The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh (7 page)

“I see,” I said in a small voice. I had seen no more than seven risings of the Nile that day, yet it was the end of innocence for me.

I mourned my brother the Crown Prince. But I began to entertain a secret dream. I dared to dream of greatness.

It was the songs of the blind bard, coupled with Inet’s tales, that gave form and direction to my dream.

He came to the harem palace when I had seen nine risings of the Nile. It was the first time that I was allowed to attend a formal banquet where the King my father presided, instead of being sent to the children’s dining room with the rest of the palace children.

I wore a simple white linen shift and a little string of blue glass beads, but Inet had refused to let me line my eyes with black kohl and paint the lids with green malachite. There would be time enough for that later, she said. Yet she had tied a wax perfume cone on top of my head just like the other ladies had and I felt very grown-up. During the course of the evening it melted gradually, keeping me cool and scented with myrrh.

It was hot and noisy in the dining hall. I was given a gilded, richly decorated chair to sit on, just like the rest of the adults and their guests, a deputation from Syria who had brought tribute and gifts and all manner of things to barter.

The dinner went on and on. Female servants kept bringing more dishes piled high with delicacies, piping hot from the kitchen, where (I knew because I loved to go there) the chief cook sweated and shouted and swore and threw things at his minions. At the tables, though, all was decorous. I enjoyed the tender veal and the freshly baked wheat cakes, dripping with honey, and I had a slice of sweet melon afterwards. Naturally the adults ate far more – joints of roast beef studded with garlic, fat roasted ducks stuffed with herbs, rich goose livers pounded to a paste, steamed green beans, lentils and carrots, fig puree, cheese and dates. And of course, plenty of wine that had been cooled in earthenware jars. How could people eat and drink so much, I wondered.

I remember all these things so clearly because it was the first time, but also and mainly because of the blind bard. He was a member of a group of musicians, most of whom were girls; they played on double pipes and lutes and shook tambourines; the smallest rhythmically thumped a drum and several were expert at clicking the menat. But the bard, whose bald head shone in the lamplight like polished cedarwood and whose eyes gleamed milky white like pearls, played on a small portable harp and his music could have charmed the dead out of their tombs.

His first song was merry to begin with, ending, however, on a plaintive note. His fingers on the strings were gnarled, but the sound was like water over rocks, like the wind in the trees.

“
Weave chains of blooms to give to your beloved,

Rejoice, rejoice in the days of youth.

Be happy, breathe in sweet scents.

Keep your loved one ever near,

Do not stop the music,

Do not stop the dance,

Bid farewell to all care!

Pick delights like flowers in the fields.

For soon, too soon the time will come

When to that land of silence

You and your love will both be gone.”

The bearded Syrians in their gaudy robes were becoming very merry and did not take kindly to the sad, haunting quality of the last lines. “Give us a song of great deeds,” their leader shouted, banging on the table with his fist.

“Aye,” chorused his fellows, who had already looked deep into the wine jar. “A song of great deeds!”

The blind bard inclined his head, swept his knotted fingers deftly across the singing strings, and said, in his deep voice: “I sing
The Song of the Godlike Ruler
.”

The rowdy Syrians cheered. Soon the power of his music had charmed them into stillness, and they listened even as I did.

“Hearken to the Song of the Godlike Ruler.

His Majesty came forth as the Avenger.

For the enemies of Ma’at were many

And the Black Land suffered, aye it suffered much.

His Majesty came forth as the Destroyer.

He smote the adversaries of righteousness,

He washed in their blood,

He bathed in their gore.

He cut off their heads like ducks.”

This was far more to the taste of the Syrians, who cheered and then settled down again.

“His Majesty drove back the fiends of Seth.

He triumphed over all the foul fiends.

Aye, he was victorious over his foes.

He fixed his southern boundary-stone,

He fixed his northern one like heaven,

He governed unto the eastern deserts.”

Now the rest of the musicians joined in, in a swelling chorus.

“His Majesty came forth as Atum.

He crushed iniquity.

He repaired what he had found ruined.

He restored the boundaries of the towns.

He rebuilt the temples of the gods.

His Majesty restored Ma’at,

And all the people praised him.”

A trumpet sounded a clarion call above the singing strings and the flutes. Cymbals clashed.

“Aye, His Majesty was a godlike ruler.

He came forth as Atum.

He held the Black Land in his hands,

He held it safe.

He triumphed over evil.

He was a shining one clothed in power.

And all the people praised him.”

There were more songs that night and much carousing – and drunkenness, I have no doubt. But Inet came to take me away before things became too rowdy and I did not protest. I lay in my bed, on my sheets of fine linen over a mattress stuffed with lambswool, and I kept hearing the thrilling words of the blind bard:

“Aye, His Majesty was a godlike ruler.

He came forth as Atum
.
”

How wonderful, I thought, to be a godlike ruler. As indeed my father the great Pharaoh was. How wonderful to hold the Black Land in one’s hands. To hold it safe, to triumph over evil. And to be loved by all, and praised:

“He was a shining one clothed in power.

And all the people praised him
.
”

A shining one clothed in power. Oh yes, I thought. That was a destiny to desire. Not a tame existence in the harem. And although at that time my elder brother Amenmose was still alive, yet I felt in my bones that such a destiny would be mine.

Early the next morning I went out into the palace garden and encountered one of the Syrian deputation sitting on a bench in front of the fish pond, staring despondently into its depths. He must have been a young man, but to my eyes then he seemed quite old. He had a curly beard and curly locks and his brown eyes were bloodshot.

“Good morning,” I said.

He groaned. “A good morning it is not,” he responded. He spoke our tongue passably well and he had a pleasant voice, although it came thickly from his throat. “I looked too deeply into the wine jar and I am paying the price for it.”

“Why then are you up so early?” I enquired. “When my brother Amenmose has drunk too much, I think he sleeps until the afternoon.”

“I am not up early,” he said, “I am still up late. I mean, I have not been to sleep as yet. We caroused all night and then we began to gamble and I lost.” He rubbed his face blearily. “Somehow, someone seems to have stuffed a lambswool sock into my mouth,” he complained. “One that was not recently well washed.”

“Nor were you,” I said.

He looked affronted. “You are remarkably pert, for a child,” he said, regarding me with more attention. “Ah, the little princess.” He leaned back lazily. “The little princess with the golden eyes. If I give you a bracelet, as golden as your eyes, will you send it to me by messenger when you are come of age?”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I think we might have more to say to each other in a few years’ time,” he said. The expression in his eyes was one that later I would learn to recognise, but at that time it was new to me. It disturbed me somewhat and yet I liked it.

“When I come of age, I shall be Pharaoh,” I said. I had not meant to speak my dream but it slipped out.

He laughed, then groaned and held his head. “Beware of what you desire, my dear,” he said. “You might achieve it. Besides, you have a brother, do you not?”

I dropped my eyes. Of course I did not wish my brother harm. “I am younger than he,” I muttered. “One does not know …”

“I shall send you the bracelet,” he promised, with a grin.

He did so later that day. He knew who I was but I did not know him; when the slave brought the bracelet, of beautifully chased gold, in a little cedarwood box, he told me that it was a gift from the prince. He was the youngest scion of the royal house of the Mitanni in Syria. I had not thought that a prince could smell so. Yet I had liked him and I kept the bracelet. I have it still.

Here endeth the third scroll.                      

THE FOURTH SCROLL

The reign of Thutmose I year 15

When I was eleven, Inet’s prediction came true: I was called to serve my father as the God’s Wife of Amen. I was also Divine Adoratrice; this position can only be held by one who is unmarried and pure. I took enormous pride in my task. I had to be present during the daily temple rituals, so that I knew and understood them. I helped my father destroy by burning the names of Egypt’s enemies, a ritual that gave me great satisfaction. I led groups of priests to the temple pool to be purified. I learned the dances that kept the God in a state of arousal. Young though I was, I was assisting my father the Pharaoh, as he explained, to guarantee the eternally recurring recreation of the world through the life-giving powers of the God. And a thrilling experience it was for a girl child who otherwise might have been restricted to the palace schoolroom, or learning to spin flax.

I also accompanied my father on some of his trips around the Black Land, for my mother, the Queen Ahmose, may she live, had much to do in the harem and was at times not well. I remember the first official journey that my royal father and I made together. Up to that day I had never travelled very far from the harem palace where I grew up, and I was very excited. We would be sailing to Heliopolis, to visit the priests at the temples there, and I would have a role in the rites.

We were to travel by boat, but although it was an official journey it was not a royal progress and the way would not be lined with cheering crowds. The boat would not be the exquisitely decorated solar barque on which the Pharaoh sailed during the major festivals. It was a large, comfortable vessel, though, with a high bow and stern, and a dais packed with soft cushions and shaded from the harsh sun by a colourful canopy. Slaves stood to attention with fans to keep us cool, and of course the royal guard would attend on us. Several smaller boats bearing bureaucrats and servants sailed with us, and the kitchen boat, from which delectable aromas wafted across the water, was never far behind.