Child of the morning

by Gedge, Pauline, 1945-

  *i have long loved Sekhmet," she told him, ''and it was the greatest pleasure for me to stand before her this morning for the first time in my

  life. Amun is truly mighty, but Sckhnict understands the heart of a woman, as Hathor does."

  She was bending to him, sharing a confidence, and Ptahmes was conquered. For to tell the truth, he had also heard from Thebes of her willfulness, her vanity, her sudden rages, and he had spent the night in an agony of apprehension, lest he should disgrace himself and his father before her and before Pharaoh.

  "Sekhmet is indeed mighty!" he agreed fervently.

  She smiled and returned to her food. Presently she spoke to him again. "You and I must sacrifice together tomorrow so that I may tell my brother, Thothmes," she said. '*He would never forgive me if I returned to Thebes having stood only once beside the High Priest in the sanctuary. I believe that my father and I are to visit the Sacred Bull at dawn, but after breakfast I shall summon you."

  ''I shall be honored, Noble One," he said. 'Tharaoh has business with my father and so will be busy, and if you wish, I could show you fair Memphis." He wondered immediately if he had been too bold, but she drained her cup, dabbled her fingers in the water bowl, and nodded seriously.

  'That would delight me, Ptahmes. And you and your father must dine aboard the Royal Barge tomorrow night. We are traveling with little in the way of entertainments, but I have my lute, and perhaps you know of some local musicians who could play for us. I have a love of music."

  **I can easily arrange something, Highness. We have waited long for a glimpse of you. The last time I saw your father, I was but a child, and since then I have heard much of the Flower of Egypt."

  She glanced at him from beneath dusky eyelids. ''Would you flatter me. Noble Ptahmes?" she asked pointedly.

  He blushed again. 'Tour Highness needs no words of flattery from such as I," he replied. But before he could continue, Pharaoh rose, signaling to her, and they filed out of the hall.

  The rest of the day was taken up with official acts. She and Thothmes visited Ptahmes' father Thothmes in the Viceregal palace, lunching in the gardens with him, his shy wife, and Ptahmes' sister. In the afternoon they returned to the barge to sleep. Hatshepsut, tired out with speeches and progresses and sleepy from her restless night, had no trouble losing herself though her head was pillowed on her ebony headrest to preserve her wig, not on the cushions on which she longed to sink her head. Later, as the sun westered and the evening grew cool, Thothmes went to the Hall of Justice, the Flail and the Crook in his hand, and heard cases to be settled, Hatshepsut listening with interest from a stool at his feet. When they

  emerged, night had fallen, and they went to dine on the barge, whose lights lit the shore and twinkled far over the water. Ptahmes was there, more relaxed now. His father and the rest of the family were also present, and Hatshepsut regaled them with tales of life at court and kept them laughing while the dishes and flagons were passed and the Viceroy's own group of musicians played their pipes and sang. As the moon rose higher, the inhabitants of Memphis crept to the shore and sat under the date palms, watching the God and his Daughter and the blessed ones dine, hearing the sweet, tinkling music float to them over the water like a premonition of paradise in the underworld. Long after they grew tired, satiated with the vision of luxury and laughter, and went home to their beds, the company sat on, joke following joke. Finally Thothmes ordered them home, and their lamps were brought. They went slowly, bemused with good food and royal company.

  When the last lamp had disappeared, Hatshepsut yawned. 'Thothmes the Viceroy is a pleasant man and good company," she said, **but his family gawks and gapes at us like cows in a field."

  'Thothmes is well seasoned in the ways of gentle living and has traveled much in his duty to me," Thothmes replied, ''but his family has seen little to relieve the boredom of the provinces, and they are merely overawed. Ptahmes is also a good man, loyal and honest. You do well to cultivate his worship, Hatshepsut."

  "I suppose so. What a nose he has!"

  "Share a cup of wine with me before you go to bed." Thothmes handed her his cup, and she settled herself beside him while the slaves quietly began to clear away the debris of the feast.

  "How still it is!" she said. "I welcome the quiet."

  "Dawn is not far off, and then we must visit the Sacred Bufl," he replied, "so rest while you may. In the afternoon we will set sail once more."

  Before the sun was up, they were pacing the avenue to the pen of the Sacred Bull of Memphis. Apis was worshiped throughout Egypt as the symbol of the fertility of man and of the soil so vital to the life of the country, and Thothmes regularly visited his shrine, for he himself was a symbol of the land, Egypt revering Fertility. This morning they were dressed as simply as servants—kilts, sandals, and helmets—and they wore cloaks, for at that hour the city still slept and there was none to see them.

  Apis was housed in a small temple close to the White Wall and on the opposite side of the city. As Hatshepsut and Thothmes passed under the little pylon and into the outer court, they could smell him, a pungent

  cattle smell that rose tart in the clean morning air. His priest was waiting for them and handed them garlands to hang on the God. They could hear him shuffling and blowing, snorting in the sanctuary beyond; but as he heard them approach, he stood still, and a mighty bellow made Hatshep-sut's ears ring. The priest pushed open the door of the sanctuary, and they went in, almost fainting from the strong animal smell. But as they adjusted themselves to the dimness and Hatshepsut to the smell, her nostrils quivered, and her mind ran back to Nebanum and her beloved fawn. The fawn had grown up long ago, and she and the keeper had taken him into the desert one day and set him free. All this came back to her as she knelt on the straw-strewn floor and began to crawl forward. Thothmes charged the censer, and together they began the singsong chant while the beast listened quietly, saliva dripping from his gray muzzle onto his gold-shod hoofs. When the rite was finished, Hatshepsut stepped forward to drop the flowers over his horns. As she leaned over the golden railing, the bull lifted his head and licked her on the arm. Delighted, she leaned farther, scratching him behind his ears, and he rumbled and closed his eyes. The priest murmured with astonishment, for this Apis had a reputation for sudden lunges, and many a young priest, sent to wash him, had retired bruised and afraid. At length Hatshepsut slapped him on his massive brown shoulder and stepped aside for Thothmes to present his flowers.

  Outside the sanctuary the priest bowed. ''While you rule, the country will enjoy great prosperity," he said. 'The sign has been given. Long life and health to Your Majesty!"

  It was the first time that Hatshepsut had been called Majesty, and, startled, she glanced at Thothmes. He, too, was struck by her power over the animal, and he bowed to her briefly, his face set. He took her arm and led her outside. The sun was only just above the horizon, and all the city was bathed in a pink glow.

  "Now we do homage to Ptah, Creator of the World," he said, "and then to our stomachs. Do you tire of all this, Hatshepsut?"

  "No. I am as strong as you, father, and you know it! But I grow weary of fine speeches."

  "You have not made any yet!" he teased her, and they wended their way to the temple of Ptah.

  While Thothmes held conference with the Viceroy, his son took Hatshepsut around the city in a litter. He showed her the old royal palace, seat of power in Egypt for many hundreds of years, and took her up onto the White Wall, from which they could see many miles, over the sea of date palms and to the red cliffs that now paraded far to the west. They visited the markets, the tribute houses, and the place where boats were

  built. She commented on everything so that the High Priest, reheved, did not have to battle any long silences. She liked the city. It seemed to dream along under the spell of past glories, not with bitterness or decay, but with a proud contentment. Its people were fair and slow-walking. She was not sorry to say good-bye to it, but she would not have missed her visit for an
ything in the world. She promised Ptahmes that she would return one day. ''When you come to Thebes, I will show you my city," she told him, and she left him flushed with success, a new convert to her charm.

  ''Before we leave, we will trek a little way to the west of the city," Thothmes said. "I did not mention it to the good people of Memphis, for the Necropolis here is something that I want you to see unencumbered with well-meaning idiots."

  So they cast oflF, leaving the prone, white-clad figures of their hosts. When they had rounded a bend in the river and were hidden from sight, they moored again on the west bank. Thothmes lost no time in ordering out the litters, and a tired and grumpy Hatshepsut set off once more, her head aching and her eyes rasping in their sockets for want of sleep. It was the time of day when all sensible people took to their couches, she thought angrily. Father must know that I have done enough for today. She glared across at his oblivious, leather-clad head and snapped irritably at the litter bearers when one stumbled on a rock and jolted her.

  After an hour of traveling, during which her anger mounted and she sat bolt upright on the litter like an offended cat, Thothmes stopped at last. He got off his litter and held out his hand for her, but she shrugged away, standing up by herself, and smoothing down her kilt in short, abrupt pats.

  He noticed her pouting mouth and sullen eyes but said nothing, taking her arm and leading her forward. "Behold the ruined City of the Dead, the Necropolis of Old Memphis," he said. "Behold the works of the Great God Imhotep himself, before your eyes."

  Hatshepsut put a hand to her eyes to shade them from the sun and gazed about her, her ire forgotten. The plain flowed unendingly. It was dotted with a few lone palm trees, but churning over the sand, in towers and causeways dry as old bones, in pyramids and walls and passages leading nowhere, lay Saqqara, city of dust. It was a place of unease, and Hatshepsut, even in the full and glaring light of day, could feel the crying of old bones, the wailing of the desecrated dead. It was a place magnificent in its chaotic ruin, and she felt for Thothmes' hand as her gaze traveled over it.

  "All this Imhotep did, genius and God," he said quietly. He raised an arm, and Hatshepsut saw a frowning wall, square and thick, with the

  gloom of a doorway in it. Beyond it was a pyramid whose sides were stepped, a stair mounting grandly to a roof long gone. 'That is the tomb of Zoser, mighty King and warrior, built by the hand of Imhotep himself. Upon his own likeness the King caused to be written: 'Chancellor of the King of Lower Egypt, the First after the King of Upper Egypt, Administrator of the Great Palace, Hereditary Lord, the High Priest of Heliopolis, Imhotep, the builder, the sculptor.' Where is his palace now, and his scented gardens? Look and learn, Hatshepsut."

  She shuddered. ''It is a holy place, but restless," she said. "See, see there, the beauty of the lotus pillars! Where are the eyes for whom they were put forth?" She was upset, her agitation making her grip upon her father's hand tighten.

  He turned away. "This, too, is your heritage," he said. "It is good for a king to remember that in the end nothing but stone remains."

  Before they went back to the barge, they stood together in Imhotep's chapel as so many sick had done before them, looking into the intense, intelligent face of the man whom all Egypt worshiped as a god of healing. Hatshepsut thought of the ruins behind her and of the enormous expenditure of mind and brawn that had gone into the raising of the stones. Zoser was a mighty king, but without his architect he could do nothing. Again her thoughts flew to Senmut, and she wondered what he was doing. Playing with Ta-kha'et, perhaps, or poring over his drawings, waiting for her approval.

  At length they left the chapel, lying on their litters and sapped of all emotion. While the sailors headed for open water once more, they slept, exhausted, and the pile that was Saqqara sunk slowly below the horizon.

  At Giza, north of Memphis, they again got onto the litters and were carried five miles inland across indifferent cultivation and under the everlasting palm trees to see what Thothmes described as the final proof of the godhead of her ancestors.

  She swayed along eagerly, keyed up now, knowing that the things she had seen and the things she had yet to see were more important to her than anything else she had ever experienced. She wanted to build for herself the greatest monument of all time, and the pyramids and temples she had seen served only to whet an already burning appetite for glory. Her father had built, and his father before him, and even sluggish Thothmes' eyes would kindle as he spoke of his current project, but as yet she had done nothing, hugging to herself her ambition, her visions, and her dreams. As they jogged on, her valley came to her mind, and she felt again the presence of destiny, the mute calling of the unfinished cliffs. Not

  for nothing was I born of the God to rule this land, she thought fiercely, protectively. All she had seen served to make the love in her to grow— love for the soil, the people, the laughing, fun-loving people.

  ''Sit up and watch,*' Thothmes called over to her. ''Here are the three crowns of Egypt."

  The horizon was suddenly filled up with them, three soaring shapes, so white that her eyes hurt from looking at them. Long before she was put on the ground and had alighted, her heart pounding, the pyramids commanded all sight and all thought. When at last she was able to walk toward them, she stumbled and would have fallen but for the swift arm of her slave, so entranced was she. She leaned against the hot limestone, craning upward, and shook her head at Thothmes, unable to speak. When she had recovered, she began to walk, wanting to pace around each one, touching them, always looking up, but after the circuit of the first she gave up and went to Thothmes in wonder. "It is not possible that these were made by men!'' she said. "Surely the gods came and set them here for their own greater glory!" The symmetry of them delighted her, the swift-running rise of each side to the pinnacle. From the ground in their setting in the middle of a flat and sandy plateau they looked clean and simple, sharp as Set's teeth, sufficient to themselves, secure in their mighty superiority.

  "They are indeed the works of men," Thothmes told her. "For half a henti many thousands of slaves labored here to make tombs for the kings. Khufu, Khafra, Menkaure rest here. The pyramids are a fitting cover for their holy bodies. Come and see another wonder."

  He walked her south, around to the other side, and she found herself standing between two giant paws, lion's feet. "This is the likeness of King Khafra" Thothmes said. "He guards the entrance to his tomb forever. Words of magic and power are engraved on his chest. He caused himself to be carved out of the cliff that reared up here, and he crouches, ever vigilant, his royal lion body waiting to spring on all the unworthy."

  Am I worthy? Hatshepsut thought breathlessly, transfixed and humbled by the vastness of the body and the stern warning in the largest stone face she had ever seen. She remained there for a long time while the shadow between the smooth feet grew, fingering the desert and the silent tombs.

  She stayed at Giza for the rest of that day and well into the evening, clambering over the remains of the dead courtiers' mastabas, walking the wide avenues, feeling as though every nerve in her body ran outside her brown skin. Her eyes were always drawn back to the three gigantic tombs and their crouching guardian.

  Thothmes watched her from his perch on a flat rock—the tiny, lithe figure flitting in and out of sight like a moth in the dusk, her white kilt

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  a smudged patch of lighter hght. He knew what she was thinking and feeling, for when he had seen the wonders of his forefathers for the first time, he, too, had heen handed the challenge and had felt doubt at his ability to pick it up. He had answered the gods with the monument of war, but how would Hatshepsut find an answer? He knew that she would also strive and sweat and shout back in some way, but the way was not his to see. Finally, when he could no longer see her in the darkness, he sent Kenamun to bring her back, and the soldier found her sitting on one of the Sun-God's paws, her chin in her hand, gazing with troubled eyes into the night.

  *'How can this
be equaled?" she asked, more to herself than to him. ''How?" Her question went unanswered. The soldier merely bowed, and she slid to the ground wearily and followed him. Never before had she been so filled with pride in her forefathers or so tired in her soul. Once again, seeing the lights of the barge rising to meet them through a fog of tiredness, she felt the press of dreams, past and present, bearing her down, and it was with unutterable relief that she allowed herself to have the desert sand washed off her and a clean kilt put on. As she sat on her chair under the lamps with a cup of wine in her hand, the dreams receded, leaving her with the feeling of having changed again, having slipped off another skin of childhood and left it behind at the feet of Khafra as an offering and a promise.

  It was but half a day's journey from Giza to Heliopolis, true heart of Egypt, and they reached the city at noon. Dignitaries came aboard, crawling over the deck to present their welcome, but the royal couple did not disembark, for here Hatshepsut was to receive her first crown in the temple of the Sun. She sat on her little chair while they kissed her feet, remote from them, gazing over their heads to the shining towers of the city. Behind her, on the west bank, more pyramids marched; and from where she sat, they seemed to be all around her head, a crown of power and invincibility. The official party withdrew, and Thothmes went to lie down. But Hatshepsut had her chair moved so that she could look downriver, back to Thebes, and she pondered her destiny.

  She stayed there until evening, neither eating nor drinking, and Thothmes left her alone. He suddenly fancied a little hunting and went off in the skiff into the marshes with Kenamun and his attendants, leaving her alone, the wind lifting the skirt of her kilt, the sun warming her feet, bare on the deck, and her hands as they lay immobile in her lap. When dinner was served and Pharaoh had not returned, she ate a little, quickly, and then went to bed, waking in the night to hear loud laughter and