The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh by Marié Heese Page A
Authors: Marié Heese
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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:
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:
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