by Marié Heese
Now that the gardens were flourishing, all was ready for the God to be brought across the river to spend one night with Hathor, goddess of love, beauty and joy, at Djeser-Djeseru. Usually, of course, Amen dwelt in isolation in the dark and lonely shrine at the heart of his temple at Karnak. But for the Feast of the Valley a group of priests would carry him out of his deep seclusion into the brilliant sunlight on his golden barque, then transport him across the river on his barge to the new temple, where religious rites would be performed. Excited crowds of people dressed in their best, together with dancers, jugglers and acrobats, would accompany the procession as far as they were allowed.
Once he reached the cool, dark heart of his own shrine, cut deep into the living rock behind the temple, only the Pharaoh and designated priests might gain access to perform the secret, sacred rites by the light of guttering torches and to set out the offerings to the God: meat and bread, wine and beer.
The people would depart to spend the night in the private tomb-chapels of their relations and ancestors. The night would be whiled away merrily with feasting and drinking by the light of hundreds of torches, as Thebans celebrated their reunion with the transfigured dead. At the dawning of the new day a religious ritual would wind up the festivities, and then the God would be conveyed back to the east bank and his gloomy, reclusive home at the heart of the Karnak temple.
Late one afternoon, some weeks before the Feast of the Valley, Senenmut and I sat at ease in one of my reception rooms, as we so often did. He had a large jug of beer; he never really enjoyed wine very much. I thought that he looked tired, as well he might, for the last few months had been a strain.
“Well,” I said, “my dear, devoted friend, it is done at last. Did you ever think, that first time that we saw the bay of Djeser-Djeseru together, and conceived of creating an extraordinary building there, that it would come to pass?”
“I always knew we could do it,” he said. “I knew that we had the determination – you, Majesty, and I. We dreamed it and we built the dream.”
“You built it,” I said. “Without your dedication, there would have been nothing.”
“Without your vision and unfailing support, there had been nothing either.”
“Well, there it stands. The most beautiful building in all the world.”
“Majesty is gracious,” he said, his tired face lighting up with pleasure.
“It requires a very special celebration,” I said, musingly. An idea had come to me. Some might say, an outrageous idea. Yet having thought it, it filled me with delight.
“Soon the Feast of the Valley will take place, and the God will come to the temple,” he reminded me.
“I know it. The God will have his night. One night of freedom and love. Just that once, the God may follow his heart in its time of fire and night. If the God may be allowed such freedom …”
He was staring at me.
“Why not the Pharaoh?” I whispered. “Why should we not celebrate the completion of Djeser-Djeseru together?”
“Majesty? I do not understand.”
I jumped up and began to stride up and down, speaking excitedly but in a low voice. The guards were on duty as usual, but out of earshot, and I had sent my ladies and the slaves away. It was almost impossible for us to achieve true privacy for any length of time. Always there were slaves and servants hovering around and guards at hand, if not directly in sight, with household officials going about their duties. Several ladies-in-waiting constantly attended on me. But I had thought of a plan.
“Two nights from now, the moon will be full,” I said, urgently. “As Pharaoh, I could journey to my mortuary temple then and carry out some rites to consecrate it. Then from there I could continue the journey to visit my palace at Heliopolis, where I have not been for some time.”
“Yes, Majesty?” He too was on his feet, concentrating on my muttered words.
“I will arrange that we be transported to the temple, you and I, for a … for a private ceremony at sunset. A royal barge from Thebes can take us there, but they shall have orders to depart. Then … yes, yes, I see how it may be arranged! Another royal barge from Heliopolis can come to take us further.”
“Ah,” he said. “We shall have an hour or so, between barges.”
“Not so,” I told him softly. The plan had fallen into place in my mind. “If we inform my servants at Heliopolis that the ceremony is to take place at sunrise on the following day, not sunset, they will not come till morning. Don’t you see? The early part of the night will belong to the God. But the rest of the night will belong to us.”
He drew a deep, wavering breath. “Majesty proposes to spend the night alone on the west bank? The abode of the spirits?”
“Not alone, Senenmut. You will be there with me. And why should I fear the spirits of the transfigured dead? There are more people in the Afterlife who loved me, and whom I loved, than are left in the world of the living.”
He reached out a hand and gripped my arm. This was forbidden, but given what I had just proposed, I could hardly object. “You will risk this? To be …”
“To be with you,” I murmured. Tears pricked in my eyes. “Just this once, let me not be the King. Let me not be the God, and alone. Just once.”
My lady of the bedchamber arrived to assist me to my rest. Her plucked eyebrows rose at the sight of a commoner touching the Pharaoh.
Senenmut promptly let go of my arm and stepped back, making a deep obeisance. “Pharaoh has spoken,” he said.
I gave the orders. Naturally, there were remonstrations. Surely I should be accompanied by priests, to assist in the rites? No, I said. This was for me to do as Pharaoh, for it was my mortuary temple. The priests would have their turn during the Feast of the Valley, soon. But one barge could undertake the whole trip, why need one come from Heliopolis? Because the Vizier of the North wished to see the completed temple, and he had offered to come and fetch me, I said. But surely I would require my ladies-in-waiting? Others would be arriving almost immediately from Heliopolis to attend on me, I said. I could survive a brief span of time without them. But how could I spend even a short time unprotected by my guards? This was not advisable. Nonsense, I said. It would be for a short time only, I would have Senenmut at my side, and in any case, most people were terrified of the west bank at night. I doubted any attacker would have the courage to land there.
With sweet reason, I overcame all objections to the plan. I had set my will on this and I would not be gainsaid. It would happen, and Senenmut would make all the arrangements, including the orders to the contingent from Heliopolis, so that they would know exactly what to do. With some reluctance everyone capitulated.
Two days later, we set sail from Thebes just as the sun was about to drop below the horizon. It had been a brilliant day, and hot, but it was as always somewhat cooler on the river. The stately barge was rowed out among the river craft that plied the waterway. As we moved steadily onward to the rhythmic thumping of the rowers’ gong, the sun began to colour the water all around us. The surface of the water, a little choppy due to a light breeze, took on the appearance of a sheet of living gold stretching to the north and the south and bearing us up. The thick vegetation on the verges looked darkly soft and shadowy. On we sailed upon this magical river as if in some rich fantasy.
They set us down upon the west bank and then the royal barge took off again towards Thebes. Senenmut hefted two baskets that he had packed according to my instructions and we began to walk along the broad sweep of the avenue. On either side of us crouched the rows of sphinxes, each one with my face. But I was looking ahead, to the temple set against the towering crags. The sun had now dropped below the horizon and the cliffs in front of us, stark and glittering by day, were softened by the fading rose-tinted light. For a few moments they appeared to have been hewn from amethyst. Against that dramatic background the graceful limestone temple gleamed pearly white. All around us the fragrant gardens bloomed.
Then, as we continued walking uphill,
the shadowed crags turned to grey. We reached the lowest portico before the light had faded altogether. Senenmut set the baskets down, extracted a torch and a tinder-box, lit the torch and handed it to me.
“First, I must honour the God,” I said. “Walk with me up to the shrine.”
He picked up the baskets and followed me. We ascended the sweeping staircases together. However, when we reached the God’s dwelling deep in the heart of the rock behind the third terrace, I moved forwards alone. I unsealed the ornamental doors. I held out my hand for the basket of offerings. Then I walked on into the chill and musty darkness, alone.
Inside the shrine there was an altar for the God. I put the torch in a socket against the wall. I knelt and kissed the ground. Then I took incense from the basket, lit it and placed it on either side of the altar. I placed the dish with bread and meat and the vessels containing wine and beer upon the altar. I intoned the incantations that I knew so well, the magic words that knitted together the real and the spirit worlds, the visible and the invisible. Then I spoke a special prayer, dedicating the temple and especially the garden to the God. I concentrated hard, causing the Ka of the offering to feed the Ka of the God.
At last I felt sure that my heavenly father must be satisfied. Now Senenmut and I could share what was left. I gathered the offerings into the basket, took the torch and left the shrine, where incense mingled with the dank smell of the dark, rock-walled enclosure. I resealed the doors.
Emerging into the fresh night air, now decidedly cooler than when I went in, I felt my spirits lift. Frogs clamoured in the ponds and an owl hooted. In the distance I heard a clear, pure, singing sound: surely, I thought, the voice of the goddess Hathor, Mistress of Music, lyrical and true. I followed the wordless song. Down it led me, down the great ramp and the staircase, calling, calling.
Then I came to the northern colonnade of the middle terrace overlooking the lower courtyard, with its lovely garden. On the rear wall relief sculptures depicted ritual hunting and fishing in the sacred ponds. With his back to the wall sat Senenmut, in his old pose as a scribe, playing a flute. Numerous candles burned around him. In front of him cushions on a soft rug covered sycamore branches to make a couch. The wavering light kept the surrounding shadows at bay and illuminated the rich golden colour of the images carved into the ivory limestone walls. They seemed almost to leap into life. He did not notice me at once, but gazed out into the darkness as if he could see all manner of things that I could not.
I set the basket down and blew out the torch. I removed the crown from my head and set that down carefully also. Beneath it my hair, which I had allowed to grow, had been pinned up; I removed the pins and shook it loose. It had been washed in perfumed water, but not braided. I untied the broad gold sash made of embroidered silk from my waist, holding it in my hand, and let the thin linen robe fall free. Then, slowly, obedient to the music, I began to dance. I have ever been a good dancer, having been taught from my eleventh year when I acted for my father, may he live, as the God’s Wife of Amen. I had practised anew when I taught my darling Neferure, may she live. It is the task of the God’s Wife to maintain the God in a state of arousal. I had not forgotten those skills.
The wide, pleated sleeves of my robe fell open like wings as I spread out my arms and danced forward into the circle of light. There was a momentary catch in the music when Senenmut saw me; then it continued, with renewed rhythmic energy. And I continued to dance: twirling, whirling, backing and advancing; stretching, leaping, balancing for the space of a breath on the toes of one foot, then spinning away again; like a willow in the wind, I swayed and bent; like a bird I flew, alighted, and escaped; like a flame I reached upward and like a shadow I melted away. The golden sash in my hand flashed and rippled like a captive flame.
My robe fell from my shoulders, down to my ankles, then I snatched it up and covered myself again. I let it fly out, brought it back; swung it high and finally discarded it. Now I wore only my pleated kilt and a necklace of blue faience. The golden sash hid my breasts from view; then it was whipped aside; then brought into play again. I whirled and twirled, and then I lost the kilt. Now I had only the sinuously waving sash to hide behind; it was a ribbon of light, it was a delicate screen, it was a veil. But I did not wish to hide. No, I gloried in my nakedness. I dropped the sash.
The music stopped as Senenmut rose to his feet and took me in his arms. He too had discarded his kilt. His body was hard and warm and he smelled of lotus oil. He lifted me off my feet. Together we sank onto the couch, and when he entered me all the years of longing, of loneliness, of discipline and denial burst from me in a long howl of agony and delight. We cleaved unto each other like thirst-stricken travellers who have been lost and at long last find a deep fresh well.
When we finally came to rest, sated, breathless, and tangled in each other’s arms, as if to touch as much as possible, the moon had risen and a pale wash of silver light spilled in bands across the pillared portico. It was a place of magic, a gold and silver bower, a playground fit for the gods. And oh, how we played! In that night, I was everything to him: I was his mother, and suckled him; I was his lover, and delighted him; I was his slave, and knelt to him; I was his child, and he cradled me in his arms and crooned to me.
At last we were spent and weary. He lay back upon the cushions, holding me close as I lay beside him, my cheek pillowed on his shoulder, one arm and one leg thrown across his body. I felt his breathing slow. His free hand stroked my arm, gently, gently. Then he turned my wrist so that the tips of his fingers rested just below the base of my thumb, holding it like that for a while. His warm breath tickled my ear.
“What are you doing?” I enquired sleepily.
“Listening to the voice of your heart,” he told me. “I can sense it through my fingers. It speaks to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Here, feel my wrist,” he said. “With your fingertips, like this. Don’t press hard, just touch it.”
I did as he told me. Then I could indeed feel it: a rhythmic throbbing. “Is it truly the voice of your heart?” I asked, wondering.
“It is. It falls silent when one’s life force is spent. It stops when the heart stops,” he told me. “And it speaks of love, for close to the beloved it rushes with joy. Yours is rushing, my beloved.”
“So is yours,” I murmured against his skin.
He drew the rug over us so that we were warmly cocooned in the moonlight, listening to the frogs. Enfolded in his arms, I felt entirely safe, as if no danger could ever come near me. Briefly, we slept.
The barge from Heliopolis would arrive just after dawn, since they were expecting the consecration rites to have been carried out at sunrise. I awoke as the last stars were fading on the horizon. Senenmut slept on, sprawled on the couch he had made for us, his face pillowed on one hand. Now the portico was but a stretch of cold, grey stone. The air was crisp, but I walked down to one of the ornamental ponds to splash myself, washing away the scents and the stickiness of passion with the icy water. My nipples puckered with the cold and with remembered pleasure. But there could be no more of that. I rubbed down with a towel and dressed carefully in my robe, tying the sash tightly. I slipped on my golden sandals and fastened the clasp of the flat jewelled collar that emphasised my royal status.
I picked up my crown, the red crown of Lower Egypt that I would wear on arrival at Heliopolis, and stood turning it in my hands. I looked up: A moment before, there had been only a hulking dark mass; now the towering crags and the elegant temple were taking form as a pale light washed the sky. It was as if they were being created from nothing as I watched. Just so does the world emerge from chaos each morning thanks to the rituals that the Pharaoh observes to link the Invisible and the visible. Just so does the Pharaoh maintain the existence of Khemet.
For a single night, I had laid all that aside. I had been another person, a different woman with a different life. I had not been the King nor the God, and Senenmut had not been my servant. In that mom
ent, standing there in the chill before the dawn, I wished that I had chosen to walk a different road. I wished that we might have lived together simply, a man and a woman, that I might have gone to his arms each night and suckled his babes at my breast.
But I was Egypt. I had desired this high destiny; I had desired to become the Pharaoh, and divine. Yet I had not known that a god could be so lonely.
I tied up my hair and fitted the crown to my head. I walked back and awoke my love. “We must be ready,” I said. “Everything must be packed away, and we must be standing on the quay to welcome the deputation from Heliopolis.”
He rose to his feet in a lithe movement and reached for me, but I evaded his arms.
“No,” I said. “No, my darling Senenmut, it is over. I am the King.”
“So easily? After such a night, no more than this? It is over?” he mimicked me incredulously.
“It is not easy,” I said. “The gods know that it has always been hard and it will be much harder now. But I am Pharaoh. I must reign alone. I do not have a choice.”
“How can the all-powerful Pharaoh have no choice?” Now he was furious. “The one who has but to speak and everyone obeys? Ruler over the Black Land and all its dominions? Divine offspring of Ra? No choice? No choice!”
“No, none.” I too was angry now. “I could never take a secret lover. It would not remain a secret very long. You know that I very seldom have privacy. And if such a thing about me became known, I would be laughed at. I would have become an ordinary, weak woman, seduced and mastered by a man. I could not rule.”
“But … but could we not … would it not be possible … I … I cannot believe …”
“We could never break the jar together. I have told you that before. I thought you understood.”
“I understand nothing!” In his agitation he began to stride to and fro. “If that is true, then why this night? Why plan so carefully for this, why raise my hopes, why treat me like … like a prince, and then … then simply cast me aside like a worn-out robe? Why?” There were tears in his eyes as he stopped pacing and faced me.
