Daughter of the Gods (21 page)

“Please forgive her impertinence. My noble mother was likely under the impression that returning to court would not be in my best interests.”

“I hope your impression differs from your mother’s.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“And yet you are here.”

“As I said, I wished to see the truth of our regent with my own eyes.”

Perhaps. Or perhaps now that Thut was dead, the final barrier against Senenmut’s return to Waset had been removed, making possible the resumption of his old life at court as well. His arrival had not gone precisely as she’d planned, but either way she was grateful to the gods for his presence.

“You escaped Aswan?”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of some emotion gone so quickly that she might have imagined it. “After two years of hard labor and bribing the overseer, yes.”

If anyone could find a way out of Aswan, it was Senenmut.

“In my message I offered you the position of tutor to the Royal Princess Neferure. And Steward of the God’s Wife,” she added hastily. She might have offered him the double crown if it would make him stay. “Of course, I’m prepared to compensate you handsomely if you do return to court.” She sat, hands folded in her lap, glad he couldn’t see her damp palms or the perspiration she felt gathering at her temples. She cursed herself for dismissing her fan bearers.

“The God’s Wife?”

“God’s Wife of Amun. One of my titles.”

He gave a deep exhale and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You wish me to be your steward?”

“And my daughter’s tutor.”

She waited for him to respond, to reject her outright or possibly accept. Instead he watched her; then his chest rose and fell in a silent sigh.

“I am not the same man I was three years ago,
Hemet
.” His voice was quiet. “You should know that.”

He was right. Gone was the self-assured councilor with the easy sarcasm and ready smile. He was obviously scarred, but surely his
ka
couldn’t have changed that much.

“And I am no longer the same woman.”

“No, I suppose not.” His gaze flicked over her, making her more than aware of the bull’s tail at her waist, the crook and flail in her hands, and the golden vulture crown over her wig. A heavy pectoral of carnelian, turquoise, and gold covered her breasts. She was scarcely a woman now, dressed in all the trappings of the pharaoh. The heavy
uraeus
bared its fangs at her brow, ready to strike her enemies.

Senenmut would never be her enemy. Still, a voice in the back of her mind asked what might have prompted his return. She was under no illusion that he had come for her, and if she had been, his coolness now would have disabused her of the notion. Yet she knew him, knew he’d crave a position at court and the power he’d once had serving the pharaoh.

She hoped she could still trust him.

She sat straighter on her throne. “Are there any impediments to your accepting such positions?”

Myriad possibilities raced through her mind. For all she knew, he might be married to a
rekhyt
with breasts like watermelons, father to a brood of sons bearing his crooked smile.

“None,
Hemet.
” He cleared his throat. “‘May I greet the mistress of the land, and may I attend to the errands of her children.’”

She recognized the line from the ancient pages of the
Story of Sinuhe
. “So you accept?”

“I do.”

She kept her face a mask, despite the unmistakable wave of happiness that surged through her.

Senenmut straightened. “On one condition.”

“What might that be?”

“That I have full control of what your daughter is taught, and over your household.”

She leaned forward on her throne. “And what do you have in mind?”

“To focus on the current state of your treasury, especially to ensure the Gods’ Houses aren’t taking advantage of their royal patronage. It would also be wise to inspect the tax revenues received from your nobles. Your father knew that his courtiers excelled at finding ways to avoid paying the full amount they owed to the royal house and he always watched them carefully, a practice I believe might have grown lax under the previous pharaoh.”

Hatshepsut couldn’t miss his avoidance of her brother’s name. She wondered how long it had taken before Senenmut could hear her name without cringing. Perhaps he still did.

“That sounds like a good place to begin,” she said, her voice soft. “And my daughter?”

“Neferure should receive a royal education beginning with a study of Egypt’s great nine gods and ancient religious texts, and then moving on to learning the languages of our neighboring kingdoms, specifically those of Canaan and Crete. Like the pharaoh, she should also be immersed in the politics and military history of the Two Lands from a young age. I’ll find someone else to instruct her on writing hieroglyphs, of course.” His face lit with a flicker of a smile that disappeared so fast that Hatshepsut might have imagined it.

She recalled his terrible handwriting and almost chuckled. Instead she gave a solemn nod. “Of course.” He could dress her slaves in cloth of gold and teach Neferure to walk on her hands for all she cared at this point. “Neferure will make an excellent pupil.”

“She is her mother’s daughter.”

Again Hatshepsut strained to discern Senenmut’s true meaning. Was that an insult or court flattery?

She stood, unwilling to draw this out much longer. “One of the slaves will take you to your new apartments. I’m pleased to have you back with us.”

This was not the reunion she’d rehearsed in her head so many times. Far from it.

He bowed his head and backed from the dais, disappearing between the black granite sphinxes and out the giant ebony doors. She waited a few moments before leaving through the side door, scarcely noticing when Nomti fell into step behind her. She’d grown accustomed to his presence over the past week; he was her stealthy shadow day and night.

“Senenmut has returned to court,” he said. It was the first time her new bodyguard had offered his thoughts to her without being asked for them.

“I’ve offered him the position of Neferure’s tutor.” She purposely omitted the part about his being her new steward. Word of that would spread soon enough.

“I’m pleased. He’s a man worthy of your trust.” Nomti took his position at the entrance to her chambers. “Watch closely
, Hemet.
Others may not be so happy at Senenmut’s return.”

She wasn’t even sure Senenmut himself was pleased. “What do you mean?”

“There were grumblings before your father flew to the sky, some who believed Senenmut had risen too high for someone with such humble ancestry. There were those who were happy when he disappeared, most especially Mensah and his followers.”

“I’ve taken care of Mensah.”

At least she hoped she had.

“His is an ancient family,” Nomti continued. “He did not take well to your brother’s promotion of a
rekhyt
.”

“My eyes and ears will remain open.”

“As will mine,
Hemet
.”

She closed the door behind her, glad for the sanctuary of her chambers. Mouse had left a platter of dried fruit and a loaf of brown bread with a jug of red wine from Amun’s vineyards. She poured a glass and drank it in one gulp.

No word for almost three years, but here he was. Aloof in the throne room, Senenmut had seemed sedate and perfectly composed. The more she thought on it, the more she was sure he sought only a position at court, no matter how humble.

She pulled her sheath over her head and slid between her bed’s cool linen sheets, arranged her headrest, and stared at the blank white ceiling.

It didn’t matter. He had come back.

“W
here are we going, Mama?”

Neferure climbed the spokes of the massive chariot wheel as if it were a ladder; she hung on to the top and looked back at Hatshepsut with an upside-down grin. Her daughter had recovered from her fever but still wore a healing amulet around her neck, the bones of a young mouse tied in seven lucky knots to keep any lingering demons at bay.

“We’re going somewhere you’ve never been before, monkey, to Karnak. It’s the biggest temple in our whole kingdom.” Boy-slaves secured a black mare to a second chariot. Nomti stood to the side, waiting to accompany the group into the city.

“Will there be animals?”

“If we’re lucky. And you’re going to meet your new tutor today. Won’t that be fun?” Hatshepsut tickled her daughter, smiling at her giggles as she quashed her own flurry of nerves. Since Senenmut would be in charge of teaching Neferure about Egypt’s pantheon and her responsibilities to those gods, Hatshepsut had thought it fitting for them to become acquainted in a temple steeped in Egypt’s history. Or perhaps she wanted to torture herself.

Bored with her makeshift ladder, Neferure skipped to the other wheel and climbed to its pinnacle. She seemed about to jump into the chariot’s electrum basket when a dark shadow fell from the doorway. Neferure glanced up, then scurried to the ground, attaching herself to her mother’s leg and popping her thumb in her mouth.

Senenmut stood at the entrance of the royal stable, dressed this morning in a pristine white kilt, the golden armband of the palace secured high on his right arm. The sight of his broad shoulders made Hatshepsut’s legs feel as weak as a newborn colt’s.

Neferure’s brown eyes stared up at her. “Neferure, this is Senenmut,” Hatshepsut said. She leaned down to stroke her daughter’s smooth head. “Your new tutor.”

Neferure studied him for a moment, her kohled eyebrows knit together. She had spent every day of her life within the Walls of the Prince and rarely saw a face that was unknown to her.

Senenmut stepped forward with a smile so deep it sparked in his eyes. “I’m honored to meet you, Neferure.” He reached into the pocket of his kilt, pulled out a small bag, and handed it to the princess. “I thought you might like some marbles. They’re most fun when used in a slingshot.”

He might have been joking, but it was difficult to tell for sure.

Neferure held the gift close and presented Senenmut with a sunny smile. “Are you coming with us?”

Hatshepsut picked up her daughter, balancing her on her hip. “Yes, he is, monkey. Are you ready?”

“Yesh.” Neferure squirmed out of her mother’s arms. She clambered into the larger of the two chariots and beckoned for Hatshepsut. Senenmut stood ready to help her into the basket. She hesitated, then touched her hand to his. The brief contact made her heart trip.

She could not be seen swooning like a kitchen slave with a stable boy. Especially not in response to Senenmut.

Hatshepsut secured Neferure and took the reins as Senenmut joined Nomti in the smaller chariot. “Senenmut, I believe you may remember Nomti from the Division of Thoth. He also served as one of my father’s
medjay
.”

“Of course,” Senenmut said. “And in the service of Osiris Thutmosis, if I recall?”

“Only temporarily,” Nomti said.

Senenmut studied Nomti for a moment, shook his head, and looked to Hatshepsut. “Shall we?” he asked.

She flicked the chariot’s reins and the horses trotted out of the royal stable and into the bright morning light. They might have taken one of the royal skiffs to Karnak, but she had wanted to go through Waset itself. Thutmosis had rarely left the palace to visit the city’s shrines and temples, but now, as regent, she would resurrect her father’s custom of riding a chariot through the city.

The City of Truth was a cacophony of yelling voices and braying donkeys. She wanted to urge the horse to run, but the farther they got from the palace, the tighter Neferure clung to her mother’s legs. Waves of naked children and dusty
rekhyt
dropped to their knees as the royal chariots paraded down the street. A resounding cheer arose from behind once they’d passed.

“
Ankh, udja, seneb!”

“They’re cheering for us, Neferure.” Hatshepsut made her voice heard over the crowd. “Life, health, and prosperity. Can you wave to them?”

The sight of Neferure’s hesitant hand waving back encouraged the people to cheer even louder. Hatshepsut’s heart threatened to burst with pride.

Her cheeks ached from grinning by the time they reached the entrance to Karnak’s vast complex to the gods. The dun-colored walls stretched into Nut’s blue belly, carved with hieroglyphs and massive images of the gods. This was the largest of Egypt’s temples, a sun-drenched maze of pylons, chapels, and open-air courtyards dedicated to the multitude of Egypt’s gods. Solemn
wa’eb
priests dressed in white linen and with shaven heads emerged, scurrying to take the horses and help the party from their chariots.

An apprentice priest motioned to the massive door cut into the boundary wall of the temple. “This way, please.” His voice was as soothing as water trickling from a fountain. The outer courtyard contained two shallow pools used by the priests to purify themselves each day before they entered the sacred compound. A young girl—another
wa’eb
—emerged from the sanctuary of the temple with a bundle in her arms and bowed to them. Hatshepsut and Neferure followed her to the closest of the pools, and Senenmut fell into step behind the first priest, the men disappearing from sight as they made their way down to the other lake. Nomti remained behind to guard the entrance.

Surrounded by palm trees at the boundary of a shimmering lake, a polished red granite slab reflected some of Re’s light back to the sun god. Upon this the priestess laid out two linen sheaths, startling white in the morning sunlight, and two pairs of new leather sandals, one large and one small. “I’ll return to lead you to the temple once you’ve bathed and changed.”

Hatshepsut helped Neferure undress before she took off her own clothes, and shivered in the cool morning air. Then mother and daughter held hands and walked into the lake.

“Mama, it’s cold,” Neferure whimpered.

“I know, monkey. But you can’t insult the gods by praying to them with dirty feet.”

Hatshepsut cupped her hands and poured some of the sparkling blue water over Neferure’s shoulders, then bundled her shivering little body in linen as quickly as she could before purifying herself with Amun’s blessed water. The coarse linen scratched her skin, so different from the translucent material she was used to, as soft as down. She almost forgot something she’d brought along, retrieved the treasure from her sheath, and tucked it into her pocket. The small bulge against her thigh reassured her.

When both were clothed in the rough dress of the priesthood, the young priestess led them back to Senenmut. He was similarly garbed in a priest’s crisp white kilt, with plain leather sandals on his feet.

“You’re ready now.” The original
wa’eb
gestured to them to follow him through the courtyard. This time Senenmut walked at Hatshepsut’s side.

“You could pass for a
rekhyt
,” he said.

“I rather like it,” she said. “I may decide to dress like this from now on.”

“And give up all your gold and jewels?” He slowed his pace to fall into step behind her. “I doubt that very much.”

So he thought her greedy? Vain? Selfish?

She squared her shoulders, chin tilted as if marching into battle. She didn’t care what he thought.

The courtyard stretched before them, the carefully cultivated grass and trees an oasis of green in the midst of the city. The open-air complex was so vast that few of the city’s thousand sounds floated above the looming walls. Hidden in every corner and alcove were myriad shrines and temples dedicated to almost all of Egypt’s gods and goddesses. Meandering through the buildings and open courtyards were various animals sacred to the gods themselves—cats treasured by Bast, the precious ibis and baboons of Thoth, and the rams of Amun. Occasionally an animal’s snort disturbed the tranquility, but otherwise the compound was a silent refuge tucked within the city.

As they walked past one of the small temples, Neferure tugged on Hatshepsut’s hand. “Mama, that one’s broken,” she said, pointing to a structure that had fallen in on itself.

“The temple of Mut,” the priest informed them. “The infidels ravaged the sacred building and it has yet to be rebuilt.”

“Infidels?” Neferure struggled with the mouthful of strange syllables, as if Senenmut’s marbles filled her mouth.

“Not that long ago, Egypt was ruled by bad people named the Hyksos. They didn’t take care of the land.” Hatshepsut looked at the pile of rubble that had been Mut’s sacred monument within Karnak. The mother goddess likely still seethed from such disrespect and neglect.

Dropping Neferure’s hand, she walked to the dilapidated ruins, drawn to them as to someone injured or bleeding. The stones of the crumbling wall were warm under her hands as she traced the faded outline of Mut carved into one of the blocks.

Senenmut approached, his footsteps muffled by the earth and grass.

“You could rebuild this.” His quiet words were a caress that perfectly mirrored her thoughts.

“I know.” She didn’t look at him. The next words jumped from her tongue unbidden. “Will you design it for me?”

There was a silence broken only by Neferure’s happy exclamations in the distance. Hatshepsut focused intently on the image of Mut’s vulture headdress and willed the maternal goddess to sway Senenmut’s answer, if only to beautify the goddess’s own domicile.

“Of course.”

Hatshepsut closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to Mut in gratitude. The sound of Neferure calling her name was a welcome distraction.

“The red granite from Aswan would certainly do Mut justice,” Senenmut said. “I can write to Amenhetep and have him measure the blocks as soon as you’re ready.”

“Amenhetep?” She’d never heard the name before.

“The overseer of Aswan’s quarries.”

The man he’d bribed to set him free. Those three years would always sit between them, a wall never to be breached.

“Mama! Come see the towers!” Neferure barreled past Senenmut to grab her mother’s hand. Hatshepsut allowed herself to be dragged to the manicured path, feeling Senenmut’s gaze upon her back. She looked to where Neferure pointed, the shafts of two perfect obelisks piercing the sky. Their golden caps glinted so brightly it was impossible to look at them, the embodiment of the sun god’s rays here on earth, for long.

“Those are obelisks.” Senenmut crouched next to Neferure. “Do you know who built them?”

The braid of Neferure’s youth lock wiggled back and forth like a garden snake as she shook her head.

“Your grandfather,” Senenmut said. “You never got to meet him, but he was an impressive man, a pharaoh to be remembered through the ages. Do you know Ineni?”

Neferure nodded. “He gives me cakes.”

Hatshepsut chuckled, knowing Ineni would happily plead guilty to the charge. Senenmut’s grin matched her own, the first one they’d shared since his arrival.

“Ineni is a very nice man and an old friend of mine,” he said. “He helped your grandfather build those obelisks. Would you like to see something else they built together?”

“Yesh.” Neferure held out her chubby little hand for Senenmut’s. He took it and the two walked together to a nearby building, Hatshepsut and the priest trailing behind them. The sight of the thick white scars crisscrossing Senenmut’s flesh stabbed her
ka
.

They walked to the hypostyle hall, a project Osiris Tutmose had commissioned soon after he had assumed the Isis Throne. Its tall cedar columns had each been painstakingly carved by a master craftsman to represent a single stalk of papyrus. Together the painted columns created a bright marsh of the precious reeds, an ancient symbol of creation since the days of the first pharaohs. Re’s light streamed through the roof to bathe the room with a golden glow, and dust motes swayed lazily in the air. Hatshepsut lagged behind to listen to the exchange between her daughter and Senenmut.

“Do you know what these pillars look like?” Senenmut pointed with his free hand to the top of one of the columns.

Neferure looked hard at where Senenmut pointed, her lips pursed together. She glanced to her mother for help, but Hatshepsut only shrugged. “What do they look like, monkey?”

“Plants,” Neferure answered. “Big plants.”

“That’s right,” Senenmut said, gifting her with another smile.

Neferure beamed, but it was Hatshepsut who glowed at Senenmut’s words. She had done well in asking him back to court, even if he did make her feel jumpier than a desert fox.

The High Priest joined them then with a
henu
so deep that the paws of his leopard skin brushed the ground. He was marked by the gods, a wine-colored stain the size of a thumbprint under his right eye, and several matching stains on the pale underside of his arms. “
Hemet
, the sacrifice is ready.”

Hatshepsut took Neferure’s hand as they followed him outside through hundreds of black granite statues of the gods, past Mut’s crescent lake, to the middle sanctuary of Amun’s temple, the ceiling open to Nut’s blue belly. A clutch of priests had gathered under the ancient statue of the plumed god, their monotonous voices intoning a prayer, while a precious white bull lay on a raised altar, legs bound together and long horns bedecked with cornflower garlands. The beast, so close they could smell its sweat, snorted at Egypt’s regent and her daughter. Hatshepsut had arranged for this sacrifice as soon as Thut had died, a gift to the supreme god for his blessing upon her reign as regent, but it hadn’t seemed appropriate to have the ceremony until after the period of mourning had passed.

“Be very still,” she said to Neferure.

She took her place near the High Priest as he brandished a knife and slashed the bull’s neck with an expert stroke. Blood poured into a bowl of gold decorated with scenes from the god’s life. Some splattered on her white sheath, and a coppery tang mixed with the heavy blanket of incense in the air. The bull knocked over the bowl in a final struggle against his ropes and blood sloshed onto the granite step, staining it with a sluice of red. Neferure gave a shrill cry and buried her face in Hatshepsut’s leg, her little fingers digging into her mother’s thigh. The animal’s eyes rolled back and its body stilled.