Return to Thebes (27 page)

Sitamon

So horror has come again to the House of Thebes. I am almost too tired to think about it, too tired to do anything but sit in my room and stare blankly at the wall, lost in tragedy beyond tragedy, despair beyond despair. What does it all add up to, what is the purpose, what is the point…? Except that I know, well enough. The purpose is to put Horemheb on the throne and the point is that he believes he, and he alone, is sufficiently strong of character and determination to restore the Two Lands to all their ancient power and glory.

And he may be right … he may well be right. I can see his argument. But at what a cost!

When the Palace was awakened last night, not long after we had all retired, there were great cries, shouts, uproar throughout the compound. People raced through the corridors and along the paths, there were shouts of “Guards!” and the sound of arms. I arose hastily, clothed myself—my pleasant, incompetent ladies in waiting had already hurried across to the main Palace, too excited and too curious to help me—and also hurried out, not knowing what had occurred but sensing that, whatever it might be, I should undoubtedly have a part to play. And so I did, and much yet lies ahead for me—who, with my uncle Aye and aunt Tey represent, I think, the last islands of sanity left in Malkata this day.

Brushing aside my squealing, fluttering ladies, striding imperiously past the frightened guards who themselves were so curious, frightened and confused that Suppiluliumas of the Hittites might well have invaded us without challenge at that moment, I came swiftly to the room of my niece. Beyond it down the hall I could see a crowd gathered at the door of the King. I recognized Horemheb, Ramesses, Seti and my uncle, saw from their expressions that something awful must have occurred; but before I could proceed further was compelled into my niece’s room by a long-drawn recurring howl, almost animal in nature. I knew at once what was going on and where I was needed most. I turned instantly and went in.

On her bed Ankhesenamon was writhing in premature childbirth, her eyes blank with pain as she repeated her continuous cries. One hand tightly clenched gentle Tey’s, the other ripped the cloth-of-gold sheets in frantic agonies. All around hovered nurses, bringing hot water and compresses, uttering soothing, crooning sounds: here, at least, instinct was compelling all to do efficiently what nature demanded. Outside the men’s tumult in the corridors continued; in the Queen’s room we had our women’s work to do and could not be bothered.

Tey looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and said gratefully, “Thank the gods you are here, Sitamon. His Majesty has been slain by the priest Hatsuret, himself killed by Horemheb, and this—this is the result. They did not even tell her gently, some soldier rushed in and shouted it out. She went immediately into convulsions. Pray with us that we may save her and the Prince.”

“Yes,” I said; gave her a hug of encouragement; laid my hand for a moment on Ankhesenamon’s sweat-drenched, unheeding brow; and then took my place in the line of ladies who were bringing buckets of hot water and compresses from a huge kettle boiling in the corner.

For three hours we labored so. Time blurred, shrank, expanded, passed. Outside the noise gradually died away; when I could think at all, I assumed that my poor nephew’s body must have been taken already to the House of Vitality to begin the seventy days of embalmment. Now and again I found myself weeping convulsively for him who had been so gentle and kind and young. Then Ankhesenamon would utter some particularly rending cry and I would be called back to the only reality we knew in that room, her reality. Once, at some point I cannot fix now, there was an imperious rapping on the door. I knew that impatient sound and said quickly, “I will go,” before anyone else could respond to it. On the threshold stood Horemheb, his face looking drained and, either sincerely or artfully, ravaged with pain.

“What do you want, Cousin?” I demanded coldly, for even then I knew instinctively what had happened, I knew he was no longer friend or lover to anyone save himself. “We are busy here.”

“How are Her Majesty and the child?” he asked.

“They are well,” I lied, “and no concern of yours.”

“They are of concern to everyone,” he said, “for Her Majesty is now the sole ruler of the Two Lands.”

“And will so remain if I have anything to say about it!” I snapped, and with all my strength flung the heavy wooden door shut in his face, having time only to catch a glimpse of the sudden naked rage that replaced the pious sorrow. If I had any doubts left as to what had occurred in Tutankhamon’s room, they vanished then. And not fear but a cold fury wiped away the last lingering traces of any love I might once have mistakenly felt for my cousin Horemheb.

Back I plunged into the ceaseless yet orderly activity in that overheated, fate-filled chamber. Again time did strange things, shrank, expanded, blurred, faded, re-emerged, became a jumble, passed. Finally there was a last dreadful shriek and my niece fell back, eyes closed as if in death. Hastily we ascertained that she was all right, then turned to the child which lay on the bloodied sheets before us. Frantically Tey and I washed it, slapped it, breathed upon it, shook it, sought with cries and supplications to bring forth some sign of life. There was none.

The last child of Tutankhamon and Ankhesenamon had been born dead. And in one last cruel joke of the gods, it was not the Crown Prince we had all so confidently expected, either. The last royal child of the Eighteenth Dynasty was but one more of those puny foredoomed girls who, save for unfortunate Merytaten and Ankhesenamon herself, have apparently been destined to curse forever the line of poor Akhenaten.

Now twelve hours have passed and Ankhesenamon is in my small palace at the far end of the compound of Malkata, the palace I have occupied ever since my marriage to my father forty-six years ago. She is sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion in the bed that has been brought in next to mine. In the next room dear Tey also sleeps. In a room on the other side the four nurses sleep. I have not been sleeping: I have been on guard. And as much as one woman can who is also a Queen and Princess of the blood of Ra, I have made sure that we will be safe here.

I have my own household guards, completely loyal to me, and these have been placed on post all around my palace. I have organized them into regular watches: only a handful of servants whom I trust are permitted to come in and out with food and water. I have established my own small armed camp. No messages have reached us from others in Malkata, with the single exception of Aye, and I have sent none to them. Aye’s message said: “Keep her safe. I trust you.” My reply said: “I shall guard her with my own life. You have my trust also.” As indeed he does, and between us I think we may make some sense of this, though I do not yet see how.

I said we have had no messages from others in Malkata, but we have had one visitor, an hour ago. A guard came to tell me, in considerable agitation: apparently the demand for entry had been as imperious as the night before. Tired as I was, I could be imperious too. I had the guard show the visitor to my audience chamber and went to confront him alone.

“What do you want?” I demanded sharply before he had a chance to speak. “More victims?”

“Do not be too clever, Cousin,” he said angrily, “or I may find one.”

“That would be three in twelve hours,” I snapped. “I must congratulate you on your taste for blood, Cousin. It is beginning to become you.”

At this he had the grace to flush. With what I could see was a great effort, he managed to make his tone more reasonable.

“I am here to inquire for the safety of Her Majesty,” he said, “and to take her to the main Palace where she may be placed under suitable guard and made safe while she recovers.”

“I would not let you have Her Majesty were you Menes himself!” I said. “
You
place Her Majesty under suitable guard?
You
keep her safe? Why, Cousin, I dare say she would be as safe with you as her husband was. You have given him the greatest safety of all, the grave. How kind of you to wish the same safety for Her Majesty!”

“
Cousin
—” he began, a furious anger rising in his eyes and voice. But I simply gave him a contemptuous look and started to turn away. He reached forward and placed a restraining hand on my arm and said, “No, wait,” in a suddenly pleading voice. And fool that I am, something—old love, old hate, old habit—made me respond to the appeal and turn back. At least I heard his rationalization of what he had done, anyway, and I was glad to have that, for now I know that it will justify anything for him, and so I know better what we face.

“Well, Cousin?” I said coldly. “What is it?”

“To begin with,” he said, “Hatsuret killed Neb-Kheperu-Ra. I did not.”

“How could Hatsuret have been in his bedchamber if you did not take him there?” I demanded. “How could he kill him in your presence if he did not have your approval?”

“I killed Hatsuret instantly the deed was done,” he said. “I revenged His Majesty instantly.”

“You do not answer my questions, Cousin,” I said, “because you know you cannot. You took that pretentious priest—who, incidentally, is no loss to Amon or the Two Lands, I give you credit for that—and you told him to kill my brother. And then you killed
him,
to cover your crime and make it appear to the people that the Priest of Amon had murdered Pharaoh. Thus you removed Pharaoh and rid yourself at the same time of one who knew all your crimes. And thus you, too, Cousin, sought to lower Amon in the eyes of the people. Even you, proud Cousin, are afraid of Amon! Two ducks fell together at the slingshot of that great hunter, Horemheb. How skillful, how noble! I would congratulate you, were it not—were it not—” at which point, being a woman, though a strong one, and very, very tired after the dreadful night, I began to cry, quietly enough but without being able to stop. The rest of our conversation took place to the steady fall of my tears, which only seemed to make him more anxious to justify himself.

“You must understand me, Cousin,” he said quietly, shifting his chair closer to mine and taking my hand, which at first I sought to remove but then allowed to remain limp in his, for what was the use? I was too overwhelmed suddenly with grief to end a contact I now despise. “You must understand about Tutankhamon and about Hatsuret, for on your understanding of them depends your understanding of me, which I hope I have always had, and will always have.”

“Oh, you have always had it,” I said bitterly through my tears. “And never more than now, I assure you, Cousin.”

“I think not,” he said, flushing again with a renewal of anger, but forcing himself to remain calm. “You know as well as I that our little kinglet was well begun on his plan to restore the Aten. You
know
that was what he intended. You
know
that yesterday when he announced his so-called ‘mortuary temple,’ that joke upon all of us who thought the Aten in disgrace, he was already starting down the road that would bring him back inevitably to Akhet-Aten. You
know
the Two Lands could not have survived this again. You
know
he had to be removed, as Hatsuret, that priest grown too big of a priesthood also grown too big again, had to be removed. My father agreed with this: why do you not see it?”

“I do not believe he agreed with it,” I said, “except under the pressure of your persuasions.”

“He agreed with it,” he said grimly, “and so it was done, because he knew there was no other way.”

“There are always other ways than killing and more killing!” I said, an anger of my own breaking through my tears. But he only shook his head somberly.

“No, Cousin. Sometimes there are not.”

“And so now you want Her Majesty!”

“She is the ruler of the Two Lands, last bearer of the legitimate right to the Double Crown,” he said simply. “I must see that she is safe.”

“
I
will see that she is safe,” I responded sharply. “I have received the charge of Aye that I do this and I shall obey him,
for I trust Aye.
”

“When did Aye speak to you?” he demanded.

“He sent me a message,” I said, “and I replied that I would guard her with my own life. And so I will, brave Cousin, so raise your spear and stab me in the head or in the heart or wherever your great concern for Kemet tells you to strike me if that is what you wish to do!” And flinging off his hand, I stood up and pointed to the door. “Begone, Cousin! I do not wish you to come here again without invitation. My niece remains with me and I will yield her only to Aye. Work on the old man, if you can! But I do not think you can. So go, Cousin. Just
go
!”

He, too, stood up, and for several moments our eyes locked furiously. My tears were forgotten now, I seethed with an anger as great as his. For a second I thought he might indeed raise his spear and run me through: I wondered with a strangely distant curiosity whether anyone would hear my dying scream. Then I found the words to vanquish him … at least for the moment.

“In the name of Aye,” I said, “who now truly rules the Two Lands, go!”

“He does not rule the Two Lands!” he shouted. “I—”

“
You do not, Cousin,
”
I interrupted in a voice that somehow managed to be so cold and level that it stopped him in mid-utterance. “
She
does, and through her,
he
does, because that is how we have decided it. And unless you would slaughter us all this day in one great final blood-drowning of the House of Thebes,
you will be gone from my sight before I call my guards and have them throw you out, O great Vizier of Lower Kemet!
”

For another long and furious moment he glared at me; and then with an inarticulate, strangled cry of rage he spun on his heel and left; and womanlike, I sank back in my chair and gave way once more to tears, trembling all over but with a resolve as hard as stone in my heart.

I know now why my cousin Horemheb wishes to gain possession of Her Majesty, and I know now why we must truly be prepared to die so that he may not have her. She is indeed the last bearer of the legitimate right to the Double Crown. He thinks far ahead, does Horemheb, but farther yet thinks the Queen-Princess Sitamon.