Child of the morning

by Gedge, Pauline, 1945-

  Senmut could not laugh as he wanted to.

  ''Come to my home tonight," Hapuseneb offered, "you and your brother. We will sit in my garden and gossip about nothing more important than fishing, for a change. There will be no audiences tomorrow, and you can sleep in my guest chamber."

  Senmut accepted the invitation gratefully, calling to Senmen, and they left the hall by the garden entrance. The royal couple had gone. On the way to the water steps they picked up Menkh and his young woman, and a young man, Tahuti by name, a protege of old Ineni, who greeted Hapuseneb affably. Djehuty of Hermopolis, that haughty aristocrat, was introduced to Senmut while they waited for Hapuseneb's boat to be brought. Altogether seven or eight of them with their women sailed the mile to the estate of the Vizier of the North. They walked in his garden to the lawns, where the lamps hung, tossing in the remnants of the day's wind; and they sat or lay on the warm grass, talking agreeably and drinking for the rest of the night.

  Senmut enjoyed himself. He was among minds as keen, as well-trained, as sharp as his own. They passed from fishing to fighting to the classics, and from the sayings of the God Imhotep to Hatshepsut's lovely temple without once referring to their new King. When the others had gone, he and Senmen retired to Hapuseneb's private study, and the three of them opened more wine and talked of their families and their youth. Hapuseneb listened gravely to the tales of a farmer's life, and he regaled them with stories of his father's wild youth and of his own upbringing, here under the shadow of the greatest center of power in the world. They did not go to bed at all.

  Hatshepsut ushered out the last of her slaves and reluctantly closed the doors behind her. She turned to face her new husband in the dim light of the night-light burning steadily beside her couch, which was strewn with sweet lotus blooms and leaves of myrrh. He had removed the Double Crown and carefully laid it upon a table. She saw its smooth red and white surfaces complacently reflect the passing flickers of light and shadow, the symbol of all she had sought and lost. Thothmes was pouring wine, and

  she walked to him slowly, rubbing her wrists where the silver bracelets chafed her. She slipped them off and flung them onto her night table as he held out the cup to her. She refused it irritably, tired by the demands of the day.

  ''I do not wish to drink any more," she said. ''I should have thought that you had had enough as well."

  ''I like a cup before bed, warmed in the winter," he replied. He tossed back his head and drank, licking his lips and replacing the cup while she waited and watched. Taking off his sandals and loosening his belt, he sighed. ''I shall not often undress myself again." She quickly jerked her head away and, turning on her heel, marched to her cosmetic table. As she removed her coronet and her wig, the black hair, freed from its bonds, fell to her shoulders in a great wave of perfume. She ran her hands through it impatiently, and Thothmes was suddenly still, watching the sheen as it caught the light.

  "When you come to me, you will have to undress yourself," she answered waspishly. ''My slaves are unused to anointing the body of a man." When he did not reply, she turned. Seeing his expression, she quickly looked to her mirror again. ''Do not stare at me as though you had never seen a woman before!" she snapped. "I know of your reputation in the chambers of the harem!"

  "You are beautiful," he said slowly, thickly. "In the garb of a Queen you do not seem somehow touchable, but thus, as you stand with your hair down your back and your arms bare, there is none to equal your beauty in the whole of Egypt." In three strides he was beside her. Before she could speak, he had covered her mouth with his own, his hands buried in her hair, his body pressing hard against her. She felt herself respond, his mouth firmer than she had imagined it could be. Against her will, the assertion of his body woke in her a part of her that always respected a mind implacably made up, always sure of its purpose. He laughed into her mouth as he felt the stiff limbs meet him in sudden acquiescence. "Can we not have some affection for one another?" he asked softly. His hand found her breast. "We are brother and sister. Need it be such a hard thing to make an heir?" She breathed his wine-laden breath, and the smell of his sweat mingled with the oil that smeared his chest, his arms. She shook her head mutely, urging him on with little cries. Before they fell together upon the bed, she had two fleeting thoughts. One was of Senmut. With a spasm of passion she remembered his solid shoulders, the firm young flesh under her hands. The other was of Thothmes himself, his indecisions, his amiable squandering of what little ability was born in him to rule. She felt the tragedy of the man, the force and ability he was display-

  ing now, wasted and dissipated, when it should have been exercised in the halls of power.

  She would have liked to talk to him when it was all over, to get to know him better, but he quickly fell asleep, snoring gently, his loose, flabby limbs sprawled upon her dainty coverlets. A wave of rejection swept her. Getting up, she put on her robe and sat in her chair. She was more than grateful to see the darkness give way to the dawn. She sat, vacant in mind and body, until she could clearly see the paintings on her walls. Then she went to the couch and bent over Thothmes, calling his name and shaking him gently by the arm. ''Wake up! The High Priest will soon be here!" she whispered.

  He only groaned and turned over, pillowing his head on a hand still hennaed and beringed. As the Hymn of Praise began, he opened his eyes. They sat together on the bed, listening to the priests sing his praises while the pearly light of Ra's first greetings slid along the floor.

  She saw Thothmes' eyes light at the words. They are not for you, she thought. They are eternally, always, only for me.

  As the hymn ended, Thothmes kissed her and got up. ''I am hunting today," he said. ''Do you want to join me?"

  "No, not today. I have other duties."

  He shrugged. "Of course." He smiled hesitantly. "Will you welcome me tonight?"

  She looked at the round cheeks, the big eyes, the wisps of brown hair still clinging to the sides of the bald head, and she felt a sympathy for him. He was handsome in a loose, unformed way and pathetic as a child.

  She inclined her head. "Come tonight if you will, but not tomorrow night. By then I shall have given a full day to my duties, and I shall be tired."

  "Very well." He yawned widely, padding to the door. "I suppose the nobles will have gathered to watch me bathe. Enjoy your breakfast, Hat-shepset, as I have enjoyed the night."

  She rose and bowed to him, Pharaoh of All Egypt. When he had gone and she had sent for her slaves to put fresh linen on the bed, she got into her bath and rested, floating, her eyes closed. She fell asleep while she was having her massage, and the nap refreshed her.

  At midmorning she ate some fruit and drank a little water, ignoring the silly, knowing glances and simpering smiles of her hairdresser. Afterward she took Nofret for a walk around her garden, glad of the clean, cool grass, the dry whisperings of the trees, the open, light-filled silence. She did not try to analyze her response to Thothmes. Although she was a grown woman, she had never taken a lover. In her heart she cried for Senmut,

  for the sympathy and support she always found in his dark eyes, for the httle, cynical half smile that would tell her of his quick understanding, but she did not send for him. She spent most of the day outside, walking aimlessly, caught in a limbo of hours that seemed to stretch into days and the days into months and years, time, slow time, taking her nowhere after all.

  In the evening she reluctantly went back to her apartment to bathe again and to dress, for she knew that Thothmes would dine in a hurry and be upon her doorstep not long after the sun set. Nofret, mistaking her mistress's sighs and long silences for the anticipation of love, brought out her best robe and filled the room with incense and myrrh.

  In the middle of the month of Phamenoth, when Thothmes had reigned for two months, word came north to Thebes of trouble in Nubia. Hatshepsut received the dispatch from the hand of a tired and hungry soldier who had escaped into the desert and been picked up by a caravan of nomads. Even before she had fin
ished reading it, she was ordering her cabinet to appear in the audience chamber. She sent for Aahmes pen-Nekheb and Ineni and for Thothmes, too, hoping that he had not yet left for the hunt, and while she waited for them to assemble, she paced the floor in agitation, the scroll held tightly in both hands. She sent the soldier to the barracks for food and rest. It was a scorching day, summertime, and though the mats covering the wall to the garden had been raised, no breeze penetrated.

  As she paced, she barked unceasingly at her scribe. ''Get out the maps of the south and the First Cataract and the placement of the garrisons on the Nubian border. Gather the generals. Find all conscription lists; I want to know where all my troops are. Bring a plan of the garrison mentioned here"—she tapped the scroll—''and the name of the commander stationed there. Hurry!''

  One by one the men came in, bowing and sitting around the large, bare table upon which the Queen spread out her correspondence every morning. Pen-Nekheb came last, limping slowly to his place. He had never before been called by Hatshepsut, and his heart sank, for he smelt war. He had marched too long, he thought, tucking his voluminous kilt around his legs. He listened to the whispered speculations around him, wondering how long it would be before he could get back to his cucumbers and his melons.

  At last Hatshepsut ordered the door closed and sat at the head of the table. She wore a pleated kilt of fine linen that swished about her legs and fell gracefully to the floor. She had flowers entwined in her hair, but her

  expression held little that was feminine. As Anen settled on his stool at her feet and took up his reed pen, her lips were taut and her forehead lined. "I have just given audience to an officer of the Medjay, our desert police," she said. *'It seems that one of our garrisons has been overrun, and a rabble of Nubians is looting inside the border."

  There was a stillness in the room. Yamu-nefru spat lazily upon the floor. ''It was to be expected. Majesty. Every time a Pharaoh goes to the God and a new one rises triumphant, the filthy and execrable inhabitants of Kush foment rebellion. It is almost as sure a happening as the soaring of Ra each day in the sky."

  ''What of the commander?" User-amun asked her. His sunny, impish face was solemn.

  She shook her head. "No one knows whether he is alive or dead. Indeed, I do not even know who had command there. I have sent for the Scribe of Assemblage. He will tell us. Anen, give me the maps."

  Senmut took the scrolls from the scribe's hand and spread them out on the table. They all stood and watched as Hatshepsut's brown finger slashed at the tracings.

  "Here is Assuan, and here the Cataract. The desert road leaves the river at this point," she stabbed at the page, "and veers west. Two garrisons stand, the one within our border and the other here, fifty miles farther, into the land of Kush. I am told that the inland one has been taken and the men slaughtered. Even now the Kushites march on the other." She let the scroll roll up with a snap and seated herself once more, looking into each of their faces expectantly. "Hapuseneb," she said at length, "as Vizier of the North you are now appointed Minister of War. Give me your thoughts."

  He leaned forward, his braceleted arms on the table. "My thoughts, Majesty, must be shared by every man present. It is necessary to gather a force immediately and leave Thebes, marching south. There is no doubt that we can speedily rout these ungrateful dogs, but it must be done before they reach the second garrison."

  There was a murmur of assent, and Aahmes pen-Nekheb's voice rose above the others. The old man was clearly distressed, breathing heavily "Majesty, may I be permitted to speak?"

  She inclined her head, smiling at him affectionately. "I had hoped that you would, old friend. My father never stirred from Thebes on such an expedition as this without your excellent aid. Say on."

  "Then, to put it bluntly, I do not understand how the garrison fell. These places are the backbone of our borders, strongly walled, impregnable, and full of seasoned fighting men. The enemy has often run amuck

  up and down the borders, looting and killing and stealing good Egyptian cattle, but seldom have they penetrated a garrison. I do not like the smell of it/'

  They all looked at him uneasily, and it was Hapuseneb who put the question to him. ''What do you fear. Revered One? Treason?"

  'Terhaps. It would not be the first time that men soured from long service in the desert, far from family and home, their reason turned by the offer of gold or something else.'*

  Hatshepsut broke in. ''We do not know. We have no details. The officer who came to me had only fought the Kushites in the sand and was not present when the garrison was taken. Ah, the Scribe of Assemblage!"

  The man approached, his arms full of paper, and he bowed.

  "Sit here," Hatshepsut told him. He laid his burden on the table and took a stool next to Anen. He was a little man, bent with years of writing and crippled in one leg. "Now, Hapuseneb, ask your questions."

  Hapuseneb asked who commanded the interior garrison, and the scribe cleared his throat, shuffling among his papers.

  Menkh leaned over and whispered in Senmut's ear, "This old idiot will keep us here for the rest of the morning. He can scarce find his own nose."

  The man was already answering, his voice nasal but his glance to Menkh razor-sharp. "It is captained by the noble Wadjmose. Fifty infantry were stationed there by Her Majesty's father, together with a small contingent of Shock Troops."

  Hatshepsut cried out and jumped to her feet.

  Thothmes, who had become increasingly uncomfortable as he sat listening to the talk, exclaimed also. "Wadjmose! My brother! Now what say you, pen-Nekheb? Will a noble of Pharaoh's blood betray his countrymen?"

  Pen-Nekheb's jowls shook. "It is still possible. Majesty, that there was treason and the commander knew nothing of it. I would not dismiss the theory."

  "Neither will I," retorted Hatshepsut. "Continue." But she was visibly disturbed and sat with her eyes downcast, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

  Thothmes suddenly exploded. "By Amun! This is no ordinary raid we plan! Our brother must be avenged! I will smite the Kush with the might of all my armies. I will destroy all. I will allow no male to live!" He shook with an uncharacteristic rage, his protruding teeth bared in a snarl.

  As Hatshepsut looked at him, the previous night's spent passions came to her, a memory of hot, sticky darkness, his teeth on her flesh. She shifted in her chair. "I agree that these people must be taught a salutary lesson,"

  she said to him quietly, and he retired, still glowering. "Was it not for a moment such as this, Thothmes, you argued for the throne? I am glad that you intend to do as our ancestors have done and lead your troops into battle." He did not reply to this, staring at her while his anger disappeared as suddenly as it had arisen. She smiled across at him sadly. She knew that he would never go to fight, and she nodded at Hapuseneb.

  ''How many soldiers do we have?" he asked the scribe, 'i am not concerned with any that cannot march from Thebes within the week."

  'Tive thousand in the city," the man said promptly. ''One hundred thousand altogether of permanent troops, and four times that number can be raised by conscription."

  "One division." He thought for a moment. "Majesty, how great a force is mustered against us?"

  "The numbers are inaccurate, but it cannot be more than three thousand. There are some archers, bowmen of a kind."

  "Chariots?"

  Her lip curled scornfully. "Not unless the Kush have stolen those used by the garrison. How many chariots there?" she fired at the scribe.

  He answered her with the same imperturbable calm. "One squadron. Majesty."

  "Well, if Wadjmose is the soldier my father thought him to be, he will have killed all the horses early in the battle to make sure that the Nubians could not use the chariots. Now put all together, Hapuseneb."

  The Vizier sat back in his chair, summing up. "It appears that there is a horde of Kushites, probably undisciplined and poorly led, somewhere in the desert about seventy miles from the river and converging o
n the second garrison. In number they are about three thousand. They have bowmen and perhaps chariots. I think it will be easy to quash them. Half a division and a squadron of charioteers should be enough."

  Hatshepsut agreed. "But speed is essential," she added. "Pen-Nekheb, which division is quartered in Thebes at this time?"

  "The Division of Horus, Majesty. There are also a few retainers from the Division of Set, here for maneuvers."

  "Thank you. I see no need to keep you any further. Hapuseneb will, of course, go into the field, and you, Yamu-nefru. Djehuty, I will need the troops from your nome. You will march also. Sen-nefer, you also return to your nome and bring troops. In this way we will take half the division from Thebes, leaving soldiers in the city if the need arises. We also take five hundred men from each of your nomes, Yamu-nefru, Djehuty, and Sen-nefer. Are you satisfied?"

  They murmured, nodding, but were instantly silent as Hapuseneb's

  clear voice rose above their whispering. ''Majesty, as Minister of War I take all this from your hands, knowing your mind. But who will command in the field? True, this is not war but a punitive expedition, and yet we need a man well-seasoned, who knows the country and has fought before."

  All eyes swiveled to Aahmes pen-Nekheb, and he threw up his hands, shaking his head vigorously. ''Majesty, I am old. I will go and aid in tactics, but I cannot fight."

  "That is a blow to me," Hatshepsut frowned. "I had hoped to have your arm. Noble Aahmes, but if you feel you cannot fight, then perhaps you can suggest a man on whom I may rely."

  He hesitated. "There is such a man. Divine One, but I do not know if he would be acceptable to you."