Pharaoh bent and whispered, *'We are going on a little trip—you, me, your mother, and Ineni—and none must know where. We are going to cross the river."
'To the dead?" She thought she felt them in the eternal brooding hush of the hours before daylight, watching in the shadows.
''Beyond them. It is not far, but we must pole our own boat and walk without our Canopy Bearers, so it is best that we go in the cool and return in the late morning." He turned abruptly and struck through the shrubs on the path, and she followed after, silent and smooth as a stalking cat.
They were challenged once, and Thothmes impatiently pushed aside the spear that barred their way and threw back his hood, exposing his blunt features. The soldier bowed in confusion, and they elbowed past him and glided on. The avenue soon swung to the right, and they came to the landing stairs, lapped by water that surged slowly, silkenly in the waning moon's light. Two hooded figures waited motionless, rising and falling with the little skiflF that waited there. Thothmes picked up Hat-shepsut and swung her unceremoniously to them. Aahmose caught her and settled her on a wooden plank laid rudely across the middle of the vessel.
I am always having adventures on water! Hatshepsut thought as Thothmes took the pole from Ineni's grasp and pushed off with one powerful thrust. He took oflF his cloak and flung it onto the bottom of the boat. He began to work the pole again, and Hatshepsut watched in awe, for she had never before seen her father do anything that a slave should. She heard his deep, regular breaths and saw the rhythmic rippling of his muscles with something like alarm.
What are we doing out here in the middle of the rising river? What has gone wrong? Are we running away? Has Egypt been invaded?
But she knew that if that was the case, Thothmes would never have run but would have marched out to fight. As she began to doze with the rocking and the swish of the passing water, her father got out of the boat and pulled them to the Stairs of the Dead. It was here that Neferu had disembarked, and her grandmother, and the little princes. Hatshepsut felt a quiver of superstitious fear as she was lifted free and put down on the cold, gray stone. Her mother followed. Ineni handed Thothmes his cloak and stepped smoothly after them, tying the trailing rope to the mooring post. Then without a word he took the lead. They turned south, following the line of white foam that lay beside their feet. Over the river they could see the many lights of Thebes, warm and friendly, reaching out to them over the deep-flowing Nile.
They did not look to their right. The temples and empty, white ribbons of road exuded a desolation, a warning, a listening, brooding atmosphere of hostility that hurried them along, their eyes averted. Once in a while Ineni would pause and stand, looking to the cliffs behind, muttering to himself. He would then shake his head, and they would trudge on, each islanded in the thoughts that accompany such a trek in the cold darkness. Hatshepsut was just beginning to wonder whether perhaps the Mighty Bull had gone mad when Ineni stopped short with an exclamation of satisfaction, and they gathered around him. The sky was a little lighter. They still could not see each other's faces, but the temples no longer
straggled above them to the west, and the edge of the tumbled cliffs could be made out, hazy but discernible. The city across the river had been left behind, but a solitary, high light farther south proclaimed Luxor and Amun's other home.
Ineni pointed to the ground and then to the western cliffs. 'The path is here. Majesty," he said, his voice somehow tiny and private and rather lost. *'We must turn inland. There will be stones in the sand and rough places. Perhaps the Prince should walk behind her mother, and you follow me." Thothmes nodded, and they started off once more.
There was indeed a path, a wandering goat track through the stunted acacia and straggling fig trees. Hatshepsut, bringing up the rear, began to watch her feet in concentration. Sharp rocks abounded, some lightly covered with sand, and the path wound and swerved as though made by the staggerings of a drunken man. Hatshepsut was warmer now with the walking, and the blood began to flow faster through her veins. As daylight slowly found them, she hummed under her breath, hopping and dashing after Aahmose in little spurts; and when Thothmes called a short halt to ask her if they were going too fast for her, she shook her head vigorously, panting, her eyes alight with adventure. It was for Aahmose that they went more cautiously. As the colorless, flat light-without-Ra showed them their surroundings with that strange early-morning clarity, Hatshepsut was amazed at how far they had come. Beyond Ineni's striding, gaunt form she could see the track winding up the long, low hill and disappearing abruptly as it veered to the left and was lost in the bulk of the range that separated Egypt from the desert. As she lowered her gaze to her feet once more, Thothmes raised a hand, and Ineni stood still as if at the reading of his master's thought. The two women waited.
''Ra springs forth once more," Thothmes said. ''Here we must wait, and do him homage."
The plain that swept to their left and their right was full of the gray, dull light that was the wash of the Immortal Barque, and the air held an expectant, anxious hush. The little company stood unmoving, all eyes riveted on the ragged teeth of the cliffs that seemed to spring out of the ground at their very feet. The wind suddenly dropped. The rocks and the sand and the bushes and they themselves waited breathlessly for the touch of warmth and life. Hatshepsut stood as if frozen, caught up in the solemn glory of the moment. The minutes seemed to slow to a sonorous importance, to become silently marching golden vanguards for the golden God.
All at once, when the stillness and quiet and waiting could be borne no longer, the tops of the cliffs began to flush pink, and together the four people sank to their knees. Suddenly Thothmes uttered a cry, and Ra
lifted, shimmering, over the horizon, heavy and red. The blood of his hand fell upon the rocks, and they leaped into startled color, red, red, their shadows sharp blue-black. As the great orb mounted higher, the color ran all over the worshipers and thundered on to the river, leaving a wake of sizzling yellows, greens, blues. Far back, the mists of night still hung over Thebes, waiting to be royally dismissed.
It was then, for the first time, that Hatshepsut knew what it really felt to be the Daughter of the God, his perfect Incarnation. She rose from the ground and turned, holding her arms out over the city and the river, her outline still limned in fire, her body taut with ecstacy. Her Father mounted higher and higher, and they smiled on one another in understanding, the great Sun and his little daughter.
Thothmes sighed. ''Even so did I see him, the Mighty Amun-Ra, rising ever new, when I stood on the towers of Thebes on my coronation morning," he said. ''I do not think it will be long before I, too, join him as he sails across the sky. Now we must go on. There is much to be done today, and we have had the blessing of the God this morning."
They turned and began to plod on as the morning grew warm and the birds that nested in the mud alongside the Nile came out and rose in clouds, whistling and piping to the new day.
It did not take them long to reach the part of the path that had seemed to disappear into the cliflF. They followed it as it twisted sharply to the left, and they were immediately in shadow. The cliflFs loomed on both sides of them, and the way became rockier. The sand was left behind, but they were not hemmed in for long. They veered to the right as a valley began to open out, wider and wider, a valley that burst into view not half a mile from the other side of the cliff and the broad plain through which they had picked their way.
It was a place of utter silence. The sun beat into it, and nothing moved. The floor of the valley ran straight to a towering cliflF face that rose, almost sheer, to the sky. To the right and the left the cliflF swept toward them, and the path they were to follow wound up the northern face and once more vanished tantalizingly at the summit. To the south, on the valley floor and under the embrace of the farthest cliflF, a small pyramid nestled, seeming too sharp with angles, too thrusting to belong to this calm place of wide sweeps and massive, soaring curves. Its white limestone sides glistened in the
sun, and around about it lay rubble—gigantic stone blocks, crumbling pillars whose stumps looked like rotten, uneven teeth.
Thothmes spoke of it sadly. 'The mortuary temple of Osiris-Mentu-hotep-hapet-Ra," he said, "long forgotten, lying ruined in this place." The atmosphere seemed to oppress him, and he raised his shoulders and shook himself, turning to the path once more.
Ineni and Aahmose straggled after him, but Hatshepsut could not tear herself away from the dreaming quietness. A sense of destiny took hold of her, and she stood gazing at the rock walls, the little pyramid, the yellow and gray sand running from her feet to meet the cliff.
This valley is yours, she said to herself. You are in a holy place. Her eyes slowly traveled again the lordly rising of the cliff, reaching to the vivid blue above. I will build here one day, her mind ran on, but what shall it be? I do not yet know. All I know is that here is peace and a fitting place for the Daughter of Amun. She felt the consecration, as if the God had rushed to her in assent.
When her mother called to her anxiously, it was as if she, too, were stone. Hatshepsut could lift her feet only with difficulty. The valley called back to her mutely, and she wanted to begin the long walk to the temple of her ancestor, but she shook her head in denial and trudged after the others. Yet the magic of the place stayed with her, and she did not hum or scuff at the stones that lay in her path.
They soon reached the top of the rise, and the track followed its crest before dropping suddenly into the long, snaking defile that presented itself to their view. As they slithered to the bottom, they found that they had at last reached Ineni's destination.
'This is the place of which I spoke," he said to Thothmes. ''Only the most curious of travelers would dare to venture here, and as you can see, a hundred royal tombs could be cut throughout the defile, their entrances forever screened from prying eyes by the great rocks that lie everywhere. Besides"—he mopped his brow and pointed—"there is She."
Hatshepsut looked to where he pointed and saw, rising far at the end of the uptilting valley, a huge natural triangle of rock, aloof, setting a seal of unattainability on the place.
Aahmose felt for her amulet. "Beware the Goddess of the Western Peak," she muttered, "for she strikes suddenly and without warning."
"Meres-Ger, Meres-Ger," Thothmes said. "Lover of Silence. Truly she is a formidable guardian."
They stood in an uneasy silence until a jerboa sprang up from the shadow of a rock at Hatshepsut's feet. She jumped as it dashed away in a shower of sand, Thothmes, Aahmose, and Ineni laughing at her startled expression.
Thothmes braced himself and tightened his belt. "Gome, Ineni, show me exactly the place you have chosen. Aahmose, Hatshepsut, stay here. Find shelter beneath a rock, out of the sun." And he and Ineni strode away, farther up the vale, and in a moment had disappeared from sight.
The silence was oppressive. Hatshepsut felt the Goddess's inquiring, jealous gaze upon them, and she began to whisper protecting incantations
lOO
under her breath. Aahmose had sunk onto the ground and closed her eyes. She seemed very breathless and panted softly. After a while Hatshepsut looked about her, but there was not much to see, only rock. She was glad when her father and Ineni reappeared, both sticky with sweat and very thirsty.
**I approve the place," Thothmes said, ''and I suggest to you, Hatshepsut, that you accept the tomb that Ineni has chosen for you, far above us. It is a fitting place for a queen to lie."
"Or a Pharaoh?"
Thothmes did not smile. He was tired, and now that the business had drawn to a successful close, he wanted his wine and his breakfast. "It suffices for me and therefore is good enough for any," he answered her sharply. "Ineni, you will have to build the workmen's village on the desert and level and widen this accursed sheep's track as you can. Choose your engineers wisely, and do not hire too many men. This time they must all die when the work is complete. I must rest safe from grave robbers, and so must my family. The first to die will be offered to Amun as a thanksgiving from his dutiful Son; and the second, to Meres-Ger. Now we will go. This silence has ears, and I am uncomfortable."
As if his words had unleashed the gates of panic within them, they hurried out of the valley with many glances over their shoulders, and Hatshepsut, again following behind, fancied that she could feel the Serpent Goddess's cold, hissing breath on her neck. Meres-Ger loved no one, and certainly she had no fear of Amun. With great relief they found themselves on the floor of Hatshepsut's sun-drenched valley, and from there to the river was but a few minutes' steady tramping. The boat rocked invitingly, the water sparkled, and on the other side the pennants of the Imperial city fluttered gaily and bravely in the breeze. They clambered aboard and cast off^, Hatshepsut thinking of her valley and the scents of flowers drifting to them over the river.
^?4
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Senmut was eighteen and bored. He had been bored for the better part of a year, ever since his master had suspended all work in the office and gone off to some vast secret project in the Theban hills, taking Benya and several other young engineers with him. For a week or two Senmut had amused himself by drawing up grandiose plans for his future tomb, but the game soon palled, and he locked the plans away. Spring had come again. This year the flood had been small, and an air of anxiousness hung over Thebes. But the marshes still abounded with wildfowl, and from water to palace and temple the gardeners still coaxed masses of blooms from the wet soil.
In a short letter from his father he learned that the sowing had been good but that a great deal of land, untouched because of the low level of the water, could not be cultivated. Could Senmut send them help later on? There had been bad years before, but now his mother was unwell, his brother had broken an arm yoking recalcitrant oxen, and the ensuing months looked bleak. Senmut wondered grimly just what his father expected him to do. He lived well, although he was paid little; but he supposed that his family had visions of him as a great lord now, a lolling, sought-after architect. In reality he was still very much an apprentice. He knew that if Ineni had been there, he would have agreed to send something, perhaps even a slave or two; but as it was, Senmut could do nothing but dispatch promises and explain the situation. He was worried, and worry and boredom together are bad company.
On this day, the third day of the month of Paopi, he wrapped his smoked fish, some bread and cheese, and a handful of figs together with a flask full of wine and set out for the river. His body longed for exercise and was often denied it, but on this sunny, crisp morning he could find nothing better to do than to walk. He chose a path that began on the outskirts of the city and ran beside the river, skirting the marshes and winding among the head-high reeds and brilliant green waterweeds. It was a path for little boys who sought the adventure of a morning's fantasy, but Senmut sought only escape from the monotony that threatened to make him slothful. He had laid aside his gold-bordered, floor-length linen
and wore the short, heavy kilt of a peasant in order to move more freely, and the air felt good on his naked legs. He also went sandalless, and his toes sank most satisfyingly into the wet earth and padded gratefully on the grass. Once the city was behind him, he struck out in better spirits. At that time of the year the sun was far from its summer heat, and it was pleasant to stride along, watching the fellahin drive the oxen through the sodden ground or swing to the sowing. Often the path ran out of the reeds and took him beside fields whose canals lay full of still water and whose shadoofs, for once, stood motionless. Beyond the fields, sharp in the clear air, the hills and cliffs, the ramparts of Egypt's security, marched, keeping the desert and war out and the green fertility in. The palms that grew everywhere, following the lines of water whether it be the canal or the river itself, nodded jerkily; and Senmut strolled happily along, dappled in shade and squinting in sun.
At noon he found himself almost at the water's edge, surrounded by rustling papyrus and marsh to right and left but with a fairly clear view of the Nile and the cluster of mud hu
ts on the other side. He sat down under a date palm and unwrapped his meal. The walk had given him an appetite, and he ate heartily, remembering how, such a short time ago— it seemed hentis past—he had stolen from his cell to raid the God's kitchens. What a vast, gaping hole his stomach had seemed to him then. It was still a hole, but the ease of his life had mitigated the appetite. He munched contentedly, throwing crumbs to the curious birds that hopped just out of reach; and when he had finished, he lay back with his hands across his stomach and drowsily counted the palm branches above his head. Soon his eyes closed. There was plenty of time to take a rest and be back in his room before night fell. He began to doze.
Suddenly something hit him in the chest with such force that he found himself on his feet and doubled over, gasping for breath. He fell to his knees, shaking, his arms rigid before him, his mind a confused whirl of bright colors and blood. For a moment, in an idiotic spasm of fear, he thought that the blood was his own. But then his mind cleared, the pain in his chest eased, and he found himself looking down at a slain duck, its feathers green and blue in the high sunlight, its head a limp mass of pulp and blood. Beside it lay a white and silver throwing-stick, stained brown. Unthinking, he picked it up with trembling fingers and rose to his feet, still shocked. As he gazed down at it, there was a rustle in the long grasses. Before he could turn, they parted, and a girl stood there, one hand on the stem of a bending reed and the other on her hip.
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