Beauty of Re

by Mark Gajewski

  I hadn’t participated in the ceremony, but I’d watched along with other dignitaries. Ahmose had stood with me and Aachel – Hori had placed the crowns on Hatshepsut’s head, Hapuseneb on Thut’s – and pointed out the officials that Thut now relied on in the North – his vizier, Ametju; Senneferi, the Overseer of the Seal; Kenamun, the Royal Butler and Mayor of Mennefer and Overseer of the Granary; Neferperet, another royal butler; and Intef, the Royal Herald, Wearer of the Royal Seal, Sole Companion, and Favorite of the Good God. But while spectacular, the ceremony had been awkward, both celebrants and spectators beholden to one of the two kings and regarding the other’s adherents with suspicion. The banquet last night that concluded the Heb–Sed had also been icy; Thut and Hatshepsut had ignored each other, as had each king’s officials.

  I had neither seen nor spoken to Thut since his arrival. For that matter, I hadn’t had a moment to myself in the days leading up to the ceremony. I’d taken over Nefer’s duties on Amun’s estates for the week, coordinating a host of details associated with the Heb–Sed from before sunup to the middle of the night. I’d practically worn out several teams of horses dashing up and down the valley in my chariot, from farm to granary to warehouse to fishery to bakery, making sure everything got to where it needed to be on time. I had not, of course, been part of any of the ceremonies, being nothing more than Nefer’s friend. I’d had only a momentary glimpse of Thut, from a long distance away, as he’d first disembarked from his boat.

  We’d been six years apart since our last encounter in Waset during the Opet the year construction started on Djeser Djeseru, and the moment I saw him my heart overflowed with regret for what I’d thrown away. I’d put off marriage to Thut in the belief that he’d take Nefer to wife and she’d give him a son and we could then be together; now he had three wives and a growing swarm of children and Nefer was positioning herself to succeed her mother and rule the Two Lands in her own right in opposition to him. And so I could never have him. He couldn’t possibly still love me anyway, after all this time. How had everything gone so wrong?

  “It’s a pleasant morning, don’t you think?”

  A voice startled me from my reverie. I looked up to see a smiling face. Amenemhab. He was dressed as a soldier, in a white kilt and worn leather corselet, with a dagger in a leather sheath at his waist.

  I rose and embraced him with delight. “Amenemhab! You’ve come with Thut for the Heb–Sed?”

  “Along with the rest of his officers.”

  “Have you beat him yet?”

  “In shooting?” Amenemhab shook his head ruefully. “No. Though I keep trying.”

  I laughed. “Will you sit with me for a moment?”

  We both took seats on the stone.

  “You were very bold, sir, that night, to challenge the king.”

  “I could say the same about you. Or foolish.” Amenemhab’s eyes twinkled. He looked at my scar. “I see your wound has healed.”

  “A reminder of our first battle,” I said. “Do you still serve with the archers?”

  “Chariots, now. Directly under the king. They’re the elite, after all, like me.”

  “Elite. You have no modesty, do you Amenemhab?”

  “Why should I?” He regarded me. “I suppose you’re a charioteer too, as well as an archer and warrior?” he mocked.

  “Actually, I am,” I replied.

  “Quite a claim for a woman to make,” he said skeptically. “Is it true? Or are you trying to impress me?”

  “Impress you? Why would I want to do that?” I asked innocently.

  “Most women do,” he said immodestly.

  I ignored his remark. “Fact is, I drive God’s Wife of Amun Neferure around her estates every day.” I lowered my voice and leaned towards him, smiled conspiratorially. “And I race on the desert every chance I get.”

  “Impressive. Though driving a chariot is more daunting when you’re charging an enemy who’s trying to kill you.”

  I thought back on the battle at Buhen. “I can’t even imagine,” I said soberly.

  Amenemhab regarded me again, smiled mischievously. “But I can imagine you and two thundering stallions and that glorious red hair flying behind you like a banner.”

  I didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased. I laughed. “Is that how you plan to defeat the Nine Bows, Amenemhab, with flattery?”

  “No. The king trains us hard against the day the Nine Bows will attack Kemet,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “On that day our enemies will learn what an army truly is.”

  “A hammer in the hand of our king,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Amenemhab smiled broadly. “A hammer he is not afraid to wield.”

  “What brings you to the garden so early?” I asked.

  “The king ordered several of us to wait for him here until he’s finished in the temple.” Amenemhab looked towards the processional way. “Here they come now.” He waved and a group of men headed to where we sat. Amenemhab rose.

  “Captain Djehuty!” I exclaimed, also rising.

  He bowed. “My Lady.”

  “Commander of Soldiers Djehuty, now, actually,” Amenemhab told me.

  Djehuty’s face was more lined than I remembered. He was, after all, almost forty, with piercing eyes and a powerful presence.

  “This is Tjanuni, the king’s military scribe,” Amenemhab continued. “Meet Amenmose, captain of troops, and Dedu, chief of the Medjay.”

  Dedu was nearly pitch black, a Nubian. The Medjay, Nubian mercenaries, had served as bodyguards for every king beginning with Ahmose. They were considered the elite of the army.

  “And, of course, you know Ahmose,” Amenemhab said as my childhood playmate hurried to catch up with the others.

  “Late as always,” I laughed.

  Ahmose greeted me familiarly. He was married now, with five children the last I’d heard. I was shocked that he’d settled down.

  I sat again.

  Djehuty wiped his brow – it was already becoming hot – and gazed towards the temple. “The last time I was in Waset there were only six obelisks, not eight.”

  “King Maatkare commissioned two of rose–colored granite especially for this Heb–Sed, from the island of Sehel at the cataract,” I replied. “They stand in the Wadjet Hall – Maatkare removed the center part of its wooden roof, so only the north and south ends of the hall are still covered. Her father raised the two older and smaller obelisks in his festival hall west of the Wadjet Hall, of course, and her husband the larger, the ones with gold–covered tips. The pair east of Amun’s sanctuary entirely covered with electrum are the ones Nefer and I brought from the first cataract. The rightmost is ninety–six feet tall.”

  “How were they set in place?” Djehuty inquired. “The king once told me of the engineering feat it took just to get them on the barge to sail down the river.”

  “Workers constructed two granite bases,” I answered. “Then they built two high mud–brick walls a few feet apart, one on the east side of each base, and one on the west side. They filled the space between the walls with dirt, except for directly over the bases, where they dumped sand. Then, thousands of workers dragged the first obelisk up a ramp and onto the top of the walls. They centered its bottom section directly over the sand. Then they smashed a gaping hole at the base of each wall. The sand poured out, and as it did the obelisk began to tilt into the space where the sand had been, then straighten and sink slowly onto its base. Then they repeated the process with the second obelisk. After both were in place they removed the walls, applying the electrum to the obelisks from top down as the walls descended.”

  “I wish I could have seen that,” Djehuty said admiringly. “Our engineers work miracles here in Kemet. Every time I sail past Giza and Dahshur, I wonder how the ancients moved such heavy blocks of stone so high to build what are essentially perfectly–shaped mountains. I suspect we’ll never know. We’ve forgotten so much of what our ancestors knew.”

  “Did you notice Djeser Djeseru
across the river?” I asked.

  “A most beautiful temple, in an amazing setting,” Ahmose volunteered. “The king plans to visit it and inspect it up close before he returns to Mennefer. After all, he’ll have to build his own memorial temple someday, and a tomb in the Great Place.”

  “The obelisks are not the only new construction at Waset,” I said. “King Maatkare has made many improvements at Ipet–Isut. She’s built a barque chapel of red quartzite in front of Senwosret’s court, and a Per’aa of Maat, and erected a pylon south of the main east–west axis through the complex on the pathway to Ipet–resyt. Processions pass through it now during the Opet. It’s the first major structure in that direction.”

  “I saw Ipet–resyt as we sailed past,” Djehuty said. “Were those sphinxes lining the path from there to here?”

  “Yes, with more added every year.”

  Priests and temple workers were flooding into Ipet–Isut now through the gate in the westernmost pylon, heading for shrines and halls and courtyards, and others were circling the outer walls, bound for workshops and the fields that lined the river. I suspected Nefer and Thut would be done with the rituals before long.

  “How fares the army, Commander?” I asked Djehuty.

  “We patrol constantly,” he replied. “The king and his generals and we commanders have spent the last few years weeding out the men who are weak and unreliable. We’ve built a fighting force that’s tough and unified and prepared to follow the king’s commands as one. When the day comes to use the king’s army, no one will be able to stand against him.”

  “Thut told me once you were teaching him all there is to know about the military life.”

  “He’s mastered everything, and more quickly than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Djehuty said admiringly. “He’s learned the deserts both east and west of the river valley like the back of his hand – the water holes, the main routes, the barely discernible paths, the hills and valleys. He’s sailed along the coast too, visited a few towns and harbors in southern Retenu.” He tapped his temple. “The king has a map in his head now of the lands surrounding Kemet, knows the best ways to move through them, understands the best ways to supply an army. He’s been an amazing pupil. He’s earned the respect of the men he leads.”

  As Thut had promised he would. “And he, of course, knows Wawat,” I said.

  “As far as Buhen, like you and me. He doesn’t know it as well as he wants beyond the Second Cataract – none of us do – but I have no doubt he will one day. We face no imminent threat from that direction anymore – there was a small rebellion three years ago that Maatkare snuffed out on her own…”

  “She wouldn’t let me go along after my last escapade,” I said ruefully.

  “I’ll wager the Kushites were glad they didn’t have to face you in battle,” Amenemhab interjected.

  The others laughed good naturedly.

  “We can never let the gold mines of Wawat be taken from us,” Djehuty said.

  “Because they’re the source of our wealth.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How big is the army, Commander?”

  “We have three divisions, each with about five thousand men, each serving under the banner of a god. I myself have oversight of two divisions. Squads are comprised of ten men; five squads make a platoon; five platoons make a company; two companies make a host; ten hosts make a division. In prior times only a few professional soldiers served alongside conscripts and mercenaries, but in the king’s army the vast majority of soldiers are professional.”

  “What do you do when you aren’t engaged in grand military expeditions?” I asked.

  “Some of us just returned from the Sinai,” Amenemhab said. “We guarded workers who were enlarging a temple to Hathor, Mistress of Turquoise, at the point where mining expeditions set out into the desert hills.”

  “We had a herd of five hundred donkeys,” Ahmose said, “each of which hauled enough food for one man for five days, as well as its own fodder and water. We coordinated the land expedition with boats that carried us the final portion of our journey.”

  “The new temple is not as fine as those at Ipet–Isut,” Amenemhab said, “but it is a vast improvement over what was there before. The original shrine was in a cave, founded by the great king Sneferu.”

  “I’ve seen his pyramids at Dahshur,” I told them.

  “The old shrine has had many visitors over the years. We found vases and necklaces that had been dedicated by Ahmes–Nefertari, Great Wife of King Ahmose.”

  “King Maatkare and Nefer’s ancestress,” I said.

  “There were hundreds of stelae there too,” Amenemhab said. “The leader of every past mining expedition set one up on the approach to the temple to record his success.”

  “What changes did the workers make to the temple?” I asked.

  “They set up a court surrounded by four large columns, with Hathor’s head on the capitals, and a basin for ablutions in its center. They partially remodeled the original cave, and built a main hall for the temple with images of Maatkare making offerings to Sneferu and the third Amenemhet and Hathor and Sopdu. They also added a pylon. The temple is high on the slope of a mountain; you have to climb to it on foot.”

  “It’s well worth the effort. The view of the surrounding mountains and valleys is sublime,” Ahmose said.

  “Don’t forget our trip to the five great oases in the western desert,” Tjanuni said. He ticked them off on his fingers. “Bahariya, Kharga, Dakhla, Farafra, and Siwa.”

  “I’ve heard of Bahariya,” I said.

  “It’s in a large oval depression, more than a thousand square miles in size, surrounded by mountains, with hundreds of springs around which villages cluster. The desert is interspersed with vast swaths of green. Fields are rich with grapes and dates and produce. The oasis is famous for its sweet date wine, DjesDjes.”

  “I still think the best wine is imat, from Buto in the delta,” Ahmose said.

  “Mennefer makes an excellent grape wine,” Tjanuni said.

  Ahmose scoffed at that.

  “Anyway, prehistoric stone knives and hand axes lie everywhere on the surface of the sand, and there are drawings etched on desert rocks in forms no one has ever seen elsewhere – the oasis must have been inhabited for a very long time,” Tjanuni said.

  “Bahariya is at the intersection of two trade routes, along which wine and other products are exported to the river valley,” Djehuty added. “The king believes Bahariya is an important base from which to defend our western borders, and has sent a number of settlers there, and a governor. More go all the time. There will soon be more Kemetians than natives in the region.”

  “I suppose you’ve traveled extensively too,” Amenemhab teased.

  “All the way to Punt,” I informed him.

  He looked crestfallen that he had failed to top me once more.

  For the next half hour I told them all about my adventures in the East, and Djehuty closely questioned me about all I’d seen.

  “So you truly speak the language of Punt?” he asked when I finished.

  “As well as Mitanni, and several of those spoken in Wawat and Kush and Retenu and Setjet,” I said. “I question every trader who visits Waset about his native land and his trade routes. And I’ve learned much from the hostages taken from Wawat who live in Maatkare’s harem. I haven’t visited the North and West, like you soldiers, but I know at least in general terms about their towns and trade routes. I know much about the culture of the people who live there too.”

  “Information that may prove of use someday,” Djehuty said thoughtfully.

  Suddenly Thut appeared, accompanied by his personal bodyguards, six Medjay, heavily–armed dark–skinned soldiers with close–cropped hair and broad flat faces, wearing skirts of leopard skin. I stood and bowed my head. Thut greeted me politely and a bit coolly. My heart fell. He spoke briefly with Djehuty and the others and gave them their daily orders, told them he’d join them in a few minutes.

/>   I watched them go. Soon, no one was anywhere near Thut and I except his bodyguards, and they were standing some distance away, their backs to us. Thut sat, then invited me to sit at his side. He noticed the Hathor amulet around my neck.

  “I still wear it every day. It reminds me of you.”

  “I’m glad. How have you been, Mery?”

  So… no lover’s greeting, only that of an old friend getting caught up. He’d moved on. I swallowed my disappointment. I’d known he had. I just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself.

  “I’m well, Thut. Nothing as exciting as what you’ve been doing, traveling the world – Djehuty and Amenemhab and Ahmose and the rest filled me in on your activities. I spend my days serving Nefer, driving her around Amun’s estates, translating still for Hatshepsut in the audience hall, traveling up and down the river to various festivals and ceremonies.”

  “You’re not the girl I remembered anymore,” Thut said, looking me up and down. “You’re a woman now.”

  “You’ve changed too, Thut,” I said, searching his face. “You remind me very much of your father.” He had the same low forehead, deeply sunken eyes, heavy jaw, thick lips and prominent cheekbones. “The lines around your eyes are new, though.”