Child of the morning

by Gedge, Pauline, 1945-

  Obediently, he folded his body and sat next to her, watching the darkening sky. He had been swimming in the Nile, back and forth, back and forth, an exercise recommended by his shooting instructor, and his arms and legs were healthily tired.

  His body had grown more muscular since the night of the feast, and his voice had deepened. But he had become silent, and the slaves who served Ineni, cleaning and tending the offices, had begun to fear him, though he was still a boy.

  He rested next to her, his arms folded on his knees. He gazed calmly before him, seeming so self-contained, so apart, that for the first time in her Hfe Hatshepsut did not want to break the silence, but night was hurrying to meet them.

  ''I went to the stables today and gave the black one, the one you like so much, some oats. He languishes for lack of exercise,'' she said.

  'The slaves should walk him about," Senmut responded. "When the Great Royal Wife is laid to rest, he will be skittish and unmanageable."

  ''I do not yet miss my target practice. Do you?"

  ''No."

  ''Are you glad that I arranged for you to shoot and ride the chariots? Is life full for you?"

  'Tes, I am glad, but I must confess, Prince, that I miss my lessons with Ineni." He shifted restlessly. *'I did not thank you for my little apartment or for the slaves and the grain that you caused to be sent to my family."

  ''I did not give you the time. And then my mother died, and I have been wandering abroad of late, busy with my own company. Is your family well?"

  ''Very well, and they offer you their eternal worship. My brother's arm is healed, and my mother improves, though she is still weak. Highness," he turned to her, troubled, "you have been so good to me, far above the payment of a debt. May I ask why?"

  "You may ask," she retorted, "but I may not answer you. In truth, I do not know why. I think because I see in you what I would like to see in my brother, and it angers me. Why should that pudding receive the benefits of the best education and training, and someone such as yourself be condemned to serve forever in the temple while your family hungers?"

  She spoke with extraordinary vehemence, and he did not know what to say.

  In her heart she feared Thothmes, and she, like Aahmose, was beginning to wonder whether perhaps on the death of her father she would find herself married to him in spite of Pharaoh's assertions to the contrary. She was discovering that death can change much—that it can change all. And she was becoming wary and cautious as a mountain goat on unfamiliar ground.

  Senmut knew nothing of this. Alone with her, the gathering gloom isolating them, turning the rooftop into an island for private communion, she unpainted and without jewels, he was relaxed.

  She shrugged. "I do not know, and you have no right to ask, my friend. May a Crown Prince not do as he wishes? But I summoned you for a reason. There is a place I wish you to see, a place that is holy to me. I have had a vision of what I want to do there, but I need your help. Will you come with me and see it?"

  "Of course. Highness! Where is this place?" She pointed west, across the river.

  "It is there, hidden, a valley, the resting-place of the great Mentu-hotep-hapet-Ra. I can tell you no more until you have seen it. We will go tomorrow. Be at the water steps an hour after dawn, and bring your sandals, for the way is sometimes rocky."

  'i shall be there. But why me, Highness? How can I help you?"

  'Tou will hear my dream, and you will understand. Ineni would hear, but he would not understand, though he would try. You and I, priest, have tried each other, though we have met not ten times. You know me. Is it not so?"

  "I reverence you. Prince, but I believe that no one will ever know you. I think you trust me, and that is what you wish to say. You have no fear of me because I am nothing, a little we'eb priest."

  'Tou ceased to be a little we'eb priest from the time you walked into Ineni's presence," she replied. ''But what are you now?"

  Below them the lights of the sentries moved fitfully, crisscrossing the tree-lined paths. Hatshepsut's escort and Senmut's slave waited at the foot of the stairs, but the two on the roof sat quite still, each wrapped in his own thoughts. They could hardly see each other, it was so dark.

  When the horns were blown for dinner, she was the first to stir. 'Tonight I do not wish to eat. Go now, priest, and I will see you tomorrow."

  It was a command. He got up awkwardly and bowed, but she was no longer looking at him. She was gazing over the gardens as if with the effort of her will she could pierce the darkness and reveal her valley. He ran down the stairs. He no longer wondered at fate. He was ready now to accept his destiny.

  The next day he hurried to the water steps and found her waiting for him, standing on the deck of her little hunting skiflF, her Fan Bearer beside her. She was wrapped in dazzling white linen to protect her from the heat, but her Fan Bearer was a Nubian, black as night. Senmut was reminded of an illustration he had seen once in one of Ineni's precious scrolls: "The soul begins its journey to the Underworld." He made his obeisance and scrambled aboard, and the sweating sailors cast off.

  "Let us sit under the canopy," she said. "It is already too hot for comfort. My father said that I may go but warned me not to walk farther into the hills than I need. In this heat I may not walk at all." She indicated the litter, folded against the side of the boat, and the parasol tossed on top of it. Then she regarded him critically. "You should wear kohl to shield your eyes from the glare," she said. "Ta-kha'et!"

  From within the cabin a slave appeared and stood waiting, squinting in the white light. "Bring the cosmetic box and the brushes!" Hatshepsut ordered, and the girl went, walking down the deck with a curious swaying, gliding motion that kept Senmut's eyes riveted on her arching back. "That is my newest slave, Ta-kha'et," Hatshepsut remarked, noting Sen-

  milt's approving glance. "She is willing and very biddable, but she does not say nuicli. Now, Ta-kha'et," she said when the girl had returned, ''bring out the kohl, and anoint this priest." She chose a brush, handing it to the slave. *'Do not apply too much, and hurry. We are almost at the Necropolis."

  Ta-kha'et knelt before Senmut, opening the box and placing it on the deck. Her face was expressionless, but as she dipped the brush into the black bottle, she smiled. ''Master, please close your eyes," she said, and Senmut obeyed, feeling the warm hands flutter on his cheeks and the cool, wet brush sweep his eyelids. "Now open them," Ta-kha'et said. Her little oval face, with its green eyes and fringe of red hair, was so close that if he had moved forward, his nose would have touched hers. He watched her as she worked, holding her tongue between her teeth, her breath smelling of sweetmeats and aniseed. When she was finished, she sat back on her heels, surveying her handiwork, and at a word from Hatshepsut she quickly closed the box and swayed out of sight. The boat bumped the Steps of the Dead, and they rose.

  "She works well," Hatshepsut said. "The kohl suits you. Now we must hurry, for it is quite a long way. I think that I shall ride. Get out the litter!" she called to the sailors.

  Senmut followed her to the bank, where the litter was unfolded. The Nubian opened the parasol, casting a tiny pool of shade on the ground, and Hatshepsut got onto the litter, propping herself on one elbow so that she could talk to Senmut as they walked.

  They set off, and soon she fell silent, looking ahead with a brooding face. Senmut, the Nubian, and the two bearers began to sweat in the waves of sickening heat that beat off the naked sand and rocks, causing all to shimmer, so that the path ahead danced and trembled. Before long the path turned sharply to the right, but before it did Senmut noticed another path, a newer and wider one. It left their little track and plunged straight to where the cliffs met the desert. It ran on from there. Senmut could pick out the marks of oxen and the turmoil caused by the passing of many feet. He wondered about it, but he swung to the right at a command from Hatshepsut, and they began to climb gradually, winding back and forth.

  Before long his legs began to ache, but still they climbed. Just when he felt tha
t he could not take another step unless he had water, they plunged into the shade at the foot of the cliffs, and Hatshepsut called a halt. From somewhere on the litter a flagon was produced, and they all drank. Hatshepsut ordered the sailors to wait where they were. She signaled the Nubian to bring the parasol and come with them. "He is deaf,"

  she said matter-of-factly, *'so we may say what we will." She, Senmut, and the huge black man began to walk again. They had not gone far when a deep, wide valley suddenly opened out before them, its floor running straight and flat to more cliffs that now surrounded them on three sides. They stopped together, and Hatshepsut gave a little sigh.

  ''Behold, the sacred resting-place of Osiris-Mentu-hotep,'' she said.

  They fell silent, and the awe of the place began to steal over Senmut as he stood under the shade of the parasol. It was indeed a holy place, a secret, lordly place. He felt like an intruder, dwarfed and meaningless. The sun poured light into it from an ever flowing, burning cup, and no sound disturbed its sleep.

  ''I want to build here," Hatshepsut said, her voice barely reaching him in the oppressive quiet. 'This is my holy valley, a fitting monument to my Sacred Self. Here men may come and do me homage in afteryears. But how shall I construct a temple worthy of myself? A place as beautiful as I am? I do not see a pyramid such as the mighty Mentu-hotep's, for it seems to me that the cliffs themselves frown over it and render it somehow impotent. But what? Can we together plan a right and fitting jewel to set in the crown of these great rocks?"

  Senmut did not reply. Already his architect's mind was busy judging distances, assessing proportions, measuring heights. Without realizing it he began to walk forward. Hatshepsut and the Nubian followed, slowly pacing the sandy floor. The small pyramid loomed closer, but even as they crossed the halfway point and drew nearer to it, it still seemed little, out of place. Senmut stopped, frowning. Finally he turned, and she came and stood before him, the linen wrapped all around her, her black eyes seeking his face. 'The greatest temple in the world could be built here," he said slowly. "You have indeed chosen wisely. Mighty One. I see something light, cool, a series of colonnades, perhaps. Angles, but no rising peaks to challenge the rock behind. I must consider it more. Have I your permission. Highness, to walk here sometimes and think?"

  "Come when you please," she answered. "And when you have thought on it, we may begin. What do you think of a sanctuary, hewn in the dark roots of the cliff itself, where my likeness may sit and hear the prayers?"

  "It would be possible, but I would need the help of a good engineer, one who loves the rock and has a feel for its heart." He thought immediately of Benya. Benya would know where to cut and how deep to go. He would cleave the face with a sure knowledge of what to do. But Benya was the gods knew where, with the noble Ineni, on a secret project for Pharaoh. Senmut spoke of him to Hatshepsut, and her manner changed.

  "This is your friend?" Her eyes were shadowed, her eager hands with-

  drawn. ''Is he a good engineer? But he must be, or he would not be working with Ineni." Her gaze traveled up, behind them, to the path that wound on to the top of the cliff and beyond.

  Senmut sensed an unease.

  ''Must you have this man?"

  ''I know him, Highness, and I trust his judgment. We can work well together."

  'it may be impossible," she replied brusquely. "He may not return." Again she glanced to the cliff top and back again.

  A sudden fear came upon Senmut, communicated to him through her and magnified by the strangeness of the place, but he knew better than to ask her why.

  She pulled her cloak tighter about her, folding her arms. The Nubian stood as if made of stone. They had both forgotten that he was there.

  'i will see what I can do," she said abruptly, "but I can promise nothing. It is the place of my father only to recall this Benya or to let him be."

  "He is most worthy," Senmut pressed quickly.

  She smiled, her mood lightening. "As you are, Senmut," she said softly.

  The unexpected use of his name on her lips brought a rush of gladness. "I worship you, Highness," he whispered, knowing that it was the truth. "I will serve you until I die."

  Seeing that the words were wrung from his soul and did not come glibly, as from the mouth of a flattering courtier, she took his hand and laid it upon her own, holding it for a moment before gently letting it drop. "I have known this for a long time," she replied, "and I also know that whether or not I shower you with preferments or give you a prison, you are mine. Is it not so?"

  Her favorite question made him smile. "It is so," he replied, and they went slowly back to the waiting litter and the dozing, heat-drugged servants.

  The next morning, early, he was summoned before Pharaoh. He found Thothmes in the office of the Vizier of the South, pacing up and down, a sheaf of jumbled scrolls and dispatches in his hands. When Senmut was announced, Thothmes flung them onto the desk while User-amun's father bowed himself out.

  Pharaoh was upset, and Senmut waited in trepidation, wondering what he had done wrong. This morning the Mighty Bull reminded him of his old schoolmaster, and he watched the thickly muscled back march to the end of the room, turn, the massive chest march back. At length Thothmes stopped walking.

  'Tou want Benya the Human/' he barked.

  "Yes, Majesty."

  ''Choose one of my engineers. By Set! I have enough Royal Engineers to build a temple a day for the next thousand hentis! Take one. Any one!''

  ''Majesty, I have known Benya for a long time. He is a good engineer and a good man. It is he I want, and no other."

  "What do you know of good men?" Thothmes shouted. "You who are little more than a boy yourself!"

  "I know more of both good and evil this year than I did last year," Senmut replied steadily, though his palms grew damp and his knees shook. "And I know a good engineer who is, I think, also a good man."

  Thothmes suddenly guffawed, laying a heavy arm around Senmut's shoulders. "Spoken like the man you look to be! Wise is my daughter, and spoiled and willful also. 'Senmut will build for me,' she says, her little chin high. 'He will have this Human. Get him for me, father, I pray.' But she does not pray; she commands, my little Prince!" He sobered, swinging away from Senmut and slumping into the chair by the Vizier's desk. His stubby fingers began to drum on its polished surface. "And yet—" he muttered to himself. "And yet—know you, Senmut, that this Benya is to die in three days' time."

  The walls began to slip, and in spite of himself Senmut put out a hand. His heart began to beat in slow, steady strokes that he felt in his throat. He knew that his face had gone white, but Thothmes did not look at him.

  "In three days my dear Aahmose goes to her tomb, the tomb whose whereabouts I have so carefully concealed from all save my daughter and Ineni. On that dawn the men who have dug in the secret places will be slain. The Hurrian knows all. He labors for Ineni deep in the earth and will not come home."

  Senmut immediately understood Hatshepsut's sudden anxiety in the valley, and he answered Pharaoh quietly. "Majesty, I know that this secret must be kept for all time, and thus the slaves must be sacrificed. But even as you allow the great Ineni to live, trusting him, so I trust my friend. If you will, let me guarantee the keeping of the secret against my life. Benya cares nothing for comforts or rewards. He cannot be bribed. He loves only stone, and that is why I need him. The task the Crown Prince has set me is difficult, and without him it will also be slow. True, I could use another engineer, but how long would it take me to make him understand what the Flower of Egypt desires? A man reprieved from death will work with a will."

  "You talk nonsense," Thothmes snapped, but his fingers were stilled. In a while he got up. "Senility approaches," he said, "and I grow soft. Twenty years ago your friend would have died, and you would have been

  flogged. Do not presume again!" he shouted, shaking a finger at Senmut's glad smile. '*At the smallest whisper from the Courts of Justice that my beloved has been disturbed, your blood will wash
the floor of the temple! Now go away. I will send the Royal Messenger into the hills, and he will bring back this most lucky young man. See that you serve my Hatshepsut with the same foolish loyalty." He waved impatiently and turned back to the dispatches.

  Senmut backed out, and when he was free of the palace, he let out a whoop and tore down the avenue in the direction of the temple. For the first time he would offer formal thanks to the God whose Daughter was able to work miracles. Benya would live.

  At dawn on the third day, while he and Benya sat together silently in Senmut's little reception hafl, the Braves of the King, armed with knives, swept down upon the helpless workers in their tiny village on the desert and cut their throats while the captain's scribe noted each killing so that none should escape to creep back later for plunder. When it was over, the bodies were buried together in the sand. The sacrifices to Amun and to Meres-Ger had taken place the morning before, and Benya was indeed lucky to escape, for it was Meres-Ger, the Bloodless One, who had awaited him on her lonely peak in the cold darkness.

  The two young men heard the funeral procession forming in the garden, and Senmut at last sent out for wine. ''We will drink to your deliverance," he told Benya, ''and to the Blessed Great Royal Wife Aahmose."