When she returned to Thothmes' bedchamber, the physician met her at the door. Members of Pharaoh's entourage were clustered around him. He looked frightened. "Majesty, you must not go in," he said. "Pharaoh sleeps, but it is not the sleep of health, and his skin has broken out in pustules."
"Where is Second Wife Aset?" Hatshepsut demanded.
"She was here, but I told her to go to her apartment also," the physician said.
Despite his protestations Hatshepsut pushed her way into the room. "Cease!" she said to the magicians, and their droning died away. She went to Thothmes.
He was lying on his side, asleep, his mouth open. He was breathing heavily, the labored sound filling the room. His covers had slid to his waist, and she could see that the whole of his upper body was now covered in little white lumps, the skin between them a shiny, sickly yellow.
"Is it the plague?" she whispered to the physician, who had followed her.
He shook his head, lifting his hands in a gesture of bewilderment and resignation. "One of them," he answered briefly.
They were both silent, watching the sleeping King, wrapped in their own thoughts.
''Do not leave him/' she ordered, "and bring me word should there be any change." He bowed, and she went out, walking to the temple with her subdued women and her bodyguard. She went in alone to the God, but the sanctuary was shut and locked. She lay on her stomach before the door, her arms stretched above her head to touch it, and closed her eyes. O my Father, she prayed, drained of all save the wish to be held in the God's golden arms. Is Thothmes to die? If he dies—She seemed to hear the mocking echo of her own thought go whispering through the clustering pillars and the vast emptinesses of the inner court, rising with the incense.
If he dies, if he dies, if he dies, if he dies—
She screwed her eyes more tightly shut and ground her forehead into the golden floor. But she could not cry for him.
In the evening she went back to his room and sat beside him. The pustules were oozing a colorless slime that stuck to his sheets and caused him agony. He called her endlessly as he tossed to and fro, his heavy body as flabby and limp as a dead beast's. Though she leaned over him many times, she could see that he was not conscious and that it was only in his dreams that he wandered with her. He seemed to be rotting even before breath left him. The stink of his corruption filled their nostrils, making them all retch. But Hatshepsut did not move. She went on watching, watching, her perfect face a blank.
Aset crept in once, her eyes on Hatshepsut, hesitating, but since the Queen made no sound, she came to the couch, her hands to her nose. Exclaiming softly, she looked down on the moving, muttering hulk. Night had fallen, and the lamps had been lit, but even their gentle, golden glow could not mask the rot. She turned quickly away, only to find Hatshepsut's steady eyes on her.
*'Do you love him now, Aset?" she said quietly. ''Have you looked your fill on your royal husband? Are you running to your safe little, sweet little apartment?" She called behind her to Thothmes' Steward. "Bring a chair for the Second Wife! Set it on the other side of the couch. Now, Aset, sit. Sit!" The girl collapsed onto the chair, but she kept her face averted until Hatshepsut hissed, "Look at him! He has raised you up and given you more treasure and more love than it is any woman's privilege to receive in many lifetimes. Yet you turn your head from him as if he were a poor beggar at the gates of the temple! If he wakes, he shall find your eyes upon him in adoration, faithless one!"
Aset, white to the lips, obeyed.
But Thothmes did not wake. Toward midnight he began to whimper pitifully, like a wounded dog, the tears running down his face. Hatshepsut
took the flailing hands in her own, holding them strongly, surely, and he sighed. But he went on breathing in little gasps, his eyelids fluttering. When the horns sounded the passing of midnight, he died, still crying, his tears soaking the bed and her fingers.
Long after the rattle in his throat had sounded, she sat staring at him, the fat boy she had loved to tease, the grumpy youth she had lightly despised, the Pharaoh who had been less to her than her own ministers. In his death she felt the pity for him that she had never felt in his life. For what had he ever been, Thothmes the Second? What had he ever done, save that which any man could do, father children? She wept a little for him, quietly, the man who had genially and clumsily amounted to nothing more than the stiffening corpse with an overpowering odor, the tears still glistening on his round cheeks. She opened his fingers and withdrew her hand. It seemed unbelievable that Pharaoh was dead. Only last week he had bagged thirty geese, and now the lifeless hands that had grasped the throwing-stick with such delight lay curled like claws upon his still breast.
She stood and addressed the shocked company. ''Send for the sem-priests, and when they have taken him away, see that his linen is thoroughly washed, and his couch as well."
Aset was still slumped on the stool, an expression of dull unbelief on her face. Hatshepsut went to her, raising her gently. *'Go to your son," she said kindly. ''He loved you both, and for the time being his ban on your movements is lifted. Go where you will." Aset left the room wood-enly, as if in the middle of a deep dream.
At last Hatshepsut went, too. Thothmes' death seemed unreal to her, as if tomorrow she would wake to the same round of routine while he hunted and in the evening they would dine together as usual, baiting one another good-humoredly. It was almost an affront to find that nothing outside the fetid, gilded room had changed at all.
All Egypt was stunned. It was a bad time of the year for a Pharaoh to die, particularly a young and healthy one. The harvest drew rapidly to a close, and men had nothing to do but sit and gossip and watch the river rise. It was inevitable that many conflicting rumors would begin to circulate.
Hatshepsut was aware of them all. One day toward the end of the period of mourning she sent for Thothmes' physician, bidding her judges, Aset, and little Thothmes to be present also. When they had come, she wasted no time.
"It has come to my ears," she said directly, "that certain foul and slanderous rumors have been put abroad. Since we have all heard them.
I will not sully my mouth with them. Physician, how did my brother die?"
The man did not hesitate. ''He died of a plague, Majesty. Of that 1 have no doubt whatsoever."
'Ms it possible to administer any poison that would produce the same symptoms that he showed?"
The physician shook his head. "I have been treating all kinds of illnesses for many years. Majesty, and I know of no such poison."
"You see before you documents. Are you willing to swear by Amun, by Osiris, on the names of your ancestors, that Pharaoh died a natural death?" Hatshepsut cast a keen glance at Aset, who stood silently, her bird's eyes on the man's face.
He nodded confidently. "I will so swear."
"Do you fear me, Noble One?"
He smiled at her. "Majesty, I am an old man, and I fear no one now but Anubis and his judgment. My words are true. Horus died of the plague. It is that simple."
"Then sit, and affix your seal to all the papers. My heralds will deliver them to every city and town in the country. From this day any who speaks to the contrary will die." All saw her look meaningly at Aset, who shifted her weight and drew Thothmes closer to her. The judges nodded and murmured. She asked them if they were satisfied. They chorused their assent, bowing low to her, and went out. Aset, too, left without a word.
The funeral was almost an afterthought. Thothmes the Second went to his grave near Hatshepsut's lovely temple, leaving hardly a ripple on the surface of Egypt. Long before the cortege straggled over the sand, it was as if he had never been, but for the children who walked solemnly behind the coffin. Neferura and her mother, in mourning blue, were first; Aset and Thothmes were relegated to the rear, where the harem women wailed and tore at their linens. Mutnefert had been allowed to follow the coffin with Hatshepsut, and she cried pitifully all the way, her grief a distressing thing to see. Hatshepsut thought sadly that no one but
Mutnefert brought true sorrow to the hole in the cliff and the pretty mortuary temple where Thothmes' likeness already waited for the offerings and prayers of his people. Mutnefert carried a great armful of flowers to lay in the tomb. Neferura also buried her head in her posy, her face expressionless and her thoughts hidden from the beautiful woman who held her hand and walked beside her so silently. As they waited while the coffin was stood upright and Menena came with the Sacred Knife to begin the Opening of the Mouth, Hatshepsut pondered all the funerals she had seen: her sister's, her mother's, her father's, and now her brother's. It seemed to her that she, and only she, would go on living, young and strong and unscathed, forever.
After the four prescribed days of ritual and mystery, she bent in the tomb to bid farewell to Thothmes. She looked about at all his belongings but felt no power emanating from them as she had upon Neferu-khebit's burial or her father's. She saw nothing on which her eyes could rest in memory or regret. In death he was as ineffectual and weak as he had been in life. When she saw Aset throw herself on the coffin in a flood of tears, she wondered whether the emotion sprang from true love or from fear of what the years would bring to her son without the benevolent protection of Pharaoh.
Over the next few weeks Egypt waited for the Queen to ratify Thothmes the Third's claim to the throne and declare herself Regent until the child had grown. Those closest to her were not surprised when the expected announcement did not come. The great wheels of government went on turning as always. The Queen held audiences and received ambassadors. She prayed and hunted, danced and feasted, as if Aset and her child did not exist.
Aset herself had spent the days following the funeral in restless terror, expecting at any moment to hear that she was exiled with little Thothmes. As time went by and her fears abated, she began to put out feelers, trying to discover the Queen's mind. On each occasion she found her way politely but firmly blocked. She retired to her rooms, mystified and uneasy. Hatshepsut had said nothing about putting her back under the ban, and so she paced her garden furiously, anger replacing fright. Still the Queen did not reaffirm her son's kingship. She decided to take matters into her own hands.
One morning, as Hatshepsut, together with Senmut, Ineni, and Hapuseneb, was beginning the correspondence for the day, Duwa-eneneh, her Chief Herald, burst in upon them. He was out of breath, wild-eyed. He had scarcely begun to stammer when Ipuyemre, Second Prophet of Amun, followed him. Menena sidled into the room, his hands crossed over his smooth paunch, an expression of pious joy on his oily face.
''Down, all of you!" Senmut roared. 'This is not a beerhouse!" At his loud reminder all sank to the floor.
"Rise," Hatshepsut said equably. Her quick mind darted from one to the other, trying to find the reason for the interruption, but they still stood silently. "Ipuyemre, my friend, you seem to be the most composed," she said. "You may speak, seeing that I have sworn never to hold any conversation with the First Prophet of Amun."
He bowed, and as he spoke, she saw his hands tremble, though he tried to hide them. "There has been a great sign. Majesty, this morning in the temple. The Crown Prince was performing his duties as acolyte, together
with the other boys and the High Priest, and Mighty Amun bowed to him!"
Hapuseneb sucked in his breath, hissing. Ineni dropped his scroll, its faint rustle echoing in the silence. Though Senmut felt his heart stop, he did not move. But his eyes were burning and fixed on Menena's face. The High Priest did not waver, but his lips twitched.
Hatshepsut also stood quite still, her hands frozen on the Seal, the sun picking lights on her golden collar as she breathed. Then she relaxed and smiled quizzically. '"Indeed?" she purred, walking to Nehesi and handing him the Seal. *'And what conclusions do you draw from this—this sign?"
''Why, that Amun is pleased with the Prince," the man stammered.
Her smile widened. "My dear Ipuyemre, you are ever faithful and loyal, but you fear me overmuch, as of course you should. Duwa-eneneh! I thank you for your hurried entrance, and now please tell me exactly what passed."
The Herald tucked his staff under one arm and bowed, his handsome lips compressed and his liquid eyes hard. 'The Prince was praying, and he asked Amun if indeed he should be Pharaoh as his father wished."
"And then?" She seemed to be enjoying some private joke. Her mouth warmed, and her eyes twinkled, but behind it all Senmut sensed tension.
"Then, after a moment, Amun bowed his golden head." Duwa-eneneh spoke flatly and unemotionally. He could have been describing the food he had eaten that morning. He and Hapuseneb caught each other's eye and smiled.
"Amun bowed his golden head," she repeated, her fingers pyramided to her lips, as if she thought. "Duwa-eneneh, find the Prince and his mother, and bring them here immediately. Menena, get out. Wait in the hall. Ipuyemre, you may stay."
When the Herald and the High Priest had gone, she turned swiftly to the other men. "Well?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.
Ineni spoke. "It is, of course, quite true," he told her. "The sign has been given, else Menena and the priests would not be so public about it. But—"
"It is a trick!" Nehesi swore savagely. "The God bows to no one but you, Mighty One!"
"I know," she said, "for many bow to the God and do not bend their hearts with their heads."
"I also think it is a ruse," Hapuseneb said. "Who was with the boy when it happened?"
"Menena, of course," Senmut answered promptly.
"And the other boys," Ipuyemre reminded him.
"In that case," Hatshepsut said softly, "there are more anxious priests
in the temple than we had thought, for if Menena was with the boy, who was behind Amun, in the sanctuary?"
They all looked at Ipuyemre, but he shook his head. ''I do not know," he said helplessly. *'I was without, in the inner court, with the holy dancers, and I saw the boy and the God only from a distance."
Duwa-eneneh returned with Aset and Thothmes. Aset was cleady excited; two spots of color burned in her cheeks, under the paint, and her body seemed tighter and more feline than ever. Thothmes was solemn. He went and bowed to his aunt-mother, giving her a whiff of the incense he had borne a short while ago.
''Greetings, Thothmes," she said. ''I have heard of the favor the God accorded you, and I wish to know more. Tell me about it."
The child's clear eyes met her own. He had been warned by his mother that the Queen did not like him, that she wished he were not in the palace so that she could rule on her own. But he found it hard to hate this tall, lovely lady whose face was so perfect that he wanted to look at it for a long time.
*'I was praying. I pray often, you know," he added defiantly.
She nodded. ''Of course you do. It is right and good to pray." She encouraged him with a gentle smile.
He felt his courage rise. "I decided to ask Amun for his advice," he chirruped. Suddenly it seemed to the men listening that Thothmes had begun to parrot a lesson well-learned. "I held the incense high and begged him to tell me if I was to be Pharaoh."
"Did you? And what did he say?"
"He smiled on me, and then he bent his gracious head. He bent it very low, until his chin fell on his immortal breast. All those around me saw it."
"Hmmm. Tell me, Thothmes, who am I?"
He looked bewildered, and his lip curled. "You are the Queen of Egypt."
"And who else am I?"
"I—I do not know."
"Then I will tell you, seeing that your mother has seen fit not to do so. I am also the Daughter of Amun, his very Incarnation here on earth, fruit of his holy loins, his beloved, whom he loved before I was born. His thoughts are my thoughts, and his will is my will. Do you think that he would tell you that you could be Pharaoh without my knowledge?"
Aset made a half-strangled sound and stepped forward.
Thothmes shook his head, puzzled. "N—no, I suppose not. Then what did he mean?"
"He meant that he is happy with you. He wants you to work hard for
&
nbsp; him and for Egypt, and perhaps one day you may be Pharaoh. But not yet."
''Not yet?" His lips quivered, and he stilled them angrily. "But I am Crown Prince. That means that I must be Pharaoh!"
"When Amun tells me that he wants you for Pharaoh, then I will tell you, but it will not be for a long time. You are still only a little Prince, and you have much to learn before the Horus Throne can be yours. Do you understand?"
'Tes!" he snapped. "But, Majesty, I am a quick learner!"
She looked down into the mutinous face. "So you are, for you are in every way like your mighty grandfather, my father, Thothmes the First. Now go to your rooms. I want to speak more with your mother."
He left, his shoulders back and his shaved head held high.
Hatshepsut ordered Menena to be admitted again. She was holding her temper with difficulty, striving to be just in the face of this silly bid for power. When Menena took his place beside Aset, she found that she had gone utterly cold. "The God bends his head to no one but me," she said. "All Egypt has known this since the day I was born. You have tried a filthy, despicable trick on a little boy who believes in his God. You have dishonored Amun, but you have failed to do anything more than cause a small flurry in the places where men have nothing more to do than feed on gossip. If you thought to force my hand, then you are foolish and naive. Did you imagine that I would rush to place the crown on Thothmes' head and then leave my country in the hands of such as you?" She smiled scornfully. "You are beneath my contempt."
Aset had listened restlessly, her hands fluttering in her linens. Suddenly she burst out, "My son is Crown Prince and the rightful heir to the throne! His father made it so!"
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