We spent half a day beside the great sphinx some distance east of the pyramids, its head rising from the sand, towering over our heads. “We presume it has the body of a lion,” Thut said, “based on the smaller statues that have come down to us from that time. But no one knows for sure. The sands covered it long ago.”
As always, as our boat drifted north into Ta–mehi, my eyes and spirit had been refreshed by the greenery that stretched from horizon to horizon. The desert disappeared, its stark and drab and rocky awfulness replaced by swamps and plains and river channels and waving emmer and groves of trees. The delta was flat except for an occasional hillock, each topped with a small ancient village of mud–brick. The fields were orderly and lush and colorful with flowers and silver with irrigation channels and alive with farmers going about their timeless tasks.
As we approached Avaris many small islands began to dot the winding river. We encountered a few scattered mud huts strung out along the shore, then more closer together, then a vast town sprawling some distance back from the riverbank.
“This is Avaris,” Thut announced. “Virtually everyone who lives here supports my army in some way. My ancestors leveled it after they drove out the Chiefs of the Foreign Lands, then erected a new town atop the ruins. I’ve made it into a major military and naval stronghold. My soldiers’ camps are on the plain north of town, large enough to house twenty thousand men at a time.”
We reached the southern end of a great curve in the river. On the east bank, in the inner part of the curve, three large buildings, all whitewashed, clustered close to each other. Many smaller buildings stood in their shadow. The whole district was surrounded by a substantial wall.
“Those are the per’aas,” Thut said. “Two face each other across a courtyard, with a pylon in its center. The smaller buildings are storehouses. They hold faience and pottery.”
There were harbors to the northeast and southeast of the per’aas, each linked to the river by an access channel, making the district a virtual island. Each harbor was large enough to accommodate hundreds of boats. Many of those currently tied up there were military vessels, transport boats for Thut’s armies, but an equal number appeared to be those of merchants from northern port cities and islands in the Great Green.
“Many sea–going vessels use my shipyards to make repairs before setting out for home,” Thut said. “See those huge warehouses, and all the granaries lining the quay? They’re crammed with emmer and foodstuffs and equipment for my army.”
The granaries numbered in the hundreds. The harbor district was swarming with porters and overseers and traders and sailors and workmen, not as many as at Peru–nefer, but far more than at Waset. If Avaris bustled so during peacetime, I could only imagine the activity when Thut was preparing to leave on campaign. Many soldiers were wandering among the buildings and boats – most of them common foot soldiers, though I saw a few charioteer helmets with flowing plumes. There were even a few dark–skinned Nubian archers – I knew Thut had recruited many former prisoners of war into his army. Military life was far preferable to one spent tilling fields.
“Most of the foreign boats seem to be Keftiun,” I noted.
Thut nodded. “This port links our two lands together in trade. Their boats are built for the sea, not the river, so they offload goods here and my boats carry them south to Peru–nefer. The Keftiuns have taught us much about traversing the sea, and they provide security for us in the eastern sections of the Great Green. In turn, they benefit from our products and friendship. It’s a relationship that works well for us both.”
We banqueted that night in the largest per’aa. Its walls had been decorated by Keftiun craftsmen and featured images of men grappling with bulls and leaping over them.
“Tell us about the fall of Avaris, Father,” Amenhotep prompted as we ate.
His friends echoed him. Just as Ahmose had gone to the army with Thut, to “look after” him, so would Amenhotep’s companions join him. Tonight was their last night before embarking on that life.
Thut loved nothing more than to talk about the great kings who had come before him.
“The Chiefs of the Foreign Lands first entered Ta–Mehi after the collapse of Senwosret and Amenemhat’s house about three hundred years ago, sensing that we were weak and unable to oppose them, desiring to take for themselves the riches of Kemet,” Thut began. “Fifty years later they came in force and established a capital here, at Avaris. They took complete control of Lower Kemet, then extended their sphere of influence deep into Upper Kemet through direct military occupation and treaties with local rulers. Only the rulers at Waset were strong enough to resist their expansion.”
“Did they go to war against the wretches?” Amenhotep asked.
“Not for a century or so,” Thut answered. “Thus were the Two Lands divided, as they had been in the ancient times before Horus–Narmer. North and South coexisted. The kings in the South leased grazing lands in the North. Some even claim that Herit, a daughter of Apophis, the last of the wretches’ kings, married into the royal family at Waset. Whether that is true, I do not know.”
“The king at Waset in Apophis’ time, the second Seqenenre Tao, was in a difficult position,” I interjected. “The Chiefs of the Foreign Lands were allied with Nubia. So the king’s trade routes to both north and south were blocked by wretches. There came a point when that became intolerable.”
“Apophis provoked a quarrel with Seqenenre Tao,” Thut continued. “Apophis sent him a message, saying that the roaring of hippopotami in the sacred pool at Waset was keeping him awake at night in Avaris, ordering that they be done away with.”
“Could he really hear hippos from so far away?” Mutnofret asked.
“No,” I answered. “Apophis wasn’t really complaining about hippos. He’d learned that King Seqenenre Tao was secretly drawing together allies to try to expel him from Kemet, and he was in round–about fashion telling the king to abandon the attempt.”
“Did he? Abandon it?” Amenhotep asked.
“No,” Thut replied. “Seqenenre Tao summoned his chief officials and army commanders and told them of Apophis’ message. Then the king led his army north to fight. But his army was defeated.”
“By wretches?” Sennefer exclaimed.
“We had no professional army then,” Thut said. “Our soldiers were mostly farmers. The soldiers of the Chiefs of the Foreign Lands were better equipped than us. They were the ones who introduced the compound bow and body armor and tapered shield to Kemet. Their daggers and swords were more efficient than ours. They brought the harnessed horse and the chariot to the Two Lands. All of these weapons we take for granted, that have made my army unstoppable, came from them.”
“Along with new ideas, new foods, new ways of building, new styles of decoration,” I said. “Their war goddess, Astarte, became the deity we know as the Lady of Heaven, consort of our god Set. We learned much from them, just as we have from the peoples your father has conquered. But they learned much from us too. In fact, they adopted our way of life, immersed themselves in our culture, which was superior to theirs. Native–born Kemetian bureaucrats worked alongside them to ensure Ta–mehi was ruled efficiently.”
“None of which was a comfort to Seqenenre Tao,” Thut said. He sipped at his wine. “He was captured in battle and executed by the wretches, receiving five mortal blows to his head. His body was not recovered until after it had begun to putrefy. They say his arms and hands and legs were horribly twisted, and his face frozen in an agonized scream.”
“His son Kamose succeeded him,” I said. “He called a war council in his third regnal year. ‘I should like to know what serves this strength of mine,’ he said, ‘when a chieftain is in Avaris and another in Kush, and I sit between an Aamu and a Nubian, each man in possession of his slice of Kemet, and I cannot pass north beyond Mennefer and south beyond Swenet.’”
“The king’s courtiers were timid,” Thut said disgustedly. “They argued that the land was tranquil, that their f
armers tilled the land undisturbed, that they pastured their cattle freely in Ta–mehi. But Kamose refused to let the Two Lands remain divided. He first moved against Teti, son of Pepi, a Kemetian allied to Apophis who ruled at Nefrusi, just north of Khmun.”
I regarded the boys. “Kamose later said ‘When the earth became light I was upon him as if I were a hawk and I overthrew him. I razed his wall. I slew his people and I caused his wife to go down to the riverbank. My soldiers were like lions with their prey, with serfs, cattle, milk, fat and honey, dividing up their possessions.’”
“Then Kamose raided into Kush, as far as Buhen, to secure his southern border, taking control of the river and taking vengeance on those who had collaborated with the wretches,” Thut told them. “Then he attacked Avaris, where Apophis was holed up. He devastated the surrounding fields and villages, then got so close to the king’s per’aa that he could see the women of the harem looking down at him from the roof. He sent messages to Apophis via these ladies, trying to shame Apophis into sending his army out from behind the city’s walls to fight, but Apophis would not. Soon after, Kamose captured a messenger headed from Apophis to Kush, seeking aid, promising that Apophis would keep Kamose at bay until the Kushites arrived, at which time they would crush Kamose and divide Kemet between them. Since the message was not received, no help came from the South. But in the end Kamose was not strong enough to take Avaris, so he went home to Waset to cheering crowds, having won the battle but not the war. He recorded his deeds on a limestone stela at Ipet–Isut.”
“Which of you remembers the inscription,” I asked.
Amenemopet volunteered. “O wicked of heart vile Aamunian, I shall drink the wine of your vineyard which the Aamu whom I captured press for me. I lay waste your dwelling place and cut down your trees… I did not leave a scrap of Avaris without being empty… I laid waste their towns and burned their places, they being made into red ruins for eternity on account of the damage which they did within this Kemet, for they had made themselves serve the Aamu and had forsaken Kemet their mistress.”
“Very good,” I said.
“Kamose died not long after. He was succeeded by his very young brother, Ahmose. Ahmose’s mother served as regent for ten years, until he was old enough to resume the struggle for unity,” Thut said.
“I remember Ahmose Pen–Nekhbet, an old soldier who was the King’s Wife Neferure’s first tutor, recounting King Ahmose’s battles before Avaris when I was your age,” I told the boys. “The king fought on land and water, his archers launching volleys from boats, the same strategy your father employed when we captured Buhen in his first battle.”
“Where you got your scar?” Amenhotep asked.
I rubbed my arm. “Yes. It took five campaigns, but finally King Ahmose prevailed. He burned Avaris to the ground, then chased the Chiefs of the Foreign Lands to their fortress at Sharuhen in southern Retenu. King Ahmose defeated the wretches in another great battle there after a three–year long siege. That finally ended the peril from the North.”
“And Ahmose rebuilt Avaris, and I’ve expanded it during my reign,” Thut said. “The wars against those wretches made us into a military power. The army was still not professional, but it was experienced and had gained new weapons. The occupation by the wretches also dispelled the myth that the deserts to either side of the river valley insulated us from our enemies. We knew from then on we’d have to fight to protect what is ours.”
“King Ahmose founded your house,” I told Amenhotep. “Your father and you are his heirs. You have much to live up to.”
A few hours after sunset a day or so later, after Amenhotep and his friends had been turned over to the army commander who would train them, Thut and I sat on the sand at the edge of the sea, the rising moon’s light silver upon it, the surf pounding loud and rhythmically, lines of white–topped waves marching to shore and rushing nearly to our feet before receding. His arm was around my shoulders and I nestled against him, an arm around his waist, my head against his chest. I could hear the beating of his heart. The warm gentle breeze blew my hair about my face.
“Can you believe you’d already been king for a year when you were Amenhotep’s age?” I asked.
“Nearly half a century ago,” Thut replied. “The years have passed so quickly.”
I lifted my face to Thut and he bent and kissed me. “I wonder if his dreams for Kemet will be as bold as yours, My Love,” I said. “A man like you, with a vision and the perseverance to make it real, doesn’t come along every day. Hardly ever at all.”
“Amenhotep’s road will be easier than mine. He doesn’t have to build an empire from nothing – just hold it.”
“Then that will be my prayer for him, to the gods, that he hold it easily and well.”
Thut squeezed my shoulder. “Perseverance is an important trait, don’t you think, Mery?”
I knew exactly what he meant. “Thirteen years since you’ve taken me to wife. You never gave up on me.”
“We should have been married longer.” He sighed.
“Would our love have been so sweet, if it had come easier?”
“Maybe not. But I’m thankful for the time we’ve had.” Thut kissed me again.
I gazed at the stars splashed across the sky, brilliant points of light in the inky blackness. I pictured the gods looking down on us. “We’ve seen so much in our lifetimes, Thut. War, birth, death, strange lands, wonders… I thank the gods every day that I was raised in your father’s per’aa, that it was my fate to grow up with you, that you fell in love with me.”
“And I thank the gods I have you, Mery. What are dreams without someone to tell them to?”
I knew only too well. “Secrets, Thut. Horrible, horrible secrets that eat away at you and raise barriers between you and those you care for.” I dug a heel into the sand. “So many times I wanted to tell Nefer about us over the years. I wanted her to know I was in love. I wanted to talk to her about you, tell her how you made me feel. I wanted to share my happiness, wanted her to be happy for us. But so many things had happened between you and her that I couldn’t. I’ll always regret that, that I had to keep something so important from her.”
“I know you feel bad about Neferure, how things have turned out. She could have accepted our marriage, you know. She still could. Hasn’t she punished you long enough? And me? You know she isn’t really angry with you. She’s angry with me. She just can’t take it out on me. Like my mother couldn’t take her anger out on Nefer’s mother. Nefer makes you suffer like my mother makes Nefer suffer.”
“Its been hard, being apart from Nefer. She was a sister to me for so long.”
“She’s my sister too, Mery. Sometimes I wish I’d done things differently. But I did what I had to at the time, what I thought best. When her mother died times were different. My throne was not secure as it is now. It’s not easy being a king. I made the best decisions I could at the time. I’m sorry you’ve had to live with their consequences.”
“Do you know what Nefer told me after you gave your speech to your commanders at Yehem? She said she’d never seen you like that before – driven, passionate, commanding. She said if she’d tried to hold her mother’s throne she never would have prevailed against you.”
“I’m glad she didn’t try. I dreaded the thought of facing her in battle, of executing her as a traitor.”
“Nefer never had the stomach to be king, Thut. Her mother forced her to step onto that path. Your marriages pushed her a few steps down the path. But your mother greatly exaggerated the threat she posed to you – and continues to. When Nefer sent me to negotiate with you, she told me not to agree to your terms unless you agreed she would be your Great Wife and her son would be your heir. You know I returned to her with much less, and the promise she’d face public humiliation. But it didn’t take much convincing on my part for her to yield to you. And it wasn’t because I was such a compelling diplomat.”
Thut brushed the hair from my face. “Don’t sell yourself short, Mer
y. You can be very persuasive when you want to be.” He stroked my cheek. “Knowing what you do know, how our marriage separated you from Neferure, would you have changed your answer on the banks of the Euphrates?”
I kissed him. “No, My Love. I don’t regret that decision – I embrace it. I got to spend part of my life with the Beauty of Re. Now I spend it with the Strong Bull Rising in Waset. I wanted to have you both at the same time, but that wasn’t possible. But think how poor my life would have been without having each of you. I think I had you both at the right times in my life.” I lifted his fingers to my lips and kissed them. “I can’t conceive of what my life would have been like without you.”
1431 BC
Regnal Year 49 – Thutmose III
“Rekhmire has invited me to see his new tomb. And I’ve a mind to visit my temple of millions of years. Would you like to join me, Mery?” Thut asked.
I accepted gladly. We embarked from the quay of Iput–Isut’s per’aa in a small boat, richly decorated with gold, rowed by two dozen oarsmen, and soon reached the western shore. The day was hot; the sky cloudless and bright blue. A few hawks traced lazy circles above us, and the sounds of Waset drifted to us on the hint of breeze. A chariot was waiting on the west bank; Thut laughingly yielded and allowed me to drive. The matched pair of white horses were spirited and soon, after passing through the wide green cultivated strip and then galloping for all too brief a time across the desert, we reached the hill of Qurna, centered in a flat plain in a bay of sheer cliffs.
Leaving our chariot in the care of several Medjay bodyguards who had accompanied us in a chariot of their own, Thut and I climbed the short steep hill, our feet raising puffs of dust. Vizier Rekhmire was waiting at the mouth of his tomb, along with his family. He’d taken the place of his late predecessor in office, Useramen, nearly a decade earlier. “You remember my wife, Meryt, Majesties, and my sons Menkeperreseneb and Amenhotep and Senusert and Mery and Baki. And of course, Neferweben, though I don’t believe you’ve met his new wife, Bet.”
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