“Aye, that seems logical, I suppose. You are certain there is no way to avoid bloodshed?”
Senemut slowly shook his head.
Hattie sighed with resignation. “All right, it shall be done. But no women and children are to be killed—only soldiers. I want that made perfectly clear.”
“I do not think that is wise. The Nubians must be shown that they dare not rebel against the forces of Egypt.” His jaw tightened. “Mercy will only convince them you are weak, and they will try again.”
Hattie shook her head. “This point is not negotiable. No women and children will be killed. That is my order.”
“As you wish.” Senemut looked unconvinced. “There is one other point. It is customary for pharaoh to lead his troops into battle. Of course, Tuthmosis is too small and you are…well, under these circumstances, Snefru will lead the troops. He will—”
“Why do you think I would shrink from my duty?” she interrupted. Her stomach quivered wildly and her heart pounded, but she was determined to fulfill the role that had been thrust upon her. If she were to live Hatshepsut’s life, even for a short space of time, she must live it the way Hatshepsut would. She had no right to change things to suit her own twenty-first century sensibilities. Besides, what would happen if she changed the course that history had followed? Would she be unable to return to her own time, marooned forever in the past? She shuddered at the thought. “If it is customary for pharaoh to lead the troops, then as Regent, I shall do so. And you shall accompany me.”
Senemut stared at her, his eyes narrowed. A frown etched lines in his forehead. She matched him stubbornly look for look and waited an endless moment to hear his reply. What if he refused to go with her to Nubia? She needed his help and advice—she knew nothing about combat tactics and battle strategies. She did not dare make a fool of herself in front of her soldiers.
Even worse, what if he laughed at the thought of a woman as head of the armed forces? In her own time, women still struggled for equality in the military, and in antiquity, a female soldier was nearly unheard of. If she couldn’t win his respect, she had no hope of commanding a division of soldiers. Everything depended on him.
At last, his gaze softened. He lifted his hand to his shoulder in a salute. “Fierce little warrior,” he murmured. “It will be my very great honor to accompany the Lady of the Two Lands into battle. And I swear upon my eternal ka, I will protect you with my life.”
Hattie swallowed convulsively over the large lump that had suddenly materialized in her throat. She took his hand and kissed the palm swiftly. “Send the message, Senemut. Then come to my chambers. We have many preparations to make and a battle to plan.”
* * *
“The favor of the gods is with us,” Hapuseneb said, rubbing his hands together. “She has decided to lead the troops herself into battle against the Nubians. With any luck, our problem will be taken care of for us by Egypt’s enemies. What delicious irony! I could not have planned it better myself. I should thank the Nubians for rebelling.” He grinned. “But, of course, your carefully placed rumors of a weak woman on the throne gave them the…push they needed to decide the time was right for an uprising.”
“How did she come to this decision to lead the battle herself?” Snefru asked, lounging arrogantly in a carved wooden chair in Hapuseneb’s chamber. “I am astonished, I admit. Hatshepsut was ever a meek, timid woman. This is not like her.”
“I did not need soil my hands. That traitor, Senemut, must have convinced Her Majesty to go. Little does he know that, in his own bumbling way, he is serving our ends.” Hapuseneb was pleased now that he had drawn Snefru into the conspiracy. Snefru could oversee the Nubian campaign personally, and make sure that Hatshepsut met with a fatal mishap. Such things were regrettable, but they happened often on the field of battle and thus would not be deemed suspicious.
Snefru nodded. “Aye! And when we are rid of her, we shall rid ourselves of him as well. Then you will rule Egypt, through the boy, and I shall be Steward of Amun. Together, we will conquer the world!”
The two men laughed, then raised their wine goblets in toast to the gods.
CHAPTER 10
With Senemut at her side, Hattie left her cabin in the center of the two-hundred-foot ship, moved past the oarsmen rowing, and leaned over the railing next to the intricately carved arched prow of the Avenging Falcon. She amused herself by watching the sparkling waters of the Nile slip silently past. After a few minutes a moderate wind arose, the large rectangular sail went up, and the oarsmen found themselves with a respite from their heavy labor.
To Hattie, the trip was a magical interlude, one sleepy sunlit day drifting into the next.
Senemut proved to be a most interesting travel companion, telling story after story of Egypt, her pharaohs, and her people. He seemed to know the story behind every imposing monument and obscure temple they passed. They lounged together at the rail, the days filled with laughter and wonder, while she sketched the oarsmen at work, fishermen casting their nets, farmers working in the fields, crocodiles sprawling on the sandbanks.
And when she caught him unaware, she drew Senemut’s profile, outlined against setting sun. At night, in Hattie’s cabin, they dined together on fish and honey cakes and drank date wine. She couldn’t remember ever having known such happiness, or such peace. She seemed to be living in a dream.
But all sleepers awake, all dreams end, and this one would end shortly. The flotilla of ships would reach the Second Cataract the following day and the great Egyptian fort at Buhen, two hundred miles south of where their journey had begun. Then, the battle would begin in earnest. Hattie rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled despite the stifling afternoon heat.
Preparations for the campaign had been swift. Soldiers were mustered, chariots, horses, equipment, troops, and rowers loaded onto sailing ships, and the journey south to Nubia commenced. The prevailing wind from the north meant that the oarsmen had little work to do, simply resting on their oars and biding their time in case the wind should change or drop.
Only one part of the journey had been difficult. A stretch of rapids at the First Cataract proved much too violent to allow safe passage by ship, forcing the army and crew members to disembark, haul the vessels ashore by brute force, and drag them six miles farther south to bypass the rapids.
Hattie suggested harnessing the horses to the ships and allowing them to help with the task, but General Snefru insisted the horses’ strength be saved for the battle. The effects of the close confinement aboard ship would be enough for them to bear.
Senemut tried to convince Hattie to remain aboard the Avenging Falcon while the men dragged it past the rapids. She refused. If she expected the generals and common soldiers to respect her, she couldn’t afford to project the image of a soft, pampered woman. Instead, she traveled the six miles on foot, braving the sweltering heat and brutal desert sun to march at the head of her soldiers and crewmen, wearing the blue crown of war. Though none dared speak to her, she saw approval shining in her troops’ eyes, making every blister and aching muscle a badge of honor. Even Senemut, forced to admit that she was correct, nodded his approval.
Hattie had only one day left in which to rest and mentally prepare for the combat to come. Thinking of the impending battle made her stomach twitch. Trying to divert her thoughts, she turned to Senemut. “Tell me about your childhood. I know little about you. You have told me stories of everyone save yourself.”
Senemut smiled. “I fear there is not much to tell. I was born in Armant, south of Thebes. I have three brothers, Amenemhat, Minhotep and Pairy, and two sisters, Ahhotep and Nofret-Hor. We were not wealthy, but we were comfortable. My father saw to it that we each received a good education, the best he could provide.
“I joined the army, participated in a campaign or two, and distinguished myself enough to catch the eye of a highly-placed temple official.” He shrugged. “So I was transferred to an administrative position in the temple of Amun at Karnak, where I found favor in t
he eyes of your husband, the Great God. You know the rest.”
No, I don’t, Hattie thought. But I don’t dare push my luck by admitting it. “That sounds so…official. So lonely. Did you not have friends?”
He shook his head. “I had acquaintances. I did not have time for friends.”
“And you never married?”
“Nay.”
“Why not?”
Senemut turned from his absorbed study of the Nile to look into her eyes. “Because I never found a woman with whom I wanted to share my home and my life. Or mayhap, I never found a woman with whom I could share my life.”
Hattie tingled all over from the warmth of his gaze. “What do you mean? Surely, you could choose any woman in all Egypt.” She smiled. “I have seen the way the noblewomen fawn over you! You could have any of them.”
Senemut turned from her with a sigh and responded in a voice so soft, she was not certain whether she heard it with her ears, or with her heart. “Any woman, save the one I desire.”
Hattie longed for him with a sudden, fierce ache that she had never felt before. She wanted to seize him, cover his face with kisses, breathe in his scent. She wanted to tell him that she would marry him and bear his children. She reached out to him with a moan, but before she could touch him, she jerked her hand back.
It wasn’t fair to become involved with him. She didn’t belong in this time, and she had no intention of staying. As soon as she located the necklace, she would do her best to return to the twenty-first century immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was to leave him behind, grieving for her—or worse yet, to find himself suddenly confronted with the real Hatshepsut, a woman who might not be in love with him, who perhaps did not want him in the way he wanted her.
Hattie had no way of knowing what would happen to the body of Hatshepsut when she fled it to return to her own time. She still wasn’t certain if the presence she had felt on several occasions was a ghost or her imagination. If a ghost, would Hatshepsut’s spirit return from the land of the dead when Hattie returned to Chicago? Rejection might be harder for Senemut to bear than outright loss; neither would be pleasant.
Honesty compelled Hattie to admit she didn’t want to grieve for Senemut either. She wanted to return to her tidy, comfortable life with no strings left hanging, nothing out of place. So she vowed to do the sensible thing: avoid getting involved.
As she stared at his rugged profile outlined against the setting sun, her heart gave a painful lurch and a sob caught in her throat. It wouldn’t be an easy vow to honor.
* * *
Hattie sat on a stool, shielded from the sun, but not from the heat or the incessant, buzzing flies. Her tent, royal standards hanging sullenly in the motionless air, sat high atop a hill overlooking tomorrow’s battlefield, assuring her a commanding view of the entire horrific spectacle.
The sound of hammering, shouted orders and curses, and the whinnies of horses filled the camp. Most of the soldiers worked to set up tents, to put together chariots, or to sharpen spears and swords. Hattie, Senemut, and her generals turned their attention to mapping out their battle plan.
“The Nubians know little of strategy,” General Snefru said scornfully. “It should be a simple matter to defeat them. Their only tactic is to rush headlong at the enemy, hacking away with swords and battle axes.” A tall, powerfully built man, he strode relentlessly back and forth in the tent. Watching him made Hattie dizzy, and the graphic pictures his words evoked caused her stomach to leap with nausea.
She nodded. “How do we counter their assault?”
He moved closer, pointing to a rough representation of the battlefield on a scrap of papyrus. “We divide our forces into three segments, Majesty. When the enemy moves forward, two wings of five hundred men each will move around their flanks. Chariots will quickly cut off their route of escape to the rear, while infantry hems them in on both sides. When they are driven inevitably ahead of the chariots, the fifteen hundred soldiers remaining at the center will slaughter them. It will be a glorious victory for Your Majesty!”
She shivered at the all-too-vivid description. There was no way to make war sound glorious, or even respectable. It was a ruthless event, even when undertaken for the best of reasons. She sighed and turned to Senemut. “What do you think?”
He nodded. “It is a sensible plan, Majesty.”
“Very well then. Make it so. But there is one thing I insist on.”
Snefru, already on his way out of the tent, was brought up short. “Aye, Majesty?”
“There will be no women or children harmed.”
“But…but, Majesty!” he cried. “The soldiers have always enjoyed the spoils of war as part of their just reward for battle. Women and children are part of that incentive.”
Hattie shook her head stubbornly. “War is brutal enough. I expect my troops to act with the dignity befitting Egyptian soldiers. There will be no killing or raping of women or children. The battle will be honorable, or there will be no battle. Do you understand? See that my orders are obeyed, or the guilty ones will suffer the consequences.”
Snefru’s eyes widened and he scowled, but he dared not debate further. “Aye, Majesty. It shall be as you wish.” He left the tent hastily, casting hostile glances behind him.
“I know not if that was wise, Hattie,” Senemut said after Snefru was out of earshot. “It will be difficult to maintain the respect of your army if you appear to be softhearted. Snefru has always believed a weak pharaoh makes for a weak Egypt, which then becomes a target for conquest.”
“I am not weak,” Hattie retorted. “I am honorable. There is a difference.” She subsided into a gloomy silence, wondering if she could indeed call herself honorable, when tomorrow she would send perhaps thousands of men to their deaths. Where was the honor in that?
Dinner was a quiet affair. Hattie picked at her food. She had no appetite. Senemut tried to divert her attention with amusing tales of court gossip and intrigue, but she couldn’t concentrate. At last, he gave up.
“Go to bed now, Hattie, and rest. You will need all of your strength in the morning. I will sleep directly outside your tent. You need only call me if you wish anything.” He strode out of the tent, fastening the flap securely behind him.
Hattie moaned and sank down onto her cot, fearing that sleep was as far away as twenty-first century Chicago. Call him if she wished anything? She wished to spend the night in his arms, safe and secure; she wished to wake and find the impending battle was but a hideous dream; she wished tomorrow would never come. More than anything, she wished she had never been transported back to Hatshepsut’s Egypt.
* * *
Yet, Hattie did sleep. And soon Hatshepsut stood, shimmering, before her in the velvet darkness of her dream.
“You,” Hattie breathed. “You have to help me! I am no warrior. I cannot lead troops into battle. I cannot wage war!”
Hatshepsut smiled gently. “You have the heart of a warrior, though you lack the training. Trust in Senemut. Trust in the army. They will know what to do.”
“But surely a battle will not lead me to the name of the traitor who poisoned you,” Hattie protested. “You told me I must fulfill a mission, and then I could go home. But this is not part of my mission!”
“That is not correct,” Hatshepsut said, holding up a finger. “True, you are to find the traitor and protect Tuthmosis. But how can you complete your mission if Egypt falls to ruin around your ears? Nay, you must protect Egypt, strengthen her, rule her well until my return. Do not fail me in this.”
“Well, I am doing my best,” Hattie responded tartly. Her life had been disrupted beyond all reason, but she had tried to adjust to her new role and surroundings; yet Hatshepsut still had the temerity to lecture her? “But I am not a ruler, nor am I a soldier. I am simply an artist, sadly out of her element! Mayhap you should have chosen another, more suitable woman to complete your mission.”
Hatshepsut’s expression softened and she smiled graciously. “You are the
only person who can help me, and I am not ungrateful. It is vital to Egypt—nay, to the world—that Tuthmosis is protected, the traitor caught, history set right. Your mission is critical.” She frowned and reached out to Hattie. “But you must be wary. There is evil here, great evil, and you are in danger. Do not relax your vigilance.”
“Well, of course there is danger here,” Hattie snapped. “I am in the middle of a war zone!”
“The danger comes not from the battle itself,” Hatshepsut said. “I feel a presence here, covering all like a malevolent cloud. Mayhap the traitor himself lurks in some shadow. Be alert. Trust no one other than Senemut. He will protect you.”
“I trust him, do not fear,” Hattie murmured. “I trust him with my life.”
“As well you should.” Hatshepsut’s image shimmered and grew transparent, then vanished. “Protect Egypt and Tuthmosis. Do not fail me,” the disembodied voice added.
“Hatshepsut, Egypt, and the world are all depending on me,” Hattie muttered as she slipped deeper into sleep. “What more can go wrong?”
CHAPTER 11
The day dawned bright and clear, but the camp had been stirring since well before the sun rose. Hattie surveyed the preparations from her lofty perch atop the hill overlooking the battlefield. Grooms led horses to chariots, soldiers fastened on leather helmets and swords, and officers moved from company to company, giving orders and encouragement. Everything was running smoothly; her help was not needed. The best thing she could do for her troops was to stay out from underfoot.
She glanced across the field of battle as the warm light of dawn spread across the grassy plain. From what she could see, the Nubians were making their preparations at the far end of the field. Combat was inevitable.
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