Beauty of Re

by Mark Gajewski

  I squeezed the hand that held mine. “I’ll always believe in you, Thut, no matter what.”

  He smiled. “To build my empire I’ll need the army, and for the army to follow me on such a quest they’ll need to believe in me as you do, see me as competent and worth following into battle.”

  “Ahmose and the rest of the charioteers who were with us today look up to you,” I said loyally.

  Thut snorted. “Raw boys. Mostly trainees, like myself. Until they see me tested in battle they won’t really believe in me. They look up to me now because I’m their king, and they have to.” He gazed over the valley. “But in the heat of battle that won’t be enough to hold men to me, to keep them from running when the odds seem hopeless. No, Mery, today I lead only a small unit of charioteers. I must earn greater responsibility – leadership of larger units, of a corps, of the army itself. I must become an expert in everything associated with military life, build trust with the men, gain their loyalty. And when I’ve done that I must forge them into an unstoppable force.”

  “And then attack and defeat the Nine Bows!” I exclaimed.

  “If it was only that easy,” Thut replied, shaking his head. “I still have so much to learn. Captain Djehuty is teaching me about provisioning an army on the march and during a siege, securing supply lines, the geography and climate of nearby lands, the locations of roads and trails and water holes, coordinating land and naval forces, supplying men with weapons, managing herds of donkeys to carry gear, holding and governing conquered territory and, of course, military tactics and strategy for both battles and campaigns. Every day I get a little closer to understanding how everything fits together, but I haven’t mastered it all yet.”

  “I had no idea your training was so complicated.” I scanned his face. “But if anyone can conquer the Nine Bows, you can, Thut.”

  He smiled. “You don’t think I’m just a dreamer? You really believe I can create an empire, Mery?”

  “With every fiber of my being, Thut,” I said fervently. “I know that once you’ve set your mind to something no one can stop you. The Nine Bows will not be able to stand against you.”

  “Now you know why I don’t terribly mind the Regent running Kemet’s day to day affairs. It frees me to concentrate on my military training and make my long–term plans. Besides, even if I was ready to command now, Hatshepsut wouldn’t let me use the army. But in two years I’ll be old enough to rule on my own, and then no one will be able to stop me. It gives me so little time to master all I must of military affairs. I don’t have a single hour to waste.”

  We both turned and looked out over the river valley. My eyes traced the ramp that led down from this temple, through its gardens, past the harsh desert to the cultivated strip and the river and the emerald fields on the east bank of the river and the desert hills rising beyond. Waset stretched along the river, a warren of low mud–brick buildings along narrow twisted lanes, with the pylons and obelisks and temples of Ipet–Isut rising to its north. Nearer at hand, on the low hills just to the south of Mentuhotep’s temple, tomb openings gaped darkly.

  “I won’t neglect Kemet either, Mery,” Thut said thoughtfully. “I’ll add to Ipet–Isut, as my grandfather and father did, and erect more temples to the gods throughout the land. I’ll demand tribute from the lands I conquer – I’ll make Kemet the richest kingdom in the world. And I’ll devote a portion of that tribute to the gods, for their glory – most particularly to Amun, for his support.”

  “You dream large, Thut,” I said admiringly. “Dreams enough for many lifetimes.”

  “It’s good I only sleep a few hours a night, then,” he chuckled. “Even now I feel time pressing on me. There’s not enough to accomplish all I want.”

  “Then I’ll pray to the gods that they grant you all the time you need,” I said.

  Thut suddenly leaned close and brushed my hair from my face with his fingers. His touch on my cheek was electric. His eyes met mine. “I never realized how much I missed being with you until we were parted so often, and for so long.”

  “I feel the same way,” I admitted.

  “Last night you said you wanted to be with me in my court, to be my translator.”

  “That, or to serve you in any way I can, Thut.”

  He pulled an object from his kilt and held it up. A golden amulet on a gold chain. Hathor, goddess of love. It glittered in the sunlight. I caught my breath at its simple elegance and beauty. Thut turned it over and I saw his name inscribed in a cartouche on the back. He reached around my neck and fastened the chain, let the amulet fall against my chest. He took my hands in his, raised his eyes to mine. “Would you serve me as my wife, Mery?”

  I was stunned at the unexpectedness of his question, at the ramifications for us both. The amulet told me he was not asking on the spur of the moment. Now our separation from the rest of the charioteers made sense. He’d wanted to be alone with me. My heart started to beat much faster.

  “Haven’t you ever imagined us sharing our lives that way?” Thut spoke as a suitor, not a king.

  I couldn’t lie. “Yes, Thut, I have. Of course. So many times. But its just a beautiful dream that can never be more than that.”

  “Why not? Don’t you love me?” he asked.

  There was no sense lying. He’d always been able to see through me. “Always. Horribly. Awfully. You know that.”

  “And I you.” He kissed me gently.

  My arms rose of their own accord and circled his neck. His crept around my back, pulled me close, held me tight. My body seemed to melt into his. I returned his kiss, my eyes tightly closed, desire and longing surging through me. I kissed Thut for a very long time. I’d never guessed at the passion that had been pent up inside me. Then I came to my senses. I broke our kiss, backed away from him. “This is crazy, Thut,” I said breathlessly. “Nefer’s going to be your Great Wife.”

  “I’m the king. I’ll have many wives – like Mentuhotep, like my father, like my grandfather. You can be one of them, Mery. The very first.” He embraced and kissed me again.

  I backed away once more. “Nefer should be, Thut,” I protested. “I can’t come between you two. You know how much I love her – as much as I love you. I couldn’t betray her like that.”

  “How is it betrayal? Nefer will be my Great Wife. Everyone knows it. But lets be frank – I’ll marry Nefer to legitimize and solidify my claim to the throne, and she’ll marry me so her son will rule this land after me. We won’t marry out of love, but out of duty, as Father wished.”

  “Duty! That’s what Nefer calls it too. Thut, sometimes the two of you drive me mad! Most of the time! You two are perfect for each other. Nefer is amazing and so are you. The two of you are going to rule Kemet and make it magnificent beyond what any king has ever done, just as you’ve dreamed. While you’re off creating your empire, Nefer will be working here at home, on your behalf, building those temples you talked about, putting the tribute you demand to good use. You’ll both be so much happier if you’ll fall in love with each other for real.”

  “But I don’t have to force myself to love you, Mery. I already do.” He kissed me again.

  Again I pushed him away.

  “Don’t I tempt you, Mery?” Thut asked. “For you most assuredly tempt me.”

  “Of course you do, Thut. My heart sings just thinking about being your wife. But you’re going to marry Nefer.” I took hold of his hand. “So I can’t be your wife. As much as I want to be, I can’t. I couldn’t compete against her for your affection. And what if we both gave you sons? How would you choose your heir between them, especially if mine was born first? Or worse, what if I gave you sons and Nefer only daughters? I couldn’t watch our children compete against each other to follow you on the throne. I couldn’t do that to Nefer. So make Nefer your wife for real. Find a way to love her, Thut,” I said urgently. “Find a way to make her love you. You could be happy together. You don’t have to be miserable or feel duty–bound. I’ll help you both, in any way I can.
”

  “What about us?”

  I threw back my shoulders. “We have to try to forget what we feel, stop loving each other this way. We can’t be anything more than friends. We just can’t.”

  Thut shook his head and stood and helped me to my feet. The midday sun beat down upon us. The wind whipped my skirt around my legs, my hair about my face. He took both my hands in his again, linked our fingers. “You’re wrong, Mery,” he said cheerfully, at the same time staring deep into my eyes. “You just said that whenever my heart’s set on something I get it. Well, my heart’s set on you. I will have you – maybe not now, but someday. It’s inevitable. Go ahead and try to stop loving me. You won’t be able to. I certainly won’t stop loving you – I’m not even going to try. Rest assured – while you’re trying to make Nefer and I love each other, I’ll be doing everything I can to change your mind about us. And I will, Mery. I promise you that.”

  Thut took my hand and led me down the ramp towards his waiting chariot. My mind was swirling with conflicting emotions. Thut loved me and I loved him. I loved Nefer and I wouldn’t betray her. But even so, Thut intended to make me his wife. I feared – and hoped – he would.

  1473 BC

  Regnal Year 7 – Thutmose III

  Nefer and Aachel and I waited on the east bank of the river just south of Swenet, a small collection of mud–brick houses and a few administrative buildings within sight of the First Cataract. Abu, a long narrow island with high sheer banks of rock, occupied most of the river’s channel directly to our west. Half a mile to our east was a quarry in the midst of a vast granite plateau. Hatshepsut had sent Nefer to Swenet to oversee shipment of two great obelisks of rose–colored granite that she had ordered to be created for Amun’s temple at Ipet–Isut. The river was confined here, snaking, bending, choked with many small islands that were dotted with huge rocks and shaded by clumps of palms and edged by mud and thickets of tall grass and reeds. I could hear the river roar as it rushed through the miles–long narrow cataract. A high desert plateau loomed closely over the river on the west, its sharply–slanting sand slope dropping to a fringe of palms and patches of reeds at river’s edge. Unlike most of the valley, there was no cultivated strip here at Swenet, only rocks and sand beyond the riverbanks. High steep bluffs rose east of the quarry as well.

  Thut was at the cataract too, though today he was with Viceroy Seni inspecting fortifications a short distance upriver, part of a military tour that would eventually take him all the way to the Second Cataract. He had appeared at Waset from Mennefer on the eve of Nefer’s and my departure, and had sailed with us on a royal boat to Swenet. This journey was the first time Thut and I had seen each other since our visit to Mentuhotep’s temple a year ago, for he had returned to Waset for none of the usual festivals in the interim, caught up in military activities.

  Our reunion had been glorious. Thut had risen quickly in the army since our last encounter and was now a captain under Djehuty, himself promoted to command the elite chariot corps. The air of quiet authority about Thut I’d noticed the prior year had become more pronounced. To me he seemed unquestioningly regal, every bit a king. There had been no awkwardness between us at all when we first came together again, despite how we’d left things, only an undercurrent of wistful longing and desire. Thut had been right – I hadn’t been able to make myself stop loving him, and had finally given up. What I had felt for him a year earlier had blossomed into true love during our time apart, despite the impossibility of it going any further, despite my insistence that we had to put aside our feelings and be only friends. Thut’s love for me had grown too, and was even stronger than before. Each of us was bursting with news for the other, each of us excited to know what the other had been doing. He was as happy to be with me as I was to be with him. On the voyage south to Swenet and Abu I dined with him at every meal, and we played Senet or conversed for hours each evening, often sitting on the riverbank alone in the moonlight as the river silently slipped past, its broad surface shimmering with silver. I spent almost every minute of the day that Thut wasn’t attending to royal business with him, sometimes standing at the bow of the boat watching the countryside, sometimes in the shade of the canopy amidships. I listened enthralled as Thut told tale after tale of all he’d seen and done in the army, of his trip to the oases in the western desert, of sailing on the great sea, of what it was like to rule the country, of the changes he was making to Mennefer, of the per’aa he planned to build there. I told him of my studies, of what I’d learned in the audience hall of the per’aa and on the docks of Waset. On the river, essentially alone with him, the rest of the world seemed far away.

  Nefer dined with us, but she spent most of her time on the journey with Aachel and Hori, a priest about Aachel’s age from Amun’s temple at Ipet–Isut who’d been assigned by the high priest Hapuseneb to accompany us to perform the proper rituals on the obelisks. Hori was tall and slim with piercing yet friendly black eyes, knowledgeable, engaging, an excellent storyteller. We traveled leisurely up the river for several weeks, driven by the prevailing southerly wind that filled our vulture–patterned sail, accompanied by kitchen boats and storage boats and a military escort. We stopped each evening to camp beside the river or, if we were at a town, to attend a banquet hosted by the local mayor or governor. We visited every town, so that the people could see the king, and we worshiped at every temple. We even made extended stays at several localities so that Thut could hunt; it was his passion, and each time he took to the desert or marshes I was his companion. He had, after all, taught me to shoot with a bow when I was young and now, under his constant tutelage and with increased practice, my skill improved greatly.

  “The obelisks are now complete,” the overseer of the work told us. He was a wizened, bent old man, skin burned nearly black by a lifetime of constant exposure to the sun.

  Two very long narrow stone objects lay side by side above a narrow canal that had been excavated into the bedrock a short distance east from the bank of the river, suspended over it on three sets of timbers that lay perpendicular to the channel. One set of timbers was in the middle, and the others near each end of the obelisks. Both of them were completely smooth on all four of their faces; Senenmut had informed me they’d be inscribed with hieroglyphs from top to bottom after they arrived at Waset.

  “How in the world?” Nefer asked, reaching out and touching the hard sun–warmed granite.

  “Your mother commissioned them, the first non–monarch to do so,” the overseer of construction explained. “They are called the obelisks of Heh. Each weighs between four hundred and six hundred tons. Senenmut oversaw their creation. They represent Re’s rays.”

  “Yes. I know that,” Nefer said impatiently. “I meant, how in the world were they constructed and moved into position?”

  “First, we located suitable granite in this desert quarry and marked out the dimensions of each obelisk. Then we set a series of small fires along the planned edges, dousing them with water after they’d burned for some time. Then we relit and redoused until the surrounding rock cracked. We prepared the uppermost face of each obelisk, then men excavated and shaped the two sides by rhythmically bouncing balls of dolerite against each surface – it’s a much harder stone. The balls eventually ate away the granite.”

  “How long did that take?” I asked.

  “A year. We prepared the underside the same way, leaving the obelisk supported by nothing more than isolated spurs of the mother rock and packing stone. When we were ready, we replaced the packing stone with wooden rollers and broke the spurs. Then, using ramps and rollers and ropes, we dragged each of the obelisks here to the riverbank and moved them beside each other over the sets of support beams, which we’d set into parallel trenches beforehand. Then we dug the canal underneath the obelisks, leaving them suspended on the timbers. In a few days we’ll float a barge into the canal and load the obelisks on board.”

  “At which time Her Majesty and I will perform the appropriate rites,” Hori
said as he joined us.

  The overseer nodded.

  I was glad Hori had been sent with us. He’d proven to be a wonderful traveling companion, sharing with us around our evening campfires his extensive knowledge of flora and fauna gained while growing up on a farm near Abdju. He and Thut had spent many hours discussing such things and comparing notes on all they’d seen in their various travels. Hori had even good–naturedly endured Aachel’s and my constant teasing as we pointed out the women in the towns and temples along the way who showed an interest in him.

  Teasing was Aachel’s way of covering up that she’d fallen in love with Hori almost on sight. She’d admitted it while lying beside me in my bed a week or so into our journey, but I’d already guessed it. Love shone in her eyes every time she looked at Hori. I could tell he was attracted to Aachel too, and why not? She was a beautiful woman, kind, caring, with a sweet disposition. Hori was as unable to hide his feelings about her as she was about him. I did not doubt at all that in the fullness of time they would confess their love to each other and marry. I envied them that. It was so much simpler to fall in love with someone who wasn’t a king.

  “What will be done with the obelisks?” Aachel asked.