Beauty of Re

by Mark Gajewski

  After we’d inspected the warehouses, Senenmut took us to see some of the workshops he’d spoken of earlier – those of weavers, potters, jewelry makers and more. Several stood out for me. The copper smelter was a large open–sided building with seventeen furnaces belching plumes of smoke, its hordes of workers sweating profusely in the nearly unbearable heat. Craftsmen in a much smaller shop were making blue pigment for use in paintings. I watched workers in a ceramic shop shape molds for amulets and seals and scarabs. In the stone carver’s workshop, I looked over the shoulder of an apprentice who was duplicating a model head, one of many such heads and figures that were lined up on a long wooden shelf. He informed me that he wouldn’t be considered a master carver for at least a dozen years.

  We finally returned to the per’aa just as Re dipped below the western plateau, this time sailing up the river from the harbor on a small royal boat instead of walking through the city. Aachel still clung to me, and she slept with me in my bed that night after a long bath and change of clothes and a filling meal. As I lay awake beside her, listening to the sound of the river flowing past the window of my room, I reflected on my day in Mennefer. The city was crowded, dirty, drab, colorful, loud, alive, magnificent. I loved every bit of it. I promised myself I’d roam its streets again, and often, discover even more of its secrets. And for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to dream what it would be like to rule it at Thut’s side, as his wife.

  ***

  The next morning the four of us set out for Ta–mehi and the Great Green on one of the royal boats. The craft was long and slim, its ends rising gracefully in the shape of lotus flowers. The bow and stern were painted in bands of red and green, the bulk of the body yellow. A cabin large enough for us all to sleep in occupied the center of the boat, decorated with vultures on its sides. The sail was patterned with red, white and blue squares. A steersman stood atop a small platform at the stern, manipulating a very long rudder crowned with a falcon head. The eye of Horus decorated both bow and stern.

  Aachel was clean now, dressed in a brand–new white linen shift, with a golden amulet around her neck and bracelets on her wrists. She was overwhelmed by her change in circumstance. There was gratitude in her eyes as she looked at me. Her skin was much lighter than Nefer’s and mine. So was her hair, which was quite a bit shorter. Her eyes were brown. I thought it would be many months before the hollows in her cheeks and between her ribs filled out.

  “This will be no pleasure trip for you, Nefer,” Senenmut said as we walked up the gangplank. “I expect you to return to Waset an expert in the geography and flora and fauna of the river valley, from the Great Green all the way to your home, with at least a grasp of Aachel’s tongue.” He looked at me. “And I expect you to speak Retunian like a native” – he sighed – “and remember at least a little of the rest.”

  “I’ll try, Senenmut. I really will.”

  “And I expect Aachel to be able to speak our language passably. Your job is to teach her, Mery.”

  I welcomed the challenge and opportunity and told him so.

  Senenmut joined we three girls alongside the railing not long after the boat moved into the river. The oarsmen began ply their oars, aiding the north–flowing current. Nefer gazed wistfully at Mennefer as it disappeared behind us.

  “You miss your brother the king,” Senenmut said. It was no question.

  “It’s the first time we’ve been separated since we were born.” The wind blew Nefer’s long hair across her face and she pushed it to one side. “I know we’ll be together again, when Thut makes me his Great Wife. But that won’t be for many years.”

  Half an hour later three great pyramids appeared on the west bank, towering over the vast desert plateau, and the head of a great statue buried nearly to its chin by sand. Aachel pointed at them excitedly.

  “Tell me all you remember of what I’ve taught you about the Giza plateau,” Senenmut ordered Nefer.

  “These pyramids were raised more than a thousand years ago, when kings had absolute authority over the people of Kemet,” she replied. “The whole land was devoted to their construction – never before had such a thing happened anywhere in the world. Bureaucracies were created to manage the workforce and materials and food and supplies, and methods of working and transporting stone were invented and put in place. The largest pyramid belonged to Khufu, the second to Khafre, and the smallest to Menkaure. Their sides were once smooth with gleaming limestone, and their peaks tipped with gold to catch the first and last light of Re each day.” Nefer pointed to the statue. “They say it has the body of a lion, though its been buried by sand for time beyond memory and no one now alive has ever seen it.”

  “Excellent,” Senenmut said with satisfaction. “Mery, who lies in the smaller tombs?”

  “Kings’ wives in the smaller pyramids at the bases of the larger, their children and nobles in the nearby tombs arranged like a small city.”

  “You’re correct as well.” Senenmut surveyed the plateau. “Even after ten centuries, these pyramids are still the largest structures on earth, perhaps never to be surpassed in size. They’ve made the kings buried inside them immortal. We’ll stop and see them up close on our return.”

  We ate our midday meal under a decorated linen canopy at the center of the boat. Serving girls placed beer and bread and onions and a variety of fruits on our small table. We all watched, amused, as Aachel wolfed down her portion before we had even taken a few bites. At Nefer’s command the girls brought her more. As I ate I gazed at the banks of the river. We were in Ta–mehi now, moving steadily north on one of the river’s branches, the oarsmen rhythmically dipping their oars into the water, occasionally singing, their overseer shouting, the steersman moving the great rudder as necessary. I had never seen such a landscape. I was used to a silver river banded with narrow strips of cultivated fields hemmed in by desert and rocky plateaus and scattered with groves of trees. But here in the delta the riverbanks were screened by thickets of tall reeds and papyrus. Beyond them were fields of waving emmer that stretched to the horizon in every direction. For the first time in my life I could not see the desert. It was a bit disorienting. Numerous small villages of low mud–brick houses topped hillocks barely higher than the fields themselves. They were scattered across the land like knots in a fisherman’s net.

  “Those villages date back to the beginnings of Kemet itself, if not before,” Senenmut told us. “The delta’s first farmers settled on rises high enough to remain dry during the inundation. Eventually, when their mud–brick homes crumbled to dust, they built anew atop the ruins, the rises gradually becoming hillocks, ever higher and more expansive.”

  The fields were alive with farmers caring for their crops, laced with irrigation channels and dikes. I noticed a few fishermen casting nets from reed punts at the margins of the channel, and hunters stalking game. The marshes teemed with colorful birds and waterfowl. The trilling of the birds was both incessant and pleasant. I saw dozens of large crocodiles sunning themselves on one open stretch of riverbank. Several sailors on our boat raised amulets to ward them off.

  “Will you always be my tutor?” Nefer asked Senenmut as she sipped from a cup of beer.

  “I hope so. I’ve served your mother for many years in a variety of posts. She trusts me. I’m very proud of the faith she’s shown in me, allowing me to educate you these past years, and I won’t fail her. She’s given me a very important task – she’s charged me with preparing you to be a king.”

  “King? But my brother is the king,” Nefer said, surprise in her voice.

  I was equally surprised. Did Hatshepsut expect Nefer to seize Thut’s throne?

  “What if Menkheperre – life, health, prosperity – dies before he has an heir?” Senenmut asked gently. “Your half–brother just joined the army, Nefer. He could be killed in battle, or die of disease, or simply die young, as your father did. If he does you’ll have to take the throne. There’s no one else in the land with royal blood except your mother –
no other brothers, no other sisters.”

  All the times I’d worried about what might happen to Thut after he joined the army, I’d never once considered the impact of his death on Nefer’s future. She was a girl, after all. Who’d ever heard of a female king? Was that even possible, even if Thut died?

  “Are you saying it may be the gods’ will that I rule some day?” Nefer asked skeptically. I could tell she was having a difficult time accepting the concept.

  “Perhaps. That’s what you must prepare for. That’s why your mother has commanded that your course of education be that of a king’s.”

  “Which means?”

  “You must become as literate as a scribe. You must learn the hieratic system of writing, and then hieroglyphs. You’ll receive training about restricted subjects in the temples, since the king is the highest priest in the land. You’ll read and memorize the classic literature, which imparts morals. You’ll study Kemyt, a textbook of formulas and idioms and model literary letters. You’ll continue to study mathematics. You’ll learn the arts of war.”

  “Would I really have to fight, to lead troops in battle?” Nefer asked, wide–eyed.

  “Some say Ahhotep, wife of King Kamose, did,” Senenmut answered.

  Nefer threw back her shoulders. “I would too, if I had to,” she said bravely, and meant it. She took a deep breath. “What you said about being prepared in case my brother dies without an heir makes sense. So I promise, Senenmut, I’ll study hard. I’ll pray to the gods every day that they keep Thut safe, but I’ll be ready for whatever comes. You can tell Mother that.”

  Senenmut smiled and bowed slightly. “Very good, Majesty.”

  I mulled over the conversation late into that night, lying at Nefer’s side in our cabin on the royal boat, listening to her regular breathing. What Senenmut had told Nefer about preparing to be king made perfect sense. Yet for some reason I felt uneasy. I had the feeling Senenmut had not been completely honest with Nefer. But I couldn’t figure out what he might have lied about, or why. In the end, I decided my imagination was overactive, and rolled over and went to sleep.

  1474 BC

  Regnal Year 6 – Thutmose III

  A young girl wearing only a girdle of cowry shells draped a garland of lotus blossoms around my neck. I lifted the flowers to my nose, inhaled their heavenly scent, more wonderful even than the fine perfume with which I had anointed myself and Nefer and Aachel for tonight’s banquet honoring Isis. I was excited; Thut had arrived from Mennefer for the festival a few hours ago. I hadn’t seen him in six months and could hardly wait to be with him again.

  I paused beside one of the columns that lined all four sides of the square courtyard in the middle of the per’aa. The column was decorated with images of Thut worshiping various gods. The courtyard was already crowded with revelers, already loud with a hundred conversations, decorated with flowers and greenery and lit by torches and bowls of oil with burning linen wicks set on stone and wooden stands. Small tables with two or three chairs at each were scattered everywhere. Directly opposite me, a group of female musicians dressed in white skirts played guitar and lyre and flute and tambourine and drums. Above, the black sky was awash with stars.

  Nearly every high official from Waset was here tonight, and many from Mennefer who had accompanied Thut south. Torchlight glittered on a plethora of jewels and bracelets and earrings and armbands and girdles of gold that adorned wives and daughters. Most of the women wore wigs topped with incense cones; as the cones melted in the evening’s heat they would release their perfume. The dresses were amazing – most white, some yellow or pale blue, sheer, opaque, pleated, with sleeves, without, some with one strap, some with two. Some dresses were completely open down the front, others covered with nets of beads. Shawls were draped over a few shoulders. I had selected an opaque linen dress, knotted over my left shoulder, with earrings and broad collar and girdle and bracelets of gold inlaid with carnelian. My red hair was unbound and fell halfway down my back.

  I saw Hatshepsut in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a group of officials and foreign dignitaries, a gold diadem with a rearing uraeus on her brow. She was laughing and smiling and easily conversing with everyone. Her dress was white, her jewels the finest in the hall. She was by far the most beautiful woman in attendance, and I did not miss the lustful glances from those men gathered at her side. Many of them, I knew, were actively courting her, though she had so far shown no inclination to remarry. Senenmut stood a few paces away, quietly observing, his face impassive but fists tightly clenched. It occurred to me that he might be jealous of the attention Hatshepsut was receiving. Iset was watching Hatshepsut too, her stare icy, hatred evident in every line of her body. She wore the crown of a king’s mother and was surrounded by her own small knot of officials, likely from the court in Mennefer. They’d no doubt come with her and Thut to Waset for the festival.

  “A fine party, don’t you think?”

  I turned, startled. “Ahmose!”

  He embraced me and I hugged him back.

  “I hoped Thut would bring you with him from Mennefer,” I said. “I was afraid you’d have to stay with the army. These banquets are so dull for Nefer and Aachel and me unless Thut and you come.”

  “I go where the king goes,” Ahmose assured me. “I’m his protector, after all.” He smiled, took hold of my hand. “And could be yours too, Mery.”

  I laughed and pulled my hand away. Ahmose had been trying to court me, on and off, for the past three years, whenever we were together like this. But I knew I wasn’t the only girl he toyed with, from rumors Aachel had carried to me of his activities in Mennefer. It seemed no maiden in the capital was safe from his advances. But, then, he’d been moving from girl to girl ever since we were children, and so I’d never taken his attentions seriously.

  Just then there was a stir. Thut entered the hall, accompanied by his Medjay bodyguards. He wore a blue– and yellow–striped nemes headdress, and a white kilt, and a broad collar of gold inlaid with blue and green and red faience. Most of the younger women and many of the officials made a beeline for him. He’d changed considerably since leaving for the army four years ago. He’d shot up several inches and his voice had deepened and his body was lean and well–muscled. His military training had been good for him. There was an air of authority about Thut now that he’d lacked when he’d first been crowned, a sense of command, of kingliness. Despite his time in the field, he hadn’t neglected his studies either. Or so Hatshepsut’s spies, who kept tabs on him, regularly reported in the per’aa’s audience hall. Like Nefer, Thut was serious about preparing himself to be king in his own right. I had no doubt that Iset’s spies at Waset kept equally close watch over Nefer. Sometimes I felt as if Thut and Nefer were merely pieces in a game being played between Iset and Hatshepsut and their respective supporters.

  I saw Aachel disengage herself from a group of admirers. She waded through the crowd to Ahmose and me. She greeted us warmly. Now twenty–two, she’d turned into a beauty, her legs long, hair lustrous, as close a friend to me as Nefer was. She slept in the room next to mine in the per’aa and we often shared each other’s beds, talking late into the night. I found it easy to confide in her my hopes and dreams; she was the older sister I’d never had. Aachel was eternally grateful to Nefer and me for rescuing her from a life of slavery, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for either of us. Had she not been Nefer’s companion she surely would have been married by now, for she did not lack suitors, many of them quite persistent.

  Aachel pointed across the courtyard. “I see Nefer’s admirers are out in force tonight.”

  Nefer was surrounded by officials and their sons, and not surprisingly so. At age fourteen she was stunning, her beauty attested by the number of boys and men who pressed upon her, not only tonight, but in town after town as we ranged up and down the river on state visits.

  “And plenty of men are staring at you too, Mery,” Aachel added, then giggled.

  I blushed. Where
ver we three girls went now, the eyes of men were upon me as well as Nefer and Aachel. Because of my long red hair I stood out in any crowd. I was no longer gangly but had finally grown into my body, curved in the right places, shaped by years of swimming and riding and other activities. Had I not been part of the royal court I’d probably have been married years ago, and a mother several times over.

  “Aachel’s right, you know,” Ahmose said, trying to take my hand in his again.

  I ignored him. I indicated the king. “And I see all the pretty young women have set their sights on Thut.” He was virtually surrounded by the daughters of his courtiers, all bedecked with flowers and jewels, all smiling, all hanging on his every word. He didn’t seem to mind their attention. I felt a surge of jealousy.

  “It’s like that wherever the king goes in the Two Lands,” Ahmose said. He must have seen something in my face. “Not that Thut reciprocates,” he added hastily. “Which is good for me. All those fine women who get ignored by the king are only too happy to settle for the king’s Great Companion.”