In answer, I threw my arms around the god’s neck, thanking him, praising him, and promising him every drop of beer that was in the house. Scrambling to my feet, I lifted Bit-Bit onto my hip, grabbed the god’s hairy wrist, and dragged him with us around the corner and into the cool shelter of our home.
Once inside, I set Bit-Bit down gently and began shouting for someone to bring food and drink. I made so much racket that it fetched nearly every slave and servant under our roof. The four slaves didn’t have much choice, but the servants weren’t used to having a child give them orders. They glared at me, though as soon as their eyes lit on our guest, their scowls became gracious smiles of welcome. Obviously they, too, recognized a god when they saw one.
They were just beginning to bring in baskets of bread and fruit and a big clay beer jug when the room rang out with the sound of Father’s voice demanding, “What’s going on here?”
I rushed forward to tell him everything. Bit-Bit stayed where she was, happily bouncing on the god’s plump knee while he shared the glittering, juicy red seeds of a cut pomegranate with her. I was so overwhelmed by what might have happened to my sister, if not for Bes’s miraculous appearance, that I began crying all over again. Father picked me up to comfort me, then regarded our guest.
“So, you’re a god now, are you?” he said lightly. “Does Pharaoh know?”
The dwarf spread his thick hands, casting all blame to the winds. “My lord Pharaoh declared himself to be a god, the earthly child of Ra himself. I, on the other hand, was named a god by a young woman whose beauty equals Isis’s own! Tell me, Ay, who’s the higher authority here, Pharaoh or Isis?”
Father gave me a helpless look. “Hmm. What can I say to that, little kitten? One answer will bring Pharaoh’s wrath down on my head, the other will provoke a mighty goddess.”
“Isis is right,” I said firmly. “Pharaoh is Ra’s son, but Isis stole Ra’s power because she was more clever than the old sun-god.”
The little man clapped his hands. “Well said, my pretty child! Only don’t say anything like that if you ever find yourself in Pharaoh’s court. You won’t be popular.”
“And how popular will you be when our king learns that you’re parading around as the god Bes, eh?” Father asked, winking.
Our guest let loose a great sigh, so loud and so exaggerated that it sent Bit-Bit into fresh peals of laughter. “Alas, then it seems I have no choice. But will sweet Nefertiti still be my friend when I’m no longer a god, but only poor old Henenu the scribe?”
I made Father set me down and went swiftly to put my arms around our guest’s heavy neck. “I will always be your friend, even if you’re not Bes,” I announced. “You saved my sister.” I sealed my promise with a big kiss on his rough cheek.
Father laughed. “And how did he do that?”
“He made magic and took away the scorpion’s poison and there isn’t even a mark on Bit-Bit’s foot where she was stung,” I said, hugging Henenu harder. “I told you.”
“Er … perhaps it’s time I told you, my little lady.” Henenu gently freed himself from my arms. “Your sister was never in any danger, may the gods be praised. The scorpion you saw never touched her. Even if it had, it was only one of the brown ones. Their bite hurts, but it can’t kill us.”
“But she was crying,” I protested.
“Perhaps she’d just fallen down? And when I came upon the two of you, you were holding her tightly and screaming in her ears. She wasn’t bitten, she was terrified.” The dwarf bowed his head. “I deceived you, child, but only to calm your fears. I’ll understand if you want nothing more to do with me.”
I hesitated for only a moment. In the time it takes to draw two breaths, my arms were once more around Henenu’s neck and I’d planted a second kiss on his brow. “I’m still your friend,” I declared. “But you have to promise not to tell any more lies or Ma’at will be angry with you.”
“Ah, so you already know about the beautiful goddess of truth, do you?” The dwarf was pleased. “Very well. In that case, I swear by the sacred Feather of Ma’at that from now on, I will always tell you the truth, Nefertiti. But you must swear that you won’t hate me for it.”
“Why would I?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Because the truth holds the greatest magic, the greatest beauty, and sometimes the greatest danger,” Henenu said solemnly.
I laughed and hugged him. “You’re funny,” I said, believing with all my heart that his words were another one of his jokes and that there was nothing in the truth that could ever harm me.
“What are you doing, Henenu?”
If I’d been given a spoonful of honey for every time I asked that question during the first year after we met, I would have drowned in golden sweetness. During that time, the scribe became a frequent, welcome visitor to our home. This wasn’t anything extraordinary: He and Father had known each other since boyhood. Both of them had grown up and left Akhmin to serve in Pharaoh’s court, following the trail of good fortune my aunt Tiye had left behind her when she became Amenhotep’s adored Great Royal Wife. Father and Henenu were inseparable friends then, but those days ended for Father soon after I was born. Mourning my mother, he requested permission to serve Pharaoh elsewhere and was sent back to Akhmin. Henenu stayed on, one of Pharaoh’s best, most valued scribes.
In spite of how comfortably Henenu lived in Amenhotep’s shadow, he still made it a point to come home as often as possible, to visit his family and share the bounty he earned in the great king’s service. It was only chance that kept us from crossing paths until the Day of the Scorpion, as he called it: Pharaoh sent him to Nubia as part of a diplomatic mission and the assignment kept him far from Akhmin for years.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Nefertiti?”