Since Thutmose’s death, there were no longer any bars between Amenophis and me, yet we still spent most of our time apart. He had been called away to study the funeral rites he would have to perform for his brother. Everything had to be done perfectly to ensure that Thutmose’s spirit would reach Lord Osiris’s court in safety. The rituals at the tomb were only a part of that. There were many charms, spells, and incantations to be placed on the prince’s body. Above all, he needed to be buried with the Book of Going Forth by Day.
I had never seen a copy of the Book of Going Forth by Day, though like everyone else in the Black Land, I knew all about it. That sacred scroll described every step of the journey that awaited Thutmose’s spirit. There were many perils on the path to his rebirth in the afterlife, but the book provided all the knowledge he would need to triumph over them. Of all the things being made ready for Thutmose’s tomb, the book was the only one I could stand to imagine without tears.
On a morning halfway through the time of preparation, I entered Aunt Tiye’s apartments to find that she had a number of other callers. Princess Tabiri sat next to her, holding her rival’s hand and urging her to have one more sip of wine, one more nibble of bread. Henenu was also present. I hadn’t seen very much of my friend and teacher since the day I’d overseen his return to the palace. Now he was in deep conversation with my aunt over the piece of papyrus in his hands and didn’t notice me come in.
“—describe the collar you would like him to wear as he approaches Osiris?” I heard him say just before he glanced in my direction. “Nefertiti, how good to see you. Come and look at this.” He let me have a good look at the document he’d brought, a masterpiece of art. Even before I read a line of the writing on it, the parade of exquisitely painted gods told me I was looking at part of the Book of Going Forth by Day.
“This will be my son’s,” Aunt Tiye said, and this time it was Princess Tabiri who held her while she wept.
“Henenu?” I murmured, tapping him on the shoulder. “Henenu, can we speak privately?” I drew him aside and told him the idea that had come to me as I’d looked at the portion of Thutmose’s scroll.
He listened attentively, and when I finished, he said, “Come with me.”
He brought me to the room where many men bent their backs as they worked on long strips of papyrus, creating the scenes Thutmose’s spirit would encounter. Thutmose himself was there, accompanied by Anubis, led by Horus, kneeling in the presence of Osiris, awaiting the final balance to be struck between his heart and the Feather of Ma’at. Some of them were so intent on their work that they didn’t even look up to acknowledge my presence.
Henenu brought me a scribe’s kit, a worn piece of papyrus covered with clumsily scrawled lines. “Copy this text here,” he told me, setting down another piece that was adorned with fresh paintings.
I read the words before me: “ ‘I have risen, I have risen like the mighty hawk of gold … ’ ” I would copy these words and many, many others into the Book of Going Forth by Day that would accompany my friend into his tomb and beyond, to a life that would be as eternal as the stars. I said a prayer to Thoth and Seshat, She-Who-Writes, and began.
On the day before Prince Thutmose’s body emerged from the House of Beauty—wrapped in linen, guarded by countless amulets, masked with gold, sealed in many coffins—my family arrived from Akhmin. Because of Father’s rank and his relationship to Aunt Tiye, they were to be welcomed formally by Pharaoh himself in one of the finest audience chambers in the palace. I was brought into the room just as they were paying homage to the royal couple and their children. An attendant announced me, but before I could say anything to Father, Mother, or Bit-Bit, Aunt Tiye summoned me to her side on the low platform where her husband sat enthroned.
“The gods take much from us,” she said, smiling at me with genuine affection. “But they also give us many blessings. When I took Nefertiti from Akhmin, I hoped to see her married to my son.” She spread her arms to either side and took Amenophis and me by the hand. “When our time of mourning is over, I will see that hope fulfilled.” She placed our hands together, cradled between her own.
I looked at Amenophis; he was as stunned as I. Aunt Tiye squeezed our united hands and leaned close enough to whisper in my ear, “You have become a true daughter to me, Nefertiti. You shared my grief. I won’t forget it.” Then she turned to Father and called out, “Don’t fret, Ay. This marriage is her idea, too.”
I looked to my parents and sister. My second mother, Mery, had tears of joy in her eyes. Father looked bewildered and pleased at the same time. Only Bit-Bit’s face was unsmiling. Why was she glowering at me that way? In the midst of my happiness, I thought I heard the scorching winds of the Red Land bringing Set’s mocking laughter.
If Ma’at herself were to demand that I testify to everything that happened on the day of Thutmose’s funeral, I would have to bow my head before the goddess and confess that I could not. I remember the strident cries and lamentations of the professional mourners, women who tore their hair, beat their breasts, and knocked their heads against the ground as the procession escorting the prince’s body went through the streets of Thebes. I also recall how the coffin was placed on a canopied sled drawn by oxen and by a small army of the highest-born men in Pharaoh’s court. Father was among them, wearing the white sandals and headband of mourning.