Daughter of the Gods (32 page)

Her heart cried out at the word
wife
. There was no formal wedding ceremony for nonroyalty; a man and a woman moved into the same house, broke bread, and made their claims on each other’s hearts. For all she was aware, Senenmut might have been married for a week by now. She managed a nod. “You may. Go well, Senenmut of Iuny.”

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “I didn’t expect such generosity,” he said.

“You are dismissed.” She meant that he was dismissed from court, but the words seemed small and silly, as she was the one now left to retreat from his rooms. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his chest, a rumble of laughter growing in the back of his throat. She struggled against him, but his arms were as tight as any ropes. She would let him leave the palace, but she would not be laughed at.

“Let me go!”

“You are a stubborn little fool,
nefersha
,” he said, grunting to keep her from breaking loose. “I presume you mean the girl in my bed last night?”

She winced at the painful truth, but struggled to keep her voice from wavering. “Why? Is there more than one that I should be aware of?”

“No, just that one. And this little show of yours would have been rather impressive, were it not for the fact that the girl you saw in my bed is
my sister
.”

It took several moments for the words to penetrate her mind. She stopped struggling, feeling his breath on the top of her head. “Your sister?” It was a family duty for royal siblings to marry in order to model the gods and ensure the purity of the bloodline, but otherwise the practice was virtually forbidden to the rest of Egypt’s people. “I’m sure you have an excellent excuse for keeping your sister in your bed. If she really is your sister, that is.”

His arms tightened around her, and a glance at his face revealed an expression as if he’d like nothing so much as to strangle her. “I’ll tell you the whole story, but only if you promise not to gouge my eyes out when I let you go.”

She glared at him and he gave an exasperated sigh. “I suppose that’s as close as I’ll get to a promise,” he said.

He released her, and she crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest. “Go on.”

“I went home to Iuny to clear my mind.”

“I don’t see why you had to leave.” Even to her own ears she sounded as if she were pouting.

He pursed his lips. “You have the gift of muddling many a man’s thoughts. It’s like having Sekhmet roaring in your ear day and night.”

“And?”

“Nofret-Hor is my youngest sister,” Senenmut said, taking his seat again. He looked far too relaxed for Hatshepsut’s liking. “The baby of the family.”

“She didn’t look like a baby to me.”

“Perhaps not, but she’s still afraid of the dark, although she wouldn’t thank me for telling you that. I fell asleep last night and she crawled into bed next to me after the lamp burned out.” He smiled. “She’s only two years older than Neferure. In fact, Neferure is the reason why she’s here. Nofret-Hor asked to come to court, and I thought it good timing with the Beautiful Feast of the Valley coming up.”

“I’m not sure I understand the connection.”

Senenmut ran his hands over his bare scalp. “My little sister wished to meet my daughter, Hatshepsut. She wanted to meet Neferure.”

My daughter.

“Oh.” Hatshepsut’s hands fell away, her eyes filling at the simple words.

Senenmut rose and gathered her into his arms, his chin resting where the double crown would have been. “It took me several days of moping around Iuny, watching my brothers with their children, before I realized that I already have what I wanted.”

“But I thought—”

“I know what you thought. And as impossible as it may sound, you were wrong. Of course I’d be happy to fill several stables with our children, so it was hard for me to understand your decision. But I could never leave you, Hatshepsut. I may as well cut out my heart.”

She pressed closer, listening to the heavy beat of that heart. “I’m glad to be wrong,” she said, splaying her hand over his bare chest so she could feel its steady rhythm. “Just this once.”

His familiar laughter rumbled above her and she smiled at the sound, another gift from the gods.

“I didn’t make the decision lightly,” she whispered. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine these apartments and the palace corridors ringing with the laughter of their children. Instead, there was only silence.

“I know,” he said.

They stayed that way for a long while, until Senenmut pressed a kiss onto her forehead. “You’d best go change,” he murmured.

“Change?” Hatshepsut looked down at her sheath. “Why?”

“Because I thought to present my sister to you this morning,” he said, a smile creeping across his face. “I’ve told Nofret-Hor how beautiful the pharaoh is, but—” He shrugged.

“But what?” Hatshepsut stood with arms akimbo, lips pursed together.

Senenmut laughed and kissed the back of her hand. “But right now you look like an angry fishwife. One with nowhere near enough jewels to impress a girl of thirteen floods.”

She kissed him then, a kiss full of apology and happiness. A kiss of promise.

Senenmut groaned, his lips still on hers. “Nofret-Hor just ran to the bathing pavilion. You’d best go before we give her an eyeful of more than just the pharaoh’s jewels.”

Hatshepsut laughed, her heart light as she danced from his arms. And she made a silent promise to the gods as she ran back for another kiss before darting out the door, lest she and Senenmut find themselves tangled in his bed.

Never again would she take this man for granted. Instead, she swore that their shared sacrifice for Egypt would bind them closer together.

•   •   •

Hatshepsut did meet Nofret-Hor later that afternoon, and gifted the awestruck girl with enough jewels to buy the entire village of Iuny.

“Am I supposed to wear all these at once?” Nofret-Hor whispered to Senenmut, her brown eyes bulging. She wasn’t terribly pretty, but her eyes sparked with intelligence as they darted about, taking in everything around her. Hatshepsut was struck by the family resemblance between the girl, scarcely on the cusp of womanhood, and Senenmut, but also by the stark contrast between Nofret-Hor and Neferure. Senenmut’s sister had been raised on the muddy banks of the Nile and had the energy of a water bug, while Neferure seemed as fragile as a lotus blossom.

Hatshepsut had hoped the girls would strike up an immediate friendship, but Neferure remained quiet and withdrawn, finally opening up on the morning of the Beautiful Feast of the Valley as they boarded the royal barge that would accompany Amun’s cedar boat to the West Bank, the land of the dead and the setting sun. Today the golden statue of the Great Cackler had left its newly constructed shrine in the Red Chapel in Karnak and traveled in a stately procession so that the hidden god might be reborn and granted new energy after a tiresome year of ruling this world. Neferure’s face lit with rapture as she described the ceremonies she dedicated to the god of gods each morning at Karnak, the singing of hymns and preparation of offerings to the sacred statue as Re rose and bathed the supreme god in his light. These new duties were training for the day she would receive the title of God’s Wife, a royal title Hatshepsut currently held. Nofret-Hor had barely managed to stifle a yawn and fidgeted under the golden awning as Amun’s ram-headed boat stopped at several places along the Nile’s banks, allowing Egypt’s people to place offerings of bread and flowers at the god’s feet, but she squealed with glee when Dagi asked if she’d like to steer the royal barge. Neferure had paled when Dagi had offered her the steering rod, its end topped with the gilded head of Horus, and made an excuse about needing to sit in the shade to avoid the glare of the river.

Horus and his golden sons watched the scene with unblinking glass eyes from the tops of the standard shafts, the snapping of the red and white pennants mingling in the breeze along with the low tone of the rowers’ song. Hatshepsut pretended to inspect the offerings of wine and natron pellets waiting for Amun but instead observed her daughter from the prow. There was no doubt that Neferure took after Thutmosis with her fair skin and hesitant nature, and Hatshepsut herself had favored Pharaoh Tutmose and not her mother. Was it common for the gods to cast daughters from the same clay as their fathers instead of their mothers?

Senenmut seemed to read her thoughts and gave her a hand a gentle squeeze. “We don’t all follow the paths our parents plan for us. If we did, I’d be in a field in Iuny, sorting manure, and you’d only be regent. Neferure will chart her own course.” His eyes grew soft. “She’s growing into a thoughtful young woman.”

“Perhaps. I wonder if your mother can spare her youngest daughter for a bit longer?” Hatshepsut asked Senenmut. It might benefit Neferure to spend time with another girl close to her own age, especially someone as vivacious and lively as Nofret-Hor. Hatshepsut smiled as Nofret-Hor motioned to one of the rowers to move over on his bench and took his place, her oar out of sync with the others. Senenmut’s sister beckoned for Neferure, but she shook her head, her long white robe fluttering in the breeze. She looked ready to faint when Nofret-Hor jumped up and pulled her over anyway, but then she let out a peal of laughter as Nofret-Hor took up the rowers’ song, belting out the words off-key and adding in her own bits urging them to row faster.

Senenmut smiled at the rare sound of Neferure’s silvery laughter. “They do complement each other, but I promised to return Nofret-Hor after the festival. Our mother has grown frail and is almost deaf now,” he said.

“Does she still deny receiving my message after Thut’s death, asking you to return to court?” Hatshepsut kept her voice light, but it still stung that Hatnofer of Iuny despised her so much that she would keep up her ridiculous lie after all these years.

“She does,” Senenmut answered. “So adamantly that I think in her old age she may have forgotten the truth.” He sighed. “I’ve ordered builders to begin construction of her tomb. My brothers bring her food and their wives check in on her, but Nofret-Hor is the only one of us left at home to take care of her now.”

Hatshepsut linked her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “Then of course she’ll return. After all, I owe Hatnofer of Iuny a considerable debt.”

Senenmut smiled. “Yes, come to think of it, I suppose you do.”

“And Nofret-Hor shall have whatever she needs to make your mother happy and comfortable. Is there anything in particular you’d suggest?”

“Nofret-Hor,” Senenmut shouted to his sister over her exclamations about the expertise of Dagi’s rowers. “If you could give any gift to our mother, what would it be?”

Nofret-Hor stuck her tongue between her lips, making quite a show of thinking before a slow smile spread across her face. “Jugglers,” she said.

“Jugglers?” Hatshepsut gaped at her, dumbfounded. “Why jugglers?”

Nofret-Hor shrugged. “My mother hears little, but she still loves to laugh. There’s nothing in this world funnier than a juggler.”

Hatshepsut chuckled. “Then you shall have an entire boatload of jugglers to entertain Hatnofer of Iuny. Is there anything else she’d like?”

Nofret-Hor puffed out her cheeks, looking like a Nile perch. “And a big, fat ox to eat until the end of her days.”

Hatshepsut laughed. “Consider it done. Your family shall dine on the fattest ox to be found in the City of Truth.”

Nofret-Hor grinned, then remembered to bow before scrambling to her feet as Hatshepsut dismissed her. “It must be wonderful to be pharaoh,” Hatshepsut heard her whisper to Neferure as she linked arms with her daughter. “Imagine being able to order all that with a flick of your hand!”

Hatshepsut smiled and bumped her hip against Senenmut’s, earning her another grin as their barge dropped its mooring stake and Amun’s barque floated into position behind them.

It was indeed good to be pharaoh.

•   •   •

Nofret-Hor’s visit stretched from days into weeks, but she finally departed with an escort of Hatshepsut’s own
medjay
, accompanied by a boatful of jugglers and one extremely well-fed ox. She stood on the stern of the royal barge, blowing kisses and calling out promises to exchange frequent letters with Neferure. Hatshepsut stood flanked by Senenmut and Neferure as they waved good-bye, and then she left father and daughter so they might spend the day together. One of Senenmut’s official titles was Overseer of the Granaries of Amun, and he had asked Neferure to help him inspect the god’s accounts, a task Neferure was eager to help with, as it benefited her chosen god.

In the meantime, Hatshepsut hummed with happiness at the thought of her great task of the day: meeting Ti and Neshi to search for a land of myrrh trees and spices, a task that no longer seemed onerous now that she and Senenmut were happily reconciled. Scribes sat cross-legged on the floor of the administration offices, silently copying ancient treatises and maxims from sages long since flown to the Field of Reeds. The walls were stacked with flaking papyrus scrolls, and dust motes hung heavy in the air, eliciting a sneeze from one of the scribes every so often.

They pored over maps and archaic histories in search of the right destination, until the grime of dust covered Hatshepsut’s hands, itched her eyes, and filled her mouth. This was a trip that would stretch beyond Egypt’s boundaries so that Ti and Neshi could bring back exquisite luxuries from foreign and mystical lands. Nubian gold or Phoenician cedars were commonplace, too easy to obtain. Her temple would be unprecedented; all its trappings had to be matchless.

They found precisely what they were looking for buried in musty old records from the reign of Amenemhat II. The pharaoh had ruled five hundred years prior, but tucked deep within the histories of his reign was a reference to the now-mythical land of Punt, a nation that Egypt had traded with since the days of the pyramid builders. Amenemhat’s expedition to the obscure land was the last of its kind. No other trip had been undertaken since then and the maps that outlined the route had been lost to time.