I stood beside the door with my flower–laden basket as everyone passed through. Pharaoh smiled as he moved by. Iset looked daggers at me and I lowered my eyes. Pentawere caught my eye once more and mouthed “come” before he followed Pharaoh into the sun court, his eyes burning with desire. Naqi’a was by his side, oblivious. But, she’d never seen me before, so why would she guess a few hours from now I might be sleeping with her husband? The priests carrying the barque of Amen–Re approached. I held my breath. My leg started shaking. My future depended on the god now. The barque moved through the doorway, between the flower petals. A priest stumbled and the corner of the shrine dipped and I had my answer. Yes! Amen–Re himself had decreed that I go to Pentawere! My heart had wanted it and the god had confirmed it. Joyfully, I fell in behind the last of the priests.
The sun court was lined around the outside with a double row of papyriform columns. My heart was lighter than it had been in months. I moved across the sun–drenched court and through the door at its far side. I knew that from this point on the temple had been erected by the third Amenhotep. I stepped into a hypostyle hall, forested with columns. It was much cooler than the sun court. A door to the left led to a small mud–brick per’aa where Pharaoh usually rested and donned his robes before ceremonies in the temple; a door to the right led to priests’ quarters. Farther on was the Chamber of the Divine Pharaoh. To its left were chapels for Khonsu and Mut and behind them a chapel for Ramesses’ ka statue, and to its right a chapel for Amen–Re. Past the divine chamber was the offering vestibule, to its left the god’s birth room, and to its right a doorway for reversion of offerings. Past the vestibule was the barque sanctuary where Amen–Re’s barque would rest during the Opet, and to its left the coronation room. There was another room, wider than it was long, columned, behind the barque sanctuary, its walls decorated with images of the Opening of the Mouth ceremony and offering lists. At the very rear of the structure was the Amenemopet chapel, the Southern Opet, the sanctuary of the distinctive form of Amen of Ipet–Resyt. There the god’s image resided on a large stand built directly over the mythic mound of creation, flanked on both sides by Ennead chapels.
With great fanfare the priests installed the barques of Mut and Khonsu in their chapels. They carried the barque of Ramesses to its. They removed Ramesses’ ka statue from the barque, and it and Amen–Re’s barque and Pharaoh and the priests continued on to the Chamber of the Divine Pharaoh. There the high priest of Ipet–Resyt purified Ramesses with water and ritually introduced him to Amen–Re.
The First God’s Servant then repeated Pharaoh’s original coronation rites. One by one, Usermarenakht placed the land’s various crowns on Pharaoh’s head – the White Crown, the Red, Sekhmet, the rest – verifying that each fit, certifying that Pharaoh was able to continue the duties of rule. During each crowning Ramesses knelt facing us, his back towards Amen–Re’s barque. Each time he was crowned the god symbolically placed his hand on the crown from behind. From this laying on of hands the royal ka was transmitted metaphysically from the god to Pharaoh, rejuvenating him.
That part of the ceremony done, Ramesses rose and, accompanied by four high priests, disappeared inside the Opet sanctuary, the divine residence of Amenemopet, to set in motion the new creation cycle. I waited outside its door along with everyone else, moving to the side of the court opposite Pentawere and Naqi’a and the royal wives. I forced myself not to look at Pentawere, afraid one of the wives would see the joy in my eyes and guess I planned to spend the night with him. The wait was long. Ramesses was inside the sanctuary performing an Opening of the Mouth ceremony on the statue of Amenemopet the Creator, touching an adz–like object to the statue’s lips, reawakening and recharging him. That blade was a small bit of metal fallen from the sky that, it was believed, had provided the spark that brought the first generation of people into existence. At the conclusion of the ceremony in the Opet sanctuary, Ramesses would return to Amen–Re’s barque shrine carrying that life force to Amen–Re to revive him. I touched my talisman; it too had fallen from the sky, a gift from the falcon god that had blessed my family for years beyond counting.
After quite some time Ramesses emerged from the sanctuary along with Usermarenakht and Amenemope and two more high priests. Pharaoh was clothed in a fresh shendyt. A lion’s tail was attached to the back of his belt. He was wearing golden sandals and Sekhmet and the most spectacular broad collar I’d ever seen. There was a spring in his step and he looked renewed and reinvigorated. We all trailed him and the high priests to the barque shrine of Amen–Re. As priests recited, Pharaoh made a series of offerings to the statue of Amen–Re hidden in his barque. Ramesses presented the god with pure water, the first drawn from the new inundation after it had reached Waset. Usermarenakht signaled and I handed Ramesses my flowers. He, in turn, offered them to the god. Then he burned incense. Then Pharaoh opened the doors of the barque, revealing the veiled statue of the god, coming into the presence of Amen–Re, his father. As Amen–Re’s glory reflected back onto Pharaoh he became a renascent god, renewed. Pharaoh knelt before the god, facing him, and the deity symbolically crowned him.
Pharaoh rose and he and Usermarenakht headed side by side towards the temple’s entrance, trailed by Mut’s and Khonsu’s and Amenemopet’s high priests and his family. I fell in at the rear of the now joyful procession, retracing my steps through the temple to the peristyle hall. Those gathered there roared as Ramesses entered, splendidly arrayed and glorious in his triumph. And why not? For the next month townspeople and residents of the west bank would celebrate the renewal of Pharaoh and the rebirth of the world, abandoning themselves to unrestrained jubilation and excess. The Opet was a massive festival. Little work would get done by those who lived in Ta Set Maat or Waset or the temples on the west bank.
Ramesses seated himself on a portable throne set up in the hall. One by one his officials knelt before him and pledged their continued allegiance.
I too made my pledge. I did it guiltily; Pharaoh had ordered me to never see Pentawere again and tonight I was going to fall asleep in his arms. But the oracle had given me his blessing and so I set my guilt aside. My fealty promised, I exited the temple into bright sunshine. The girls were waiting for me.
“Tell us everything, Neset!” Nauny cried, running to me.
“Did you see the god?” Wabkhet asked.
It was now late afternoon and the sun–warmed walls of Ipet–Resyt radiated heat.
“Let’s go where it’s cooler.”
We moved to the quay and sat on its edge near the royal barque, our feet dangling over the sparkling river. The entire plain surrounding the temple was alive with movement and noise – dancers swirling colorfully through the midst of the crowd, musicians playing as loudly as they could, farmers and sailors and craftsmen and laborers and their wives half–drunk on Pharaoh’s wine and beer, children dashing everywhere. My heart was full, my senses alive, drinking in everything around me. I’d made my decision. The gods had confirmed it. The world was a sweeter and more hopeful place than when I’d awakened this morning.
I filled the girls in on the ceremony and described the inner recesses of the temple to them. Just as I finished the head of the procession emerged from the door between Ramesses the Great’s towering statues, the priests sprinkling water and burning incense, then musicians and chantresses, then Pharaoh and his family and officials, everyone mixed together in a giant mob instead of an orderly column as before. The gods’ barques remained behind in the temple; the gods would spend several days together in Amen’s sanctuary before being carried back in another procession to Ipet–Isut. The day’s Opet ceremonies over, the celebrants began to disperse, everyone making their way across the river to Djeme and the evening’s feast, the royals aboard their boat, everyone else as best they could.
The girls and I joined several other officials aboard a small boat that ferried us to the west bank, then walked the long dusty path to Djeme. The girls and I parted there; they were going to spend th
e evening with their families in Ta Set Maat. I continued on into Djeme. I couldn’t wait for moonrise.
I’d been invited to tonight’s Opet banquet, the first of many. I didn’t go. I waited in Djeme’s garden on a stone bench in the dark beneath a cluster of date palms that had been Pentawere’s and my favorite meeting spot in the past. I didn’t have to wait very long.
First a shadow, then Pentawere. “I snuck out of the banquet as soon as I could.” He took me in his arms, kissed me urgently, pulled me close, one hand on my hip, the other running up and down my spine.
I kissed him back. My heart was racing. My skin was hot.
He pulled me into the moonlight, so it fell on my face. He pushed strands of hair behind my ears. “You’ll have far more to blush about than a kiss before this night is over,” Pentawere promised.
I was both afraid of and excited by the prospect. “My Love,” I whispered huskily.
He took me by the hand, led me across the courtyard, past shrines and stables, into the temple and then the per’aa. He led me down a corridor and stopped before a closed door.
“We can use this room,” he said. “No one comes here.”
He opened the door and led me inside. Lit bowls of oil cast a warm golden light over gilt chairs with feet like lions’ paws, and tables and chests, and a bed with linen sheets, and headrests with strings of ivory beads. A single window opened onto a courtyard in the center of the per’aa, high up. There was a garden in that courtyard, one I’d created at Pharaoh’s command, replete with a pond and flowers and trees. An earthenware container of wine rested on an alabaster table beside two elegant gold cups. Pentawere unsteadily filled them both, splashing much of the liquid onto the floor. His hand was shaking. I was trembling. He handed me a cup. We both drank, he decisively, eyes locked on my face, I nervously. I knew what was going to happen. I wanted it to happen. I’d never met anyone like this son of Pharaoh. I’d loved him for years. I’d never truly loved any man before. Pentawere set his empty cup on the table and took mine and set it down beside his. Then he engulfed me in his arms and kissed me more passionately than he ever had before. Pentawere was strong and handsome and I was young and beautiful and lonely and my body craved his. We fell into bed.
***
I awakened to stars shining through the window, bright cold lights in the distant black sky. I wondered if the gods who lived there were looking down at me. I wondered if they were as happy and contented as me. The birds were still asleep in the branches of the garden’s trees and the night was silent except for Pentawere’s gentle snores. One of his legs was draped over mine and one of my hands rested on his broad chest. A linen sheet was partly twisted around us both. I lay still for a moment, remembering. We’d done things I’d never done before, much less imagined. Pentawere had been a gentle and earnest and practiced and attentive lover. We’d come together urgently the first time and deliberately the next, and afterwards I lay awake in his arms after he fell asleep for many hours, afraid that falling asleep would somehow transform what had happened between us into a dream. In all the years of my marriage my husband had never once aroused the passion or induced the pleasure Pentawere had, never once even so much as tried to anticipate or meet my needs. I marveled at what I’d missed, at how different two men could be.
I moved again, pressed my lips softly to Pentawere’s so I wouldn’t wake him. I wished I could lay beside him longer, keep alive this marvelous sense of well–being, but I couldn’t. I had to leave. He was Pharaoh’s married son. If a servant entered this room and found Pentawere and me in bed it would be a disaster for both of us. His standing in Pharaoh’s court would be ruined. I’d lose my position. Neither of us needed that kind of trouble, not with what our future held, based on my dream. Carefully, I slipped my legs out from under his and rolled off the bed onto the floor. I rose to all fours. My fingertips closed on my dress and I slowly stood up and pulled it on. I glanced over my shoulder one last time at Pentawere as I passed through his door. I’d never met anyone like him. I’d never wanted anyone more. I couldn’t wait to do this again.
***
Akhet (Flood)
Pentawere
***
I studied the faces of the six men and the woman hunkered with Mother and me around a small flickering campfire in the ruins of Malqata – Binemwese, captain of archers in the Amen Division; his sister, Heket; Peynok, overseer of Father’s harem; Penhuibin, overseer of Father’s herds; Pere, Father’s treasurer. Mother and I had been subtly feeling each of them out the past five months, ever since we’d decided to kill Father and blame his murder on Ramesses. Every one of them either held a grudge against Father or was unquestioningly loyal to me or Mother or would profit enormously from a change in regime. The Opet was over; I was returning to Pi–Ramesses in the morning. Mother and I had decided to call our fellow conspirators together to officially set our coup in motion.
The past month had been the most amazing of my life. I’d spent every night with Neset. During our first encounters I’d been unprepared for the intensity of her love. After resisting me for so long she’d given herself to me body and ka, holding absolutely nothing back. Everything that had made her stand out from other women had been somehow magnified, making me want her even more than I had before she surrendered. At first I’d felt guilty – Neset had no idea I was planning to assassinate Father and that she’d play a pivotal role in convicting Ramesses at his trial. If she’d so much as guessed it would have been the end of us. But I knew as long as Father was alive Neset and I would never be able to marry. And so I’d decided I had no choice but to plunge ahead with my coup. Father had to die, and soon. Waiting for Ramesses to eventually kill him was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Neset’s love was more important to me than Father’s life.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” I said.
Our fire was at the bottom of what had once been a lake the third Amenhotep had created on the desert plain adjacent to his extensive complex, its banks high mounds of dirt from the excavation. The banks shielded our fire from view. To make sure we weren’t discovered I’d stationed a man where he’d be able to see anyone approaching us while they were a mile or more away. Firelight revealed worried faces.
“Our empire has melted away because of my husband,” Mother began.
“We receive far less tribute than in the time of the great pharaohs,” I added. “Most of the pittance goes to the priests and their gods.”
“We must rebuild the empire,” Mother said. “But Pharaoh is too old.”
“My brother Ramesses is too meek,” I said distastefully. “Too inward–focused.” I scanned the faces around me. “It’s up to us to make this valley great again.”
“Meaning?” asked Peynok.
“We’re going to assassinate Pharaoh and seize control of the valley and put Pentawere on the throne,” Mother said calmly.
There were gasps. Faces registered shock.
“I assure you, pharaohs have been killed before. Several times.” I looked at each person in turn. “If any of you are opposed say so now.”
No one spoke.
“Good. Mother and I have called you here tonight because you represent either army or harem or household. It’s going to take a coordinated effort between all three to pull this off.”
“How? When? Where?” asked Pere. As overseer of Father’s treasury he had a vested stake in seeing it refilled.
“In Djeme,” Mother replied.
“During the next Beautiful Feast,” I said. “That gives us nine months to plan our coup properly.”
“Since thousands come here for that feast it’ll be easy for everyone in our conspiracy to converge at Djeme without raising suspicion,” Mother said.
“As far as how, that’s what we need to work out,” I added.
“We expect the fourth Ramesses will be on campaign in either Setjet or Retenu during the next Beautiful Feast,” Mother said. “We’ll be able to secure the entire valley before he returns.”
&
nbsp; “Any broad outlines, Majesties?” asked Binemwese. He’d been actively involved in the conspiracy from the start, carrying Mother’s messages, passed to him through his sister Heket, from Djeme to Pi–Ramesses for months.
“Ramesses will have all four infantry divisions and the cavalry and chariots with him on campaign when we launch our coup. There won’t be any soldiers to oppose us in the valley. Binemwese, I’ll make sure you’re assigned to command the garrison at Waset when my brother departs.”
“Half my archers remain here to protect Pharaoh whenever the division’s on campaign in case wretches from the desert try to attack Waset,” Binemwese explained to the others.
“You’ll use your men to seize Djeme and Waset the night we kill Father,” I continued. “As soon as I’m crowned we’ll hurry to the delta. We’ll seize Pi–Ramesses’ military facilities and naval vessels – men who work for me will swell our force. That’ll give us control of delta and river. When my brother returns to the valley, army commanders loyal to me will talk his infantry and cavalry and charioteers into deserting him and joining me.”
“You’re certain they will?” asked Pere.
“I’ve been riling soldiers up for years promising to use them to expand our empire, Pere. I’ve guaranteed booty and honors and wealth and women. Unlike my brother, who prefers to take the army on routine patrols. Yes, the army will desert Ramesses.”
“His Majesty speaks truly,” Binemwese concurred.
“What if Ramesses brings the army south before you’ve secured the throne?” Penhuibin asked.
“My archers will secure Djeme the moment we launch the coup,” Binemwese replied. “The entire army couldn’t dislodge me from that fortress once I hold it.”
The Gardener and the Assassin Page 52