“Just to be safe, we will not wait for news that her foolish expedition to Punt has failed. Tonight, we will put our primary plan into action.”
Snefru rose from his stool, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You mean…?”
Hapuseneb chuckled. Trust Snefru to be enthusiastic about any type of action, regardless of the end result. “Aye. Tonight, her favorite, the common-born Senemut, dies.”
* * *
Hattie heard a polite cough outside her chambers. “Come in,” she said.
An unfamiliar servant entered and bowed low. The palace was overrun with servants. There was no way to recognize each and every one.
“What is it? You may rise.”
“Majesty, the Lord Senemut, Steward of Amun, bids you join him in Your Highness’s private lotus garden for an evening walk,” the servant said, keeping his face averted from hers. He spoke as if he had carefully rehearsed his lines.
“He does?” Hattie frowned. “Why did he not say as much to me? Why does he send a messenger?”
“I know not, Divine One,” the servant murmured. “I have only done as I was instructed…nothing more.”
“Of course, of course,” Hattie said. Most of the servants were afraid to speak in her presence; at least this one answered her questions. “Thank you. You may go.”
The servant bowed deeply, turned and left the room.
“Why did he not come here and ask me himself?” Hattie said aloud. Shrugging, she slipped on her sandals and snatched a white woolen cloak from a carved cedar chest. Egyptian night air was sometimes chilly. Wrapping the cloak around her, she hastened to the entrance of the private walled garden.
The air in the garden was delightfully cool, and carried the scent of lotus blossoms that crowded the small, rectangular pool. Ducks and geese quacked and flapped their wings as they settled down for the night on the grassy banks of the pool. Acacia, date palm and fig trees nodded around the borders of the tiny garden, adding deep shadows to the already-murky environment.
In the dim light of the crescent moon, Hattie thought she could make out a figure seated on a stone bench under a fig tree. “Senemut? Is that you?” she called.
The figure rose and came toward her. “Aye, Hattie.” He put his arms around her and embraced her. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course,” she murmured against his shoulder. “I always miss you when you are not with me.” She lifted her face to his and smiled. “What a lovely idea, to walk in the garden at night, away from prying eyes. I am so happy you thought of it!”
“I thought of it? Hai, you and your jokes,” Senemut muttered as he claimed her lips with his.
Hattie pushed on his chest and leaned back in his arms. “What do you mean, jokes? Did you not send me a message asking me to meet you here?”
Senemut frowned. “Nay, I sent you no such message.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I received a message from you, asking that I meet you here. I believe the message said you wanted to discuss an important matter of state. Did you not send this message?”
“Nay, I did not.” A duck quacked nearby and Hattie’s heart jumped to her throat. “What is happening? Someone is manipulating us, and I fear it is for an evil purpose.”
“I am afraid you may be right. Who brought you this message that you were told was from me?”
“A servant. I did not recognize him and he kept his face averted from me.” She grimaced. “I should have been suspicious of his behavior. Most servants fear me, yet he appeared unafraid to answer my questions.”
“It is not your fault,” Senemut murmured. “Why should you be suspicious? You say he was a servant. What did he look like?”
“I did not see his face,” she repeated. “He wore a common, coarsely-woven kilt. He had no wig, and his head was shaved. He was of medium height and build.” She spread her hands helplessly. “I fear I can tell you nothing more. I paid him scant attention.”
“Hmm. That sounds like the messenger who brought me the request to join you here. Tell me, did he give you a written message, or was it spoken?”
“The message was spoken,” Hattie said, then sighed. “It seemed strange you would contact me thus, but I thought mayhap you were busy.”
“And I thought the same,” Senemut confessed. Suddenly, he whirled around. “Ast! Did you hear that?”
“Aye,” she whispered, her heart lurching again. “I think it came from over there in the corner under the acacia tree…”
At that moment, a dark figure burst out from under the tree she had pointed to, heading straight for Senemut and Hattie.
“Run, Hattie!” Senemut yelled over his shoulder as he turned to meet the threat.
Hattie, however, had no intention of abandoning him. She stood frozen, not sure what was happening or how to react. Then she saw something that turned her blood to ice. The intruder racing toward Senemut had raised his hand and the pale moonlight glinted on the blade of a wicked-looking knife clenched in his fist. “Watch out! He has a knife!” she shouted.
Senemut grasped the intruder’s arms and they struggled fiercely, silently. Hattie moved around the two, trying to get behind the assailant so she could trip him.
“Run!” Senemut repeated, turning his gaze to her for an instant.
That instant was all the attacker needed. Jerking free the hand that gripped the knife, he plunged it down into Senemut’s chest, then turned and, climbing the acacia tree with the agility of a monkey, jumped over the wall and vanished.
Senemut groaned and slumped to the ground.
“Senemut!” Hattie rushed to him and lifted his head onto her lap. “Are you all right? Speak to me, please!” She felt warm blood flowing from the wound in his chest. Tearing off her cloak, she wadded it up and pressed it against the wound, holding it in place with both hands.
His eyelids fluttered open. “I…I am sorry, Hattie…” he whispered. “Sorry I could not…could not protect you.” He raised his hand to her face, then he closed his eyes and his hand dropped onto her lap.
“Nay, Senemut,” she cried, tears flowing down her cheeks. “You cannot leave me! I need you. You must not die!”
Senemut didn’t respond. He was unconscious…or dead?
“Guards!” she screamed. “Guards! Come to me at once!”
Almost immediately, the sound of clattering footsteps converged on her position. Cradling Senemut’s head on her lap, she allowed her tears to rain down and mix with his blood, which oozed slowly through her cloak and between her outspread fingers. She prayed, as she had never prayed before, that Senemut could be saved. If he couldn’t, she would be left to rule Egypt friendless and alone, without the man she trusted—and without the man she loved.
* * *
“It is done, my friend.” Hapuseneb smiled broadly at the surprise evident on Snefru’s face, quickly replaced by triumph. “Senemut is finished. The assassin has already been sent to meet the gods, so none will be the wiser to our involvement.”
Snefru rubbed his hands together with glee. “Amun be praised! And she will be next, will she not?”
“Aye. But you must have patience,” Hapuseneb cautioned. “We must not draw any undue attention to ourselves. Return to your post with the army and say nothing. Do not indicate you have any knowledge of Senemut’s death. We must wait for the news to spread in a natural fashion.” He needed to keep Snefru calm. Amun forbid, Snefru should blunder and give them away now.
“I know how to handle myself,” Snefru grumbled, glaring at him. “You have little faith in me, priest.”
“And with good reason,” Hapuseneb retorted. Great Amun, who did this…this soldier think he was, treating him with such disrespect? “What we do is punishable by death—the most hideous, painful kind of death. I, for one, do not wish to die in such a fashion.”
“Nor do I wish this,” Snefru said, holding up his hands. “Fear not, I shall remain as silent as the dead. But I wish to know when you will make your move a
gainst Hatshepsut. My patience grows weary.”
“Do not worry,” Hapuseneb said, smiling thinly. Once again, he had brought Snefru into line, but the sooner this was over, the better. He had no intention of letting this blundering fool ruin him. “Without Senemut whispering in her ear, our little pharaoh will soon allow the governing of Egypt to flounder. She is not fit for such work.
“And once the people see her for what she is—a weak, silly woman—they will do our work for us. Hatshepsut will be no more, our hands will be clean, and the rightful heir will take the throne of the Two Lands, with his trusted advisors by his side.”
CHAPTER 22
Senemut was not dead, but he might as well have been, for all the royal physician could do for him. The physician placed sacred scarabs carved from alabaster and other charms on various parts of his body, chanted prayers to numerous gods, and fastened a protective bracelet around each wrist. When, at last, he attempted to place a noxious-smelling salve on the wound, Hattie could stand no more. She ordered him out of the room and he left, though he cast more than one perplexed glance behind him.
“Blast this primitive culture,” she muttered when he had gone. “Senemut, I am sorry, but you will have to make do with me as your physician. My own physician is no better than a witch doctor. I vow on my life I will save you, my dearest love. I will not lose you now!”
Senemut groaned, but didn’t open his eyes. He lay in her bed, where she had bade the guards carry him, floating in and out of consciousness. At least the bleeding had stopped.
Gently, Hattie stripped the torn and bloodstained cloak and kilt from his body. Then, using a bowl of water and a clean linen rag, she bathed the wound as best she could. It was high up on the left side of his chest. It was a miracle it had missed his heart and, apparently, his lungs as well. It seemed to be a clean thrust, and she prayed that meant there would be no infection.
“Senemut, I must disinfect your wound,” she murmured, not knowing if he could hear her. “I fear it will hurt, and for that, I am sorry. But it must be done.” Wincing, she poured a small amount of wine directly over the wound, then blotted the area and poured a bit more. Senemut made no sound…he was unconscious again. Sighing, Hattie took clean strips of linen and bound the injury as best she could. What she wouldn’t give for some penicillin!
Senemut was deathly pale, and he had lost a great deal of blood. Since there was no possibility of a blood transfusion, Hattie knew all she could do was try to keep the wound clean and free from infection, and get some nourishment into him so his body could concentrate all its energies on healing. But what food would be best? What food could he tolerate? Certainly, he couldn’t sit up and chew.
She called for her head chef. He came to her almost at once. “I want you to prepare something special and nourishing for Lord Senemut,” she said.
“Of course, Your Majesty. What shall I make?” he asked, bowing.
“Take a good piece of beef. Take care that it has little fat on it. Put it in a pot and cover it with water; then, cover the pot and cook it over the fire until the meat falls from the bones.”
The chef nodded. “And shall I bring you this boiled meat?”
Hattie shook her head. “Nay. Use the special sieve my baker uses to sift the flour, and strain the meat and bones from the broth. Take care you save the broth in a clean container, and bring it to me. You may discard the meat and bones, or use the meat as you choose in another dish.”
“Just the liquid, Your Majesty?” The chef seemed puzzled. “Surely, there is more nourishment in the meat itself, or in the bone marrow?”
“Aye, you may be correct,” she said. “But Lord Senemut will only be able to tolerate liquids for some time yet, I fear.”
“As you wish, Radiant One. I shall see to it immediately.” The chef bowed again and departed.
For the next three days, Hattie didn’t leave Senemut’s side. She bathed and dressed his wound several times a day, and fed him spoonfuls of broth whenever he appeared conscious. She slept in a chair next to the low bed, one arm draped across him so she would awaken immediately if he moved or needed something. Nesi stayed on guard outside the door, turning away visitors and responding promptly to Hattie’s every request.
On the evening of the third day, Senemut appeared to be resting easier and his color was much improved. Hattie dropped off into a deep slumber, her first real sleep since he had been stabbed.
Hattie awoke to the sound of birds singing. She opened her eyes a slit. Sunlight streamed in through the high window of her room. Gasping, she leapt to a stand. How could she have slept the night through without checking once on Senemut?
She looked down on him, fearful of what she might find. His eyes were open and he watched her with a faint smile. “Must you make so much noise in the room of a sick man?” he whispered. “Your leaping about makes my head pound.” He winked.
“Senemut!” She dropped to her knees next to the bed and took his hand, pressing it to her cheek. “Thank Amun, you are awake! How do you feel?”
“I feel as if a hippopotamus has been using me for a chair,” he grumbled. Then his expression softened. “I have had strange dreams and visions, but in all of them you were there, safeguarding me. I thank you for my life. I know I owe it to you and your vigilance.”
Hattie stroked his forehead. “You will be all right now. Your wound is healing. You are fortunate it pierced no vital organs. All you need is nourishing food and rest.”
“I have rested enough,” he said. “But food…I confess, I am hungry enough to eat a crocodile.”
“I can remedy that.” Hattie clapped her hands and Nesi appeared at once.
“Aye, Majesty?”
“Bring some of the special bread, roasted fish, and wine for Lord Senemut,” she told the servant.
Nesi scurried away and soon returned with the tray of food. Hattie helped Senemut maneuver to a semi-upright position, then fed him morsels of food and sips of wine. At last, he raised his hand. “I cannot hold more,” he said with a sigh. “That was the best meal I can recall.”
“I am so happy to see you awake and eating,” Hattie said. “You will grow stronger now, and soon you will be back on your feet. Senemut, I was afraid I would lose you.” She clasped his hand and pressed it to her heart. “I could not survive without you! Promise me you will be more careful in the future.”
“Aye, Your Majesty. I promise,” he said, smiling. “I must see to your safety as you saw to mine. I cannot afford to be weak and ill. I must guard you.”
“We shall guard each other,” Hattie declared.
CHAPTER 23
“This is preposterous!” Hapuseneb roared. “How is it that Senemut still lives?” He paced across the floor, then turned to face Snefru. “Are the gods against us? Are we doomed to fail with each attempt we make?”
“I know not,” Snefru said irritably. “It seems there is a greater power watching over those two, else they would both be dead by now. But I remain confident we can find a way to rid ourselves of them, if we do not concede defeat.”
“I am not so sure.” Hapuseneb slumped onto a chair. Every attempt he’d made had been thwarted, every effort neatly sidestepped. Was he angering the gods in his attempt to dethrone Hatshepsut? “I think mayhap we are attempting the impossible. The gods must wish that woman to stay on the throne. If they do not wish so, why have we not succeeded? Senemut was stabbed and should have died, yet he is recovering and regaining his strength.”
Senemut was recovering his strength, no doubt, due to an unfortunate combination of his strong constitution, lack of skill on the part of the assassin, and Hatshepsut refusing the services of the physician Hapuseneb had bribed. But he had no intention of making Snefru aware of his other operatives. The man was much too rash to be trusted with such information “Or mayhap it is not the gods,” he added. “Possibly Hatshepsut herself has some magic powers we are unaware of, beyond her simple love spells and charms.”
“Aye, that might be it.
” Snefru nodded thoughtfully. “Perchance we err in trying to rid ourselves of her through mortal means. We might be better served through using magic. But—” He thumped his chest. “—I am no sorcerer. I am a soldier, and the only means I have at my disposal are men and weapons. If there is to be magic, you must provide it, Hapuseneb.”
Hapuseneb’s eyes brightened and he straightened. At last, the fool had come up with a valuable suggestion! “I think you are right. We must dispose of her with a spell of some kind. I dare not try to put a poison into her drink this time. She would suspect as much. Possibly a spell on an object of some kind?” He nodded thoughtfully and pursed his lips. “Aye, that might do it.”
“I will leave that to you. In the meantime, I will wait for an opportunity to strike again at Senemut. No matter how powerful her magic is, she cannot be watchful all the time. Sooner or later, I will find an opportunity, and I will seize it.” Snefru smiled like a crocodile about to devour a tender gazelle that had wandered too close to the water. “I am confident we will succeed yet.”
* * *
“You treat me like an infant,” Senemut grumbled. “I am tired of being confined to this room. I wish to walk through the palace, or mayhap sit in the garden. I need fresh air!”
Hattie shuddered. “I do not think I can endure that garden, and I wish you would avoid it also. I confess I am reluctant to leave this room, since we know not who your would-be assassin was, or who sent him.”
He stroked her cheek. “I understand, little warrior. You have been so brave! But we cannot live our lives in fear. We must be cautious, but we must go on.”
“I suppose you are right.” She sighed. “Very well, let us take a stroll through the palace. We will prove you are alive and well, and that the traitors did not succeed in taking your life. Mayhap they will think twice before trying again. But I have no intention of visiting the garden.”
“That is a fair bargain.” Senemut rose slowly and crossed the room to her. “You see? I am strong. You need not worry.”
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