‘You’re going to destroy everything before they’re in place,’ shouted Nofret as she bent down to pick up a broken flower which had fallen by her feet. ‘Look at this, the plant is ruined, ruined.’
For a few moments no one noticed Djoser and he felt a little uncomfortable. He made to turn but as he did so he heard a woman’s voice call after him.
‘Djoser, at last, an artist. We thought you were going to sleep all day. Please come.’
It was Takhat who called after him. She stood with the sun, still low in the sky, shining over her shoulder. Her beauty struck him. He felt a pain in his chest. The sun in his eyes, he thought it was his wife, standing there.
‘If only she hadn’t been taken away from me. My life would have taken such a different course,’ thought Djoser.
Takhat stretched out her hand, drawing him toward her. Her smile as he approached making her even more beautiful.
‘My husband doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body.’
‘He takes after his father,’ interjected Nofret.
Perneb tried to scowl, somewhat half-heartedly, but smiled towards Djoser as he approached.
‘Your counsel will be well received my honoured guest. I made the mistake of asking the opinion of two gardeners instead of one and then compounded the mistake by asking Nofret and Takhat for their ideas. From the four of them we have at least six different scenarios and none of us can agree.’
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Djoser, who was slowly recovering from the shock of seeing his dead wife in Takhat’s image. ‘I warn you I’m no gardener.’
‘We want to know how best to arrange the plants. Do we have the large ones at the back and lower the height as they come to the front? Do we mix them in an informal garden style? Do we have the tall plants at the front, so our guests are greeted with a plant wall, and a low garden behind? Do we have rows of tall and low plants? Do we not bother and just fill the landing with brightly dressed servants? I don’t know and we can’t agree.’
Djoser laughed. ‘There is nothing like forward planning and preparation.’
After a few seconds thought he said, ‘Symmetry,’ and walked towards the far end of the landing close to where he sat yesterday evening with Perneb. A bemused look came over the faces of his hosts and two balding servants standing beside them, whom Djoser took to be the gardeners.
‘Pihuri, imagine you’re approaching the landing in a boat coming from that direction,’ he pointed towards the bend in the river. You see a wall of tall plants and trees – what do you think?’
Pihuri looked a little surprised by the question, but answered, ‘Who has been planting trees on my landing, I bet it was Takhat’s idea?’ he said to everyone’s amusement.
‘Yes, you probably would,’ replied Djoser grinning.
‘Assassins,’ said Perneb, ‘or thieves.’
‘Correct,’ said Djoser. ‘Planting tall trees at the front would give the first impression of something to hide. This landing is spacious and wide. The portal is roughly in the middle of the structure so, I suggest, you create a welcoming symmetry. At both ends of the landing place some tall trees bringing them down in height symmetrically from each side in a curve towards the portal. With this arrangement your guests will be drawn in toward the entrance and will feel welcome. At least this is my opinion.’ The hosts and gardeners looked at each other.
‘Which is, more or less, what I suggested,’ said Takhat.
‘It’s a brilliant idea,’ said Perneb and Nofret almost in unison. Pihuri looked a little puzzled.
‘Assassins? Thieves? Why would anyone coming in friendship to Iunet think there would be murderers lurking in the bushes?’
‘Don’t worry, Pihuri,’ said Perneb. ‘When you have been a diplomat as long as I, you will realise diplomacy is all about impressions, not reality. Our guests arriving tomorrow are friends and know they’ll be safe here. However, their minds are as of experienced diplomats and seeing a wall, where there should not be one, will automatically create a subconscious impression of something not being right. Djoser is correct. A symmetrical welcome is what is needed.’
Having agreed on the plan, Djoser and the gardeners set about ordering the servants to unload the barges in an organised way, dividing the plants in roughly equal numbers and distributing them in accordance with the plan. Nofret looked on approvingly whilst Pihuri and Takhat helped the servants with the positioning.
‘Later I’ll take a boat around the bend and come back and see if I get a welcome impression,’ shouted Pihuri to Djoser.
‘We’ll all go,’ said Perneb, ‘we don’t want you getting lost.’
‘Or assassinated,’ said Takhat, ducking and running away from the playful punch which Pihuri aimed in her direction. When the barges were empty, they were sent to collect further plants and flowers needed to fill gaps. The landing started to take shape. Perneb approached Djoser, now sweating profusely with the effort of working.
‘Enough for now my friend,’ he said gently. ‘Kirgipa will be visiting our new Temple to Hathor while she is here. Nofret and I are going there to check on the preparations. We would like you to join us.’
‘It would be my pleasure, Perneb. The new Temple’s fame has spread even to Waset. I’m curious to see the artwork. Let me bathe and make myself presentable to the goddess.’
‘Take your time,’ said Nofret. ‘It’s not yet midday. We’ll go in the second half of the day,’ she raised her nose and sniffed the air. ‘Perneb, it might be an idea if you too went to bathe before we go.’
*
The wagon carrying Barratarna had made slow progress. The day after the stay at the tavern had been spent with the guards resting frequently and trying to sleep off their hangovers. The ugly one with the broken nose periodically bemoaned the fact they would be falling further behind the marching column. If they arrived at the next garrison much later than the main body of soldiers he would be hauled before the commander and ordered to give an explanation. Drinking rotten beer in a village tavern would not be accepted and his punishment could be severe.
‘We’ll have to go at double time tomorrow,’ he said to his comrades who were all still feeling sickly. They were following him; it was he who would have to face the commander’s wrath if things didn’t turn out right. Why should they care?
For the prisoner, the journey during the day had been relatively comfortable. Too concerned about themselves, the guards had left him alone for the most part and he had spent the day lying down instead of being chained upright. The salve Khayu administered the night before was still doing its job, or so it seemed. Maybe he was just getting used to pain.
*
On the river, many miles to the north, a Royal flotilla was making its way against the current, heading south. The front boat, filled with soldiers, was required more for ceremony than real protection duties. There could be no doubt that the second ship contained the Royal party. It was festooned with garlands of flowers and banners, with a large covered area towards the rear in which sat a man and two women. The man, tall with an angular nose and strong bearing, was seated to one side, reading. The two women, very different in age, side by side chatting.
The younger of the two women was Kirgipa. She arrived in Kemet, amidst much pomp, to marry Amenhotep in the tenth year of his regency. Kirgipa had been a young girl, frightened at the prospect of being pressed into a marriage of political importance and one which had nothing to do with love or thought for her feelings.
‘When you, Yuya and Perneb first came to our Palace to negotiate the terms of my marriage to Haqwaset, I was so afraid of you both. I always knew, as soon as I was old enough, I would be used diplomatically by my father and married to some neighbouring ruler in order to cement an alliance.’
‘I remember it all so well, Kirgipa. I was frightened of your father,’ said Tjuya, the woman sitting beside her.
‘I felt lucky Kemet was chosen for me, although daunted by its prospect.’
Her marriage was of enormous political importance but it also had been of substantial financial benefit to her father. Of course he had been obliged to send gifts of tremendous value along with her. Items of gold and silver, jewellery, some decorative chariots, horses and further assorted gifts, some of which had originated as gifts to her father from other rulers but which he no longer wanted. She also brought with her coloured and embroidered clothing. Ceremonial kilts for her new husband, long dresses intricately woven for his Chief Wife.
‘I was embarrassed by my father insisting I bring more than three hundred women from his palace. He said they were required to ensure my every need was catered for and I would never want for the company of people from my own land.’
‘He was growing weary of the cost of all these women,’ Yuya joined in the conversation. ‘He knew Amenhotep would never refuse to accept the retinue and in one move Shuttarna reduced his household costs by two-thirds.’
‘And fortified his ownership of gold,’ Kirgipa replied.
Kemet was rich beyond imagination. Haqwaset had no difficulty loading hundreds of camels with items of gold, precious incense and jewels. When the caravan arrived at her father’s palace all who saw it were in awe. The horizon was filled with the beasts bearing their gifts. Their route had been arranged so they arrived not long after dawn, coming from the west. Those looking at the arrival had the sun at their backs. The bright sunlight reflected off the golden harnesses on the camels and the tunics of the guards at the front of the caravan. It appeared, to those watching, that the boundary between earth and sky had disappeared and was replaced by a mountain of gold. Shuttarna had been very pleased with the transaction.
‘I didn’t like Haqwaset or Tiye when I first met them. They scared me. I found him abrupt and arrogant. I got the impression he thought me incapable. In his eyes, anyone who required over three hundred servants just for her personal needs must be insecure and not able to dress herself let alone have any form of sensible conversation.’
‘Thankfully that impression soon left you,’ said Yuya.
‘All that happened was I got to know them, properly.’
Kirgipa shared her husband’s bed on only the one occasion necessary to seal their bond. She had found him a gentle, although distant, lover. This one union had found her with child and nine months later a son was born. A child of the kap, he was given the name Smenkhkare. Being a son of a lesser wife, he was unlikely to accede to the throne of his father; Tiye’s children would always take precedence. Haqwaset doted on him, showing him the same affection as Tiye’s sons. All three boys were strong friends.
Due to Kirgipa’s abilities and the quality of work produced by her Naharina entourage, all ceremonial clothes worn by the Royal family were produced in the women’s quarters at the Palace in the north. Much of the administration of the Two Lands was still based there, although Haqwaset intended to change this, once his new Palace in Waset was completed.
‘You’ve seen the Malqata Palace most recently Yuya. What’s it like?’
‘Impressive. You’ll like it.’
‘Is that all you can say?’
‘Kirgipa, you know Haqwaset and my daughter as well as anyone does. Do you think that they would build anything that was less than magnificent?’
‘No, but I am curious.’
‘Good,’ said Yuya. ‘You won’t have to be for long.’
Kirgipa’s marriage had been announced to the world in a way favoured by her husband. A large, commemorative scarab, a beetle manifestation of the sun god was produced in stone. Haqwaset had an affinity with the Aten. He inherited his father’s love of the pyramids and their guardian Hor-em-Akhet. Partially to anger the Amun priesthood, he lavishly decorated the sun temples on the site.
Copies of the scarab were sent the length and breadth of the Two Lands and beyond its borders. Most of its message related to Haqwaset himself, and then Tiye. Kirgipa, for whom the scarab had been commissioned, only had a mention at the end.
‘To the King. May he live, be prosperous and healthy, the Daughter of the mighty, Shuttarna – Kirgipa and her female entourage of 317 women.’
For as long as Kirgipa lived, she would never be able to forget this. Close friends referred to it jokingly, persons not so friendly, referred to it maliciously and those ignorant of the facts used it mockingly. People, close to her, knew Kirgipa was never happier than when she was with just a few close companions, friends and her beloved Smenkhare.
The river journey to Waset was long, requiring a stop in each sepat. There were eighteen sepats between the start of the journey and the end in Waset. The plan was to visit two, or sometimes three, sepats per day. One or two for a meal, the third to sleep overnight. Some of the visits could be combined. Where two major sepat cities were close together, the leading dignitaries from one could stay overnight at their neighbours. The journey would eventually be a two way one, so any slight felt by one particular sepat in not being able to host a royal event, could, if necessary, be rectified by alternating the process on the return journey.
Even by doubling up some events the journey had so far taken six days. Tonight’s stop would be the last before they arrived at the sixth sepat in Iunet. There, they would spend two nights to ensure they arrived at Waset at the correct, prearranged, time. It was always acceptable for a Royal party to arrive late, however, early or unannounced arrivals tended to send people into a frenzy.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Perneb and family tomorrow,’ Kirgipa said, ‘not forgetting the new Temple to Hathor.’
‘Does Perneb know that you and my daughter have been helping finance it?’
‘Women are good at keeping secrets, Yuya. It’s best he doesn’t know.’
Since her arrival in the Two Lands, Kirgipa had developed a particular affinity with the goddess Hathor. The so called ‘Queen of the stars,’ signified beauty and charm. All aspects of a woman’s life were encompassed by this compassionate, attentive deity. Never suffering from depression, she watched over her followers through sickness, health and childbirth. Hathor was forthright and never doubted herself. As a goddess of dance she knew how to enjoy herself and make people happy.
Iunet had become a place of special worship to Hathor, even in ancient times. Nofret and Takhat had encouraged Perneb to spend, not inconsiderable sums, to replace the old Temple. They wanted it to be built to last forever. Maybe, in a few hundred years from now, if Hathor still had influence, another Temple would stand in this place, however, that wouldn’t be for many lifetimes. Perneb complained constantly that he could not spare enough money to finish the job properly and he was right. He was surprised they had been able to stretch his money to produce such a wonder. Perneb was unaware that Kirgipa and Tiye had contributed substantially, and this would remain so. The four women conspired against him but would never hurt his pride by making him think he could not provide for their wishes. Hathor would understand it was women who had real power. It was good, for the general order of things, that men believed it was them.
*
Djoser joined Perneb and Nofret to go to the Temple.
‘I don’t think you’ll find it as grand as the temples in Waset, Djoser,’ Nofret said. ‘But we love it.’
‘It is beautiful,’ Djoser said, as he approached the entrance with its six columns each inscribed with prayers honouring the goddess.
Two large statues of the deity stood on either side of the entrance.
‘Symmetry,’ said Djoser, to the amusement of his hosts.
The site had not yet been finally dedicated; that ceremony would take place when Kirgipa arrived, as a surprise to her. Priests were milling around. Through the entrance was a small open courtyard. Its walls decorated with scenes of offerings being made to the goddess, depictions of stories from the goddess’s life and her p
lace amongst other deities.
A doored entrance led into a hallway, three papyrus shaped columns on either side, dividing the room into three. A wider aisle running through the middle, lit only from small openings in the roof. The side aisles in total darkness. The holes were cut in the roof so as to draw the light towards a small entry way at the far end. Beyond this entrance, total darkness.
‘Bring in light,’ Nofret called.
Priests, marching in single file, carrying lighted lamps, entered, the first going right, the next left and so on forming two lines. As the light increased, statues along the outer aisles were visible; depictions of Hathor, priests performing ceremonial duties, women in everyday life, each honouring a separate part of Hathor’s beneficence.
The High Priest stood at the sanctuary entrance. He smiled at Perneb and Nofret but looked suspiciously at Djoser. He didn’t know this man and he had a basic distrust of people he didn’t know.
‘She is magnificent,’ he said to the approaching group.
Nofret, seeing the suspicious glance at Djoser, said, ‘Don’t worry, Meryhathor, this is Djoser, son of Kha, the King’s faithful tomb and Temple builder. He is a close friend of our family and is here in his official capacity to give a professional view of the works which you have so carefully and dutifully supervised.’
‘You should be rightfully proud of your achievements here,’ said Djoser a little too gushingly.
High Priests generally had big egos and Djoser didn’t mind inflating this one even further.
‘This reminds me so much of the new Amun Temple in Waset, obviously much smaller, but with a level of workmanship equal to that in the great Temple.’
The High Priest was pleased with the compliments. In fact Djoser hadn’t been lying or over flattering. He could not believe Perneb had the wealth to complete the works to such a high standard but then thought Nofret and Takhat had been particularly shrewd negotiators.
The Awakening Aten Page 23