Authors: Pauline Gedge
Aahmes-nefertari continued to sit with Ahmose through the mornings of audience, but she took little part in the deliberations and her scribe, although also present, did not take notes. Her pregnancy was beginning to show in a certain delicate roundness of her abdomen and the flush of good health on her skin. She spent most afternoons in her own quarters, fulfilling her obligations in the temple as the Second Prophet of Amun, occasionally visiting the household guards’ barracks where they were still under the command of Emkhu, and later, resting in the shade of the garden.
Neither she nor Ahmose saw much of Ahmose-onkh. He and Pa-she had formed an army of two. Pa-she accompanied his charge onto the parade ground where the boy had begun his instruction in the use of his tiny bow and miniature sword. They went together into the marshes so that Ahmose-onkh could hurl his throwing stick at the squawking ducks. And Ahmose-onkh held his tutor’s hand as Pa-she attended to his own business, moving from his room in the house to the papyrus makers to his forays on the west bank among the dead in order to further his historical study. Ahmose had told Pa-she during one of the weekly reports on Ahmose-onkh’s progress that a tutor was not responsible for his pupil outside the hours of instruction but Pa-she had demurred. “Sometimes the most valuable lessons can be learned when the time of formal guidance is over, Majesty,” he had pointed out. “The opportunity to instil the good manners, honesty and kindness required by a child of Ma’at does not often arise during the dictating of script or the calculating of the worth of two khar of wheat. When I wish to be alone, I send for Raa and she takes the Prince away. It is as simple as that.”
“Raa is getting fat from idleness,” Ahmose said, grinning. “And your Prince has become an irritating fount of every kind of half-digested knowledge. Peace!” He held up a hand to forestall Pa-she’s indignant response. “I am very pleased with your care of the Hawk-in-the-Nest. See that you do not become weary in your efforts.”
One task that Ahmose had been dreading was the long deliberation required to pair each governor of the many nomes he now controlled with a man who would send him trust-worthy accounts of the state of the districts. He had asked Aahmes-nefertari a long time ago to draw up a list of suitable spies, for spies they were in spite of their exalted positions as his representatives. But he had not looked at it. Now he asked her to produce it, partly as a duty lying fallow but mainly as an opportunity to talk with her. She and Khunes came to the office late one afternoon and as a gesture of trust Ahmose dismissed Ipi. Aahmes-nefertari took the chair opposite Ahmose. As Khunes lowered himself to the floor beside her, he passed her a great sheaf of papyrus. Ahmose’s heart sank. “There are only twenty-two nomes,” he said. “Surely your scribe did not need so many sheets of paper to write them all down!” She smiled at him loftily.
“Of course not,” she answered. “But I thought you might want to know how our trading negotiations are proceeding as well. You have officially received ambassadors from Keftiu, Asi, Mitanni and even a few strange and uncouth men from Kush. Neferperet and I have been busy improving the prospects for filling the treasury. After all, the renovations on the old palace have meant the expenditure of vast amounts of grain and vegetables for the peasants and that is only one problem. Feeding the two divisions is another. The fields they are to till have been prepared, but, of course, they cannot be sown until this year’s flood recedes.” Ahmose leaned forward, intrigued.
“What treaties have you concluded?” he wanted to know. She shuffled the pile of pale beige sheets.
“With Keftiu first, of course. They will send us bronze, poppy and dye in exchange for linen and papyrus. They have other things, vases, cups and so on, but we do not need such luxuries yet.” She passed that piece of paper down to Khunes. “With Asi, silver in raw form, not much, for it is rare. We will give them linen, papyrus, leather and grain.” Another sheet disappeared into Khunes’s grasp. Ahmose could hear its rustle although he could not see the young man. “Mitanni has been difficult. It is far to the east beyond Rethennu and the ambassador is not sure whether he wishes to stay in Weset and waste his time in such a backwater.” She smiled. “But several merchants came with him and Neferperet turned his attention to them. Merchants want profit, and these men smell future wealth. They will provide us with spices, precious woods, purple gold, and iron dagger blades, none of which we can make or grow here in Egypt. But for that they want grain and gold.”
“The granaries are full, so grain is not a problem,” Ahmose interposed. “But gold from Kush and Wawat is not yet fully guaranteed. How will you honour this commitment?” She held up a finger.
“I took the trouble to grant an audience to the men from Kush. They have wandered up to Weset from their tribes in the south seeking assurances that you will leave them alone. They fear Teti-En and the collection of tribes that compose his petty kingdom and they fear you. I told them that so long as they supply us with gold we will endeavour to protect them from Teti-the-Handsome if he should decide to expand the area of his influence.”
“Did you indeed!” Ahmose exclaimed. “So I am to provide troops for Kush whenever the troglodytes imagine that their miserable lives are threatened? Have you made it worth my while?”
“I think so,” she replied coolly, unperturbed by his outburst. “Kush will keep the gold mines working and also send us ivory, ebony, incense, lapis and exotic animal skins.”
“Ah!” Ahmose nodded. “That is very good. So much in exchange for nothing more than a promise of protection. Let us hope that Teti-En remains content with the curious conglomeration of villages he calls his kingdom. I am surprised that he has not sent emissaries to us now that his so-called brother Apepa has been rendered impotent.” He sighed. “But, Aahmes-nefertari, I need cedar from Rethennu to build masts for my ships. When will Het-Uart fall?”
There was a moment of silence during which his wife looked across at him, her dark eyebrows raised. She waits for a compliment, he realized suddenly. She has accomplished a great deal on my behalf and I sit here like a selfish idiot. “I am amazed at your efficiency and the success of your efforts,” he said at last. “Let us hope that all agreements will bear fruit. Now what of that list of names?” She nodded as though satisfied with his words, and this time instead of reading from the papyrus she slid it across the table.
“Hammering out the trading contracts was as nothing compared to the months I spent preparing this for you,” she said crisply. “I searched the archives in the House of Life here in Weset for the lineages of eligible men. After Khunes came into my employ, I sent him to every House of Life as far as Khemmenu in the north and Swenet in the south, with the same goal. When he returned, I laid out our findings. Age, family history and connections, talents, success or failure in dealing with their own overseers and peasants, behaviour under our father’s and Kamose’s uprisings; many of my conclusions were a result of a series of hints regarding each candidate that gathered themselves together like grains of sand in a forgotten corner of the house.” She jerked her chin towards the list over which he was now frowning. “All the judgement and intuition of which I am capable went into that,” she told him. “I am prepared to hold myself responsible for the loyalty of every man I selected.”
“Are you?” he said, surprised. “Then you must have been extraordinarily thorough in your research and confident in its outcome.” He shook the paper and his face cleared. “I see that you have not only produced a list of names but also which ones will suit which nomes best. I only recognize a few of them.” His relief was evident. He had hardly bothered to scan the list. “I confess that it will be a weight lifted from my mind when they are in place and sending me regular communications. I daresay that you and Mother have set those arrangements in place as well?” She made a teasing moue and retrieved the sheet.
“Of course,” she said promptly. “I have hired new heralds who are only waiting for your order to summon the men to Weset to swear their allegiance at your feet before scattering to take up their posts.” She hesitated. “Ahmose, it might be advantageous to invent a title for them. They will outwardly be advisers to the governors and Princes but knowing themselves to be little more than spies could be offensive to them. I have chosen them for their honesty and reliability, after all.” He grunted.
“I told you months ago that never again during my reign would any noble’s head be permitted to rise above the level I alone will determine,” he said, “and that I would be quite happy to heap titles on them until it took their servants a whole morning to announce them. Titles mean nothing unless accompanied by power, and power I will not give them! Therefore I agree with you.” He gazed up at the ceiling and his sandalled foot began to tap against the table’s gilded leg. “What shall we call them? Let me see. How about ‘Herald of his Lord and King’s Son’? The epithet ‘Herald’ will raise their messages to me above the status of clandestine intercourse, in their own minds at least, and ‘King’s Son’ will make them feel uniquely attached to me. Yes?”
“You are a clever and devious god!” she laughed. “Yes, you have chosen well. Will you give them no power at all, Ahmose?”
“I will not speak of authority to them when they kneel before me,” he replied thoughtfully. “But I will be prepared to give them the governorship of any nome that is being mismanaged or whose governor is fomenting unrest.”
“The exception is of course Ramose,” she pointed out. “You have given him the governorship of the Un nome and full control of Khemmenu, Nefrusi, Hor and Dashlut. I did not place any secondary name against his.”
“No. It is not necessary to have Ramose watched. Him I do indeed trust.”
“You are losing your caution,” she ventured.
“Not entirely,” he said. “Sometimes I dream of the Princes’ revolt. I was lying unconscious and wounded and did not see it, nor your and Mother’s great bravery in putting it down, but the nightmare of it visits me anyway. I want no knife in the back when I am least expecting it, Aahmesnefertari. Nor do I want to use up my reign in rushing here and there with my divisions putting down insurrections.”
“It is not really mistrust any more, is it, my husband?” He met her eyes and saw affection there.
“No, it isn’t,” he said simply. “You have utterly justified the trust I placed in you, my dearest sister, and that has encouraged me to have faith in the men you have gathered around you in my absence.”
“Thank you, Ahmose,” she said shakily. “I have needed to hear that. Are you then no longer jealous?” He looked for humour in her face, hoping he would find it, but she was completely serious. He did not want to, but he was forced to answer her with equal sincerity. They had been talking as they used to do in the past when they had made decisions together in perfect accord and he sensed the damage to be done if he spoke with levity.
“Sometimes it still rises up in me, as anger does in you,” he admitted huskily. “But I love you, Aahmes-nefertari. I love you as I have always done.” To his discomfiture he saw her eyes swim with sudden tears.
“I love you also, my brother,” she said. At her side on the floor Khunes stirred.
“Your pardon, Majesty, but I presume that you do not wish a record of the words spoken after ‘the men you have gathered around you in my absence’?” Aahmes-nefertari laughed shakily.
“Indeed not!” she agreed. Ahmose watched her, half-expecting her to reach down and pat the scribe on his linen-covered head. Awkwardly he changed the subject, rising as he did so.
“There has been no scroll from Mother or Grandmother for quite some time,” he observed. Obediently Aahmesnefertari also left her chair, but abruptly and unexpectedly she raised her arms above her head, stretched slowly, and yawned, exposing her long, gold-hung throat. The feline quality of the act caught Ahmose by surprise and to his greater surprise he felt himself becoming sexually aroused.
“I am sure that they are safe and in good health,” she replied. “In her last letter Mother said that there were indeed repairs to be made on her ancestor’s tomb at Djeb and that until they were completed she and Tetisheri were comfortably settled in a house by the river. I think they are enjoying the languid pace of life in the south.” He came around the table and slid a hand under her hair. The nape of her neck was hot.
“I will leave the summoning of the men on the list to you,” he murmured. “Meanwhile let us go to my quarters, Aahmesnefertari, or yours, it does not matter. I have missed you in my bed. I want to make love to you.” He had swallowed a large portion of his pride in making his request so nakedly and he waited anxiously for her response. For a moment she remained motionless. He was about to withdraw his hand in embarrassment, but at last she turned to him with first suspicion and then a dawning gladness lighting her features. Yes, this time I will be fully present with you, he said to her silently. She must have read the thought behind his eyes, for she bent her head until its crown rested against his chest.
“I am yours to command, Majesty,” she whispered. “And you, Khunes, can draft a letter to be carried to the men the King has now approved. I will look it over later.”
It was the beginning of a reconciliation of sorts between them, a process which had its share of setbacks and woundings as they struggled to come to terms with the changes that had taken place in each other. It was aided both by the complex but increasingly stable routine of court life with which Ahmose was becoming familiar and Aahmesnefertari’s pregnancy. As the weeks went by she had less desire to be actively involved with the people she had appointed or the policies that she herself had initially instigated, being content to have each day’s events and decisions recounted to her by Ahmose in the evenings they had now taken to spending together.
At the beginning of Khoiak, just after the Feast of Hathor, when the river had almost reached its highest level and the air was losing its edge of searing heat, Ahmose Abana arrived. He had tied his skiff to a pole at the watersteps and, preceded by one of the heralds who were always stationed by the gates, he made his way to the garden where Ahmose and his wife with their personal staff were enjoying the last of the sunset. Pa-she and Ahmose-onkh were also present. Aahmes-nefertari’s diminishing lap was filled with pieces of clay, for the boy had been proudly showing her the lessons he had so far inscribed on them. Ahmose was watching them both with idle pleasure. The diffused red glow permeating the air and now rapidly fading had enveloped them in its soft light and their voices, his wife’s low, his son’s strident, echoed in the peculiar auditory hallucination that often accompanied the final glimpse of Ra’s disc as he slipped below the horizon.