**I go," said Benya. ''Embrace me." Senmut rose and hugged his friend. ''May Isis protect you," Benya remarked lightly, picking up his pack. They smiled at each other, and Benya turned to go, but in an instant he was hissing in Senmut's ear, "A Follower of His Majesty and a herald! They are coming this way!"
Senmut stepped forward, his heart pounding, his palms suddenly moist. He clenched his fists behind his back, watching the tall, kilted man approach. He hardly saw the herald. His eyes were on the spear held in the huge hand, the knotted muscles of the powerful chest, the flashing gold Eye of Horus on the man's helmet. The man's face was empty. They approached Senmut, and with a soft thunk the butt of the spear hit the ground. The herald bowed, and dazedly Senmut turned to him.
"Senmut, priest to the priests of Mighty Amun?" the herald inquired gently, noting the boy's pallor.
Senmut nodded imperceptibly. It has happened, he thought. Now I am finished.
The herald saluted in the Imperial fashion, right fist to left shoulder. "I bring you a summons from the Crown Prince Hatshepsut Khnum-Amun. She orders you to appear before her in one hour on the edge of Mighty Amun's Lake. Do not be late. Do not speak to her unless she bids you do so, and keep your eyes downcast. That is all." He smiled, bowed again, and strode away, followed by the soldier.
Benya let out a trembling breath. "By Osiris, Senmut, what was all that about? What have you been up to, that the Little One should want to see you? Are you in trouble?"
Senmut turned. Excitement licked his belly, kindled and leaped in his eyes, and he began to grin. He took Benya by the shoulders and shook him. "No, no! No trouble, dear Benya! If I was to be arrested, she would not have sent a herald. I am to have an audience!"
"I can see that!" Benya stepped good-humoredly from his friend's grasp. "But why? Or is it a secret?"
"In a way. I did a service for the Princess. Or no, really I made a foolish blunder, and she—there was a mistake, Benya, and it has haunted me for weeks. I have been sick with it. And now—"
''I can see that I must go with this mystery unsolved." Benya swung his pack over his shoulder once more. ''Send me word, Senmut. I must know what passes here. My curiosity is intense. Send me a coherent scroll, written by a sage and sensible scribe, or I shall not speak to you on my return." He began to leave, but turned back. ''Are you sure that you are not in trouble?"
"Quite sure. I think"—Senmut spread out his arms in a gesture that was both ecstatic and free—"I think I am going to have a destiny after all."
"I hope you are right. Good-bye, Senmut."
"Good-bye, Benya."
"And send me word!"
"I will!"
Senmut waved to Benya. Before his friend was even out of sight, he began to run to his cell, shouting for a slave. There must be water and clean linen, and his head must be shaved, and all in one hour. I will, he exulted to himself as he ran, I will. But what he was saying, he did not know.
Exactly one hour later, washed and shaved and clad in rustling, starched linen, he topped the little grassy hill and paused, looking down on the western edge of the Holy Water. Far to his left, bobbing quietly, its golden masts and silver bows flashing in the late sun, lay the God's Barque. But his gaze did not stop there, for below him, on gay cushions spread over blue reed mats, his destiny waited. Two women and a little girl. Yes, it was she, he thought with an unfamiliar spurt of pleasure. She was kneeling on the ground next to a wicker basket, talking to Nozme and Tiyi who sat beside her. In that moment of hesitation she sensed his coming and looked up, at once motioning to the women, who drew away together. She rose and stood, waiting. It seemed to him that he was walking down the hill forever, but suddenly he was on his knees, his arms outstretched and his face pressed to the warm, sweet grass.
She touched him softly on the shoulder with one foot. "So, priest, you have come," she said. "You may rise."
He climbed to his feet but studiously watched his toes.
After a moment she gave an exclamation of annoyance. "Look at me! Such silly manners do not suit you, you who cared not one bit to drag me all over my own domain!"
Her voice had not changed; it was still imperious, challenging, with the high, piping treble of a child. But as he raised his head and met her wide-set black eyes and saw the firm, square chin below her large and
well-formed mouth, he was conscious of shock. She was the same and yet not the same, still tall and thin with the flighty bones of her age, but somewhere in the past three months she had shed total childhood. He immediately sensed that she held within her a promise of young womanhood to come. There was that, and more. A new consciousness of blood and history, a dim and confused power that lurked far back behind those measuring eyes, that tiny smile.
They regarded one another for a while, after which Hatshepsut nodded, as if satisfied, and waved him to the cushions.
*'Sit here, beside me. I fear I do not have a nice, filthy old blanket, but will my nice, filthy old reed mat do? You know, I had quite forgotten what you looked like, but seeing you again I wonder how that could ever have been so. You have not changed much, have you?" She leaned closer. ''Are there any other girls who have been pulled out of Amun's Lake lately?'* She laughed, and he smiled back at her. She put both hands into the basket and drew out two kittens, one of which she put carefully in his white lap. ''Nebanum's cat had these, and he gave them to me. They are especially holy. Their mother came from the temple of Bast and can see demons in the night. Would you like one?"
Senmut stroked the gray fur, and the kitten mewed and pawed at him helplessly. They were handsome animals, sleek and thin, with pointed noses and wily, slanted eyes. He had the Egyptian's love of cats, and he thanked her gravely for her generosity.
''I must have my phylarch's permission, but I do not think he will mind, particularly as its mother is so distinguished a cat."
He had heard of the strange, orgiastic rituals that surrounded the worship of the cat goddess Bast, and he looked at Hatshepsut curiously, but she only smiled back at him, her head to one side. Bast was of the old order, almost forgotten here in cosmopolitan Thebes where Amun, Mut, and Khonsu reigned supreme.
''Well, priest, what have you been doing since last we met?" she asked him.
He put the kitten on the grass and clasped his knees, looking out over the stillness of the lake before he answered. He did not know the reason for this audience, informal as it was, and so he could not predict the outcome, but he knew that he must choose his words carefully. The thought of using Hatshepsut never crossed his mind. He wished only to get to know her better, for it seemed to him that fate had drawn them together and somehow given him a new friend. Behind the wall of rigid caste that separated him forever from this golden child he felt the groping of a kindred spirit, and when he spoke, it was with ease.
''I have been attending to my duties in the temple as a good priest should, Princess."
''Scrubbing floors and running errands?"
He glanced at her sharply, but there was no malice in her face. 'Tes, that is so."
''And have you no other plans than to do that until you die?"
She was looking at his long, tapered fingers interlocked around the linen and at his square, rugged shoulders. Beneath the straight, black brows his eyes were calm, and she felt at home with him, not wishing to tease or bait him as she did Thothmes. How much better than silly old Thothmes he would be at handling the chariot and the spear, she thought.
He swiftly looked into her face, but this time she did not smile. "I have dreams. Highness, but so do all men, secret dreams that have little to do with reality."
"True. But I have heard it said that a strong and willful man may make his dreams live if he but cares enough."
"I am not yet a man. Noble One."
The words said everything and nothing. Senmut, with his canny upbringing, was no stranger to diplomacy.
She sighed and put her kitten back in the basket.
He made as if to rise, thinking the meeti
ng had come to an end, but she put a hand on his bare arm, and he jumped.
"Do you know that I am now Crown Prince?" she said softly.
He inclined his head. "Indeed, Highness, it is Egypt's good fortune."
Benya had laughed, as usual, when he was told. "Wait until Pharaoh dies!" he had hooted. "Then we shall see who ascends the Horus Throne. I wager it will not be a slip of a girl, lovely though she may be." Senmut had agreed, though with more decorum. Now he was not so sure.
"I owe you a favor, priest, and it is my pleasure to pay it now. My father says that I may have what I like, and I want to grant you something." She looked at him anxiously. "You will not refuse?"
"Highness, you owe me nothing. I did what I thought to be my duty and nothing more. But if you feel that my duty deserves reward, then I will not refuse."
"Fine words!" she mocked kindly. "Then think. What do you wish?"
Senmut watched the swans glide by. He saw gulls wheeling and little moorhens bobbing and the two nursery attendants idly gossiping. He heard the Princess's light breaths, and from the corner of his eye he caught the flutter of her gossamer linens in the breeze. But these things were suddenly engulfed in the ensuing seconds as his long, harrowing ambition rose to drown all else. He had the instant and very clear feeling that some
inner hand moved to present them all—the dreams, the hopes, the night agonies—to his unhelieving mind. He thought of his father, Ka-mes, who wished only security and anonymity for his son, and of his phylarch with the sick belly, who whined continually; but above all he thought of Pharaoh, the giant, causing all to be.
I know what I want, he thought with certainty, and I know now that I have not waited and refused all else in vain. He knelt before Hatshepsut.
''Highness, I want more than anything in the world to study architecture under the great Ineni. That, and that only, is my wish."
She pouted. 'Tou do not want a fine house?"
''No."
"What about some land? A couple of wives? A great estate?"
He laughed, a great guffaw of release that came from his happy soul. "No, no, and no! I want only to be an architect, however insignificant. I do not know whether or not I shall be a good one, but I must find out! Highness, do you understand?"
Hatshepsut drew herself up haughtily. "You sound now like my dear dead one, Osiris-Neferu. She was always asking me whether or not I understood her, and I must confess that sometimes I found it very boring to have to try. But, yes"—she took his hand, and his own closed around hers involuntarily—"I think I do understand. I have shortened the dream, have I not?"
He bent and kissed the little palm. "Indeed," he said fervently, "you have shortened it by a lifetime!"
She withdrew her hand and got up, clapping to summon the servants. "You are sure?" she pressed.
"Very, very sure."
"Then I will speak with my father, who will speak with Ineni, who is a very grumpy, cross old man and will not like to have a new pupil one bit, and you shall then be happy. I order it!"
Senmut bent and picked up the kitten, which gave a sleepy protest.
"Carry the basket!" she said to Nozme.
Then she was gone, leaving Tiyi to fold up the mat and gather the cushions. Senmut, alone and stupefied with delight, realized that she had not even waited for his homage.
At dinner that night Thothmes had his daughter eat beside him so that she could tell him of her meeting. The whole escapade amused him greatly, and he listened carefully. When she told him what this cheeky upstart of a we'eb wanted, he let out a roar that was half laughter and half outrage. The company turned and stared at him anxiously, but he yelled
at the musicians to keep on playing and sent a runner scurrying to the home of Ineni. In the meantime he made Hatshepsut tell him over again what had transpired, snorting and chuckling in between mouthfuls of grilled pigeon.
Hatshepsut was put out. He was not giving her time to eat at all, and her food kept getting cold.
At last Ineni appeared and bowed, immaculate and cool as ever despite the fact that he had left five courses and his new dancers to answer the peremptory Imperial summons. Ineni was tall, taller than most men, and still slim, although in his late sixties. His aquiline nose jutted over a straight, purposeful mouth; and his head, fantastically knobbed and planed, was shaved. He disdained the wig. If it were not for the odd, knowing twinkle in his gray eyes, his face would have been harsh and unforgiving. But he knew when and how to laugh, and he was saved from the driving pain of genius by his love of life.
''Ineni," Thothmes barked, ''sit here, beside Hatshepsut. Her Highness has something to tell you." Then he began to laugh all over again.
Not one indication of the architect's bewilderment showed on his face as he bent his spare frame and accepted the wine proffered by Pharaoh's slave. He drank slowly, looked at his rings, and waited.
Hatshepsut was angry. She told her story for the third time, in quick, terse sentences. But Ineni did not laugh, as her father had done; he listened intently, his eyes on her face. When she had finished and was at last opening her mouth to stuff it with tempting barley bread, he asked, "Highness, you say this priest is nothing but a we'eb? That he is a peasant from the country?"
She had had enough. "I say that I order you to be quiet and allow me to eat my dinner. And I say that afterward I will answer all your questions, for I am famished, and even the servants have had their fill."
He waited, Thothmes waited, Aahmose waited, the slaves waited, and she ate and drank until she could swallow no more. Then she waved her table away and settled back with a sigh.
"He is a clever and most suitable young man. I like him. He is kind and respectful, and he doesn't complain like—" She had been going to say "like Thothmes" but remembered just in time what her father had told her about keeping her thoughts to herself, so she finished, "like some people. Also, I most surely owe him this favor, and I have granted it, subject to my father's permission. Oh, I hope, honored Ineni, that you will at least give him a chance to prove whether or not he has the abihty. He pines for such a chance."
Thothmes said, "Hmmmm."
Ineni said nothing, but a slow, wry smile lit his cold gray eyes. He, too, liked his new Crown Prince and found her a good deal more decisive and capable than the youth who ought to have been carrying that title but who sulked in his mother's suite, refusing to come out. At last he said, 'Tour Highnesses word is my delight to obey. Send this person to my chambers, and I shall teach him."
In truth he did not want a new pupil, not at his age. He wanted to retire soon and enjoy the blessings of long and faithful service: his wives, his son, his gardens. But he could not refuse this request.
We shall see how far the little Princess has judged a character, he thought as he walked outside, signaling for his torchbearers and his guards at the entrance to the palace. I have been too long a servant of Pharaoh to imagine that he will be anything more than a poor, frightened little scrap with more ambition than is good for him, he mused, walking home in the scented, star-strung night. He was tired.
Early the following morning Senmut was awakened by a knock on the door, and before he could get oflf his pallet, the room was full of people. His phylarch, bleary-eyed and put out, greeted him sharply, and behind him stood two slaves in the blue and white costume of the palace.
'Tou are ordered to leave your cell and go at once to the chambers of the noble Ineni," the phylarch said with irritation. ''I do not know what it is all about, and I do not wish to know. Hurry and put on your linen. The men will pack your belongings." He turned and left without another word.
Senmut stood sleepily while his box was opened and his few belongings were laid disdainfully in it. There was his drinking cup, his sandals, his best linen sheath, and little else. The few scrolls he had borrowed from the temple library were placed solemnly on the pallet, already stripped of cloak and blanket, and the men vanished before he could shout for them to wait and show him the way.
/> He splashed hurriedly in the stone ewer and flung on his kilt from the day before. He nearly ran down the guard who was waiting to escort him into the palace. He apologized, but the man merely made a sign for him to follow, and together they left the temple. Senmut did not look back. He had nothing to regret and no affection for his fellow we'ebs. He lifted his head and sniffed the morning, pacing behind the stolid soldier along the deserted, dawn-lit paths.
In a few minutes they passed beneath the first of the royal pylons and onto pavement lined with gold-plated statues of the God Thothmes. They soon passed the groves of sycamore and stood at the western door of the
palace itself. Here his companion stopped and spoke quickly to the guards, and soon they were past them, and Senmut entered the royal precincts for the first time.
Every trace of sleep had left him, and he looked about with awe and some disappointment. It was not, after all, so different from the lines of priests' cells.
He did not realize until later that he was nowhere near the royal apartments or the great audience chambers. He had entered directly into the wing that held offices and ministries, a place of functional industry and quiet efficiency. Pharaoh was an almost daily visitor, but he came here to coordinate, not to be feted, so there were no evidences of pomp. The passages were small, clean, and quiet. The tiles were decorated with little scenes from the lives of the officials—weighing grain, hearing cases in the Courts of Justice, visiting the provinces, executing floggings or deaths— and on the doors that led to more offices and more passages were the emblems of each minister's power.
I shall never find my way through all this, Senmut thought excitedly. It will take me many hentis just to get out.
His escort suddenly stopped before a door wrought delicately of cedar-wood and traced in silver. He knocked, and it was immediately opened by a young slave who bowed deeply.
'Tou are expected," he said, haltingly.
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