Beauty of Re

by Mark Gajewski

  Hapuseneb fell to his knees before Hatshepsut, followed slowly by everyone gathered in the courtyard, except for Iset.

  “No!” Iset screamed at Hatshepsut. “It’s a trick! You cannot steal the throne from my son!”

  As if more fuel needed to be thrown onto the fire of Iset’s hatred for Hatshepsut, I thought.

  “Amun has spoken!” the Oracle thundered, rising once more, his fierce eyes locked on Iset. “All must hear and obey!”

  “Never!” Iset screamed. “You’ll pay for this – all of you!”

  I turned my gaze towards Hatshepsut. She appeared shocked by the Oracle’s pronouncement. I cynically wondered who had helped her master that look.

  “I accept the will of my divine father, Amun,” Hatshepsut told the onlookers, seemingly reluctantly. “I am his child. I cannot refuse his command. I stand firm like the mountains, and the sun’s disk shines and spreads its rays over me, and my falcon rises high above the kingly banner unto all eternity.”

  I realized my fists were clenched, my body tense. I realized I was very afraid. My right leg began to shake uncontrollably. I knew a coronation ceremony literally transformed the king into a god. So it would be impossible for Hatshepsut to step down when Thut came of age. There were, until one of them died, going to be two kings in the Two Lands, and since both were young that could be a very long time indeed. I wondered how Thut was going to react when he learned the news. I had no doubt that Iset’s version of the day’s events would be particularly galling and no doubt incite him to action. I wondered what this coup meant for the two of us, and our plan to marry. I wondered what it meant for the Two Lands. I wondered how much longer Thut had to live.

  ***

  “Time to wake up, Nefer, Majesty,” I said softly.

  Nefer’s eyes fluttered open.

  Hatshepsut, lying next to her, rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. She tenderly brushed the hair from Nefer’s face with her long slim fingers. “Today is your big day, child.”

  It took a moment for Nefer to recognize her surroundings as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was in Hatshepsut’s bed in the king’s chamber at the rear of the per’aa. She’d shared her mother’s bed often in the first year after her father’s death, but never since. Last night, the evening before her investiture as God’s Wife of Amun, she’d slept with Hatshepsut one final time, her last night of childhood before taking upon her shoulders the mantle of true responsibility.

  I pulled open the curtains on the gilded wooden canopy that surrounded the bed as several more serving girls bustled into the room. Hatshepsut drew back the linen blankets and she and Nefer rose together. Aachel was fishing about in an ebony chest decorated with Hatshepsut’s cartouche in gold and images of Re and Hathor, and pulled from it a simple linen shift. She slipped it over Nefer’s head with a bright smile. They hugged. As we waited for Hatshepsut to be similarly attired by her servant I stared at the five painted vultures of black and white and red on the yellow ceiling, their wings spread wide, heads facing the door. I picked out Hatshepsut’s five royal names in the cartouches beneath the wings: “Powerful of Kas” – her Horus name; “Wadjrenput,” or “Flourishing of Years” – her Two Ladies; “Netjeretkhau,” or “Divine of Diadems” – her Female Horus of Fine Gold; “Maatkare,” or “Truth is the Soul of Re” – her King of Upper and Lower Kemet name; and finally “Hatshepsut.” Thut’s names on the ceiling had been painted over mere days after Hatshepsut seized her share of the throne.

  A bedroom wall had been painted too, with images of Hatshepsut’s predecessors as God’s Wife of Amun, beginning with Ahmes–Nefertari and ending with Hatshepsut herself. I supposed Nefer would be added to it after today. Ahmes–Nefertari was pictured with black skin, to signify both fertility and her role as mother of the current royal dynasty. She wore a vulture crown with a uraeus, a broad collar, arm and wrist bands, and a white dress with a single strap. The exact same images had been painted on the walls of Nefer’s new bedroom in Ipet–Isut too, to remind her of the ancestors Hatshepsut expected her to emulate.

  Nefer and Aachel and I followed Hatshepsut through the bedroom door, past the bodyguard who bowed respectfully, through a small private reception room with a throne on a dais, into the bathroom. Its stone screening wall was decorated with royal cartouches, with a cornice along the top and protective symbols below.

  Ahmose, the Chief of Secrets of the House of Morning, stood before the screening wall, waiting patiently. He greeted everyone warmly. Hatshepsut and Nefer proceeded to the far side of the wall, where Aachel and I removed their shifts. We poured water over them from large earthenware jars, then scrubbed them with natron, rinsed them clean, and finally dried them with lengths of linen.

  The three of us followed Hatshepsut into the attached robing room. Its ceiling was decorated with bull’s heads within a pattern of interlocking spirals and rosettes, a design carried to Kemet by craftsmen from Keftiuh. Senemiah greeted Hatshepsut and Nefer there, and Nefer hugged her with a glad cry. Senemiah was in charge of selecting oils for the king. For years one of the favorite parts of my day had been watching her skillfully enhance Hatshepsut’s natural beauty with her arsenal of makeup and perfumes. Senemiah had always taken a few moments afterwards to apply a bit of paint and perfume to Nefer and Aachel and me as well, treating us as if we were just as important to her as Hatshepsut herself. We all loved her for that.

  “See to Nefer personally, Senemiah,” Hatshepsut directed. “Make her outshine Re himself today.”

  “I will, Majesty.”

  As the serving women led Hatshepsut away, Senemiah took hold of Nefer’s shoulders and inspected her at arm’s length. “Such magnificent dark almond–shaped eyes, like your mother’s... lovely smooth brown skin… flawless… and that dark brown wavy hair reaching halfway down your back… so soft and gorgeous and lustrous… and those long legs and narrow waist… your body is finally taking on its curves.” She pulled Nefer close and hugged her. “Majesty, you have lived up to your name – you truly are ‘the Beauty of Re.’”

  Nefer blushed at the compliment.

  Senemiah smiled at Aachel. She took one look at my long red hair, tangled despite my best efforts, and rolled her eyes in disgust. Then she set to work.

  Senemiah seated Nefer on an ebony stool before a table crowded with elaborately decorated stone and wooden containers of makeup and fragrant oils, and bronze applicators, and earthenware pots and vials of perfume, and bone combs, and highly polished bronze see–faces with handles of obsidian. Under Senemiah’s direction, Aachel and I moisturized every bit of Nefer’s skin with pure scented oils and fats. That done, Aachel opened an alabaster container engraved “God’s Wife” and applied kohl around Nefer’s eyes with a flat bronze stick.

  “A bit of color for your cheeks and lips,” Senemiah said, gently rubbing henna on Nefer’s skin with a fingertip. “But not too much. You scarcely need any. I’ll bet the boys already go crazy when they see you.”

  “And courtiers and officials and ambassadors three times her age,” I said.

  Senemiah laughed.

  Aachel brushed and then arranged Nefer’s hair. When she finished, Senemiah handed Nefer a see–face. She inspected herself carefully, then looked at me and Aachel.

  I smiled and nodded. “Perfect!”

  Then the Great Mistress of the Royal Wardrobe and the One Who Adorns Horus pressed into the robing room. They selected clothing for Nefer from large ebony chests, and jewelry from smaller decorated caskets.

  “Your mother wore these items serving as God’s Wife when she was your age,” they told Nefer.

  She stood and they slipped a long white pleated dress over her head. Its sleeves fell to her elbows. Then they wound a red sash around her waist and adorned her with a wide broad collar with alternating rows of gold and blue faience and carnelian, with pendants dangling along the bottom, and earrings and bracelets of gold and carnelian, and anklets of gold, and leather sandals. The Keeper of th
e Crown placed a small gold diadem on Nefer’s brow.

  “Exquisite!” Senemiah exclaimed, then bent and whispered in Nefer’s ear. “You’re even prettier than your mother. But don’t you dare tell her I said so.”

  Nefer couldn’t help but laugh happily.

  Nefer and Aachel and I joined Hatshepsut in the Mansion of Life. She was already seated at a small alabaster table, just big enough for the four of us. Officials involved in preparation of the morning meal bustled about the room, overseen by the Master of the King’s Largess. Soon, serving girls set before us bread in various shapes, garlic, onions, leeks, cucumbers, watermelon, dates, olives, and roast duck. A young girl kept our cups filled with wine as we ate.

  “I’m going to miss our breakfasts together,” Hatshepsut told Nefer. “This afternoon, once you’re anointed God’s Wife of Amun, you’ll move into rooms at Ipet–Isut, in the midst of the priests’ quarters.”

  “I’ll just be a short walk away from the per’aa – ten minutes at the most,” Nefer said.

  “But you’ll be busy in the temple every morning, beginning at dawn.”

  “I know. I’m excited, Mother. To be following in the footsteps of Ahmes–Nefertari and Meritamen and you…”

  Hatshepsut nodded. “God’s Wife is a critically important post, Nefer. Our family has been engaged in a delicate dance with the Amun priesthood for generations now. Kamose and Ahmose and Amenhotep gave Amun credit for helping them reunite the Two Lands after they drove out the Chiefs of the Foreign Lands. Those kings turned Amun from an essentially local Wasetian god into a national god, and ever since that war we’ve donated much wealth to his temples. Because of that wealth, Amun’s priesthood grows more powerful with each passing year. Now, because the priesthood’s influence has expanded, our family’s continued rule is subject to approval by Amun. Had Amun’s oracle not proclaimed me, I would not be king. But our ancestor kings foresaw this very thing happening. They knew we could never let the priests become more powerful than we were. So, at the beginning of our house’s rule, the king created the position of God’s Wife, to directly counteract the power of Amun’s high priest. That is now your role, Nefer, to be counterpoint to Hapuseneb. From today, you will wield authority in Amun’s temples – and have wealth enough to back that authority up. You will be, essentially, a tool I can use to enforce my royal authority over Waset and the priests. I’ll expect you to keep your eyes on them when I’m traveling to other cities and towns, to make sure they remember their proper place.”

  “Don’t you get along with Hapuseneb?” I asked.

  “I do,” Hatshepsut replied. “I sit the throne in large part because of Hapuseneb, and will never forget that or fail to express my gratitude to him.”

  “But as he has turned on Thut, he could turn on you,” I interjected without thinking, perhaps a bit more bitterly than I should have.

  Hatshepsut looked at me strangely, then nodded and addressed her daughter. “Nefer, as I said before, our family has given Amun credit for all of our successes, and has regularly endowed his temples – and priesthood – with much wealth in thanksgiving. There is always the danger that someday in the distant future – or near future, as Meryetneith has pointed out – the priests may become so hungry for power that they’ll attempt to push our house aside and take the kingship for themselves. You and I must guard against that day.”

  “So not only will I have to keep an eye on Hapuseneb, just in case, but I’ll need to identify his successor, someone equally easy to work with and loyal to me and you, against the day Hapuseneb becomes too old to continue as high priest,” Nefer observed.

  “Correct,” Hatshepsut said, pride in her voice. “You’ve grasped the situation exactly, Nefer. It wouldn’t do for one of Hapuseneb’s sons to succeed him.”

  “For then there’d be a line of succession established in the priesthood, much like our royal house,” Nefer guessed.

  “Right again. God’s Wife is a post always held by a king’s daughter of the blood, Nefer. Someday you’ll pass it on to your own daughter.”

  I wondered when that would be, and if her daughter’s father would be Thut. That was starting to look less likely with each passing day, with Hatshepsut now sitting a throne of her own. I thought it only a matter of time until she officially named Nefer as her successor, and once she did Hatshepsut would never allow Thut to become Nefer’s husband. The collision between my friends that I had dreaded was now a certainty. Nefer had seen it coming too. She and Aachel and I had talked deep into the night after the Oracle proclaimed Hatshepsut king. Like me, Nefer feared that someone would kill Thut to get him out of the way, to clear an undisputed path for her to the throne. She didn’t want that any more than I did. She wanted only to be the mother of a king. Nefer had concluded that the only way to avoid war with Thut – or his murder – would be an agreement to officially split the Two Lands, with Thut ruling in the North and Hatshepsut in the South. Someday, when Hatshepsut died, Nefer thought, she and Thut could marry and reunite Kemet. But there were so many obvious flaws in Nefer’s plan, at least to me. Hatshepsut was only twenty–eight, with every prospect of living a very long life. By the time she died Nefer would be well beyond child–bearing age. Thut would never wait that long to marry her. But more importantly, knowing Thut’s dream of building an empire, an obsession he had devoted years to laying the groundwork for already, I knew he’d never agree to deunify Kemet and wait decades to join it back together. By then he’d be too old to push our borders outward. For him to build his empire the Two Lands had to remain united. I feared he’d launch a war against Hatshepsut, and soon, and kill her, and if he did Nefer would never marry Thut. Once more, I’d have to choose between them. My dream of being Thut’s wife seemed to be slipping ever farther away.

  Hatshepsut sipped her wine. “Beginning this afternoon, all of the estates and goods and administrators that belong to the God’s Wife will cease to be mine and will become yours, Nefer. You’ll want for nothing ever again.”

  “Senenmut said the administrators will come to me for direction each day.”

  “Yes, though Senenmut will continue to watch out for your interests, as he did mine.”

  “But he’ll no longer be my tutor?”

  “I need him as my advisor. He won’t have time. I’ve already identified a new one.”

  I was disappointed at that turn of events. Senenmut had been my companion as well as Nefer’s for a decade. He’d taught me most of what I knew. I was going to miss seeing him every day very much.

  “I’ll also issue a proclamation today that you are now my Great Wife, Nefer. I’ll never marry again, and every king must have one.”

  That surprised me. Hatshepsut was not going to take Senenmut to husband, even though they loved each other. I wondered how he felt about that. I wondered if they spent their nights together in secret anyway, like Thut and I had at the cataract.

  “You’ll have to attend me at temple rituals and state events and during festivals from now on. You’ll lead the priests to bathe before ceremonies, you’ll offer sacrifices with me, and you’ll finally get to enter the gods’ sanctuaries.”

  “Iset will have a fit,” Nefer said.

  “Let her,” Hatshepsut said contemptuously. “What do I care about that woman? My spies have confirmed that she’s already plotting to marry Thut to some woman in Mennefer. She’ll bear him a son to compete against your son for the throne.”

  I could see Nefer was as shocked as I. Thut was planning to take someone besides Nefer to wife? That would be the end of him and me.

  “But Father expected Thut and I to marry,” Nefer said a bit timidly. “I could marry Thut right now and we wouldn’t have to worry about another woman.”

  I saw that Aachel was squeezing Nefer’s hand under the table tightly, for support.

  “Wouldn’t that solve the problem?” Nefer asked Hatshepsut. “I’m fifteen now, three years older than you were when you married Father, your half–brother. Thut’s and my son
would rule Kemet after both Thut and you. I could be Great Wife for both of you.”

  “That’s quite impossible,” Hatshepsut said in a clipped voice, her lips drawn into a tight line.

  “Why?” Nefer asked. “Father told us we’d marry, time after time, for as long as I can remember. And our son will rule after us. Thut expects it. So do I.”

  “Your father is dead, Nefer. What he wanted or expected for the two of you doesn’t matter anymore. Marrying Thutmose would ruin my plans for you.”

  “What plans?”

  Hatshepsut took Nefer’s hand. “You are my child, Nefer, and in this entire land only my blood and your blood are pure. Thutmose’s is not. If you marry Thutmose, you will legitimize his rule and end any chance of becoming king yourself.”

  “King!” Nefer exclaimed. “I don’t want to be king.”

  “Yet king you will be,” Hatshepsut replied. She put her arm around Nefer’s shoulders. “Never forget, child. You have more right to the throne than your half–brother. It is your duty to take the throne after me. The gods will it. That’s why Senenmut has prepared you for so long and so well.”

  So the plot to take the throne had indeed been planned from the very beginning. Everything now made perfect sense.

  “All I aspire to is to be the mother of a king,” Nefer insisted.

  “You are too talented to settle for that,” Hatshepsut said.

  “That’s not settling…”

  Hatshepsut’s voice rose in volume. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Neferure. I want you to be king. You will take the throne after me. You will not marry Thutmose. We will speak of it no more.”

  We finished eating in silence. Nefer did not argue, but I could tell she didn’t consider the matter closed, no matter what Hatshepsut had said. It was, for one thing, too much to take in. Hatshepsut had raised Nefer to be a king; long ago she had begun to think and act like one, and surely she would not meekly give in just because Hatshepsut ordered her to. But, knowing how far Hatshepsut had already gone to seize part of the kingship, I wondered what she might do to sidestep Nefer and set her on the throne against her wishes. Have Thut killed? Seize the entire kingship for herself, then pass it on to Nefer when she died? Whatever she did, someday soon Nefer was going to find herself actively pitted against her brother in a fight for a throne she didn’t want. There was no longer any escaping that fact.