Senemut’s eyes widened in shock and he stepped back a pace. “The prince’s mother is Lady Isis, one of the lesser wives in your royal husband’s harem. She is lowborn and uneducated. She has no training to rule Egypt. Surely, Your Majesty knows that she is totally unsuitable.”
“Of course, of course. I had forgotten,” Hattie placated him. It seemed all she could do was put her foot in her mouth! “You are right.”
“You are the daughter of the king,” he continued. “You are of royal blood. It is your duty to serve as Tuthmosis’s regent.”
“Aye, I suppose it is.” She sighed. “Well, then, I intend to befriend the boy. If I am to rule with him, I would like the relationship to be amicable.”
“May I suggest that you send young Tuthmosis away to train with the army? The discipline would be good for him. It might give him the maturity he lacks, and it will teach him respect for authority. Hapuseneb, the high priest, agrees with me.”
“The army? At his age? He is just a boy! Nay, I do not think that is a good idea.” She shook her head. “There must be another way to make him more amenable without banishing him.”
“As you wish, Majesty,” Senemut said stiffly, a touch of disapproval in his tone. “But I fear it will be more difficult than you foresee.”
“Mayhap you are right. Oh, Senemut, I know not what to do! If you are angry with me, then I have no one to turn to.” She had to be careful…she couldn’t afford to alienate her only friend in this time.
His expression softened. “I am not angry, Hattie. I wish to help you in any way I can. Surely you know that.”
“Then sit with me, please.” She gestured to the stool. “I need to ask you something.”
“Ask me anything you wish.” He pulled the stool close to the bed and sat down.
“I want you to serve as my…my advisor,” she said slowly, watching his face as she spoke. “I need someone I can rely on, someone close to me whom I can trust. My memory is still faulty from my illness.” She winced at the white lie she was forced to tell him. But he would never accept the truth about her origin. Would he? And she didn’t yet know him well enough to trust him with her life.
“I am honored you feel you can rely on me, and I will happily assist you in any way I can,” he answered, his expression grave. “But I must spend many hours each day tutoring Neferure. Mayhap someone else could assist you? Ineni or Ahmose-Pennekheb? They both served your royal husband faithfully.”
She shook her head. “There is no one else I trust. It must be you. Someone new can be found to tutor the princess, is that not so?”
Senemut smiled at her and her heart stopped. “Of course, if Your Majesty wishes. Might I suggest Senimen to tutor the little one? She likes him well enough, and he is most eager to advance in your service.”
“Good! It is settled then. Inform him in the morning. And now, you shall be my advisor.” She sighed. “You have no idea how relieved and grateful I am.” She reached out impulsively and took his hand.
At first, he attempted to jerk his hand away, but Hattie clasped it firmly, not allowing him to pull back. After a moment, he squeezed her hand, covering it with both of his.
Heat coursed through her body. She was the queen, and no one dared touch her except her servant, Nesi. Even Senemut would not presume to be so forward, save in moments of dire need. She hadn’t realized until this moment how starved she was for human contact, the touch of a man’s hand. She clung to him.
He raised his other hand to her face, hesitated, and then stroked her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. His caress was feather-light, yet she felt it in every fiber of her body. She was drowning in his gaze.
“Senemut,” she breathed. “Senemut, I…” She reached out to him with her free hand, then shook herself and gently extracted her fingers from his. This was no time to get lost in a romantic haze—she had work to do. “We must make your position official. You need a title, so no one can question your authority. What do you suggest?”
Senemut’s face looked like a sleeper’s, awakening from a dream. “I know not…whatever Your Majesty wishes,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“Hattie, please,” she murmured.
“Aye. Hattie. In private,” he amended. “I dare not take such liberties in public.”
“Very well…for the present,” she said. “Your title must be above reproach. There must be no one higher than you. You must be my most revered advisor. No one must be able to countermand you, save me. I know not what the title should be, Senemut. Advise me.”
“Hattie, are you truly unable to recall?”
“Aye, I am afraid it is true.”
“Then, you must name me Steward of Amun, though I hesitate to suggest such an honor.” He bowed his head.
“Steward of Amun?” Hattie frowned. “That does not sound important enough. Steward sounds like the title of a household servant. Are you certain that will do?”
“I assure you, it is the most important position in the two lands, save only High Priest of Amun and, of course, Pharaoh.”
“Very well, then. Steward of Amun you shall be, my most trusted advisor, and—” She raised his chin gently and smiled into his eyes. “—my friend.”
CHAPTER 8
“Steward of Amun! Can you believe it?” Hapuseneb asked bitterly, spinning around to face the general across the small room.
He knew the answer before Snefru gave it. The fury was plainly marked on the soldier’s face.
“It is preposterous! I should have been named steward. Did I not faithfully serve His Majesty Tuthmosis, father of Hatshepsut, for years?” Snefru snapped, halting long enough in his pacing to glare at the priest.
“The man is common-born and completely unsuitable,” Hapuseneb went on. Snefru was a good partner in conspiracy, but had a short attention span. Keeping his anger white-hot was a little security measure that Hapuseneb had every intention of using to its fullest advantage. “But what can one expect with a soft-hearted woman as Regent? His handsome face has turned her head. Pah!” He shook his head in disgust. “We must do something about her. She is dangerous and she has become a liability.”
“Aye, so you say. But words accomplish nothing. When do we act?”
“Watch your tongue,” Hapuseneb growled. “I do not need commands from you, only loyalty. I will think of something soon, something that will not fail, and we shall be rid of her. And the usurper Senemut also.”
* * *
Hori bowed as he entered Senemut’s office. “You wished to see me, Lord?” Clucking his tongue disapprovingly, he hastened to light the lamp. “Why sit you here in the dark?”
Senemut looked up from the papyrus he absently rolled and unrolled. “I am sorry. I did not realize that night was upon us. Please, Hori, sit with me.” He gestured at a stool to his right. “I have news and I wish you to be the first to hear it.”
Hori grinned. “It is my pleasure.” He seated himself gingerly and heaved a deep sigh of contentment. “What is the news?”
Senemut stifled a smile. Hori’s rheumatism troubled him more frequently these days, yet he refused to slow down or relinquish any of his duties. So Senemut found as many excuses as he could to insist that the older man sit and rest. “I have been granted a new title and position by Her Gracious Majesty Hatshepsut.”
“Oh, have you?” Hori’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “And what title did Her Majesty see fit to confer upon you?”
“It is a most honorable one,” Senemut said, drawing out the tale and watching Hori from the corner of his eye. “She suggested it this morning. Of course, I told her I was unworthy of such great favor.”
“Unworthy? By Amun, it had best be worthy of you or I will…” Hori leaned forward, fists clenched.
“Oh, it is most prestigious, Hori, I vow,” Senemut said, laughing. “Do not fear; she has offered no insults to your once-wayward charge.”
Hori cuffed him lightly, then leaned back and folded his arms. “Shame on you for provoking
an old man! End the suspense, I pray, and tell me your news before I expire of vexation.”
“Very well,” Senemut said, still chuckling. “I will torment you no further. Hatshepsut has named me Steward of Amun.”
Hori gasped, his eyes wide. “Steward of Amun? Truly?”
Senemut nodded. “She will assign Senimen to tutor little Neferure. That will free me to be her closest advisor, to assist her in any fashion I may.”
Hori clapped his hands. “I have known since your childhood that you were destined for greatness. But I dared not believe you would rise so high! Praise Amun for his bounty.”
“Aye, well, you have always held great aspirations on my behalf. No man could ask for a more enthusiastic advocate,” Senemut said. “I did not believe this was possible, since I am not of noble birth. I must confess I am still mystified by it.”
“Why?” Hori narrowed his eyes. “Has someone implied you are not qualified for the position?”
“Oh, I am most certainly qualified.” Senemut shook his head and frowned. “Nay, it is Her Majesty who continues to mystify me.”
“In what way? Is she still confused, still having problems with her memory?”
“Nay, she seems more decisive now. Her memory is improving, though she still asks questions on occasion that she should know the answer to. But her judgments are…well, they seem most unlike her.” He spread his hands. “I know not how to describe it.”
“What decision of Her Majesty’s do you find so unusual?”
“Well…” Senemut paused, then grinned. “Of course, there is the matter of my unexpected advancement in her service. But we have already discussed my aptness for the position.” He leaned forward and motioned Hori closer. “This morning, Her Majesty suggested…” He looked around the room swiftly. “You must swear to reveal this to no one, Hori. Swear!”
“Aye, I swear,” Hori said, gesturing irritably. “Get on with it.”
“Very well. I will hold you to your word.” Senemut dropped his voice. “Her Majesty suggested that the Lady Isis serve as regent for Tuthmosis.”
Hori reared back in horror. “By the sacred eye of Horus! Is this true?”
Senemut nodded. “Of course, I told Her Majesty that the Lady Isis is common-born and not suitable to serve as regent. Her Majesty did not insist, so that brought an end to the discussion. Still, I am worried,” he murmured, his mind turning from Hori to Hatshepsut.
What was the explanation for her eccentric behavior? Was she still ill? Amun help her, had the illness affected her mind as well as her body?
“What do you suggest I do, Hori?” he added. “I am worried about Hattie. I wish to be of as much help to her as…”
“Hattie?” Hori eyed him shrewdly. “How is it you call Her Glorious Majesty by a pet name of childhood?”
Senemut looked at Hori, and then dropped his glance under the older man’s perceptive gaze. “I…that is…Her Majesty requested I address her thus. In private,” he added, to soften the words.
“I like it not.” Hori sat back and scowled. “It is dangerous to befriend royalty. I have lived a long time, Senemut, and I cannot begin to count the number of friends of pharaoh who have disappeared suddenly and never been seen again—except in small, unidentifiable chunks that wash up on the shores of the Nile! I do not wish the same to happen to you.”
“Nor do I wish to grace the belly of a crocodile.” Senemut shuddered. “Yet Hattie—Her Majesty—says she has need of me. She seems so lonely, so dazed, so confused since the death of her husband, the Great God. How can I refuse a request from her?” Then, he continued more softly, “And I am not sure I wish to refuse her anything she requests.”
Hori shook his head. “This bodes ill for you, I fear. You are falling in love with her…nay, do not trouble yourself to deny it! It is writ clearly across your face—as clear as Ra shines above.” He pointed at Senemut. “Mark me well…no good can come of this.”
Senemut sighed. “You may be right, old friend, but I am as powerless to halt it as I am the flow of the Nile. I am under her spell, and naught can change that. She holds my heart in her hands.”
CHAPTER 9
“Make this stroke a little longer,” Senemut urged, leaning over Hattie’s shoulder. “Do not forget to add the ankh. There! You have done it correctly. You have written your name: Hatshepsut.”
Hattie dropped the brush and picked up the scrap of papyrus, scrutinizing it. The hieroglyphs were a bit straggly, but they were recognizable. Her training as an artist had paid off. She sighed with pleasure. “I thank you for your help, Senemut! I cannot believe that I must learn to write again. My memory has played me false,” she said, then winced, a little alarmed at how easily the lie now came to her lips.
“You are learning rapidly, Hattie. It is a pleasure to have such an apt pupil. And such a beautiful one,” he added, smiling.
Hattie stared at him, her cheeks growing warm. “Why, Senemut! I believe this is the first time you have paid me a compliment. I thank you.”
The laugh lines around his eyes grew deeper as his smile broadened. “You have been forthright with me, and have honored me with your trust. I am glad to give you my trust in return, and speak to you the words of my heart.”
Hattie groaned inwardly. She trusted Senemut implicitly, it was true, yet she had not given him the complete truth in return. She hadn’t told him who she really was, or how she came to be there. Instead, she’d stuck to the glib lie that now came so easily out of her mouth. She longed to tell him the truth, but didn’t dare. The truth was too fantastic for the most educated twenty-first century mind to accept. How could she expect Senemut to believe it?
On the other hand, ancient Egypt was rife with belief in magic, spells and incantations, and the inexplicable doings of gods and goddesses. Perhaps Senemut would have little trouble accepting her bizarre tale as fact. Didn’t she owe it to him to give him the opportunity to know and embrace the truth? Had she underestimated him?
Hattie cleared her throat. “Senemut, I have something I must tell you—”
A messenger burst into the room at that moment and dropped to his knees, cutting short her faltering confession. “Majesty!” he cried. “Forgive my intrusion. I bear a most important message!” He halted, panting, looking from Hattie to Senemut and back again.
Hattie glanced at Senemut, then turned to the messenger. “Very well. Give me the message.”
The messenger rose and passed a papyrus scroll to her. “It is from the Great Army General Snefru, Majesty.”
She unrolled the scroll and scrutinized it. Her reading ability was still far too new to allow her to decipher it accurately. Silently, she passed the scroll to Senemut.
Senemut scanned the papyrus, then turned to the messenger. “You may go.”
The messenger bowed and hastened from the room.
Senemut turned to Hattie, his expression grave. “Snefru says that Nubia is rebelling. He awaits your orders.”
Hattie was in over her head with the intricacies of local politics. Geography had never been her strong suit, even in her own time, and here all the countries bore unfamiliar names. “Nubia is rebelling? Why? I do not understand.”
“A change of pharaohs is often viewed as an opportunity to rebel—because the reins of power are held a little slackly at such times, or mayhap just to test the mettle of the new ruler. It is best to crush such uprisings quickly, before they get out of hand.” His voice was harsh.
“Crush the uprising? I do not like the sound of that. Could we not send an ambassador to negotiate for peace? Chancellor Neshi, mayhap?”
“The time for diplomacy is past,” Senemut insisted. “The Nubians are a vassal state, and have no authority to rebel against their rulers. It is vital that Egypt defend and maintain her borders, her territory. If one such rebellion is overlooked, every vassal state will soon rebel. It must be stopped at once. I feel certain Chancellor Neshi would agree with me.”
Fear and indecision gripped Hattie. She w
as certain the real Hatshepsut would have spent a lifetime in training for this moment, and would know exactly what to do. She would have no qualms about ordering troops into action, and having those troops slaughter every last man, woman and child who dared to attempt to throw off her rule. Wasn’t that the way it worked in antiquity?
But Hattie hadn’t been trained and educated for that. She wasn’t a fearless warrior. She was simply an artist, sadly out of her depth in the mysteries and intrigues of an ancient, bloodthirsty world.
A fragrant breeze caressed her cheek. Startled, she looked around for the source. It was a hot, windless day, as were most days in Egypt. The curtain over her door didn’t move, yet she felt the sensation again—this time, more strongly. It was like the presence she had felt in the museum, the voice that urged her to touch the necklace. “Trust Senemut,” the ethereal voice whispered.
Hattie whipped around. She and Senemut were the only ones in the room. She strode to the door and jerked open the curtain. The hallway was empty. Was she going crazy? Or had the mysterious voice followed her from her own time?
“What is it, Hattie?” Senemut’s voice broke in on her thoughts.
Turning back to face him, she sighed. “Nothing, nothing. I just thought I heard…never mind.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. Regardless of the source of the voice—her subconscious or a ghost—the advice was sound. She had to rely on Senemut’s counsel and her own commonsense to guide her in this crisis. She had no choice.
“I agree Nubia’s rebellion must be put down,” she told him. “What do you suggest?”
“You must crush the uprising,” he repeated.
“Aye, but how? I mean, how many troops shall I send? What kind of equipment? What about a battle plan? What shall I tell General Snefru? You agreed to be my advisor, Senemut. I need your recommendations.”
“I see. Very well. I would suggest…” He paused and pursed his lips. “I suggest you send six hosts of infantry and charioteers, together with their horses and equipment, up the Nile to quell the uprising at once. That should be sufficient. Tell the general to accept nothing less than total surrender. He will know what to do.”
Lady of the Two Lands Page 5
