Daughter of The Sun

By Michael Lane

Daughter of the Sun is a fictional account of Hatchepsut, the only woman to be crowned king of Egypt, the fifth Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty of the New Kingdom. She lived a normal life with its share of joy, loss and pain. As a woman, she loved, was loved, married, and gave birth to a daughter. While several women governed Egypt as queens, Hatchepsut, unlike any woman before or since, was crowned king, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt. She was a powerful, successful ruler who led Egypt for 22 years. Beloved by her people, she was also feared and hated by those whose privileged authority she challenged. With power came success, bestowing honor and, also, the seeds of jealousy. For thousands of years, it was understood that Egypt would always be governed by a king, a Pharaoh, and by definition the king would be a male. In challenging pharaonic succession, Hatchepsut was constantly compelled to prove herself, confronting her enemies and watching her friends.
By successfully overcoming challenges to her gender and its relationship to her claim to divine succession and royal governance, she made a name for herself. After her death, others tried to obliterate her name, her contributions, and her memory. In attempting to do so, they only ensured that all of history would remember this remarkable woman who took on millennia of tradition. In so during, she fulfilled her greatest wish: to preserve her name and her memory for all time, a quest that consumed most of her life, and ensured her rest in the Egyptian afterlife.
Love affairs and murder fill the gaps in the known history, taking the reader through the little-known life of one of the most influential women of ancient history, the one called the Daughter of the Sun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Lane
• Release date: Oct 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310552137

Michael Lane

Michael was involved in the death care field for thirty years. This experience has included every aspect of funeral service with over ten years’ experience involved in coroner/medical examiner investigations. His coroner/medical examiner experience included being a forensic embalmer (embalmer and autopsy assistant) in southern California and as an investigator in two rural counties.Michael holds a Bachelors’ degree in health education and a Master’s degree in public health. He currently works in health care at a large health care facility in northern California and enjoys long distance motorcycle rides.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Daughter of the Sun is a fictional account of Hatchepsut, the only woman to be crowned king of Egypt, the fifth Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty of the New Kingdom. She lived a normal life with its share of joy, loss and pain. As a woman, she loved, was loved, married, and gave birth to a daughter. While several women governed Egypt as queens, Hatchepsut, unlike any woman before or since, was crowned king of Upper and Lower Egypt. She was a powerful, successful ruler who led Egypt for 22 years. Beloved by her people, she was also feared and hated by those whose privileged authority she challenged. With power came success, bestowing honor and, also, the seeds of jealousy. For thousands of years, it was understood that Egypt would always be governed by a king, a Pharaoh and, by definition; the king would be a male. In challenging pharaonic succession, Hatchepsut was constantly compelled to prove herself, confronting her enemies and watching her friends.

By successfully overcoming challenges to her gender and its relationship to her claim to divine succession and royal governance, she made a name for herself. After her death, others tried to obliterate her name, her contributions, and her memory. In attempting to do so, they only ensured that all of history would remember this remarkable woman who took on millennia of tradition. In so during, she fulfilled her greatest wish: to preserve her name and her memory for all time, a quest that consumed most of her life, and ensured her rest in the Egyptian afterlife.

Love affairs and murder fill the gaps in the known history, taking the reader through the little-known life of one of the most influential women of ancient history, the one called the Daughter of the Sun.

PART ONE

GENEALOGY

CHAPTER 1

Twenty-first Regnal Year of Amenhotep I

The Kingdom of Kush [1]

Troop Commander Tuthmosis[2] stood at the opening of his tent watching the intense heat rippling the air, floating an imaginary sea on the horizon. Rising from the sea was a thickening column of dust as a horse and rider came closer. His destination: the military outpost guarding the important trade route to Kush, a territory rich in ebony, ivory, timber, and most recently, gold. Tuthmosis looked on as a larger second column of yellow dust moved toward the horizon to join the first. He nodded his approval, knowing that this one was being raised by a contingent of his soldiers sent out to engage the rider who was driving his horse so hard. Whoever it was, he'd better have a good reason for approaching the outpost alone and uninvited. This land belonged to Pharaoh Amenhotep, second king of the Eighteenth Dynasty, the living god and manifestation of the god Horus, and Pharaoh expected his commanders to make certain that no one challenged his claim, and that all who set foot on Egypt's land knew that Amenhotep was their king.

Commander Tuthmosis smiled as he watched the two dust clouds merge and begin to settle—a sign that his men had reached horse and rider. Returning to his tent, he took up the task that was interrupted by the news of the approaching rider. A slight breeze wafted under the partially rolled up tent wall, bringing some relief from the late afternoon summer heat. As soon as the air became still, the welcoming coolness was replaced with air as stifling as that outside. Tuthmosis pulled at his uniform pasted to his sweating body. Lifting the thick-walled clay pitcher from the table, he poured beer into two cups. Beer: the pride and staple of Egyptians for whom safe drinking water was scarce.

Commander, have you determined who it is that's approaching? asked the sun-bronzed man studying construction drawings spread out on a wooden traveling trunk that served as a field table.

Not yet, but I soon will. He offered one of the cups to his architect. Both men poured a little of the beer onto the ground, an offering to Monthu, the god of war, then drank silently for a few moments, letting the cool beer drive away the heat. Refreshed, they returned their attention to the matter at hand.

I'm not comfortable with the design, Commander Tuthmosis said, pointing to the drawing of the military compound to be built on the site now occupied by his men and their tents. There are too many openings in the west wall for light. It'll make us vulnerable in an attack. And besides, it's hard enough to work in these oven-like tents, much less sleep in them. If we build the soldiers' quarters as you suggested, it would be even more difficult for my men when the afternoon sun bakes the sleeping quarters with little chance of it cooling down until well after nightfall.

I understand, Commander. We can eliminate some of the openings, and make others smaller, the military architect said. But Commander, the building will house over a hundred men. You have to have sufficient openings to allow air to pass through or it will become worse than an animal stall in short order.

Tuthmosis used his finger to trace a line along the drawing of the west wall of the plan for the new sleeping quarters. Perhaps we could. They paused, their attention drawn to the harsh light coming into the tent. Haloed by the glare of the midafternoon sun was the silhouette of a man holding the tent flap open.

Yes, what is it, soldier? Then, remembering the approaching rider, Do you have news?

The guard bowed without entering. Please excuse the interruption, Commander and Lieutenant Architect, but a messenger from the palace has just arrived with an urgent message for the troop commander.

Commander Tuthmosis nodded, and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow with his forearm. A second figure appeared at the opening.

So what is this urgent message that comes so late in the day? And come in, soldier, you're letting in hot air. All I see is your shadow. I like to see a man when he's addressing me.

The soldier took a step in, letting the tent flap close. Sir, the rider is a messenger from the palace who said that you are needed at home and are requested to leave at once.

Why, what happened? And where's this messenger; why isn't he here?

Sir, the man is too exhausted to stand. But he brings good news. Commander, you have a new son.

That's not only good news; it's wonderful news, he laughed, laying his arm across the lieutenant's shoulders. Share my joy, architect, I have another son. He'll be called Tuthmosis, after me. Soldier, come, fill my cup and the lieutenant's as well. We'll drink to my good fortune, for the gods have blessed me with four sons: three are alive and will care for me when I am old, and pray for me when I pass over to the afterlife. He lifted his cup. What more can any man ask?

The soldier went to a corner of the tent and lifted another clay jar of beer from the deep hole dug into the sand that helped keep the beer cool. With a shaky hand, he refilled their cups. Tuthmosis looked at the soldier's pained expression. Why so glum, soldier? Share my joy, he lifted his cup, Four sons is a tremendous gift. The gods are good to me.

Sir, the soldier stammered, hugging the heavy clay jug for security. There's something more.

There was a brief silence. Well, out with it, man, he barked, detesting timidity in his men, What else do you have to tell me?

It's your wife.

Mutnefret. Yes; what about her? She is being well cared for by her attendants, is she not?

Sir, there were complications.

Stiffen up, soldier. What are you talking about? Speak plainly.

She's. She's dead, sir.

Dead? What sort of a joke is this, soldier? He grabbed the messenger by his tunic; pulling it tight, he lifted the man off his feet. I said speak plainly; none of this foolish talk that somebody put you up to.

Commander, let go, the man is choking. Tuthmosis let go and the soldier dropped to his knees. Sir, it's my horrible duty to so inform you, he gasped for breath as his color returned, your wife died giving birth.

Tuthmosis was ashen. He made a move to again grab hold of the soldier, became dizzy, and steadied himself by resting a hand on the table. His confident military demeanor gone, he looked vulnerable, broken; a man consumed with deep and personal loss.

My wife, dead? This can't be. His head played and replayed the soldier's words, searching for some misunderstanding. It must be some mistake. Maybe she was made sick and weakened by the delivery, but not dead. That's not possible.

A long silence passed, broken only by the hiss of windblown sand against the tent. The soldiers stood motionless. Only the commander had the right to break the silence.

Where's this messenger? Tuthmosis asked woodenly. Bring him to me. I want to hear of this from his lips.

Sir, he was exhausted and nearly collapsed. Tuthmosis moved toward the soldier. Stepping back out of arm's reach, he said, We gave him food and drink. He should be rested well enough to be brought here. I'll bring him at once.

The commander paced around the confines of his tent, no longer interested in architects, plans, or talk of tomorrow. Stopping at his writing desk, he picked up a turquoise and silver necklace he had purchased from a craftsman in Nubia, a gift for his wife. Pinching his eyes shut, he held the cool metal and stones over his pounding heart that was trying hard to leave his chest. He wished it would.

The messenger arrived, accompanied by the soldier. The men stood still, watching as the great man met his grief head on. It took Tuthmosis a few moments to become aware of their presence. Messenger, what more can you tell me about my family? he asked, without turning to face them.

The messenger anxiously looked at the soldier who had brought him. The soldier nodded encouragement for him to speak.

Sir, I was told that the baby came early, and the midwives had trouble with the delivery. His mouth felt as if it was full of sand. The people who sent me said that Lady Mutnefret was strong, but now older than when she had your other sons, not strong enough for the difficult delivery.

The commander turned around, his eyes red, and his cheeks glistening with tears.

The messenger averted his eyes. I'm so very sorry to be the one to have to tell you this.

That's all right, son. Say what you were sent to tell me.

The messenger raised his head, but did not make eye contact with this powerful man so deep in his sorrow. Sir, your sons are asking for you. They are very frightened.

When did she die?

Sir, I know nothing more. I'm sorry, sir. I came as fast as the river boats and my horse would allow. Even then, it took fourteen days to get here. It has to be at least fifteen or sixteen days, maybe more since she died.

Tuthmosis willed himself out of his numbness, his mind racing as it processed the news and its impact. Soldier, quickly make the preparations. I'll leave for home at once. He waved his hand dismissively at the drawings on the table, a signal to the architect to pack up and leave. And, soldier, tell Standard Bearer Ramid to report to me at once.

The architect finished gathering up the construction drawings. Commander, I join you in your grief.

Tuthmosis nodded his appreciation. Lieutenant architect, the compound is amply fortified and the preparations for construction are well underway. The land that we have taken back from the Kushites is secure, and the viceroy Pharaoh has appointed has taken up his duties, so things should be peaceful for a while. Ramid can finish the work.

As you say, we can get along without you for a while, but we'll await word of your plans to return.

This news hasn't taken hold of me yet. I know I'll be needed at home. He stared at the sand floor, his thoughts miles away, as memories of his sons and their mother flashed by. My boys will need me, now more than ever, he said, more to himself than the architect. Tell the officers that I'll return as soon as I'm able.

Commander, I speak now, not as your subordinate, but as a friend: take whatever time is needed. You and your boys will need to help each other work through this tragedy.

You're right. My boys are children, children who have lost their mother, a mother who loved them. He squeezed his fist and felt pain. Surprised, he looked down and opened his hand and saw the necklace. He stared at it, wondering how it came to be there.

I loved her with all my heart. And my boys loved her; they were the center of her life.

The architect gave a silent salute and quietly backed out of the tent, leaving his commander to his grief.

Standard Bearer Ramid arrived and stood at the entry of the tent that served as the military command center. Troop Commander, I heard of your loss, and your men and I share your sorrow. May our goddess, Isis, welcome your wife into the Land of Reeds.

Tuthmosis motioned for him to enter. Thank you. You're a good friend and a good soldier. My wife is, he paused, his breath caught in his throat, "was, a remarkable woman. Our children have lost a wonderful mother, and I, my best friend. He closed his eyes and fought back painful memories as the blackness of despair began to envelop him. With soldier strength, he fought back, refocusing his thoughts on what was demanded of him. Ramid, let me brief you on a few things before I leave for home."

Yes, of course. But, Commander Tuthmosis, please reconsider; it's already dark and the desert can be cold and hostile at night. Leave at first light. The journey will go better after a good night's rest. After you brief me, I'll help you get ready and ride with you as far as Elephantine.

Perhaps you're right. Tuthmosis rested his hand on his soldier-friend's shoulder. I'll make better time with a fresh start. And as for riding with me, Ramid, I appreciate the offer, but that'll not be necessary. You have much to do here and more now that I'm leaving. I'll be fine. Now, if you please, there are just a few details to go over and then I'm going to retire to my quarters and rest so I can get that early start.

CHAPTER 2

Sleep was elusive. What little he could capture was filled with restless dreams, reliving memories of happy times when he and Mutnefret were young, deeply in love, enjoying each other; revisiting scenes when, as proud parents, they watched their boys growing up—their first words, the awkward first tries at sports. The dreams and the stagnant air in the tent made for a fitful night. Each time he awoke, he found it more difficult to fall back to sleep.

When the first light of morning finally came, he welcomed it in spite of the reality it brought: This was not a part of my dream. I'll never see my beloved wife again.

Not wanting to encounter any more soldiers, uncomfortable in their expressions of sympathy, and driven by the need to get back as soon as possible, he, along with four soldier-guards, slipped away before the sun had barely broken free of the darkness.

The cool morning air rejuvenated him and he drove his chariot and horses through the wind-scoured mountain roads, pushing his team and himself as hard as he dared, knowing that it would be six days, five if he was lucky, before he reached civilization at the river city of Elephantine. In spite of the pace, the horses and the escorts welcomed the ease of the road and the nearly constant light wind that blew away the sand, exposing the channels cut into the rock by centuries of chariots that had traveled this route for the commercial or military needs of Egypt.

They reached Elephantine safely and rested the night. In the morning he dismissed his men, offering his gratitude for their service to him and to Pharaoh. He watched the soldier escorts disappear beyond the hills. For the first time since departing camp, he was alone. It was not a welcome feeling. He wondered if, in time, it would pass, or if this would be how he would feel for the rest of his life. His horses, picking up the scent of the close river, whinnied and nudged him. He rubbed their noses and led them down the path to the river. Unhitching the horses from the chariot, he walked them to the shore of the Nile. He held them close as they eagerly drank, careful that they did not drink too much, too fast. When he was satisfied that they were cooled down, he removed his cloak and unfastened his belt, letting his military kilt drop to the ground. Stepping out of his kilt, he pulled his uniform shirt over his head. Naked, he led his horses into the river. The gentle current of the river and the presence of their master calmed the horses, and provided the therapy he and his team needed after the grueling ride. Comfortable that his team would not be spooked by the unfamiliar sights and sounds of their new surroundings, he swam a few yards, welcoming the outflow of tension from his travel-weary muscles. Relaxed, he floated along enjoying the peace that the water gave.

As he rose out of the river, he used his hands to plane away the water from his body, pausing over the scars on his leg, arm and torso: constant reminders of battles he had fought, and lived through. And I will live through this as well, he thought.

At twenty-nine, Tuthmosis was among the youngest of Pharaoh Amenhotep's top military officers. Early on he had captured the attention of Pharaoh's mother, Dowager Queen Ahmose Nefertari, a woman quick to recognize and admire a man who was able to successfully juggle family life and a military career. It was she who had served as principal co-regent when her five-year-old son became ruler of Egypt. Then, as a shadow co-regent, she guided the young king from when he first took the crown as Pharaoh at age twelve and through the past seventeen years of his reign. As a queen experienced in governance and possessing a keen appreciation for what it took to maintain Egypt's sovereignty, she encouraged her son to give Tuthmosis more responsible assignments, and the young soldier didn't disappoint, quickly moving up through the ranks. He was rapidly becoming the queen mother's and Pharaoh's favorite, a trusted advisor and confidant.

Hitching his team to the chariot, Tuthmosis went to secure passage on the ferry that would take him across the Nile. From there a barge would take him downriver to Elephantine and the first cataract on the Nile.

With passage secured, he waited for the boat's departure. He walked among the tent stall shops lining the riverbank selling food, clothing, cloth, and all the things one might need to keep a household, or be tempted to buy on impulse. There were stalls displaying jewelry in copper and silver, the work of local artisans. A few pieces in gold were laid out for view in hopes of coaxing out a piece of turquoise or carnelian in trade. He stopped at a stall selling jewelry and picked up a copper bracelet with an intricate design of woven and braided fine copper wire. His thoughts drifted to his wife and the gifts of jewelry he had bought for her having visited similar stalls on his many assignments throughout Egypt. How delighted she was when she first saw them. And how more radiant they became when she wore them. He squeezed the copper bracelet in his fist, fighting back a new wave of grief. The merchant became alarmed at the change he saw in the man standing before him. His concern was now bordering on panic, first for his bracelet, and then for his own safety.

Sir, are you all right? The merchant asked softly, while slowly reaching out his hand to retrieve the bracelet.

What? Tuthmosis looked up, and seeing the merchant's concern and fear, he relaxed his grip and handed the bracelet to the man. I'm sorry, I was just thinking about something else. He forced a mirthless smile and wiped his sweating hand on his uniform. That's a beautiful piece of work.

The relieved merchant refocused himself on the possibility of a sale. Sir, I see you're a soldier in my Pharaoh's army. My shop is honored to have you visit it, and I'm humbled, he said, now all smiles and rapidly bobbing his head. Honored and humbled that one in service to our Pharaoh would consider my work.

You do fine work, very delicate in appearance, yet strong, suitable for frequent wearing.

You honor me further. May I show a man of your calling some items that would be wasted on the rabble that normally frequent my stall? Squatting down, he pulled out a cloth-covered tray. Eagerly returning to his potential customer he held the tray and, with a flourish, removed the cloth. The tray glistened as sunlight reflected over the gold, silver, copper and gemstones.

You see, sir, I have turquoise, lapis lazuli and carnelian stones set in gold and copper, each worthy of a wife of Pharaoh or Pharaoh himself.

Tuthmosis picked up a stylus in copper with a deep blue lapis lazuli stone set in the end of the handle.

This is of exceptional beauty. Is it your work?

"No, sir, I wish I was so skilled. My brother in Thebes[3] asked me to sell it for him. He shrugged his shoulders. I told him I don't often see buyers seeking quality, that is, until now." He flashed his smile, displaying two missing teeth, and resumed his rapid head bobbing.

Tuthmosis held the stylus, admiring the craftsmanship, the weight of the copper, and the size and brilliance of the stone. He didn't ask the price. He was more interested in its origin.

You say your brother made this piece?

No, he acquired it in a trade for a number of his pieces. It's an old piece. You can see by the workmanship, a piece of high value, a work of art to be treasured by its owner.

More likely, already treasured by tomb robbers, Tuthmosis thought, as he gently laid the stylus down on the cloth. He reached into folds of his cloak folded and draped over his shoulder, drawing out the military brooch that held the cloak closed. Attention was now focused on the gold pin set with precious stones identifying Tuthmosis as a senior military officer. Its design was that reserved for troop commanders, the highest ranking army field officer. He knew its significance would not be wasted on the man who knew gold and jewels and the rank of soldiers who frequented this portion of the Nile. He looked up and into the merchant's bulging eyes staring at the brooch, all color having leached from his face.

Tuthmosis picked up the stylus. The piece looks old indeed, and you are right to say it is one to be treasured by its owner. Turning the stylus around he held it like a dagger. A piece worthy of royalty or one who served royalty, wouldn't you say? But you already know that, don't you, merchant? He returned the stylus to the table. Merchant, be careful what you sell: Pharaohs are protective of their treasures and that of Pharaohs who have gone before them. The cadaverous merchant steadied himself, clasping his hand on the canopy pole. Tuthmosis reached across the table and wrapped his hand around the merchant's skinny neck, his thumb pressing against his Adam's apple.

Know this, merchant, I'll return this way again, and when I do, I don't want to see you or your goods here. Do you understand me?

Bobbing returned—the smile gone.

Tomb and grave robbing will have to be investigated later by others. He made a mental note to discuss it with the proper officials when he returned to Thebes, knowing it would be politely dismissed with a shrug of the shoulders and upturned palms, for grave robbing was becoming rampant as a sellers' market opened among the common folk who saw the benefits of an afterlife and its accoutrements as something denied to them. More than once he had heard a thief ask, So why preserve all these treasures for the once powerful, now dead? Why shouldn't we help ourselves to whatever little piece of jewelry or art we find and then sell to supplement our meager income? They didn't understand, or refused to believe, that the Ka,[4] the soul, lived on, but only if the proper rites for the dead were performed, and that being buried with the necessities of life enjoyed while on earth was essential to a peaceful, happy life after death.

Tuthmosis's attention was drawn to the growing clamor of the ferry crew as they struggled to maintain order as goats, oxen, cages of fowl, sacks of grain, and personal belongings were hauled aboard the boat he would take downriver to Swentet[5] and the Nile's first cataract. Returning to his team, he took the reins and led his horses and chariot toward the gangplank. With a whispered word to the horses, he handed the team over to a crewman who read his anxiety. The crewman knew how to read horses and men, and knew both of these needed reassurances.

The crewman took the reins from Tuthmosis and stroked the head of each horse. Thank you, Commander. Rest assured, I'll take good care of your team. And what a fine team it is. He spoke gently to the horses while leading them toward the gangplank. He looked back and said, You have beautiful horses, well taken care of, I say. You must be very proud of them. The man's words calmed Tuthmosis as much as the gentle handling did for his team. He continued to watch until his horses were led amidships and out of view.

He wished that things would move along faster, but the rhythm of the Nile set the pace, regulating the life of all Egyptians, including his. If this were the season of inundation, when the river rose to flood level and rapidly raced north into the sea, he wouldn't have to wait for the ferry. Then the river would be high enough so that he could leave from here and not have to cross over to the other side. But this was the season of planting. The floods were over for this year. Just another thing he couldn't change among many that seem to be denying him peace, swaddling him in unease.

The scene aboard the ferry was a blend of the orderly and the frenzied, as the crew worked to ensure that cargo and passengers were carefully positioned to provide proper trim for a safe and quick sail. With his chariot and team safely secured for the journey, Tuthmosis sought out a less hectic place to pass the time until they sailed. He walked a short distance, following the shoreline upstream until he could barely hear the raucous shouting and cursing of the deckhands and shore men. He skipped stones onto the Nile, venting his frustration about things he couldn't change: the time it was taking to return home; and the uncertainty of what was waiting for him in Thebes. His thoughts were interrupted by the ferry captain shouting for his passengers to board. Tuthmosis joined the queue of passengers that began slowly marching up the gangplank and onto the barge for the brief journey across the Nile. As cheers rose from the passengers, the ferry moved away from shore, helped along by crewmembers pushing long poles against the bottom of the river. When they neared mid river, a welcome breeze filled the sail, helping the pushers in their work and giving a moment of comfort to man and beast crammed onto the boat.

They docked at a point where the river provided the draft needed for the larger barges that traveled between the cataracts. Tuthmosis disembarked with the other passengers and waited under the meager shade of a cluster of palms. He watched unseeing as the men transferred the cargo from the ferry to the large river barge that would take him downriver to the first cataract at Elephantine and the city of Swentet, where the whole process would be undertaken again. Now, more alert, he watched as his chariot and team began the descent from the ferry, led by a crewman Tuthmosis had not seen before. His horses were frightened and agitated as they saw the ship's gangplank and heard the water lapping against the shore. They tried to rear as the crewman lashed them with a whip made of palm fronds. Tuthmosis ran to the aid of his horses. Grabbing the ferry worker's hand, he twisted it, stopping short of causing permanent damage. With a pain-filled cry, the man dropped the whip.

You fool. The horses are frightened and would benefit from some calming talk. Instead you give angry shouts and lashes from a whip. He pulled away the reins and spoke to his team. Once aware that it was Tuthmosis that was again with them, they relaxed. With his team safely back on land, he climbed aboard the chariot and drove the team along the road that followed the shoreline. He looked at the huge rocks jutting up at random points in the river, some over thirty feet high and twenty feet across, making this part of the Nile impassible to all but the smallest of boats. It took less than an hour to reach the dock where the barge waited that would take him to their next stop: the first cataract.

Arriving at the dock, he dismounted and walked alongside his team, guiding it through the mass of people and animals waiting to board. You there, I could use a favor, he called out to the bargeman.

You and everyone else, the bargeman shouted without looking up. Then, turning, he saw Tuthmosis grinning at him. Sir! Please excuse my ill manners, he fawned, It's just that everyone. Tuthmosis held up his hand, I understand, and I don't want to add to your problems. I just want permission to take my team aboard. It will be easier on you, and on them, if I do so myself." With more apologies, Tuthmosis was allowed to lead his team onto the barge. He hated waiting, and he hated surrendering control to others even more, and the whole process of river travel was under the control of others. With his team safely tethered, he settled down against some sacks of grain and closed his eyes, hoping for a little rest. Although he was exhausted, he couldn't sleep, unable to turn off his thoughts of his wife and his children; blaming himself for time lost, feelings not shared, words unspoken. Tired and restless, his patience was tested by the slow and arduous journey that gave him too much time to think and regret.

After twelve torturous days and three barge journeys since he had left camp, Tuthmosis was in Thebes and within driving distance of home. As he stepped into his chariot and took the reins in his hands, he felt back in control. Wind stirred the dust into rising columns. He drew his military cloak over his shoulders, and fastened it closed. Holding onto the clasp, he remembered the jewelry merchant and how the tombs of the dead were being plundered of anything of value. He thought of Mutnefret and his responsibility to give her a proper and secure resting place for all eternity. From the dock, he could see the palace. Now so close to home, he fought the temptation to skip making the obligatory visit to notify Pharaoh, his commander in chief, of his arrival and to undergo a debriefing. What he wanted more than anything was to go straight home, drive the team hard so that tonight he could be in the comfort of his home with his boys. Impossible. No outpost commander could arrive in Thebes and not check in with the palace. Besides, the journey was as taxing on his horses as it was for him and they needed a rest. He made three tongue clicks while gently slapping the reins on their croups, and chariot and rider headed for Egypt's seat of government.

Troop Commander Tuthmosis. Tuthmosis turned when he heard his name called. Commander, it's good to see you back in the city.

He shielded his eyes and saw a tall man in officer's dress, approaching in a near run, arms outstretched.

Lieutenant Anejeb. Jeb, my friend, how good of you to come and greet me, he said, as the two soldiers clasped hands.

I've been waiting for your arrival for days now, having an aide on the watch to meet the barge on its arrival. Wouldn't you know that the day I come on my own is the day you arrive. And I'm late. I should have been here sooner to greet you, but I was stopped on my way out of the palace by some small thing that was a major worry to a minor palace assistant. I hope you forgive my tardiness. Then, remembering the purpose of his friend's trip, Tuth, forgive me again; it's just that I'm so happy to see you. Please accept my condolences for your loss. We know, and have come to believe, that she's happy to begin her journey through the Field of Reeds.

There's nothing to forgive or be concerned about, and I appreciate your sympathy. I couldn't leave any sooner than the workers could unload my chariot and team. And, now, Jeb, tether your horse to the back of the chariot and climb aboard; we'll ride to the palace together and catch up on what has been happening in our lives since we last spoke.

Tuth, as you know, a debriefing session is protocol, so I'm glad to have a little time with you before the generals pick your brain to pieces.

I hope Pharaoh isn't going to want to have a long, drawn out meeting to catch me up on a lot of matters that have nothing to do with my assignment in Kush. I want to rest the night, then head home at first light. My boys are waiting for me and I miss them. And right now, I need them more than ever.

You needn't worry about a protracted meeting. Pharaoh is in Memphis meeting with the regional agricultural ministers. A couple of quick updates on military matters and you should be out with your hide intact.

That's the only good news I've had in quite some time.

If you have no other plans, perhaps we could have a meal together after you've had a chance to rest.

Sounds great. Let's get my horses fed and stabled, with a quick freshening up for me, and I'll be ready for whatever the generals can throw at me.

As the friends rode toward the palace, Tuthmosis laid his arm across Anejeb's shoulders, welcoming the release from the tension, anxiety and waves of grief that had haunted him from the time he left camp.

Jeb, it's good to see you. You look well, but a little pale. Not enough time to relax along the river bank, perhaps?

Relaxing is part of my past life. Pressure has replaced it. Now my military duties consist of checking and rechecking requests for supplies from the field, conducting inventories and ordering supplies. My new enemy is missing equipment: a most devious and hard-to-find adversary.

Tuthmosis laughed, I'd hate to have you on my back tracing a missing shipment at my post. As I recall from our old school days, you never gave up. I remember the time you had your eye on Meret, and she wouldn't ....

Now who's the one who doesn't give up? That was, what, some twenty years ago? And I remember how you and Mutnefret would sneak away into the reeds along the river. He turned as Tuthmosis withdrew his hand, his face dark. Forgive me. Tuth, I got caught up in the joy of seeing you."

As did I, he said, now giving all his attention to his horses. My memories are all joyful, but life must go on. Or so I keep telling myself. He offered a mirthless smile, And we're made up of our past, are we not? And we do our best to cope with living in the present. As soldiers it's been ingrained in us: 'No one is assured a tomorrow.' So, Jeb, it's good to have a happy past.

Anejeb returned a smile of relief, adding, And what good memories we have. Both men were happy to clear away the remaining wisps of tension and sadness.

The ride to the palace was brief, thanks to two horses eager for some food and fresh water.

Well, Jeb, I'll let your relationship with Meret go for now, but I look forward to having a whole day with you. I'll even buy the beer. I'd like to hear what really happened that caused that beautiful and loving creature to slip out of your hold.

For the details you want to hear, you'd better be prepared to buy a lot of beer.

Tuthmosis turned his team over to the stable groomsman, taking a moment to rub the horses' necks and say a word of comfort and thanks. The groomsman unhitched the team from the chariot and led the horses to water.

Anejeb resumed, I'll let the generals know you have arrived and arrange for you to meet with them in, let's say, two hours. Will that be enough time for you to freshen up and get a little rest?

Perfect.

Allowing an hour for the meeting, do you want to meet for dinner when it is over?

By then, I'll be more than ready. I'll see you then.

Great. I'll be waiting in the officers' dining hall.

Tuthmosis went to the officers' quarters and had a long, warm bath, followed by an oil rubdown. With a fresh kilt and tunic, he felt like a new man. His military bearing restored, he was ready to confront whatever Pharaoh's most senior officers were ready to lay on him.

Tuthmosis arrived at Pharaoh's briefing room and stood at attention at the doorway waiting for General Irun, the senior officer, to invite him in. Seeing five of Pharaoh's top officers seated at the table was not new to him, but it never failed to cause his stomach to tighten at the sight of the collective power and authority assembled in one place. The men were Pharaoh's advisors in his role as supreme commander of the army and navy. These were also the men who could make Tuthmosis's career or destroy it.

Ah, Commander Tuthmosis, General Irun said, standing to greet Tuthmosis. First, on behalf of all of us gathered here, may I offer to you our sorrow at the loss of your wife, and to your children, the loss of their mother. Mutnefret was a strong soldier's wife. May her ka enjoy the rewards of a good life lived.

My thanks to all of you.

Please sit and refresh yourself with some food and drink.

Just a little something to drink would be fine.

Of course. Soldier, he said to his aide, Bring Commander Tuthmosis, he looked questioningly at Tuthmosis.

A little wine please.

Wine it is. And refill my cup and that of the officers while you're at it.

Now, Commander, as you know, Pharaoh is in Memphis receiving reports on this year's harvest; however, he had asked us ... he looked around the room for confirmation, what was it, men, a week ago? Yes, not longer, to send word for you to come to Thebes and meet to discuss the situation in Kush. It is fortuitous that you are here now, he paused, and embarrassed at the thoughtlessness of his remarks, adjusted the drape of his tunic.

Tuthmosis again had to work to help make others comfortable with his grief. It was exhausting.

"I'm pleased to give a little time to meet with you. And what is the 'situation in Kush' that you want to discuss?"

"We'll get to the point. We're concerned—actually, it was the chief of the navy that brought his concern to Pharaoh—that portions of several of the shipments of wood that were to be shipped to our shipbuilding yards in Saww[6] have been missing. In investigating the short shipments, it was found that some ebony and foodstuffs have also not arrived, or were less than what was reported on the shipping manifest. The matter was referred to us to see what we could find out. More to the point, our focus is on a recent caravan bringing what we know so far, or what we have been told is, a shipment of timber, ebony, incense resin and myrrh, from Punt[7] to Kerma, that came up short in the shipping manifest, either before or after it was loaded onto a ship for Thebes. The timber was scheduled to be sent down to our shipyards in Saww; the rest of the shipment was unloaded here in Thebes. The general sat back and took a long drink of his wine. Few in Thebes get concerned when some wood disappears, as all of Punt and much of southern Kush along the Nile is a jungle of trees, but the missing incense resin and ebony have the temple priests' robes all twisted up. And when the priests are worked up, Pharaoh, and now his generals, have a problem of some urgency to solve."

Tuthmosis smiled at the truth of the comment.

Please explain why a shipment ordered by the navy becomes a problem for the army to solve.

Shipbuilding is part of our national defense. The discrepancies appear to be a matter of theft, or perhaps fraud in the shipping manifests, all of which would be crimes committed on land; that makes it an issue for the army to address.

You say shipbuilding logs are coming from Kush. Isn't cedar used for shipbuilding? And as I understand it, cedar comes from Punt, not Kush.

We're talking caravan problems here. The cedar logs come down on large ships sailing through the sea, not the Nile. But by way of the caravans, the navy receives certain lumber from Kush that is harder, better for certain ship components; oars perhaps. He fidgeted, wanting to get the discussion focused back on topic, I have no idea what the navy is doing with the wood. I'm a soldier, not a shipbuilder. Commander, I'm not here to discuss ship design: I'm assigned the responsibility of getting to the heart of the matter; find out who's stealing Pharaoh's goods.

Understood. So, am I to understand that a shipment of logs and incense just disappears? Who could be stealing a shipload of wood? And what would they do with it?

Not a whole shipload. We're talking about missing or shorted caravan shipments. For some time now, we are told, shipments of wood have come up short. At first the ship architects attributed it to sloppy bookkeeping of the ship's manifest when the goods were loaded. Over time the shortfall increased and could no longer be seen as human error.

So who could be pilfering wood, or incense for that matter?

That we don't know.

Irun sat quiet, not making eye contact with Tuthmosis.

You're not telling me everything, are you?

Irun held his silence, then looked up and let out a big sigh.

We asked the Kushites to hide our gold tribute inside the bags of incense or myrrh. This shipment it was to be with the incense resin. The arrangement worked well; that is, until the most recent shipment when the incense arrived, but not all of the gold.

Typical. Keep the key information from the senior officer you send on a mission.

How much gold is missing?

Irun sighed and shook his head. We don't know for certain. We believe some gold was removed from each shipment, perhaps for as long as we had set up our base in Napata. Whoever it is, they are smart enough to take only enough so that it would not be obvious that the deliveries were short.

So, a lot of gold or a little?

We suspect a rather large amount is missing. As to how much? he hunched his shoulders, Since the clerks receiving the shipments here in Thebes have been less than thorough, it's an unknown.

When did the shipment that raised the alarm arrive in Thebes? Tuthmosis asked.

A month ago.

So why wasn't I notified sooner that you wanted me to check into this? I just came through Elephantine and could have made some inquiries. As soon as he said this, he regretted suggesting he would place a missing shipment above his loss and the needs of his children.

We only learned of this ... five days ago? He looked at the others for concurrence. Heads nodded all around. The navy sat on the information hoping the shipment would arrive. They didn't alert the Palace of their concern until recently.

And now this involves me and the army?

"It involves the army because the Puntite king has sent his assurance that all of the tribute was sent on a caravan that we know arrived two months ago at our transfer point just outside of Kerma.[8] It involves you because you are the senior officer on site in Kush."

"I am senior officer, but I'm stationed on our garrison in the interior of Kush, not at the diplomatic base along the river. Why aren't the Kushites checking on this on their own? We have a contingent of soldiers stationed at the diplomatic mission; have they investigated the theft?'

You're the only officer assigned to Kush that is aware of the matter. We didn't involve our men, not knowing the extent of the problem and who may be involved.

Tuthmosis nodded, I hope our people are not involved. It was Irun's turn to solemnly nod. General, we only penetrated into Kush as far as the third cataract a few years ago. If we start snooping around, asking a lot of questions of merchants and caravan companies, it's going to aggravate a less than friendly and welcoming situation.

It's precisely because of our tenuous relationship with the Kushites that Pharaoh has asked that we give this assignment to you. Let me give you more background: we're to receive six shipments, two per season, of gold, incense, and whatever Thebes demands, as tribute to Pharaoh for his masterful defeat of the Kushites, bringing peace to our borders.

A tentative peace at best, Tuthmosis offered.

Indeed. And no one knows better the restless nature of the Kushites than do you, or the diplomatic dance we have to do with the king and his minions than does our viceroy.

Tuthmosis drew a mental picture of the overweight and effeminate viceroy dancing with the Kushites in their colorful costumes.

The only concern of our viceroy is the timeliness of shipments of foodstuffs, wine, and fine cloth that he demands to make life in Kush 'tolerable', as he likes to put it. The man has been in Kush for over a year and has yet to make an official visit to the Kushite king; it's not as if it were difficult: he's living just outside their capital. The man refuses to make an effort to learn the simplest of phrases of polite greeting in the Kushite language.

Commander, General Kaaper began, "we are aware of the shortcomings in the political arena; however, our task is to investigate the missing shipments from a military perspective, to determine if the caravans were attacked by marauding thieves, taking portions of tribute that weren't reported due to death threats. To that end, Commander, can you shed any light on the matter?"

I wasn't aware of any recent problems with caravans. There was, of course, the unfortunate incident of the caravan that was attacked by a pack of starving lions two years ago, following the wildfire that destroyed their habitat and drove out their prey. But nothing new has been reported. Tuthmosis turned his attention to his wine.

And our esteemed viceroy—where does he fit into this?

He doesn't, General Irun replied, At least not openly, and not in the investigatory phase. As you know, Pharaoh Amenhotep introduced the concept of viceroy as a political experiment, and chose Kush as a territory where he felt it would have the best chance of succeeding. As you are also aware, he chose Heneku. Unfortunately, and I believe you will concur in my assessment, the man chosen to govern is ill equipped for the task.

Ill equipped would be an overstatement.

Well, that being as it is, our role is to perform military missions as directed by Pharaoh. And it's that which we will do and leave the politics to the palace courtiers.

So you see, Commander, this is a military mission with diplomatic consequences, Kaaper said. We must learn why the shipments have not arrived so that we can take proper measures. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands on the table, his eyes locked on Tuthmosis. Commander, your assignment, after you provide a proper funeral for your wife and attend to the care of your children, is to return to Kush, meet with the viceroy and initiate a diplomatic investigation, and report back to us. I should add, if you uncover something that requires military intervention, you are authorized to act in the name of Pharaoh to the full extent of your office and with our authority. He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. I need not emphasize the sensitivity or urgency of the matter, he added gravely.

Tuthmosis drank the last of his wine and sat quietly as he thought about his duties awaiting him at home, resentment growing that he should be asked to deal with a problem that had been neglected and now was being added, with some urgency, to an uncertain future affecting his family.

Commander, you will of course be accompanied by a contingent of soldiers of your choosing. And we ask that you take Lieutenant Anejeb along with you since he is both a capable officer and a quartermaster. There's none better for finding lost goods. The man is as tenacious as a mongoose.

Suddenly the assignment took a little brighter spin.

Is Lieutenant Anejeb aware that he will be accompanying me? He had to swipe his hand across his mouth to hide a grin.

No, we wanted to speak with you first to get your concurrence.

He stifled a laugh as he thought about springing this on Anejeb at dinner.

I'll do as you ask. I'll leave tomorrow at first light for home. Both my team and I need a rest, generals. And more importantly, I need time at home with my family. And I have to bury my wife. I'm sure you understand, he added with an edge.

We do, Commander, General Irun said, picking up on Tuthmosis's tone. Take whatever time you need.

Do we know when the next shipment of tribute is due to leave Kush? General Kaaper asked.

An aide searched the record supplied by the Palace. In eight weeks, sir.

Six weeks it will have to be then. That will allow me time to complete the required time of mourning before I set my wife on her journey in the Field of Reeds. Tuthmosis choked up. Then I'll leave from here and be at our mission to begin my investigation before the next caravan arrives. You'll have my report as soon as I've completed the assignment.

Irun stood and the other generals and Tuthmosis did as well. Commander, Pharaoh Amenhotep has the highest regard for you, as do we. It's for this reason that you were selected to head the garrison on our interior outpost in Kush. You have not caused us to regret our decision.

On the contrary, General Kaaper chimed in, Pharaoh and we rest easier knowing you are watching for the interests of Egypt on our southernmost border, and among our neighbors in Kush.

So much for a quick briefing and out of here, he thought. He left, wondering when he was going to find the time to conduct a proper investigation into the status of caravans with all the work that was to be accomplished before construction on the new fortress could begin. All that could wait. And Ramid is in charge in my absence. He and the construction team will work well together. I have to stay focused on my children and the respect and honor my beloved wife deserves—but now, a brief opportunity to enjoy some wine and good food with a friend from my wild and reckless years. And I'm looking forward to springing the news of his assignment to accompany me to sort out the problems in Kush.

The friends enjoyed a wonderful dinner of roasted duck, rice with figs and apricots, cucumbers and onions in heavy cream, honey cakes for dessert, and one of the finest wines Tuthmosis had had in nearly a year. The dinner and light conversation helped wash away the pall of grief and the thoughtless demands of the generals.

Thank you, Anejeb. I needed this chance to talk with someone who remembers happier times and is not trying to add to my workload.

That's what friends are for, but I wonder if you had a hand in adding to my workload by asking me to come along on your mission to Kush.

I'm shocked that you would think so, Tuthmosis said theatrically. Seriously, Anejeb, the generals chose you. Apparently your skill in keeping track of the military's equipment impressed the generals and they thought you were the very person who could reconcile the record keeping.

So I'm a victim of my own competence.

So it seems. I must say that I couldn't be more pleased to be going on this mission with you. It'll be just like the good old days.

You have a way of making my boring job seem less tedious. And all kidding aside, I'm looking forward to going with you as well.

Right now, all I'm looking forward to is a good night's sleep and an early start in the morning, so I'll say good night now.

Tuth, Anejeb began softly, maybe now it would be a good time to move closer to Thebes. Here, you and your boys can access excellent military support services, good schools, and the best medical care to be found in Egypt.

Tuthmosis nodded, I'll have to give our housing arrangements some thought. Mutnefret loved living in the country outside Abydos. And I loved the home she made for us. But now. Now I have to place my children's needs above my own. He stood and extended his hand to his friend. Thank you for a wonderful evening, and for giving me some hope that life will go on tomorrow.

As sure as Re will resurrect the sun again tomorrow morning, your life, and that of your family, will go on. May Isis protect your children, and her husband Osiris protect the ka of your wife for safe passage in the afterlife. The two friends clasped hands, And may Seth withhold his wrath so that Egypt's peace continues, and you and I can continue to relax our bow-arms for many seasons to come.

"Thank you, my friend. I'll see you when the season of harvest begins and we leave for Napata.

Tuthmosis was lost in his thoughts as he went to the stables to check on his horses for the night. Satisfied with their care, he slowly walked to the officers' living quarters, glad the most difficult part of the long journey was over, yet full of mixed feelings for what lay ahead.

CHAPTER 3

The ride home seemed to take forever. As the miles passed, his thoughts became increasingly more centered on the decisions that had to be made regarding his children and his career. He thought about Anejeb's suggestion that he move closer to Thebes. It had some benefits and might present few losses. I'll have to discuss it with the children; they, especially the older ones, may have some needs that have to be considered before I make any changes to their lives.

Tuthmosis guided his team around the final turn, his home now in sight. Slowing down the team so as not to raise a lot of dust, he followed the drive up to the outer gate. Was that it or am I procrastinating? He arrived at the gate and was immediately surrounded by a rush of women: professional mourners, coming from the shelter of the shady orchard, their heads and bodies covered with dust, wailing lamentations while striking their breasts with tightly held fists. The morbid chanting and wailing tightened around his chest, making it difficult to breathe. What he struggled for so long to keep at bay suddenly came crashing down, as a deep sense of loss and aloneness enveloped him.

Wanting to get away from the din of the mourners, he abandoned his chariot outside the high walls that surrounded the house, forming an outer courtyard. Entering the gateway into the safety of the courtyard, he immediately felt some relief as the thick walls muffled the wailing of the mourners. Bending over, he took several deep breaths. With calm restored, he stood on the path that led to the house that had been their home for the past five years. It was Mutnefret's dream. All of it—the design, the color of the plaster, even the landscaping—was guided by her loving touch. Slowly walking toward the house, he noticed, as if for the first time, the blooming trees and shrubs that he had just passed. He stopped in front of a piece of statuary, a human-sized figure of the goddess Isis, a gift he gave to Mutnefret the first year they moved into the house. He traced his fingers over the face of the goddess. He dropped to his knees before the statue, keening and sobbing, tears streaking his face, washing away the road dust of his journey. He was home. Now husband and father could grieve openly. And grieve he did, releasing the pent-up emotion of his loss and envisioning the pain and emptiness his sons would suffer. He recalled the many goodbyes spoken on this pathway as he left the safety of this house. Goodbyes that never spoke of dangers and uncertain outcomes that often came with fulfilling the directives of generals far removed from the reality of battle. He revisited words of assurance, no longer believed, hollow pledges that only brought tears from his sons, and instilled fear in his wife. All knew that one time he would not return. He stood up and rubbed his face, trying to drive away the demons of despair. He was outside the door to the house, not sure how he got there, unable to muster the strength to open it.

What's the matter with me? I'm a professional soldier. I've always done what was asked