The instructions are explained by Nehsi’s interpreter, and the men leave the chamber, along with the rest of the soldiers. The supplicants here for my regular audience session have witnessed this dramatic occasion, and I allow them to stay now. I want word of the success of the Punt expedition to spread through the kingdom.
“Nehsi, please rise,” I say, “you shall have a hero’s welcome! I will orchestrate a festival in your honor. All Egypt must celebrate this message from the gods about the righteousness of my reign.”
Chapter Fifty-One
1467BC
THEBES,EGYPT
How can I focus on my duties with the rumor overheard by Nedjem overtaking my thoughts? I try to concentrate on the importance of the Thoth festival unfolding all around me, the blessing it can bestow upon the citizens, and of course the stability of my reign. I’ve attempted to keep my thoughts directed on the countless rites I undertook before I even settled onto my throne in this festival—during Neferure’s instruction in the morning ritual to waken Amun, my weekly audience with the citizens, and the long hours of painstaking ablutions to become the living god, Pharaoh Maatkare Khenemet-Amun Hatshepsut, who now sits upon this throne wearing a wig and heavy crown, a stiff girdle of silver, and a face encased in kohl and paint.
But how can I stay immobile and in a holy mindset when I know my nephew, stepson, and fellow pharaoh Thutmose III harbors resentment against me and my reign? This is the secret Nedjem learned from one of Thutmose III’s own servants.
“All bow to the Pharaohs Maatkare Khenemet-Amun Hatshepsut and Thutmose the Third,” the head priest of Amun cries out to the crowds assembled along the sacred boulevard leading from the temple within the palace complex out toward the Nile. A cheer goes up, and then the assembly of men, women, and children genuflect before us.
I glance to my right, at the figure on a matching throne also being carried aloft on a litter—Thutmose III. The years of military training have honed him into a chiseled warrior. But I can see thatwhich is invisible to the people. Beneath the crown, wig, and heavy cosmetics—the exact same I wear—the young boy remains. But, I remind myself, he is on the cusp of manhood, and restless.
Our litters are now raised high by a bevy of servants. We stay as immobile as the statues bearing our likenesses as we pass through the throngs. Only by appearing otherworldly can we inspire the confidence and loyalty we need from our citizens. Only then will they perceive us as having the divine nature capable of maintainingmaat.
Once we cross into the open countryside, we have the leeway to relax our expressions and posture a bit. At least until we reach the festival site by the river and the people catch up with us. But I stay erect and alert.
“How fare you, my nephew?” I turn to Thutmose. I work hard to keep my tone welcoming and collegial.
“The training goes well, Aunt. As do my studies,” he answers, his tone bearing a note of hardness unusual for him.
“That is what your tutors report,” I answer. “And I am well pleased.”
His mouth turns down and his eyes narrow, as if an unpleasant smell has wafted past him. “I wish I could share your sentiment, Aunt. In fact, I find myself in a state of extreme dissatisfaction.”
My body stiffens.Here it is, I think,the threat of which Nedjem warned me. I glance at my guards, whose eyes are fixed on my person and hands gripping their weapons. As always.
I could almost write the words I know he’ll utter next, but I must elicit them from him—and then defuse them. So I ask, “Whatever is troubling you, Nephew? I will do everything in my power to alleviate your suffering.”
“It is your power that is the problem, Aunt,” he says, and I am suddenly on high alert.
I wonder, who has been prompting this along? The seeds have always been there, for all to see, but he’s never raised this concern until now. Someone must have nudged him. But who? I’d handpicked his tutors and military trainers myself. His mother, perhaps?
“My power?” I ask as if I’m confused. As if I hadn’t anticipated this confrontation. “Do you mean our power? We are equal pharaohs, after all.”
“Not in the eyes of the people.” He crosses his arms, like the petulant boy he still is in some ways.
Ah, I think,he’s diving right into the heart of it now. I reply, “The vision of the people is blurred if they don’t observe you fully in the breadth of your sovereignty.”
“They see the same thing I do when I hold up a mirror, Aunt. A born pharaoh who’s sharing his throne, but has no responsibilities or power,” he answers, his voice firm.
“Thutmose, the only reason the yoke of duty hasn’t fallen hard upon your shoulders is your age. We wanted you to be fully trained and ready to assume the burdens of kingship. Do you remember those conversations?” I console him softly, but then I allow my voice to grow louder and fuller as I continue. “That is the reason I assumed a kingly role as well. To protect your throne from those that would steal it from you by any means—until you came of age.”
“Aunt, I am of age,” he pronounces. “The time has come for me to rule alongside you. Not behind you.”
This is the moment, I think,the one for which I’ve braced myself and Senenmut prepared me, as recently as today after Nedjem shared her news about Thutmose. How I handle this—how I disarm this oblique attack—will determine whether we can rule together, which I believe will best protect the throne for him and my daughter when they marry. Or whether I have to resort to other, unpleasant measures.
I clap, as if I’m delighted by his words. “Oh, Nephew, I have been waiting for these precise words for months now! How I’ve longed for you to assume the full role alongside me.”
Thutmose looks relieved. Had he expected a fight? Had the person pushing this agenda told him I’d wrestle him for every scrap of power? Of that, I have no intention. There are plenty of kingly duties for us both, and I have a vested interest in keeping Thutmose on the throne. He is to be married to Neferure, after all.
“You have?”
“Of course!” I answer, as if I’m a touch offended at his suggestion. “In fact, I have a plan for you, but—” I hesitate, wanting him to engage.
