Authors: Pauline Gedge
“Oh, Ahmose, you can be so absurd sometimes!” she chided him. “I appreciate the compliment. You yourself look tired. You need to be here, to rest. I think this is the first time in years that you will be able to do so without facing some crisis or other. Aahmes-nefertari and I have been faithful regents without you. There is nothing here to worry about.” She stepped aside, allowing him to cover the remaining stretch of tiled floor to where the group of silent dignitaries waited.
Aahmes-nefertari took a deep breath as the men bowed. “Majesty, when you went north, you placed upon me the responsibility for governing your city and the Uas nome,” she began cautiously, speaking directly into his face. “In order to do so it has been necessary to expand the number of administrators in your employ. With peace in the south has come a growing prosperity, and prosperity requires sage management and regulation if it is not to degenerate into a happy chaos.” She paused, watching him intently, but there was no indication of anything but interest on his features. “Your mother and I were able to control all the aspects of such development for a while. But with Weset expanding, with gold beginning to come up from Wawat with increasing regularity, with all the building you required, we could no longer find enough hours in the day to oversee everything.” He nodded. His gaze had shifted from her to the patient men and he had begun to scrutinize them warily. “For some time I continued to perform my duties as Second Prophet of Amun, command the household troops personally, and assist Aahotep in running our domestic affairs,” she went on. “But then Sebek-nakht arrived, the spring sowing was due to begin, I was still attempting to compile the list of suitable men you wanted placed with the Princes of other nomes, and I realized that it was time to discard the notion that I was mistress of a small estate beside a sleepy southern town. That is how it used to be in our father’s time. That is how the Setiu saw us.” She crooked a finger at one of the men. He came forward smoothly, his long, silver-bordered tunic swirling around his ankles. “This is no longer the estate of a Prince,” Aahmes-nefertari pointed out. “It is becoming the court of a King, and with Aahotep’s advice I have selected the officials I desperately needed to relieve me, and now you, Majesty, of the need to be actually involved in such matters as assessing grain for the sowing or ensuring that the hundreds of artisans, peasants and masons now under our cloak are organized well and paid correctly. I meet with them every morning here in the reception hall to listen to their reports. Sebek-nakht has designed a row of offices for them and their assistants adjoining the rear of the old palace. At the moment it is not very convenient to have them there, but when we move into the palace they will be close at hand.” He was still watching them, eyes narrowed, his body very still. Aahmes-nefertari could not judge what he might be thinking, and all at once she feared him. The emotion was so new to her that she almost gasped aloud. “This is Neferperet, your new Chief Treasurer,” she went on, struggling against the urge to shrink away from him as though he had uttered some startling threat. “I have placed Neshi, Kamose’s Treasurer, in charge of the temple treasury. Neferperet will now handle the accounting of all our revenues. He can tell you the weight and disposition of every speck of gold dust that has fallen into our hands during the last six months as well as our expenditures. He was in the employ of the mayor of Weset and had control of all the city’s wealth. I examined his records myself. He is conscientious and trustworthy.” Neferperet bowed again.
Ahmose continued to stare at him, a speculative expression growing on his face. Finally his fingers came up and curled protectively around the pectoral on his breast. “Tell me, Neferperet,” he said brightly. “I intend to quarter two of my divisions, Amun and Ra, on permanent alert here at Weset. Ten thousand men to be fed every day. I presume you already know this. Their barracks are being raised on land just south of this house. Am I able to support them and my court,” he stumbled over that word, “with grain and vegetables from my own arouras?” Neferperet’s eyes took fire. He frowned, chewing his lip, and one hand began to tap absently against his thigh.
“No, Majesty,” he said. “Your land will produce enough food for your servants and administrators but not for your soldiers. However, each year I will assess the reports from your Overseer of Granaries, Overseer of Vineyards and Overseer of Cattle, who will in turn receive their reports from Egypt’s towns and villages, and I will suggest an appropriate tax based on the level of the flood and the health of the subsequent crops. There is also of course the income that Your Majesty may expect from the renewed trade negotiations with the Keftiu, who have already expressed a desire to send a delegation to Weset, and I believe Her Majesty has also sent your Overseer of Trade to Asi so there may be some fruit from that in the future. As for Wawat and Kush …” Ahmose cut him short.
“My Overseer of Trade,” he said heavily. “My Overseer of Granaries and Overseer of Vineyards and Overseer of Cattle.” He turned to his wife. “Gods, Aahmes-nefertari, you have been crafting a complete revolution here while I have been slaughtering the Setiu.”
“Not a revolution, Ahmose,” she responded quickly. “A peaceful flowering. A blooming. The old order was not working any more.”
“Well,” he sighed. “Bring forward these overseers. They will make a change from conversing with generals.”
For another hour, while Khabekhnet, Ipi and the members of the family waited, Ahmose questioned the men Aahmes-nefertari had selected so carefully to form the core of what amounted to a new order for Egypt. A yawning Ahmose-onkh was taken away for his afternoon sleep. Occasionally a servant or herald would appear, consult Aahmes-nefertari in whispers, then disappear again. She herself hardly heard them. Anxiously her attention was fixed on her husband, his gestures, the tone of his voice, the series of expressions that flitted across his face. Once she saw his forefinger creep to the scar behind his ear and she knew that he was either becoming tired or was irritated with whatever Amuniseneb, her Overseer of Granaries, was saying so earnestly.
But at last he dismissed them all with a wave and came striding back. “I am thirsty and my head has begun to ache,” he said wryly. “There is much here for a King to try to understand, Aahmes-nefertari, but for now I want to see my own quarters again and lie on the comfort of my own couch in peace and quiet. I presume that the Medjay have arrived by now, seeing that Hor-Aha has gone, and surely my ship is tethered at the watersteps.” He graced Aahmesnefertari with a lopsided grin. “It has been a curious homecoming,” was his parting comment. She and Aahotep watched him walk to the door in the far wall beside the dais that led into the bowels of the house, Ipi and Khabekhnet following.
“It is impossible to tell what he was thinking,” Aahotep said slowly. “Have we gone too far, Aahmes-nefertari?”
“We had no choice,” her daughter answered brusquely. “The load on our shoulders had become insupportable. Sooner or later he will realize that we are creating a hierarchy of government that has not been seen in Egypt for hentis, a full return to the way of Ma’at, but he cannot see it yet. He is still a fighting King even though the need for fighting is almost over.”
“He does not want to be here,” Aahotep said softly. “He believes that he does, but something in him longs to wander up and down the country with the army and never face the awesome obligations of divinity. In that, he is very like Kamose.”
“No.” Aahmes-nefertari stared down at the tiny lapis beads on her sandals whose veins of golden pyrite gleamed dully in the dimness of the now-empty hall. “He is not at all like Kamose, but his brother’s shadow still lies over him. It will not lift until Apepa yields.”
That night, after the feasting that filled the torch-lit garden with laughter and chatter, after the congratulations and songs and light-hearted jokes, Aahmes-nefertari retired to her chambers with a reluctance that dismayed her. Ahmose had received her request to do so with a quizzical lifting of the eyebrows, but then he had patted her knee and told her that of course it had been a long day and she must be tired. He himself had sat on, presiding benignly over the happy turmoil of drunken guests, but she had felt his eyes on her back as she picked her way through the litter of crushed flowers and discarded food to reach the blessed silence of the house.
Senehat was waiting to undress and wash her. Her lamps filled the room with a steady, peaceful glow. The faint scent of lotus wafted to her from her bedsheets, mingling with a whiff of the incense she had offered that morning before her shrine to Hathor, and all at once she was overcome by sadness. She no longer went to the nursery to spend a few moments looking down on Hent-ta-Hent’s sleeping face while she whispered the spell that would prevent the demon She-Whose-Face-Is-Turned-Backwards from stealing the baby’s breath away. That evil creature had not prevailed. It had been another denizen of the unseen world that had insinuated itself into the little girl’s nostrils, her mouth, her tiny ears, and nesting there had lit the fire that had burned Hent-ta-Hent to death.
He did not say one word to me about her, Aahmesnefertari thought, as Senehat’s practised hands lifted the wig from her head and slid the scarlet sheath down over her hips into a glimmering heap on the floor. He asked nothing. He offered no sympathy. It was as though our daughter had never lived. What am I to make of such neglect? Is his own wounding so deep that it cannot be expressed or is he simply too honest to cover his indifference?
She sat while her body servant brought hot water and washed the henna from the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, gently removing the paint from her face and then working the nourishment of honey and castor oil into her skin. Her hair was combed. Woodenly Aahmesnefertari got up so that Senehat could slip the sleeping robe over her head, but when the servant made as if to extinguish the lamps Aahmes-nefertari stopped her. “I am going to my husband’s quarters,” she said, surprising herself by the impulsive thought. “Bring your pallet in from the passage and sleep by my couch until I return.” The hour was late and the summons she had expected had not come. I should just get between my sheets and forget this whole disappointing day, she told herself mutinously, but I would not be able to rest so I might as well swallow my pride and approach him.
Senehat was bending down with a pair of reed sandals in her hand and as Aahmes-nefertari lifted one foot a chilling possibility struck her. Perhaps I have a rival. Perhaps Ahmose’s fancy has been taken by some girl presented to him on his way north, a Prince’s daughter, a singer or dancer in one of the temples where he stopped to worship. After all, he has been away from my body for six months. He is the King. He can command concubines. He can take more wives if he chooses, and just because our hearts and minds have been in harmony since we were children, it does not mean that it will always be so.
Yes it does, her thoughts ran on. Ahmose has never eyed another woman. He is not devious or deceitful in any area of his life. There is a profound intelligence behind his simplicity but there is no subterfuge. Something else is wrong. Signalling to the guard on her door, she set off along the dim corridors to Ahmose’s apartments.
Akhtoy rose from his stool outside the closed double doors as she approached and she greeted him with a smile. “It is good to see you again, steward,” she said. “Uni has been keeping abreast of the welfare of your family while you have been away. You must be anxious to see them.” He bowed.
“Indeed I am, Majesty, and thank you,” he replied. “His Majesty has given me leave to visit them for a few days, now that he has both Uni and Kares to care for him.” It was on the tip of Aahmes-nefertari’s tongue to retort that Kares was her mother’s steward and Uni had his days filled in serving Tetisheri and herself, but she refrained. This is part of the problem between Ahmose and me, she said to herself. The designation of authority.
“Good!” she answered crisply. “Now I wish to see His Majesty. Please announce me.” The man hesitated.
“Your pardon, Majesty, but His Majesty is even now preparing for sleep. The feast has tired him. I await his last dismissal before going to my own couch.” Aahmes-nefertari restrained a sudden urge to slap him.
“Akhtoy,” she said levelly, “do as you are told. Immediately.” He bowed at once, nodded, and thrusting open one of the doors he vanished inside. Aahmes-nefertari waited, although she felt affronted at the necessity, studying the shaft of yellow light pouring into the passage from the aperture he had left. She heard the steward’s voice then her husband’s. Akhtoy pulled the door wide and gestured to her, slipping out behind her as she entered the room.
Ahmose was sitting beside his couch, a servant standing behind him in the act of tying the square of linen that covered his shaved scalp. He looked tired. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and Aahmes-nefertari could tell by the way he squinted briefly at her through the lamp’s radiance that his head was aching. Nevertheless he smiled at her apologetically as she came forward. “I know I told Tetisheri that I owed you this night, Aahmes-nefertari,” he said promptly, “but I am very fatigued. I just want to rest. The feast was excellent. Thank you.” She halted, stiffened by anger.
“I have not come to collect a debt,” she said bitterly. “Nor is there any need to condescend to me, Ahmose. You could have sent me word.” The servant was staring at her and her indignation found a target. “Who are you?” she demanded. The man blinked and came to himself.
“I am Hekayib, body servant to His Majesty,” he said amid an explosion of bows.
“Then, Hekayib, you can leave us,” Aahmes-nefertari ordered. He glanced at Ahmose who nodded imperceptibly. Still bowing, he found the door and it closed politely behind him.
“I do not recognize him,” Aahmes-nefertari said. “I like to know everyone beneath this roof.” Ahmose shrugged.
“I sent my previous body servant to tend Ankhmahor’s son Harkhuf when he was wounded,” he explained. “Then I let him keep him. Why are you so angry, Aahmes-nefertari?” Because you went to the temple first, she wanted to shout. Because you have ignored my grief. Because you obviously do not want to make love to me. There was a time when no amount of exhaustion or indisposition could have prevented you from pulling me onto that couch after you had been away from me.