Child of the morning

by Gedge, Pauline, 1945-

  After Menena had led her once more around the sanctuary, she turned and faced the gathering. "I take to myself all titles of my father," she said. "Herald!"

  Duwa-eneneh stepped forward and recited them. "Horus, Beloved of Maat, Lord of Nekhbet and Per-Uarchet, He Who Is Diademed with the Fiery Uraeus, Great One of Double Strength, the Horus of Gold, Beautiful of Years, Making Hearts to Live, King of the South and North, Hatshepset, Living Forever."

  Senmut noted that Duwa-eneneh had omitted Mighty Bull of Maat, and he smiled to himself.

  She went on, lifting her chin high. "I also take to myself the title given

  to me by Amun at my first coronation. I am Maat-Ka-Ra, Son of the Sun, Child of the Morning. Usert-kau is my throne name, and I have decided that henceforth Hatshepset is no name for a King. I will be known as Hatshepsu, P'irst Among the Mighty and Honorable Nobles of the Kingdom."

  Senmut smiled again at this purely feminine vanity. His King had not become wholly male.

  The Pharaonic beard was strapped to her chin. Instead of prompting laughter, it emphasized her power in a curious way as it could never have done on the chin of a man. Hatshepsu the First, King of Egypt, walked slowly out of Karnak into the spring sunshine, her lovely face, smooth and inscrutable as marble. She was expressionless before the homage of the soldiers. They had waited in the outer court to perform their own worship at the feet of the warrior who had led them into Kush and home again. She got back into the chariot and rode to the palace.

  Before the feasting began, she sat on the Horus Throne, the Crook and Flail crossed on her breast, and her men gathered before her. In a moment of perversity she summoned Thothmes and made him sit on the steps at her feet. He obeyed, but she was keenly aware of his stiff back and his glowering, angry little face.

  ''Well," she said, smiling, 'let us begin. How could I forget you, most faithful ones, on this my most holy day? Senmut, come forward!"

  He crawled over the golden floor to her feet, and she herself got up and helped him to rise. The form was thus observed, but beneath the protocol of centuries her love for him shone out.

  "For you, favorite of the King, Keeper of the Door, I have titles. I make you Overseer of all works of the House of Silver, Chief of the Prophets of Montu, Servant of Nekhen, Prophet of Maat, and last of all Smer, Revered Noble of Egypt."

  One by one the cloaks of power dropped around him. The others, watching and listening, knew once and for all who shared complete power in Egypt; and they looked at Senmut's proud, closed face warily, feeling themselves cut off from him. He bowed and stepped to her side.

  She beckoned Hapuseneb. "You with the secret," she said to him, "do you remember the day when I made you Chief of the Prophets of South and North?"

  "I remember it well. Majesty. That was before you routed the inhabitants of Kush."

  She nodded. "Nehesi, have Menena brought before me."

  Hapuseneb knew what was to come. The others waited, breathless, until the aging High Priest had slid to the foot of the throne and made his homage.

  Hatshepsut spoke mildly, but her eyes glinted at him frostily beneath the towering Double Crown. "Menena, a High Priest can be appointed only by the order of Pharaoh himself. Is it not so?"

  He paled but bowed. ''It is so," he said quietly.

  ''And I am now Pharaoh. I here appoint the Vizier Hapuseneb as High Priest of Amun, to take up the staff I gave him those years ago and to wield it now with authority. To you, Menena, I offer the thanks of the Hawk-Who-Has-Risen-to the-Sun, and I order you to leave Thebes before the end of Phamenoth."

  She had finished with him. He bowed again and left, his composure as unruffled as always. Hatshepsut looked after him for a moment, remembering her father's unexplained hatred for the man, and her eye caught the glance that Senmut gave him in passing. Her Steward's face was full of loathing and fear. Startled, she filed the new information away for later reference. Senmut knew what she did not, and one day she must know, too.

  She made Nehesi her Chancellor, an appointment that afl expected and that followed naturally from his position as Bearer of the Royal Seal. Into Tahuti's hands she placed the distribution of afl tribute. Puamra, the wanderer, she made Inspector of Monuments. Then it was User-amun's turn. She called him, and he approached her smiling. But after she had helped him to rise, she ordered him once more to the floor. "Many, many years ago," she said, "you bowed thus to me in mockery, irrepressible one, and I swore to you that one day you would repeat your words to me in earnest. Do you remember what they were?"

  A ripple of laughter ran round the room as User-amun shook his head with difficulty, his nose against the paving. "Truly, Great Horus, my foolishness escapes my memory. May I beg your pardon most humbly?"

  "Anen!" She was laughing now. "Read to me the words that I caused you to write."

  The scribe got up from his position by her left foot, and solemnly intoned, "Hafl Majesty! Your beauty is more dazzling to behold than the beauty of the stars. Ah! My eyes fail, and I cannot look thereon!"

  "Now repeat!" she said, her shoulders heaving, and he did, his voice rising muffled from the floor. "Now you may rise," she said at last, and he sprang up, smiling broadly.

  "Your Majesty has an infaflible power of recollection," he remarked.

  She nodded coolly. "Of course. And for you, bright bird, I have a tour of your father's Vizierate in the South, which you have neglected too much of late, preferring to chase my maids."

  The granting of privileges and awards went on. At last the sun sank, and the horns sounded for dinner. She rose, visibly tired under the weight

  of the almost insupportable coronation robe. ''Let us eat together," she said, looking deep into each of them in turn, "and then let us continue the work which we have begun in Egypt. No man shall say in future times that this land suffered under us!"

  They went to the hall together, all crowding onto the dais to drink her health. Not one of them, with the exception of the wary Senmut, noticed that Yamu-nefru and Djehuty, with Sen-nefer, ate huddled in a corner behind a protecting lotus column. They did not laugh. Not far from them Thothmes and his mother stared with hard, bitter eyes at the bright company on the dais.

  Toward midnight Hatshepsut shrugged off the heavy robe, clapped her hands, and the entertainments began. She had particularly wanted to see a troupe of dancers purchased by Hapuseneb in one of the coastal cities of the north. The men were acrobats as well as dancers, and they fascinated her with their leaps and somersaults, their gyrations always timed by their drums and their strange stringed instruments, which were not plucked like lutes but strummed. When they had finished and she had given them gold and made them repeat their performance, Hapuseneb gave them to her as a gift. She also delighted in a leopard that could perform tricks. It, too, was made hers. Until the small hours the best entertainers of the empire kept her enthralled while the wine goblets were filled and the slaves replenished the oil in the perfume cones on the heads of the guests. The banks and carpets of flowers were wilting in the heat from the lamps. Menkh, ever the fool, donned a dancer's thin linen and put on the girl's copper bracelets, prancing and mincing before Hatshepsut. She laughed but told him that she liked him better as her reckless charioteer. He retired, crushed, to his grinning comrades.

  Hatshepsut rose for silence. "It is the time for rest," she said, "but before we go, I would like to hear a song from the great Ipuky, blessed singer of the gods. Help him, User-amun."

  The old man came to the foot of the dais, leaning heavily on User-amun's shoulder. He was bent almost double now, hoary with age and often ill, but his voice had not lost its magic. Hatshepsut had given him a home and his own herb garden, a place where he could sit and smell the green things he could not see and end his days in peace of mind. He sat gratefully, settling the lute across his bony knees. They all waited in anticipation, watching the sightless eyes roll as his fingers sought the chords. At last he was ready.

  At the first words Senmut turned to Hapusene
b in irritation. "It is the

  song dedicated to Imhotep!" he whispered fiercely. *'Now why did he choose that one?" Hatshepsut hushed him crossly, and he retired to listen, mystified, as the solemn, awesome music flooded the great hall and fell in judgment on them all.

  Bodies pass away, and others remain since time of them that were before. The gods that were aforetime rest in their pyramids, and likewise the noble

  and the glorified, Buried in their pyramids.

  They that builded houses, their habitations are no more. What hath been done with them? I have heard the discourses of Imhotep and Hardedef, with whose words

  men speak everywhere. What are their habitations now? Their walls are destroyed, their habitations are no more, as if they had never

  been. None come from thence that he may tell us how they fare, that he may

  tell us what they need. That he may set our hearts at rest, until we also go to the place whither

  they are gone. Be glad, that thou mayest cause thine ear to forget that men will one day

  beautify thee. Follow thy desire, so long as thou livest. Put myrrh on thy head, clothe thee in fine linen, and anoint thee with the

  genuine marvels Of the things of the God. Increase yet more the delights that thou hast, and let not thy heart grow

  faint. Follow thy desire, and do good to thyself. Do what thou requirest upon earth, and vex not thine heart until that day

  of lamentation Comes to thee. Yet He with the Quiet Heart hears not their lamentation, and cries deliver

  no man From the underworld.

  The last sad notes lingered in the heads of the drunken company, and there was no applause. Ipuky had expected none.

  Hatshepsut stirred. 'Thank you for the lesson, most wise one," she said. ''Well it is for a King to remember such things on the day of his triumph."

  He bowed his head quietly for a moment and got up, cradling his lute

  in both arms. Uscr-anum helped liini walk away from the dais, and then he disappeared into the shadows.

  She dismissed them all and left them swiftly, shades of exhaustion under her e>es. They followed her, picking their way weariK through the mess of cushions, upturned goblets, and sprawling reelers to the quiet, torch-lit passages be>ond.

  ■5vk^

  She slept deeply- for several hours, worn uith the excesses of the da%' before. She woke easily a few minutes before dawn and sat up, waiting anxiously for the moment that would mean the culmination of all her strivings. She had Nofret place her chair so that she could see out her window to the eastern sky. and as she got ofiF the couch and went to it, clutching her robe to her in the morning chill, she heard the High Priest, the Second High Priest, and the acolytes gathering outside in the corridor. At her order Nofret opened the door, and they stood reverently, Hapuse-neb and Ipu>emre and little Thothmes and the others, filling the room with smoke. She sat motionless, gazing to the east as the rim of Ra trembled red on the horizon and the priests burst into the Hymn of Praise, glorifing her as his rays found her face: "Hail Might Incarnation, rising as Ra m the east' Hail. Emanation of the Hol>- One'"

  She received their adoration, a tumble of pride and fierce, lealous possessiveness filling her. This uas her birthright and nothing less: the throne, the land, the God. As the smgmg ended in a burst of praise, Ra lifted himself free of the clinging hands of night and began his daiK journey. The doors closed again, and the priests uent back to the temple to wait for her to come and perform the morning's prayers.

  Nofret ordered her bath to be filled One b- one the guards admitted the princes and nobles who were permitted to watch Pharaoh at his ablutions. She slipped off the robe and walked past them, stepping do^n into the water, greeting each one and taking the opportunity to discuss the day's work uhile her slaves washed her. WTien the men had gone, she lay on her cedar board to be oiled, massaged, and scraped. Once dressed in kilt and helmet, the cobra and the vulture warning all she passed to touch her at their peril, she went to the temple to perform the rites for the first time as Pharaoh.

  In the sanctuar>-, assisted by Horus and Thoth, she opened the shrine, taking the incense from Thothmes' hand and censing the God. She sprinkled him with water fromi his Sacred Lake, and laid his crown, insignia, and food before him. She listened to the priests" praters for the health and safety of Pharaoh As she did all these things, she was conscious

  of an undercurrent of supreme joy. She had always believed that this day would come. She had believed it mistily, with half-formed certainty, as a child. She had held onto the belief through the years of secret, subtle building, wondering for what purpose she squandered her talents while her husband lived like a butterfly. But now, locking the shrine and striding out into the sunlight, she knew.

  Ineni sat in the audience chamber, where the day's dispatches were piled neatly on her table and Anen and the other scribes waited to take her orders for the day. He was looking drawn, the lines around the hawk nose and the straight mouth deeply etched. When she swept in, he bowed stiffly. He was troubled with aching joints and had pains in his hands; he did not pass her the first document as he usually did.

  ''What is it, my friend?" she asked him.

  He bowed again uneasily. ''Majesty, I can find no way of putting this. I want to resign my office as Treasurer."

  She looked again into the worn face, noting its gray pallor. "Are you displeased with me, Ineni? Are my policies irksome to you?"

  He smiled. "No. Nothing like that. But I grow old, and my duties are becoming too much for me. I will still build for you, but in my own time if you will permit it. As Mayor of Thebes I am already burdened more than my years can stand, and I want to spend more time at home with my family and to work on my tomb."

  "You have served long," she admitted. "My father found you indispensable, and I must confess that I will sorely miss you here, for your knowledge is immense. Well," she sighed, "so be it. Retire with my blessing. Will you still dine with me sometimes?"

  "As often as you wish!"

  "Who will replace you? Can you recommend to me another Treasurer?" She had come directly to the point, but he had his answer ready.

  "I suggest Tahuti. He is honest and very thorough, and though he is never troubled with flashes of genius, he plods steadily. Not one uten's weight wifl escape him."

  "I agree. Tahuti, then. Duwa-eneneh, find him, and bring him here. He might as wefl begin immediately. Ineni, spend a month or two training him, and then I wifl let you go. Truly the old order changes!" She sighed. "While we are waiting, we might as wefl begin. What do we have this morning?"

  Ineni selected a scrofl. "There is a letter from Nubia, from Inebny, your Viceroy. He complains that his mines are working at their fufl capacity. When the taxes are collected, he can send no more gold than he has sent before. He says that he mentioned the matter to Your Majesty some time ago."

  She frowned. **So he did. Years ago. I wonder how he has fared since then. Anen, draft a reply. Tell him that I thank him for his diligence and apologize for being so forgetful. Tell him also not to rape the mines; he can cut production for the time being. Prepare it, and Nehesi will seal it. Senmut, find someone to inspect the old mines in the Sinai Desert. It may be that there is still gold for the taking, though it has been many years since they were closed. Have a report for me within six months. And get me an engineer who can suggest the openings of new mines. What is next?"

  The business was finished by noon, and she ate alone in her room before her afternoon sleep. She felt a little lonely, aware for the first time of the isolation complete authority brought her, but she would not have exchanged the Double Crown for a palace full of friends. She put her neck to her headrest and in the dim quiet closed her eyes with a prayer to Amun and a smile on her lordly mouth.

  Before her first year as Pharaoh was out, she had redecorated the Pharaonic apartments, tearing down walls, pulling apart ceilings, and opening balconies. When she had finished, she moved into rooms that were bigger, higher, ri
cher than before. She had left the floors alone, for they were plated in gold and quite free of all adornment. But she had her walls covered in solid silver into which Tahuti had beaten gigantic reliefs that ran from her blue-painted ceilings to the golden floors. When she lay on the great couch with its likeness of Amun at her head and its lion's paws at her feet, she could see her own face staring back at her from all three walls, her haughty chin bearing the beard of kingship, her eyes gazing levelly and with a cool superiority into the room, her forehead wide and serene under the Double Crown that bore the cobra and the vulture. Her doors were also of beaten silver, every one of them a solid plate from which the Eye of Horus looked out. In time she was surrounded by the dull, white gleam of that rarest of metals wherever she went. The polished silver in her audience chamber held other scenes. The walls were alive with motion, and from high on her throne she could see herself running, Flail and Crook in hand, while her enemies fled before her holy anger, or riding in her chariot, ax raised, while under the horses' hooves the inhabitants of Kush were ground to the dust. On the pillars in all the rooms of her suite were paintings of blue and pink lotuses whose stems wound to the roof and birds flying upward on red and yellow wings. She had more trees planted right against the sides of each of the rooms that opened directly onto the garden so that she could always smell the coolness and freshness of growing things.

  Where the passage that took her from the banqueting hall to her

  apartments began and outside each of her doors, she set granite likenesses of herself, seated, her hands on her stone knees and face looking calmly down the halls, or standing, one foot before the other in an attitude of frozen movement. She deliberately left the stone unpainted, magnifying the impression of strength and divinity received by all who passed in and out of the heart of the palace.