his chief wife, Nefertari, sitting on a small padded stool at his side.

"Papa," I said, ignoring Nefertari's presence. "Jabari says that when he was away, training with the army, he sent me letters. I never got any of them, though." Papa thought for a moment, then turned his eyes towards me, sharply.

"He finally told you, eh?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I remembered," I said. "But the letters?" I had many things to discuss with Papa, but right now I wanted the letters.

"A pharaoh cannot be expected to know about something as trivial as love letters," Nefertari sneered. I glared at her. Nefertari had never hidden the fact that she did not like me, but her dislike was more jealousy then anything. I was the child of a Hittite princess and yet father favored me so much. She wanted one of her own children to be privileged so, but while Papa loved her a great deal, he had never showed much partiality toward her children. It was not that he did not love them; he just did not favor them as he did me.

She also detested that I did not treat her like she was my family. But she was not. Certainly her children were, we all had the same father, but she was no relation to me. She was not my mother, and I never treated her as such.

"I was not speaking to you," I snapped.

"Why you little-!"

"Nefertari, be silent!" Papa snapped. He may have loved her, but he hated how petty she was towards me. Nefertari's mouth snapped shut and she glared at me.

"Well, my gem," Papa said. "Since you were so young, the messenger should have given the letters to your mother."

"Thank you, Papa," I said, leaning over the desk and kissing his cheek, then taking my leave of the room.

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"Letter?" Mama thought for a moment. "I would have left it in your room."

"Are you certain?" I asked.

"Well, yes," she said, her matching grey eyes meeting mine. "What else would I have done with them? By the way, how are things with you and Jabari?"

"Fine," I said, readying to leave, but something made me pause.

"Mama?" I asked.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Did you know that Jabari had been my friend when we were younger?"

Mama smiled, her long brown hair falling over her shoulder as she turned her head.

"Of course," she replied. "Your teacher would get so angry when he would interrupt your lessons. And he did not keep it a secret that he had a crush on you."

"Did it ever worry you?" I asked. I was a bit surprised that we were having a civil conversation. Mama and I usually argued. I thought she was too strict with me, though I understood why. Papa pandered to me a great deal and Mama thought I should have someone set boundaries for me.

"I worried that you would not survive and it would crush his heart. I worried that he would be too rough with you and hurt you. I worried about you having the life of a scribe's wife which would seem very harsh after the luxury of the palace," she said, turning soft stone-colored eyes towards me. "Yes, my dearest, I worried a great deal. I may have been stern on you, but it was only because I worried. Your father and I were told if you lived to adult hood it would be a miracle. You were so sickly." Her eyes misted over and she looked away so I would not see.

"You never cried as a babe," she continued, speaking as if she was in a trance. "It was not because you were content; it was more that you did not have the strength. I wanted to wrap you in blankets and stow you away in the palace forever. Your father had very different ideas. He said that if your life would be so short, you should see what you could in the time that you had. He took you everywhere with him. He spoiled you, for he did not have the heart to deny you anything since you were given such a small window of time with us. I also spoiled you, though you may not think so. I gave into your father more than was sensible, allowed him his coddling, because I did not have the will to turn you away. What would it matter if you were spoiled, if you never left home, or the comfort of the palace? Was it really all that bad that we gave you whatever you wanted when you would not be with us for very long?"

She paused and her body shuddered. I felt my eyes well up with tears. I could understand her pain. Would I not have spoiled Anippe if I had the time? Would I not have given her anything her heart desired if only to make her short time with me a pleasant one? Mama sniffled and whipped at her eyes.

"Then Jabari came along," she went on. "And you danced around the palace saying that you would be his wife, not that you even knew what it meant. You only knew that he had asked you. We never really explained it to you; we did not feel the need to fill your head with trivial things that you would not live to see. But Jabari had told you that if you married him, you would spend almost every day with him, and to a child did that not seem so grand?" she chuckled and looked down at her hands. "When he left, you got ill. I stayed up with you night after night. I remember the room was full of every doctor your father could find within a hundred mile radius. I watched as their healing became your agony and my heart broke. Your father neglected his duties, sending his council away. He stayed by your side, as did I.

"We prayed to every god there was to save you. I offered my life and your father offered anything he could, his life, his kingdom, all the gold in his lands. You would scream in your sleep and began to scream whenever you were touched. It was torture and there were times I wanted to hide you away from the world. If you should die, it should be in peace.

"I awoke one night to find that you and your father were gone. I panicked. I stood and ran down the halls, thinking he had taken you to another country in hopes of healing you. I knew you could not make such a journey and thought it cruel for him to leave me behind. I was your mother, after all. Did I not have every right to stay by your side should I wish it so?

"I sprinted down the halls to go see if one of the carriages were missing, when I came across the palace temple and stopped. There were torches lit, incense burning, a bowl of oil the priests used for blessing had been upturned and there were tracks were someone had stepped in it, then walked into the temple." She stopped, biting her lip and let out another shuddering sigh.

"I looked into the temple. Your father had you laid out on the floor before the statue of Amun. There was incense burning all around you, much more incense than what the priests ever used. There was a smudge of the oil on your forehead and your father knelt before you, his head pressed to the floor next to your side. You were….quiet. You were not screaming or moaning, or sweating. You lay still and silent as if you were merely sleeping."

She turned her gaze to me then, and I could tell from the faraway look in her eyes that she was not seeing the woman I was, she was seeing the child I had been. She was seeing, just as clearly as she saw then, the scene she described. The halls dark, the only light coming from the torches by the statue that showed my father, I would have lain on the floor, my red hair pooled around me, my Papa with his forehead pressed to the cold floor, his matching hair brushing against my side. Mama would have been wearing a simple wrap that flared about her ankles while she peeked around the door frame where Papa had hastily flung the doors open while he shifted me in his arms. The flicker of the torches would have cast deep shadows on her exhausted face and made her gray eyes shine like silver in the darkness.

I realized that Mama had stopped speaking, so I called to her softly. She smiled slightly, the faraway look still in her eyes and continued;

"Your father was saying something, over and over again, praying, begging. I stepped closer so I could hear him.

'Please,' he begged, 'if you spare her life I will give you anything. Spare her, and I will make this kingdom the most prosperous ever. Egypt will be the envy of all. I will live a hundred years to ensure that your lands are richer than they have ever been. I will do whatever you wish of me if you only spare my daughter. I will give you my kingdom, my life, my loyalty if you would only spare my child.'

He was crying. I had never seen him cry, not even when his mother died. He swore that he would live many lifetimes to fulfill his promise if they only spared your life."

I gasped. To live such a long life would seem cruel. To watch as all you loved departed for the other plane, yet you were left behind. It was not a promise to be taken lightly. My father had offered his life for mine, in more ways than one.

"Two days later, your fever broke," Mama said, her eyes now gazing at me in the here and now. "You were…well, healthy, as if you had never been sick or weak." I stared at her in horror.

"How could you let Papa do such a thing?" I asked.

"How could I stop him? He was only doing what I had done myself, simply in a different way," she replied.

"But, Mama," I said, my eyes welling up with tears.

"Yes," Mama said. "Your father is no longer a young man. If he lives as long as he promised, he will suffer a great deal of pain."

The gods had taken his life, his freedom, for mine. He would live many years serving them as he had promised and I would be healthy as they had promised. He would age and suffer great pain for his age, but he would continue to live for he had promised the gods. Suddenly, the letters did not seem so important. What did I care of them when my father had made such a terrible promise to save my life?

"Stop," Mama said, sternly. I looked at her, realizing I was crying.

"Do not fret over what your father gave up," she admonished. "If you want to help, use what your father has given you. Do not mourn for what he has given up, enjoy what you have received."

"Yes, Mama," I said.

"Oh, and Meri," she called after me, before I could leave the room. I looked back at her. "No one knows of this. I wish for it to remain so. Your father does not even know I saw him that night."

"Of course, Mama," I said.

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I went home that night and thought over all that Mama had told me. I knew that if I thought about it too much, I would not be able to keep it secret, so I locked it away in the back of my heart, chaining the door so I would not be tempted to open it again and returned to the palace a few days later.

I groaned when I remembered that Mama had said she would have left the letters in my room. When I was younger, I had shared a room with my two elder sisters Nebettawy and Isetnofret.

Luckily for me, both were in the palace. Nebettawy, of course, was always in the palace since she was one of Papa's wives. Isetnofret had come by to visit her mother, for whom she was named after, Great Royal Wife Isetnofret.

I found Isetnofrot first. She was coming back from the harems. She was tall and slender with very wide hips. Her long plaited hair was a deep black that shone red when the sun hit it and she had the same almond shaped eyes as Nebettawy, something they had both gotten from Papa's mother. She was dressed in a sheer, pleated linen gown that was knotted under her breast and died the deep purple of the pharaohs' house. I called to her and she stopped, smiling at me. I looked in her kind eyes and wandered if she remembered me as a sickly child. I wandered if she, too, worried after me as my other siblings seemed to do.

"Hello, Meri," she said. "How are you?"

"I am fine, but I must ask you something," I responded.

"What is it, dearest?" she inquired.

"Do you remember when I was younger if I got letters from a boy in the army?" I questioned. "Great Royal Wife Baharak would have put them in my room."

Isetnofret thought for a moment, and then asked;

"The letters from old Yuny's son, are those the ones you are speaking of?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, excited that she remembered.

"Well," she said slowly, "the first few you kept in a jewelry box. Then after you got sick…hmm…I think Nebettawy did something with them."

"Nebettawy?" I probed.

"Yes," Isetnofret said. "I do not remember what, though."

"Thank you," I said, kissing her cheek and dashing towards the harem.

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I found Nebettawy in the bathing house attached to the harems. She had her back to me and I did not bother to announce myself.

"What did you do with the letters from Yuny's son?" I blurted out. Nebettawy was so startled she almost dropped the clay pot she was using to pour water over her head. She spun around to face me, her black eyes wide with surprise.

"What?" she asked.

"When I was young, after the fever, I got letters from Yuny's son," I said. "Isetnofret said that you took them. What did you do with them?"

She set the pot gently on the ground and turned her back to me.

"Nebey!" I cried.

"I gave them to my mother," she confessed in a rush.

"Why?" I almost shrieked. Nebettawy's mother was Great Royal Wife Nefertari.

"Mother asked me to," she said.

"How did she know?" I demanded.

"Meri, please. I never meant to hurt you. You know I love you. I thought I was helping!" she begged.

"How. Did. She. Know?" I repeated through gritted teeth.

"I told her. I thought it was cute. I never saw anything wrong with it," she said, her eyes imploring me to understand.

"Then why did you give them to her?" I pressed.

"She said it was for your own good. She said you did not need to be over excited in your condition! She promised to give the letters back!"

"Dammit Nebey!" I swore.

"I thought she was helping you!"

"Why would she help me?" I snapped. "You knew she hated me!"

"I thought that in light of your condition…" she trailed off.

I groaned and hide my face in my hands.

"Please, Meri," she beseeched, "I never meant to hurt you. Please. I am sorry!"

I drew in a deep breath and let my hands drop from my face.

"I forgive you, Nebey," I said as calmly as I could as I gazed into my sister's tear filled eyes. "I know you did not mean me any harm."

Nebettawy wiped her eyes and smiled at me. I smiled back, then turned and ran from the room, going to find Nefertari.

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I stormed into Papa's study where Nefertari sat, just as she had a few days prior, at Papa's side.

"Where are my letters?" I demanded as I stood before the Queen.

"My gem," Papa said, "How would she know?"

"Because Nebettawy gave them to her!" I said. Papa looked at his favored wife.

"Nefertari?" he asked.

"She lies," Nefertari said, "Just as she always has."

"Nebettawy said you told her to give them to you!" I cried.

"Nefertari," Papa warned.

"She lies!" Nefertari all but screeched.

"My gem would not lie to me," Papa said. "But we could always call Nebettawy in here."

Nefertari seethed at this. She had no way out and she knew it. She would have to confess.

"I burnt them," she bit out.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Papa asked in a voice that demanded an answer. Nefertari paused, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Yuny's son showed great promise in his military career," she said through gritted teeth. "I heard it from the reports the lieutenant gave you. I wanted him to marry one of my daughters. So I took the letters hoping he would forget about Meritites when she did not write him back."

"You bitch!" I screamed.

"Nefertari," Papa said in a hard voice, "You have wronged both Meritites and Jabari with what you have done. You will apologize to both of them. You are also in their debt. They may call on you for anything and you must help them to the best of your ability."

I almost laughed at this. I would never call on her. I wanted nothing to do with her. But it was pleasing seeing her lips press into a thin line at the prospect.

"You are dismissed," Papa said. Nefertari stood and quickly left the room, her beaded hair clicking together at her hurried steps.

"I am sorry, gem," Papa said.

"It is not your fault, Papa," I assured. "But I must ask, why did no one think to tell Jabari that I had been ill?"

A shadow fell across my father's face and he ran his hand through his short hair.

"We were all so worried when you took ill," Papa explained, not meeting my eyes. The chains on the locked door in my heart rattled loudly as I wandered if he was afraid that I would see the promise he made in his eyes.

"When you recovered and were a healthy, normal child," he continued, "I suppose we were all so relieved that we did not wish to think about when you were sick. What did any small details matter when you were finally healthy?"

It was then that I realized that my illness was like an unspoken secret amongst my family. They all knew of it, they all remembered when I lay sweating and screaming with fever. They all also knew that it had been a miracle that had saved my life; they simply did not wish to think about it. The illness, nor what was the price that had been paid for my health.

The chains against the door in my heart rattled louder, but I put a calming hand on the door and they settled.

I loved my family, but I was growing increasingly weary of them protecting me. They kept secrets from me, whispering behind my back. Why was it that everyone thought they knew better than I did? I understood they only wished for me to be happy and healthy, but I was tired of secrets. I was tired, not only of everyone choosing my destiny for me but also keeping me in the dark.

The chains on the door rattled again and my hand would not sooth them. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood as the urge to tell my father that I knew reared its ugly head. I took a deep, calming breath and lashed more chains across the door, bricking it over so that it almost matched the surrounding wall.

Telling him would only hurt him. It would not help me now, nor would it undo the past. Yes, it was wrong that everyone had lied to me, feeling that they knew better than I did, but hurting my father would not help me.

"Gem? Are you alright?"

I opened my eyes and smiled at him sweetly.

"I am fine, Papa," I said. "Thank you." I leaned over the desk and kissed his cheek, pressing my forehead to his temple briefly, then pulling away.