The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh (17 page)

“No, certainly not,” I agreed. “This tax collector works in the southern region, does he?”

“Purports to,” said Ahmose in a low tone, checking around us with his single good eye. There was only one group of customers, a rowdy bunch of sailors who were making so much noise that they drowned out anything my friend might say. Mine host had joined them for a beer and his small, bustling wife was wiping down the counter and setting out bowls of olives and fresh bread. It smelled delicious and I waved to her to bring some.

“You think he works elsewhere?” I asked when she had returned to the counter. I chewed some bread; it was indeed excellent.

Ahmose nodded. He whispered, “I think he must be a spy. In fact, most probably a master spy with several men reporting to him. For he brings bundles of documents. And then he visits the Chief Vizier for some time. And soon a courier arrives and sets off post-haste for the North.”

“I see, I see. So you think – but surely it is a dangerous matter for several men to bring secret reports to one tax collector … These reports would be coming from a number of vassal states, I suppose you to mean …”

“Yes, that would make sense. They would contain information about the numbers and the state of readiness of our enemies’ armies, no doubt. And anything the source could discover about the intentions of the commanders who lead them, and the movements and activities of the troops. Dangerous documents, indeed. But such persons are ingenious, and probably pose as merchants, hiding these reports in their merchandise. Also, carrier pigeons might be used.”

“I see, I see. Well, this is useful, if unconfirmed. I shall inform Her Majesty.”

“The best way to confirm my suspicions,” whispered Ahmose, “would be to have the courier intercepted. The Pharaoh could arrange for that.”

I nodded, rather unhappily. I would rather not pass the matter on, because such a man would probably have to be killed, and if he were innocent his life would weigh heavily upon my heart. Might it not then bear witness against me in the Afterlife? But then, I argued with myself, Pharaoh would have given the order, not me.

I know, I know it is my duty to report suspicions of treason to the King. I must do my duty, that is all. And I shall do it. Soon.

THE NINTH SCROLL

The regency of Hatshepsut year 2

After my husband had passed into the Afterlife, Senenmut became of ever greater importance in my life. He was acting as steward of Neferure’s property and my own, and he was tutor to Neferure. I ordered him to instruct her in religious matters and she was an apt pupil. Since the priests were at that time effectively running the country on behalf of the child Thutmose, I had more time then than I later had as Pharaoh to enjoy a homely life, so I occasionally used to join the children at lesson time. Neferure soaked up knowledge like dry earth the rain, and she asked questions that I would have been hard put to answer, but Senenmut did his best. I recall a day when he was discussing the origins of the world with her.

Meryetre, three years younger than her sister, was playing with dolls, putting them to bed in a box with linen cloths, crooning to them a little tuneless song.

“Before the world began,” said Senenmut, “the creator god Atum floated alone in the primeval ocean Nun.”

What a pleasant voice he has, I found myself thinking. Deep and rich. A good voice for telling tales. Neferure was listening intently, sitting cross-legged like a little scribe, tugging at her plaited child’s lock of silky black hair. Graceful, slender and almond-eyed, she formed a sharp contrast to her pudgy-legged younger sister who, alas, had inherited the buck teeth of the Thutmose family.

“At last, Atum found a place for his foot, and came to rest on a solid mound,” continued Senenmut. “He then … ah … aroused himself with his fist. Copulating with his hand, he spewed forth his seed in the shape of Shu and Tefnut, children of the divine loins. So the first divine couple came into being: Shu, god of life, air and light, and Tefnut, goddess of moisture.”

Ah, I thought, even a god may arouse himself. Since my husband’s failing health had kept him from my bed, and more so after his death, what other recourse could I have had, given that I was yet young and filled at times with strong desires? I sighed, but I kept my eyes on my hands, pretending to study my scarab ring.

“From this couple came forth Geb, the earth god, and Nut, the sky goddess,” the tale went on. “Now Shu raised Nut over the reclining Geb and from the physical union of Geb and Nut were born the gods Osiris, Isis, Seth and Nefthys; from them, the creation of the world could follow.”

“But where did the first god come from, Senenmut?” Neferure wanted to know. Surely she has him there, I thought, glancing up.

But he was equal to the challenge, being well versed in religious doctrine, since he had been a scribe for the priests in the House of Life. “He was begot by himself from all eternity,” he told her. “He was and is the principle of all life. Father of fathers and Mother of mothers.”

“Both man and woman, like Hapi,” said Neferure. Understanding this, she could easily grasp the dual nature of my kingship when it came to pass.

“Yes. And so the source of the life force in all that lives.”

“But we have many gods in Egypt, Senenmut,” objected Neferure.

“One god may have many representations,” explained Senenmut. “It is easier for the people to understand. And of course the people love their local deities. So we have many sacred beings, many different gods, household spirits, elements of nature, animals, scarabs … but all receive the breath of life from the one god.”

Meryetre set up a frustrated howling because she was having trouble taking off a doll’s dress. Neferure reached over to help her and the howling subsided into sobs.

“Yet some believe the sun god first came forth from an egg, on the mound of Heliopolis,” I put in.

“Just another image of beginning,” said Senenmut. “And later the priests at Memphis began to speak of Ptah, a supergod in whom other gods could be contained.”

“But what is the life-force in all the gods?” asked Neferure, wrinkling her brow.

“It is the sun, my child. The most perfect image of the god is the sun. The sun’s soul is Amen-Ra, whose name means Hidden Sun. He is the source of life and the other deities are parts of his body. And the Pharaoh is always the child of the sun.”

Well, my younger daughter was not, that much was clear. She had been trying repeatedly to get two dolls to sit up straight and both of them kept falling over. She squatted on her heels, small fists clenched on her fat little knees, and had one of her fits of weeping. She always seemed to have a depth of sorrow that she needed her whole small stocky body to express. She howled, her face scrunched up and suffused with a dark anger, and the fat tears burst from her eyes to drip upon the tiles.

Neither Senenmut nor I was able to cope with Meryetre’s attacks of overwhelming grief, but Neferure knew what to do. She fetched a bowl of pink figs and sat down right in front of her sister and proceeded to peel them, delicately, one by one, making appreciative noises. Meryetre opened one streaming eye. Neferure held up the fig, admired it, and ate it. Meryetre screamed some more. Neferure peeled another fig. Her sister peeped at her. Neferure held the fig up, enticingly. Meryetre sobbed, hiccupped, and opened her mouth. Neferure popped in the fig. “Shut up,” she said, “and have some more.”

The weeping fit was over. I leaned down and scooped the little one onto my lap. She was a damp and rather smelly bundle. I leaned my cheek on her hair. “There, there,” I said. “I’ll sing you a lullaby. Senenmut, please take Neferure to Inet for her bath.”

He departed, holding my eldest by the hand. She was skipping along beside him. Meryetre stuck a thumb in her sticky mouth and snuggled into my arms. Oh, dear, I thought. I love you, my little one. Your mother loves you. You came forth from me and I must love you. But it is so much easier to love a child that is blithesome and full of grace. How strange it is that sometimes Khnum fashions a being so beautifully, while at other times one might almost swear he was not paying proper attention to his work. It is not just.

Looking back now, that period when my darling Neferure was receiving her first religious instruction and Meryetre still played with dolls seems a time of such peace and innocence that I could weep for it.

As I have written, I had to be regent, but I never intended that to last, for am I not the chosen of the gods? I will now set out the most important, the absolutely irrefutable proof of my right to be the Pharaoh, to bear a Horus name, to wear the Double Crown, to reign over Egypt and its vassal states, to smite evil, and to maintain the rule of Ma’at. It is quite simple. It is this: I am divine. I am sun-begotten. I am both the daughter and the son of Amen-Ra. And how do I know this? Not from Inet. No, her tales merely confirm what I know through a vision granted to me by the sun god himself.

It came to me two years after my husband Thutmose, the second Pharaoh of that name, had died and the child Thutmose was crowned – a misjudged coronation that should never have been allowed to take place.

The vision came to me – significantly, I have always believed – on the Day of the Dead, that joyous festival when all Thebes marches to the necropolis, bearing gifts of food, flowers and scrolls with messages for those who have gone before and now live happily in the Afterlife. The main part of the festival would begin at sunset, and important celebrations would take place in the hall of the Temple of Amen at Karnak in the northern section of Thebes. I had had very little sleep the night before, since I had spent many hours in meditation; also I had fasted all of the previous day. I had my part to play in the celebratory rites and I wanted to be in a fit state for the early-morning rituals that would be carried out with especial care on this feast day in the sanctuary of the God.

It was before sunrise, therefore, that I was carried to the temple in a sedan chair. Karnak is a whole religious complex and there are many temples dedicated to a host of lesser deities. But it is the temple of Amen-Ra to which I here refer. The air was crisp and a fresh breeze scented with the wood-smoke of the peasants’ fires blew chill upon the skin. The footfalls of the slaves thudded on the pathway. All around me the city dreamed. Soon the beer shops would open and market stalls throw up their shutters, while slaves, servants, porters with bundles and housewives bearing baskets would people the streets. Now, though, a sleepy silence reigned as Thebes awaited the golden benediction of Ra.

Then we reached the entrance and the carriers set me down. Flanked by my guards, two tall Nubians with military training, and bearing a basket filled with meat, bread, fruit and beer, I walked resolutely through the first pylon of the primary temple. Even at this early hour there was already a scattering of the common folk in the outer courtyard; soon there would be a tremendous press of people and it would become difficult to move. The second courtyard, to which only those of noble descent would be admitted, was emptier. I passed through the third pylon and paused at the fourth to gaze up at the obelisks that had been erected at the behest of my royal father, Thutmose the First, may he live for ever. Now my guards had to remain behind, for they would not be allowed inside the sacred precincts further on.

As I neared the fifth pylon I could hear the chantresses singing, their hymn of praise accompanied by the crash and rattle of sistrum and tambourine. The scent of incense greeted me as I walked forwards. At this early hour the inner chamber was filled with dark shadows.

I stood quietly, breathing deeply, closing my eyes as I whispered a prayer to Amen asking for guidance, for courage and for insight. I confessed that I feared the child king did not have the capability to govern the Two Lands with a firm hand, while the priests who stood behind him lacked a proper grasp of the political issues that were likely to rend the country apart without a wise ruler to maintain balance and give direction. It was at that moment that the vision came to me.

As clearly as anything I have ever seen with my bodily eyes, I saw my mother, the Great Queen Ahmose, may she live for ever, reclining upon a couch in her boudoir. In my vision she was younger than she then was in fact by some twenty years. She wore but a transparent robe of the finest linen with a scarab pin on the left shoulder. I could see the door through which all who entered there must pass. As I watched, the door swung open and a golden glow suffused the air. It seemed as if the air itself was moving towards her couch, coalescing into a more solid shape the closer it drew. Still it gleamed with an unearthly light. On its head shimmered the disc of Amen-Ra. A shiver ran over my watching body as I realised that I was seeing the very God himself, approaching the waiting Queen, my mother.