Ancient Evenings

part two

Synopsis: In part one, Menenhetet, the Governor of the royal harem, and Honey-Ball, a little queen, successfully conspired to harm the Pharaoh.

Later That Night, after Usermare had mounted the bodies of each of the eight little queens, He became at last as calm as the waters of a pond and dressed with me, and we walked together in the gardens hand in hand. He had not been so calm in a long time. "I have lived in much indecision for many months," He said, "but tonight it has come to an end. Tomorrow, you will begin to serve as Companion of the Right Hand of Nefertiri, for you belong in My First Queen's Palace. You have the wisdom to serve Her well, and serve Me ever better." He nodded, as if the greatest wisdom was His own. "You will stay close to Nefertiri. You will not leave Her. If word should come that I am dead, you must slay Her where She stands."

Now He kissed me. "Kill Her," He said, "even if Her guards make certain that you are dead in the next instant."

I bowed. The dawn was as lovely to me as the thought of my own life. "That is the best death for you," He said. "You will be able to accompany Me in the Golden Boat."

He was my King. So I did not dare to say that I might wander in the Land of the Dead and not be welcomed by Him on any boat. I merely bowed again.

•

I cannot be certain now if the face I see before me when I think of Nefertiri is indeed the one I used to love when I knew what it was to desire a woman so completely that there was longing for Her even in the ends of my toes, as if like a tree I could draw strength from the earth. I know Her face, yes, and yet as I remember Her now, She is not unlike Honey-Ball. She was not fat, of course, yet, all the same, She was a voluptuous woman, at least in the season I knew Her, and the face of Nefertiri, like the face of Honey-Ball, had the fine short nose, the same wondrous curved lips whose warmth was like a fruit and tender in expression or merry or cruel as the whim would take Her. Of course, Nefertiri's hair was dark and lustrous like no other woman's, and Her eyes belonged to a goddess. They were deep in color, purple as the royal dye that comes from the shores of Tyre and they spoke of the wealth of royalty itself, as if one were forever staring into the late evening sky. That is how I remember Her, and yet I cannot be certain it is Her fine face I see, or only what I recollect.

I remember on the morning when I first entered the Throne Room of Nefertiri in Her Palace of the Royal Wife and there was introduced to Her Court as Companion of the Right Hand, that the sunlight was entering from the open pillars behind Her, and dazzled my eyes as it glittered over every carved lion and cobra of the carvings of Her golden throne.

Let me say that I had been passed quickly by Her sentries into Her Presence itself. My new rank, of obvious and considerable worth in Her Court, opened gate for me after gate, and I went through a great pair of double doors into the gold and splendor of Her great room. I was prepared to be blinded by the light from the throne--the little queens who could inform you of everything they never saw, had told me much about the splendor of the light in the morning when She sat by the Eastern bank of columns, but I was not prepared to grow faint. I had spent so many hours with Usermare that I thought my feet would be steady before Her Presence. It was not so. I threw myself on my belly and kissed the marble, which was the accepted ceremony then, as now, for that first occasion when you are presented in court to the Great Two-House or His Consort but on that first meeting, my teeth rattled against the stone. I was in the presence of a being near to the Hidden One. I can only say that as I threw myself down, a cloud came over, and my sight failed, the river of my sweat came forth, and my heart--then I understood what they meant by the expression--was no longer in my bosom; no, it flew out.

"Rise up, noble Menenhetet," were the first gracious words of the Queen Nefertiri to me, but my limbs were like water when there is no force of a wave, only the weight, and yet, as if I must learn to climb the steepest cliffs, so did I raise my head and our looks met in the silence.

That gave me much strength. I had heard from the little queens of the remarkable color of Her eyes and was prepared, except that there is no way to be ready to look into the last of the royal evening light. The beauty of the color gave me strength even as a dying man knows happiness when offered the petals of a rose. So our eyes met, and I lived with Her in all that perturbation of the Nile when it is divided by an island, just so great a change did Her eyes of indigo make in me, but then we did not merely greet one another, and step back into ourselves, but met like two clouds of different hue traveling on different winds and there was much dancing in the air between. Her face and body were in this first instant like a mosaic of sparkling stones--I could not even see Her whole, but I knew I loved Her, and would serve Her, and be Her true Companion of the Right Hand. A happiness came into Her eyes, and She laughed with a sweet peal of rollicking laughter, as if, behold, it would be a better day than all the signs had foretold.

We did not speak much more on that occasion. I made my presentations in a low voice full of respect, and, in such a situation, with what is better than respect, offered by my voice a not-all-controlled quiver of admiration for Her beauty, so spoke my tones. Then, I stood up and gave what was, for a charioteer who had risen from the ranks, a noble bow so full of the grace and manner of--I was to learn it just then--of a particular nome, that the Queen asked, "Are you, dear new friend Menenhetet, from Sais?"

"No, Great Consort of the King, but I have lived among the people of Sais."

"And it is said that some of the little queens are from Sais."

I bowed. I had no answer. I was too confused. Indeed, I cannot tell you how many courtiers were in the room, whether five or fifteen, I saw only Her and myself. Later that day when the House of a Royal Companion was assigned to me and I saw the gold of my chairs and tables and wardrobe chests, my new clothes of linen, and gold bracelets, and the faïence of my new chest-plate, each piece of the thousand and one pieces of blue stone limned with an edge of gold, and when I smelled the choice perfumes delivered to me by the bounty of the King--or was it from Nefertiri Herself?--when I surveyed my new servants--all five--and passed through the gracious rooms of my new house, seven rooms in full, my kitchen, my dining room, my receiving room for guests, my own room for meditation and ablutions, my bedroom, and the two small rooms at the end to hold my five servants, my cook, my keeper of the keys, my groom, a gardener, and last, my major-domo, I knew I was now blessed with more rank than General or Governor, and no longer lived in a small house but a large one.

•

Yet by the conclusion of my first few days, I was as vexed as a sail when the wind blows by both sides. If the palace of Nefertiri lived in all the brilliance of sunlight upon gold, I could not say the same for Her people. Her Officers were inferior men, Generals you would not trust with a command, Governors who governed no longer (like myself!) and a former Vizier who now reeked of kolobi and told long stories of his provident decisions in the early reign of Usermare. Her Maids, once beautiful, were no younger than Herself. Their minds, as I came to know them, were narrow and connected only to the fortune of their Queen, their own families, and their entertainments. Yet they knew less of arts and refinements than the little queens--it is obvious to me even as I speak that I lose the passage of the days for one does not learn that much about a court so quickly, yet I believe my years in the army were of use. When I was General it took no more than an hour's visit to a new command before I could form one indispensable opinion: The troops were ready, or too weak for my purpose. I saw much luxury in my first hours in Her court, and the subtle manners of many aristocrats were displayed, but I also knew that Usermare need not fear Her people--ambition was twisted here upon itself, and honor was sour. These courtiers would worry more about what they might lose than ever they would dream of the rewards that boldness might gain. No plot could come forth here. In truth, they did nothing but gossip, and I heard again every story I had heard among the little queens, although in Her Court, these stories were told with those little details that can be more dear than ornaments themselves, and are presented to one another like gifts. So in the Palace of Nefertiri, I heard more of Rama-Nefru than of the First Queen, and if I was told on the first visit to my house by the former Vizier who drank kolobi, that Nefertiri made much mockery of Rama-Nefru because She wore nothing but blond wigs, I also learned that Nefertiri had been forced to discover by the boasts of Usermare Himself--and on the night the soup was spilled!--that Rama-Nefru's own hair was also blond between Her thighs. No man had ever seen a sight like that. On hearing this truth, Nefertiri had burned every blond wig in Her wardrobe. Here the Vizier did not continue, but only closed one wise, sad, much-dimmed eye and opened it with a wink. "The head of Rama-Nefru will yet be as bald as mine," he murmured.

That was the first visit paid to me, and others followed. Where the decorum in the Gardens of the Secluded was so great that I never touched a little queen's hand, but for the one I did, here I could have had five men's wives in as many days, and they had arts for seduction. It is the only sport left to those who grow no more beautiful. Needless to say, they were adept at finding the poisonous point of their gossip. So, Nefertiri was always hearing of the youth and beauty of Rama-Nefru, or how He Who used to speak of Nefertiri as She-Who-Sees-Horus-and-Set was using the same words now for Rama-Nefru. The lady who told me this, gave a low wail at the horror of living with Nefertiri afterward.

Now, my duty as Companion of the Right Hand was to be near the Queen. It was understood that I must accompany Her whenever She left the Palace, which was not every day, although often enough, for She delighted to search out rare sanctuaries throughout Thebes. Unlike Usermare, She was not only dedicated to Amon, but to gods revered in other cities, as Ptah in Memphi, or Thoth in Khnum, not to speak of the great worship of Osiris in Adydos, but these gods also had their little temples here with their loyal priests, often in the meanest places--at the back of a muddy lane with the children so ignorant they did not bow their heads nor express any sign of awe, but merely goggled their eyes. If the lane was too narrow for Her palanquin, She still promenaded on Her fine feet and golden sandals to the very bottom of the alley, there to have Her toes washed by the priests of this shabby little temple of--be it--Hathor or Bestet or Khonsu, or in finer quarters down broad avenues, past the gates of mansions with their own pillars, sentries, and privately commissioned small stone sphinxes, we might pass through the slender marble columns of a "divine little temple," as She expressed it, to pay homage to Mut, Consort to Amon, or to the temple of Sais-in-Thebes, which revered the strange goddess Neit. I found it hard to follow, all these temples of Ombos-in-Thebes, and Edfu-in-Thebes, Dedu-of-the-Delta-in-Thebes, or the temple of Ptah-in-Apis, which worshiped the god as He appeared in the body of the bull Apis. I had much to keep me busy with these temples.

Afterward, She would shop. We would travel with Her guard behind us, and stop to visit a jeweler or a dressmaker, but these visits to fine quarters of the market interested Her less than the dirty little shrines, and I thought I understood how She wished to seduce the allegiance of every god. All the same, I suffered on these trips. As Her Companion, I was Her protector, and if in the true privacy of my (continued on page 188) Ancient Evenings (continued from page 102) orders, I was Her nearest enemy, well, I could hardly think of Her death when on these little expeditions, I saw a fellow or two who might be trouble to Her life.

Besides, another difficulty was there. Her oldest Son, Amen-khep-shu-ef, used to accompany Her. Now, I was replacing the Prince. He might be the General who had replaced me, but that hardly counted for Him. He let me know by His first look of greeting how welcome I was. Each morning, I expected Him to meet me at the double door to Her bedroom and say, "I will accompany the Queen today. You need not come." Would I know how to reply? At Kadesh, He had still been a boy, although fierce enough already to die before He would lose a battle, but I had known for years that He was beyond my own strength. Indeed, He was still so tall and straight that His name among soldiers was Ha!--just so quick was the sound of His spear through the air! You only had to look at Amen-Ha, and the gods in yourself rocked backward. So I would not dare to oppose Him directly--yet I could never watch my Queen ride off with Her Son. For on just such a day could an assassination of the King be plotted. There, right in the hour that the Good God might be expiring in His own blood on the marble floor of His own palace, She could be safe with Amen-khep-shu-ef in any one of a hundred noble mansions, or away in some secret little hovel in the maze of Thebes. I was by Her side to protect Her, but I also had to be ready to reach Her side, and in the next instant, Her heart. Like my Monarch, I inhabited two lands at once. Of course, on any day that Amen-khep-shu-ef ordered me to stay behind, and I dared to refuse, the Prince could slay me before the echo would be heard. Then He could tell whatever tale He wished. So it was not comfort I found in my new house.

Yet, how I enjoyed each day with Nefertiri. In all the hours I had spent with Honey-Ball, I still did not know how to treat her. Ma-Khrut had been as much a priest, a beast, and a fellow soldier as my own woman, and besides we were always working at one ceremony or another. Or so I remembered our life together after fifteen days away. Still, I tossed at night until I could have been in a storm at sea. I did not know if it was I who longed for her, or she for me, but there was some longing left. I knew the suddenness of our separation had many strange effects upon me, for when I was with Nefertiri, I could feel Honey-Ball sending me favors or withdrawing them. I might pour a wine with a decorum as perfect as a goddess coming to drink from Her own pool, and know it was Ma-Khrut's hand that guided the calm measure of mine, or, equally, I could leave a ring of moisture on the table from the base of the golden pitcher, and be certain my former mistress had led me to dribble a few drops off the lip.

Yet, give me an hour alone with Nefertiri, and I knew happiness. She spoke so well. It was magic. With Honey-Ball, I sometimes felt, when most dejected, that magic had the weight of a ritual practiced much too much in the caverns of the night. Sitting beside Nefertiri, however, I learned of the other magic that rises from the song of birds or the undulation of the flowers. It is certain She seduced the air with the sweetness of Her voice.

It hardly mattered of what She spoke. She had been obliged to be together with the people of Her Court so long that She delighted in the smallest conversation with me, and wanted to know about the hours of my life which I would tell to no one else. Soon I realized that in all the years of Her marriage to Usermare, She had never spoken at length to anyone who lived in the Gardens of the Secluded, and so She always wished to hear of the little queens. There was not one whose name She did not know, for She had learned much about them from their families, who were always eager to tell about the early lives of their little princesses, lost to them. She corresponded prodigiously, and on many a day She would show me Her work, and I was so seduced as to feel I had received a dear gift. The purity of Her divine little sticks and snares and pots and curves, the colors of Her letters, and the precious life of the creatures She painted made the papyrus tremble in my hand as if the wings of the birds furled by Her fine brush were now unfettered and could glide through my fingers in their flight. Golden were the hours I sat beside Her while She composed these letters.

•

One night, She had Amen-khep-shu-ef brought together with myself for dinner, and it was clear Her purpose was to encourage friendliness between us, or, failing that, bring us to some recognition of how we were each servants of Her "great need" as She came at last to put it, and it was then I came to understand something about the grandest ladies. One could not be a Queen without a great need. Whether Hers might be to injure Rama-Nefru, lay revenge on Usermare, or establish Amen-khep-shu-ef in succession to His Father--who could say?

Yet I knew that Amen-khep-shu-ef would never love me. He loved His Mother too much, and with the wrong mouth as we used to say in the charioteers. Indeed, She even called Amen-khep-shu-ef by His little name as if the thought of His spear was always in Her thoughts. "Amen-Ha," She would say, "why do You frown so?" and I, seated in the middle of the long table, felt smaller than myself, and not at all in the conversation. He spoke to Her only of matters about which I knew nothing, of His brothers and their wives, of hunts in the desert when She had accompanied Him, of a day most recently when She had stood beside Him in a boat of papyrus while He struck down eight birds on five casts of His throwing stick and the last bird had fallen into Her lap: There was a purity of understanding between Them I could not enter.

She made efforts to bring the conversation to me. When I complimented Her on the beauty of Her writing, I was treated to a little explanation on the rarity of the school to which She had been sent as a child. It was one of the very few of the Houses of Instruction in Egypt where girls might go, but many were the difficulties for the teachers. The students happened all to be princesses, or, at the least, the daughters of nomarchs (as was Honey-Ball, a classmate of Nefertiri, I would yet discover) and so could hardly be whipped by their teachers. "Yet," She said, "as every scribe must tell you: 'The ears of a boy are in his seat, and he learns best when he is flogged.' Yet where were they to strike a Princess? No, they could not. Still we suffered. The ears of a girl are in her heart, and we wept when we made errors, and I could never learn to count. Each time I drew the sign for seven, I could think of nothing but the little cord that held My robe together, and I wished to loosen it. After all, the writing is the same."

"Sefekh," said Amen-khep-shu-ef. "I never thought of that."

"Sefekh" She said. "It is the same. I always mixed one with the other, and then the seams came apart in My head. All untied!" Mother and Son then said "Sefkhu" both at once, and Their mirth could frolic over this fine word, for it meant taking off one's clothes. I tried to smile, yet They knew words I did not, and laughter lived between Them like a wind I did not share. Of course, it was not the first time I had come to think our language was too subtle, for I was well aware, having been tricked more than once, that the best Egyptians from the finest families know how the same sound can have many meanings and be written several ways. I thought, "I am as low as dung before Them, yet They use this same sound dung to mean bleached linen. Who is to know what They mean? They conceal much from those who were born beneath Them by turning a word into the opposite of itself."

But then, going back so far as my first days in the charioteers, I had noticed that what characterized a noble most, even more than their fine accent, was much private wit. As a simple charioteer, I had often not known at all what they were saying. How could I when each one of our words in Egyptian has so many meanings? They might use the sound for breasts, which is the word menti but they would be speaking of eyes. Yet another word for eyes is utchat, eye-of-a-god, also although the word, with but a little difference in tone, is "outcast." One had to be clever to serve these nobles when they could play with many a meaning for each sound. All the same, no one had ever done this so well as Nefertiri. By a lilt in Her throat when She said hem-t, She could change a "hyena" into "precious stones." That, too, was magic--Her wonderful use of the inflections of words until light sparkled on every sound.

Still, such games did not go on too long this evening. In His royal manner, Amen-khep-shu-ef was more a soldier than a noble, and not able to play at this so well as His Mother; indeed, left to Himself, He had a solemn mind so that despite His effort to talk of matters where I did not belong, He was obliged at last to come back to a subject where I could offer a few remarks myself, and yet I cannot say I was happier that She turned the conversation to war since His exploits had always been more celebrated than mine. "Foolhardy" was the way He used to be described by the Generals closest to me, but even then, being handed the worst end of each story about Him, I knew how brave He was.

Now, I was obliged to admit, despite all my desire to think less of Him, that no commander had ever had so great a reputation for conducting successful sieges. We took care when I was General-of-All-the-Armies to have the Division of Amen-khep-shu-ef away on the frontiers of Syria, but I never ceased to hear of the towns He took by siege, and some were strong cities never before fallen. He built forts to roll forward on wooden wheels, and one was even three stories high to equal the wall He would face. No labors were too endless for Him. He dug moats around towns so that none of the women and children could slip out--the wails of the starving gave strength to His troops, He would say--and yet the little queens spoke less of such cruel and stubborn skills than of His daring. So if I heard once in the army, I would hear again in the Gardens of how He not only climbed the face of high cliffs to accustom Himself to problems He would encounter on the battlements of cities, but had taught one squadron of His charioteers to climb nearly as well as Himself. On His last siege in Libya, to which His Father had dispatched Him in the hope He would stay away, Amen-khep-shu-ef and His men had been able to scale the walls without ladders on the first night of a siege before a single trench had been dug! His armies had only reached the place that afternoon. All talked of it. A siege that did not last a night! Amen-khep-shu-ef wished to let everyone in Egypt know how His feats would be greater than His Father's.

Of course, there had been constant gossip in the Gardens over His prospects. Would Amen-khep-shu-ef ascend the throne? Or might the Pharaoh choose a Prince from some other woman's flesh? Rama-Nefru had given birth already to twins, and if one had died in His first week, the other thrived. Rare was the day, however, and rare the gossip, that did not carry a hint of some threat against little Peht-a-Ra who, having been given this mighty name of Lion-of-Ra, was also called by His Father, Hera-Ra. Of course, to spend a season in the Gardens of the Secluded was to learn, if you listened to the little queens, that no Prince ever followed His Father to the throne before ten of His half-brothers by other women had been brought to a sudden death. I heard so many stories of the death of Princes in beer-houses, on the field of battle, in bed with treacherous women, or suffocated in their cradle, that I believed none, not until I saw the size of the guard around the Palace of Rama-Nefru, and found myself thinking of the obstacles awaiting Peht-a-Ra before He, half a Hittite, would be King of Egypt.

I must still have been brooding on such matters, for at the end of dinner, Amen-khep-shu-ef took me by surprise. He spoke directly to me at last. The point was clear, and He made it in contempt. "You are a friend to My Father's ear," He said.

"No man like myself can make that claim."

He smiled. He would remind me that He might yet be my King. And a meaner one. He said, "Speak well to My Father who rewards you."

Not only was He much pleased at the cleverness of these last remarks, but His Mother clapped Her hands, and kissed Him full on the mouth before He left.

"What do you tell His Father?" She asked of me.

"Not a great deal," I said. "The Good God does not listen." I sighed. "It is sad to be the wretch whose limb is crushed between two great stones." Happily, I managed to put a smile on my face, sly and wicked I knew, and She smiled back.

"You are as helpless as oil," She said, "and have nothing to fear from two great stones."

This joke is a fine example of what I mean by Her use of our language. Helpless and oil had the same sound and so were typical of Her magic, light as the wings of a starling. Often, She would amaze me with the delicacy of Her offering. I, who was used to the urgent strength of Honey-Ball, now came to appreciate how deft was the touch of those who touch the gods with ease. I knew, despite Her adoration of Her tall Son, that She was also glad to be alone with me, but then it was in the nature of a great Queen and Consort of the God to live as if, truly, like Usermare Himself, She had not One Ka but Fourteen, and there were many women in Her, each to find its pleasure in a different man.

May I say She knew me very well, for Her first act now that we were alone, was to go to a large chest, and from it remove a disc of ebony as wide as one's brow, and with a handle of electrum. Carrying it carefully, so that I could only see the back of this ebony disc, She sat beside me and placed it by its base on the table. Then She said, or so I thought, "Have you ever looked into a fine revealing?"

Once again, I was bewildered. I supposed She could not mean anything like conception, which was certainly one of the meanings of revealing, but, no, not by the light smile on Her face. So I took another meaning for the word, and wondered if She meant, "Have you ever looked into a foulness?" but again, by Her expression, I knew that could hardly be so. At last, and with what relief, I concluded that She had said, "Have you ever looked into a fine river?" for indeed I had, who has not seen the quiet Nile when the water is calm and clear, and your own face ripples on the surface of the small waves, so I nodded and said, "Yes, I know nearly all of the Nile," much relieved, whereupon She reached up, pinched my cheek, brought a candlestick near to us, and turned the ebony disc around. I drew back in fright. By the glow of the flame, I saw the face of a man who had something like my own face, but more intimate than the surface of all those rippling waters where I had half-seen it before. Now, I truly saw my own features on this perfect plate of polished silver, and I had the expression of one who serves the Pharaoh, and was startled by how much caution dwelt in a man who had once been a charioteer. How smooth and worried were my cheeks. A tomb of corruption must be my heart! That was the first thought at seeing my face, and it came from the side of myself that is noblest in spirit, and most demanding, but the sweetmeats of myself were delighted with this look at me. I thought myself handsome, and knowledgeable in the desires of women, indeed, I was so handsome that I stirred unmistakably and then I was full of fear because I realized that was not my own face I saw, but my Double, and it lived on the surface of this silver, this polished lake of silver. Nefertiri stroked my cheek with the most mocking touch of Her finger-tips, and said, "Ah, the dear man does not know a mirror."

"Never a mirror like this," I managed to say back to Her, but I could hardly speak. "Why this," I wanted to say, "will change all that there is." For I knew that if every soldier and peasant could see his Ka, why, then, all would want to act like gods. Oh, I had looked into common mirrors, scratched and dull, their surface so impure that one's eyes and nose twisted as one moved it about, but this was a mirror like no other, it must be the finest in all of Egypt, a true revealing--ah, there was the word She had used--and my Ka was before me, and we looked at each other.

Then I understood once again how cruel it must be to wander in Khert-Neter, the Land of the Dead, with no tomb for a home, nothing but the banks, the monsters, and the flames of the serpents to devour one's Ka. For I saw that my Ka was virtually me and there before me and so alive. He was the one who would be destroyed in the smoke and the stink. I wished to cry out against such monstrosity. So vivid was all I saw of this face, that even the light of the candle seemed like the flames of Khert-Neter, and I knew that I loved my Ka and it did not matter how much corruption was in those features when my life was also in them. Then I gasped. For by a turn of Her wrist on the handle of this revealing, so did I see Her Ka, not mine, and Her indigo eyes, blue as evening in the flame of the torch, looked back at me from the polished disc, and I could dare to lay my eyes full into the eyes of Her Ka, this One, at least, of Her Fourteen, and She blinked as if She also saw the shadow of unseen wings. I think it was then She knew that I must kill Her if Usermare was dead. By way of the mirror we looked at one another until the tears came forth in both our eyes.

Yet by the strength of our gaze into each other, so did I enter Her thoughts for the first time, and before we were done, I took Her hand--I dared and took Her hand--and was able by way of Her fingers (just so well as with Usermare) to enter Her heart. The thoughts were not small. She was thinking of the night Amon had come to Her bed, and She conceived Amen-khep-shu-ef. Then I knew why Her Son climbed the walls of high cliffs--Amon had cohabited with Mut, His Mother. So did Nefertiri dream of Herself in the embrace of Amen-khep-shu-ef. Yes, the jealousy of Usermare was well-founded. The rush of Her thoughts came over me like a thumping of horse's hoofs, a true set of blows to pay for daring to touch Her fingers, but then She was calm again, and wicked, and leaned forward to whisper in my ear, "Is it true that Ma-Khrut cannot keep her hands off you?"

Now I do not know if it was my thoughts She could hear, or, whether, given the free passage of servants, so much like birds, from the kitchens of one palace to the gates of another, Nefertiri had heard it all as gossip. Still, what a clamoring in my heart if I was now part of the common gossip.

I did not answer. I thought that if I pretended the question was not understood, why the dignity of a Queen might keep Her from asking again. I did not yet understand, so exquisite were Her manners, that Nefertiri's desires were as close to the roar of the lion as Usermare Himself. "Come," She said, "is it true? Honey-Ball has said it." Now, I had to wonder if Ma-Khrut could be so intimate with the Queen.

I might have smiled like a fool, or merely looked wise, but some strength out of the heart that once spoke in me as a brave man drew my eyes back to the mirror, and I spoke from my Ka into Hers, and said, "If it were not for the loveliness that surrounds Your Majesty, I would think often of Ma-Khrut." In such an instant I understood that the true desire for revenge is like a serpent. If its tail rested in the pits of my dream its head spoke in the eyes of my Queen. We both felt the breath of Ma-Khrut, as if she did not give us her blessing so much as the power to use her curse. Nefertiri and I still looked at one another through the mirror, but now it might as well have been the high bank of a river past which floodwaters wash in the great force of a bend. We saw each other with all the surprise one might know when looking at a stranger in the marketplace--yes, by Her size and by the poise of Her hips, so equal to mine, does that woman draw me forward. So I saw Her, and knew She saw me, She as a woman, not a Goddess, and I as a man, not a servant. It was wondrous to me how we met in all that is equal, and were so well-met. We smiled tenderly at one another. Alas. That Ka was only One of Her Fourteen.

Still, we were as close as new-found friends, and She took my hand again and began to explain a matter I had never understood before. Yet it gave me much new knowledge of my Pharaoh. For She told me how on the day of the great battle when the Hittites broke through and Usermare prayed in His tent, He had asked Amon to give Him the strength to meet His foe, and the Hidden One had said, "Your wish will be granted if You do not ask Me for a long life."

"He has lived," said Nefertiri, "for twenty-nine years since that day, but He still waits for the hour when Amon will come to take Him.

"That is why He is now with a woman of the Hittites," said Nefertiri. "He hopes Amon will not dare to go to war with Hittite gods." I saw the anger in Her eyes. "He tries to be close to Her gods. But He still wants Me." Her voice was as deep as the night, and as grave as the weight of the stone that She would lay upon His tomb. "I despise Sesusi," She said, "for His fear."

•

Sometimes, sleeping alone in the House of the Companion of the Right Hand, I would awake in the middle of the night and feel Honey-Ball near to me. There was not a bat who passed through my window, nor a bird scattering the hush of the night with a clap of its wings who could not have been a visitor from her garden, and I felt the ceremonies of Ma-Khrut rising like the inundation. Just as villages would soon become islands, so would my fortunes ride on a floodwater, and I must seize what would be offered.

I say this because the next offering was foul, and I was sick of such practices. Yet nothing that came my way offered more service to Nefertiri. Once, Honey-Ball, mixing the dung of her cat with the ashes of a plant, said, as if to herself, "It is the leavings of Sesusi that I need," and I never forgot her words'. I brooded much on the nature of such stuff when I lived in the Gardens of the Secluded and came to the sad conclusion that excrement was as much a part of magic as blood or fire, an elixir of dying gods and rotting spirits desperate to regain the life they were about to lose. Yet when I thought of all the transformation that dung contains (since it is not only good crops which sprout from it, but one has to take account of the flies who swarm over it) I began to think of all those gods, small and mean as pestilence itself, who dwell next to such great changes. "How dangerous is this excrement," I said to myself, and knew one terrible thought, even if I could not explain it. To hold the leavings of another must be equal to owning great gold.

Was it for such a reason that all who visited the Court would wear as much gold as they possessed? I still remember how wealthy visitors used to congregate under the patio in the Great Square by the Lake of Maat, and the gold would glisten on their bodies.

To enter the Wide Palace was not permitted without a papyrus from the Gates, and the Little Palace was forbidden to all but the intimate servants of Usermare. So, on this patio between, by the Lake of Maat, the wealthy of Egypt would wait for Usermare to pass in His route from one palace to another. He was always carried, and eight visitors would bear Him--eight chosen from the hundred and more who waited for Him to emerge from the doors of either palace. At word that the Good and Great God was coming forth, these courtiers and visitors would then become a mob, jostling with one another like the first froth of the rising waters of the river, for the right to carry Usermare on the Golden Belly (which was what we called His palanquin), for this was the only time when such visitors could serve Him. The other moves He might make from Court to Temple or to the streets of Thebes were carried out by officers of His Guard who served regularly on the bearing poles of His palanquin, indeed, there used to be a title for each of them--Third Bearer of the Right Limb of the Golden Belly was one. Such soldiers were, however, not used on the many trips He took between the Wide Palace and the Little Palace. For that, any merchant esteemed enough to enter through the Double Gate by the river, could, if fortunate, obtain the privilege of carrying Him a few hundred steps around the Lake of Truth (that is, the Lake of Maat) into the doors of the other palace. It was not a long trip, but one heard of men who waited through a hot afternoon by the doors of either palace, there in all the most terrible hours of the heat, close even to stinking in the oven of the sun if they did not carry their perfumes--woe to the body who stank in the nostrils of Usermare!--but in that terrible press, some would prevail, some would seize the honor (and talk about it for the rest of their lives). No matter how exhausted from the hours of waiting, they were delighted to cheer in unison carrying Him and His Golden Belly. They would even cheer as they ran, and never seem to fear that any would drop dead from the pace at which they went, while another crowd of prominent men from far-off nomes would wait at the next doors in the hope He would soon come out again.

That was when I knew how high was my own station. I looked with contempt upon men who would make such fools of themselves. For as Companion of the Right Hand, I even had entrance to the Little Palace at any hour by any door. How could it be otherwise if my King lived in fear of His Son and His Wife? He had told me to tell Him all I heard. Often He would summon me to ask questions. Rarely, however, would I please Him since He did not hear what He was waiting for--a tale of Nefertiri's disloyalty. Instead, I would suggest that little could be learned until She came to trust me more. I made much, however, of small sighs from Her lips, and the cruel expression on the mouth of Amen-khep-shu-ef. By exaggerating such trifles, I succeeded on the one hand to convince my King that I was loyal--no easy matter--yet allowed Him to conclude there was no sure evil to be found in His Wife or His Son. That also pleased Him. But, then, a monarch with a Double Crown must have Two Lands to His mind: If Upper Egypt desired true tales of treachery, Lower Egypt was delighted with Her fidelity. All the same, after Nefertiri told me of His secret fear of Amon, I decided to let Him know what She had said, even if I hardly knew how I dared. He had received me in His bed in the great room where He slept, and in His arms, Her golden hair covering His chest, was Rama-Nefru, yet I told it all, and with no pain that I was betraying Nefertiri. Indeed, I believe She knew I would tell it to Him, and wanted it so. Certainly, She grew greater in all our eyes as I repeated Her words, "I despise Sesusi for His fear."

Usermare shouted in a voice to bring the walls of His temples down on my ears, and Rama-Nefru looked at me for the first time. Although I had been in His bedchamber twice before when She was there, I had seen no more of the Hittite than the back of Her head. Neither time had She moved while I spoke, and when I had no more to say, I left, so, now, it was in pride, I think, at the boldness of my Queen's words that I repeated them.

Certainly, Rama-Nefru now sat up in bed and showed the wickedness of Her little breasts (which were wide apart) and cried aloud, "She is evil, Her eye is evil," words I could barely understand, so strong was Her emotion, and strange words to come from a young face as open as a flower; but I knew by the pain of Her voice that She was wiser than Her own anger. She knew Usermare would not think of Her for the rest of the morning. By the fury of His desire to lay hands upon this insolence (but could not--They were not speaking!) so would He be living with Nefertiri this day rather than with His young bride.

It was then He ordered me to take the Golden Bowl by His bed and empty it in His garden, and the command was uttered with such contempt that Rama-Nefru smiled at me as if to draw half of the insult back upon Herself, a kindness I would not have expected from a Queen. I bowed to Her, and to my King, picked up the Bowl, and stepped backward from the room to be met immediately by a Priest who waited in the vestibule. He was the Overseer of the Golden Bowl, and offered this title before I could even turn around. My duties were concluded, he told me.

I did not argue. The tips of my fingers still burned in shame from the manner in which I had been dismissed. Though no tears were in my eyes, I knew the terrible rage, so full of its own weakness, that children suffer, for I hated my Pharaoh, yet such hatred was worthless since I wished to be able to love Him. Indeed, I knew I did love Him, and it was hopeless. He would only love me less. How I wished to destroy Him.

I had such thoughts. Walking beside the Priest who carried the Golden Bowl, I wondered that the earth did not tremble from all that was awesome in my head.

"There is," said the Priest, seeing I still accompanied him, "no lack of respect for your own high office, but it is His command to perform these duties in solitude."

"That may be true for other days," I said, "but this morning, I was told to stay with you. Ask the One."

He would not dare. Beneath his shaven head, was a weak and selfish face. He nodded as if few matters could surprise him. Still, I could see he was worried. Were his duties to be reduced?

We went through a garden. I may say that he walked with his arms thrust out as if to carry an offering to the altar. Wherever we passed a soldier or a maid or a gardener, so did they bow low before this Golden Bowl, and I noticed that the Priest inclined his head as if he were the Pharaoh Himself, just so stately was the gesture.

Before a green wooden door, we stopped, and the Priest drew forth a wooden key from his skirts, and looked at me once more. He was still in doubt. But I inquired with confidence, "What is the name of this door?"

"Sha-ah," said the Priest.

"Yes," I said, "this is the door that the One told me to enter."

We came into a modest garden in which many herbs were growing, and this Priest knelt by one small furrow, set down the Bowl, removed the lid, and began to knead little pellets, which he tamped into place around the base of each plant until the Bowl was empty. I also knelt beside him, and must have looked as if I would touch one of the leaves, for he said, "These are herbs of wisdom, and may only be plucked by me, as His Overseer." I nodded. This would agree, my manner said, with all I had been told, and I stood up. Of course, he had been looking so suspiciously at the hand close to the leaves that he had not watched the one near the roots. In my fingers I now held a pellet, and it was as warm as the blood of Usermare, but then it came from the seat of the Two Lands. I bowed, and the Priest knelt by a small altar and prayed. Then he washed his hands in holy water, and withdrew from this small garden, myself a pace in front of him, only to quit the fellow on the walks outside and proceed at my own quick gait around the Lake of Maat through other gardens and by many a shrine and temple until I was welcomed into the Throne Room of Nefertiri, and from there, so soon as Her morning audience with officials was complete, went into the bedchamber where we had sat last night by Her mirror. All the while my hand throbbed as if I held the heart of Usermare in His leavings.

When I showed it to my Queen, She was grave and quick. She did not wait for darkness, nor proceed through any invocation, but took the pellet in Her palm, closed Her eyes, spoke some words to Herself, and handed it back. "Go," She said, "to the Lake of Maat and drop His gift in there."

I did as She said. Later that afternoon while the eight bearers of the Golden Belly were carrying the One from the Wide Palace to His Little Palace, so, by the right bearing-pole, even as they passed the Lake, not one man, but two, collapsed at the same instant, and the Golden Belly tipped over. Usermare fell out of His seat from a height higher than the saddle of a horse, and His head struck the marble. He did not move, and some thought He was dead. All knew He was near to dead. Nothing stirred but the wind in His throat.

Once brought to His bed in the Chamber of the Blessed Fields, He was attended by four Royal Doctors. Fomentations of powders taken from the Garden of Sha-ah were put to boil, and their steam filled the air. The half-chewed meat of Nubian lions was pulled fresh from their jaws to be mixed with fourteen vegetables for His Ka, all Fourteen, and His head was anointed where He struck the ground. Rama-Nefru entered, and began to wail, after which, Nefertiri, so soon as the other was gone, paid a visit with Amen-khep-shu-ef and They sat in silence by His bed, myself behind Them in the second rank next to the doctors. Usermare never stirred.

It was then, looking at His silent body, that I realized the Good and Great God might die, and I prayed as well. For if He did not live, I would have to kill Nefertiri, or meet His wrath in years to come when I went to the Land of the Dead.

Now, when I looked at Her, I would see myself with a dagger. Outside Her Palace, across the patios and gardens, the King lay unmoving in the Little Palace, and the vigil of the doctors did not cease. No man moved across all of the paving of marble around the Lake of Maat, and beyond our walls, the city of Thebes was near to silent. So in the silence that lay upon Nefertiri, did I sit and stare at Her and wonder if I could obey the command of my King.

I thought of no orders but my own, and yet, throughout the Horizon-of-Ra, I knew that nobles and Viziers and grand overseers of wealth and power were plotting with priests as to who should become the "well-beloved friend" of the next King. Amen-khep-shu-ef was with His Mother often, but rarely without His guard, and they, as I expected, were in the state of all good soldiers when a battle is near, and death, wounds, or treasure are close. They had the happiness of the best warriors and suffered that they had to walk about with unhappy faces.

In these days, I never saw Amen-khep-shu-ef when He did not show the wild eye of a falcon. He glared at me often, until at last I chose not to look away but let our glances meet. We stared at one another until all decorum was lost. My eyes could not have been more oppressed if His fingers had been squeezing them. But I was weary of humiliation. Besides, I had fought beside His Father in the greatest battle ever fought, and this Amen-khep-shu-ef had been in the wrong place that day. Yes, I stared back with all the power of the gods who passed through me at Kadesh, and so, when our eyes locked, mine may have been as fierce as His. I think we would have gone blind staring at one another forever if Nefertiri had not come between us, and said quietly, "If He dies, I will need both of you."

Amen-khep-shu-ef left the room. He could not bear to be cheated of a victory. Since He never believed He could lose, the interruption from His Mother had stolen a prize. So He saw it. But I do not know. If I had blinked my eyes first, I think I would have drawn my short sword, and if I killed Him, She would have been the next, then everybody who came at me until I was done. At that moment, I knew again all the happiness of the brave, and felt equal to Nefertiri. It was Her life She had protected by placing Her hands between us when my eye proved equal to the eye of Amen-khep-shu-ef. And I laughed that in His rage He had been such a fool as to leave me alone with Her.

She smiled softly, but said, "Why did Sesusi choose you to be My servant?"

"Do You ask because I am Your friend?"

She did not reply at first, but came nearer to me. "I know the doubts of Amen-khep-shu-ef," She said.

I bowed. I touched the ground seven times with my forehead. I did not know what I would reply until my words came forth. "I was told to be with You when Usermare dies," I said. "That is His order to me."

She nodded. She knew what I did not say. The nearness of Her death came about Her like a garment held by a servant.

"Why do you tell Me?" She asked. "Is it because you will not obey Him?"

I was about to say, "I will never obey Him. Your heart is of more worth to me than His heart," but I did not. The wisdom of more cunning gods touched my tongue and I said, "I do not think that I will, yet I cannot swear."

She looked at me in another manner then, as if Her death were now more real than before. She felt admiration for me that I would dare to kill Her. Such courage must belong to the gods. But, then, how could a Queen be drawn to any man like myself unless the god spoke through him?

"Yes," She said, "it must be true. Ma-Khrut cannot keep her hands off you," and She gave a delightful smile which said clearly that I need only be brave enough, and all could happen.

Of course, She was a Queen. A monarch's heart is like the labyrinth of the entrails. Snakes coil at every turn. So did I also know that next to the little love She might feel for me, was the fire of Her marriage. How could She not believe that Usermare still wanted Her if He had ordered Her sent to join Him so soon as He died?

•

Usermare did not die. By the fourth day, He opened His eyes; by the fifth, He spoke; on the sixth, He raised his head; and on the next, He was standing. Soon He was back in His chariot, and paid a visit to the Secluded. I learned that on his return, Usermare spent the night with Ma-Khrut, and the sounds of their pleasure were louder than the lion and the hippopotamus. Next day, she acted like a Consort, and moved in much radiance. I knew the cold woe of a merchant who is left naked in the moonlight after his caravan is robbed.

Yet I was not all so surprised. Through these days of His recovery, the Palace had been in disarray. Who could measure the disorder among the gods when so many had been invoked by priests and nobles praying for a particular successor? Now, in the days of His convalescence, much went wrong. Ceremonies in the Temple were conducted in the wrong order, and errors of addition began to be found in many a papyrus laid before Him. There was abominable crowding in the halls outside the Great Chamber.

I ignored most of that. I stayed at the side of Nefertiri even more than before, and She wanted me near. Since we did not know what I would have done if Usermare had died, now we certainly did not know what we would do that He was alive. A day did not pass but She would bring forth the mirror, and we would look at one another, and study the Ka of the other's face. A cloud could not touch the edge of the sun, nor a breeze enter the pillars of the patio, before Her Ka would leave and another of the Fourteen enter the mirror. Sometimes, She would only speak to me in this manner, our eyes connected by the mirror. One morning, when it was known through every mansion of the Palace that He had gone to visit Rama-Nefru, Nefertiri said, "He will not come to Me until I apologize for the soup spilled on His chest, but I never will. He had My servant flogged until the poor man died." She nodded. "The daughter of this dead butler," said Nefertiri, "is blind, and used to have the finest voice in my Chorus of the Blind. Since her father was killed, she has not been able to imitate the sound of one bird." Nefertiri looked at me. "It is the fault of the woman with the dyed hair."

That was how She spoke of Rama-Nefru. So great was Her detestation of Rama-Nefru that She used the word for bleach, sesher, that is also our word for dung. She wove sesher in and out of what She said until the beautiful hair of Rama-Nefru came to sound like intestines left white, emptied out, bleached out--I did not like the cruelty of this Ka in Nefertiri's face, for, once begun, it never wished to leave the mirror. "The Hittite hates Usermare," said my Queen. "He suffers miseries He cannot know--He is too strong to know His own misery. Why He would not have fallen so heavily from the Golden Belly if His senses were not stupefied. That is what comes from making stupid love to the Hittite with the bleached hair."

Finally, She said to me, "I wish Her hair would fall out. There is no gift I would not offer then."

How much power those few words gave to me! If I knew adoration for Nefertiri, I also revered Her, I fear, like a Goddess. I did not believe, try as I would, that I would remain firm should She ever choose me. When, however, she repeated, "There is no gift I would not offer," Her eyes spoke so clearly to the seeds and snakes of my groin that for the first time I wanted Her with the spirit of the swamp, there between Her thighs in the Ka-of-Isis.

Nefertiri now said, "You must pay a visit to Honey-Ball."

I did not tell Her how difficult that would be. I bowed instead and left Her chamber, and then bowed again, for Amen-khep-shu-ef was approaching. Now, we did not look into each other's eyes. We would never look into them again unless our swords pointed at one another. But He was here to say goodbye to His Mother, so I learned, for we actually spoke (each of us looking at the other's mouth as if that were a fort to take by siege) that He would go with His barges down the river today, off to fight one of His little wars in Libya. I wished Him well with the best of my manners, and thought it was a good omen He would be gone.

•

After His departure, I wandered by the Gates of Morning and Evening of the Gardens of the Secluded, and told one of the two eunuchs standing guard to send for the eunuch of Honey-Ball, and when he stood by a little burrow in the wall, we talked through this hole, and I told him no more than that Nefertiri had need of Honey-Ball.

That night, when I came back again, Honey-Ball was not at the little opening in the wall, but her eunuch was there to tell me that she was ready to be of service to Queen Nefertiri, provided the Consort of the God would honor her dignity by a special invitation from the Queen Herself to the Festival of Festivals (and to Ma-Khrut's family as well). Tomorrow night, when I came with my answer, she would have a gift prepared.

Nefertiri was displeased. The calm of Her bearing was gone. I saw another Ka of Her Fourteen.

"I am ready to reward Honey-Ball," She said. "It is understood she will be rewarded. But I cannot bear her family. I was entertained by them on My last visit to Sais, and they are common. Very wealthy and common. They have a papyrus factory, and make contracts with every Temple of Amon in their nome. Most respectable in their airs. But the great-grandmother of Ma-Khrut was a prostitute. So it is said. So I believe. You can see it in the way they eat. That family wipes their fingers too carefully. They are quick to speak of their ancestry while the wine is passed. They go back twenty generations. They assure you of that. They have the audacity--oh, they are truly common--to present the names of their forebears as if one is speaking of people of substance. They went on in that manner to Me! I came near to telling them that as a matter of family, I could speak of Hat-shep-sut and Thutmose. But no, we did not talk of anyone but their forebears. Twenty generations of harlots and thieves! These are people of the swamp. No," She said, "'I really do not want them seated in My circle. Nor do I know, for that matter, whether I care to have Honey-Ball near Me. She has an excellent education, and knows as much about perfume as I do--I would not say that for any other woman--but I detest her for growing so fat. It is an absolute abuse of Maat. I like Honey-Ball, we knew each other as children, I adore her voice. If she were blind, I would treat her like a goddess for the joy of listening to her sing, but I also tell you this: I consider her a hippopotamus and a slut. She has noble blood, but of the lowest sort." She sighed. "You believe that I should invite her?"

"It is better to have Ma-Khrut for a friend than an enemy."

"It is even better to have Me for a friend." She sat down at last. "Come here. Look into the mirror." Her eyes were merry. "I like Ma-Khrut. When Sesusi and I were younger, Ma-Khrut was the only little queen of whom I was jealous. Tell me, Kazama, was I right to be jealous?"

"I would not know, Good and Great Goddess. It is forbidden to go near a little queen."

"Everybody knows of you and Ma-Khrut. Even her sister knows. That is how I found out. Her sister writes to Me. You see, I am really very friendly with her family. It is just that they are common."

"Does the Good and Great God know?"

"I would think He does."

"He is not angry?"

"Why should He be? He has had you by the asshole, has He not?"

But I decided Usermare could not really know of my affair in the Gardens. Nefertiri was merely punishing me for bringing this request from Honey-Ball. I was beginning to understand how profound was Her displeasure that I could not bring Her the magic of Ma-Khrut without a payment in return. "Tell Honey-Ball that I will keep a seat for her, two for her parents, and one for her sister. No more." Her eyes turned away from the mirror and looked at me directly. I could have been a servant. "Sleep well," She said. But I did not. I had to worry how much Usermare could know.

•

The gift from Honey-Ball which the eunuch pushed out to me through the hole was a packet wrapped in linen and smelling of incense. It spoke to me of nothing I knew, but when Nefertiri undid my little wrapping, within, was a piece of papyrus and a tress of blond hair. She held this last with a look of no pleasure on Her face. "It is as coarse as the tail of a bull," She said, and began to read from the papyrus. "Well," She said, "it is hair from the tail of a bull," and looked a little further. "Black hair," She read from the papyrus, "blessed by Ma-Khrut before being dyed. As black hair turns blond, so does blond hair fall away." Now, She gave a cry of much displeasure. "Look," She said, pointing to a dark congested little stream on the papyrus, "this is not wax but a dead worm! She tells Me to mix this with My own pomade and to sleep with it. Sleep with this worm in My hair, and the tail of the bull under My bed. No," She said as She continued to read, "under My headrest itself. I am ill."

She did not look well. I did my best to soothe Her. I explained that any sorcery powerful enough to pull out the roots of an enemy had to create a considerable disturbance. One could not send such illness to another without suffering a part of it oneself. I did not ask Her why, if She could use the leavings of Usermare so adroitly as to crash His head to the marble, She need suffer feelings of fastidiousness here. I understood, however. A woman knows more fear at attacking another woman with her magic than a man. Nor did I even dare to speak of the eunuch's last instruction to me. Each night, for seven nights, of which this was the first, I must return to the hole in the wall for another wrapping. Each night Nefertiri would receive a new message.

Indeed, on the second night, it was worse. She was told to take the blond fibers that had been kept beneath Her headrest for the first night and hold them in Her hand while She slept; on the third night She was to put them in a sack around Her belly; by the fourth, around Her neck. Be certain that by the seventh night, She slept with the tail between Her thighs. But She was no longer so outraged. The magic was having a most powerful effect.

By then, there was no one in the Court who had not heard of the suffering of Rama-Nefru and the dreadful purge of Her stomach. I saw Her myself on the fifth morning. The King held Her in His arms, and Her body contracted like a snake and sprung forth, contracted and sprung forth, while the Royal Doctor held a golden saucer to Her mouth. I was asked to leave the room. The Golden Bowl was also in use. Later that day, Her hair began to fall out.

Usermare called on Heqat. The little queen was summoned from the Gardens, a Syrian to treat a near-Syrian, and Heqat asked for the shell of a tortoise and boiled it to a jelly, then mixed in the fat of a hippopotamus just killed. They used this pomade every day, but Rama-Nefru had already lost Her hair.

Nefertiri never ceased speaking of Heqat. "To be ill is misfortune enough," She said, "but to be nursed by a woman with a face like a frog is a catastrophe. Tell Me, did Sesusi ever make love to Heqat?" When I nodded, She shook Her head in admiration. "He is a God," She said. "Only a God could enjoy Honey-Ball and Heqat." But Her expression could not have been more merry. "You must tell Me all about you and Honey-Ball."

"I do not dare," I said.

"Oh, you will tell Me." Her good spirits could hardly be measured. I wondered why Nefertiri was bothered so little by Usermare's continuing loyalty to Rama-Nefru. This dreadful illness did not seem to drive Him away. Indeed He had not made even one visit to the Gardens in all the days Rama-Nefru was sick. Yet the splendid mood of Nefertiri diminished so little that I began to wonder if it were a folly caused by the magic. Once, She even said, "Sesusi will always tell you of His loyalty"--She pealed with laughter--"but He is very easily bored. He will remain true to Her until the day He cannot endure Rama-Nefru for one more instant. Then He will send Her, bald head and all, back to the Hittites with a wig, a blue wig, and they will declare a great war on us for the insult. Amen-khep-shu-ef will lead the troops in a great battle and Usermare will grow old with Me. I will yet know the power of Hat-shep-sut!" She held my hand as She spoke and I could feel the fever in it.

Others must have begun to reason in Her way, however. The visits of high officials to Her Court were now more frequent. Before, there had been days when you could see no one in Her Chambers but a number of old, petty, and garrulous friends. Now the Governor of the Treasury of Upper Egypt came one morning with his scribes, eight of them--to show the extent of his courtesy--and Privy Councilors visited, princes, judges, even the Governor of the Palace, a Lord Chamberlain, but old men, unfortunately. I would have been more certain of a turn in Her fortunes if nobles closer to Rama-Nefru were among the visitors.

All the while, Nefertiri would complain to me in the happiest tones. "I enjoyed My days more," She said, "when you and I could spend the hours of the evening looking into the mirror," and She would touch me lightly under the ear, or draw Her finger-tips along my arm. Never had I felt sensations that traveled so far in me from so delicate a touch, unless it was in my memory of the Secret Whore of the King of Kadesh. Her eyes spoke to me now without a mirror, Her fingers teased my neck, and when we were alone, Her gowns became more transparent. I had known there were marvels one could weave of linen, and many ladies on great occasions would wear the gauzes of Cos, so that you could see their bodies beneath their gowns as well as their husbands would see them later, but I was to learn that even in these thin veilings of woven-air were some of a lightness to make you swear that spiders had spun the thread. Nefertiri kept them in the subtlest colors so that you could not swear whether her gown was tinted like the gold of Her body, and when the beauty of Her breasts touched Her linen, the golden-pink of Her nipple deepened in the shadows to a rose-bronze.

I would stir, I would growl mightily in the silence, but only to myself. I was a lion without legs. Never was I more aware of the poverty of my beginnings than when I measured the emptiness of my strength before Her Ka-of-Isis, and knew that even if Nefertiri were to minister to me with the crudest arts of Honey-Ball (which doubtless She would not) I might still be numb and equal to the dead. When it comes to making love to a Queen, a peasant carries a boulder on his back.

So I stared at Her in the mirror, putting all the hunger of my limp loins into the ferocity of my eyes. With my eyes I desired Her, and with such adoration, enriched the air with honey. She seemed to enjoy these evenings when the others were gone and we were alone. Her desire for me looked ready to rise with the river beyond the Palace walls, but my loins felt like a land where it rained and the mist was cold. I thought of Her low opinion of the family of Ma-Khrut with their twenty generations, and wondered why She desired me at all. I concluded that no insult could be more profound to Usermare than the touch of peasant flesh on Hers.

So, She sat beside me, evening after evening, in a gown of woven-air, while I, transfixed by every view She gave of the grove beneath Her belly, began to feel like a priest ready to kneel before the altar. I must have begun to please Her profoundly, however, for never was She more beautiful. Her face was like a lake when the surface is so still that you can see the silver in every minnow. So did I see lights in Her eyes, and they were like phosphorescence on the midnight sea. I knelt and placed my face upon Her feet. They trembled at the touch.

My Queen's ankles had a scent of perfume on a stone floor and felt as cold as my loins, but then, Her toes were equal to my loins, and I took those cold feet and thrust them beneath my short skirt, and laid my face on Her knees. Her toes turned to the hair of my groin, and nestled there like frightened mice. I felt how She was alone and like a fire in an empty cave. All the while those toes nibbled at my bush until they lost the chill of the flower that perishes on the stone, and were like mice, furtive, sly, and with a hint of the fecundation of the fields.

An unaccustomed wind came through the pillars of the patio, not steadily, but enough to touch my thoughts, and on one of these winds, as we looked into the mirror, I felt the pain that would stir in the hair of Rama-Nefru, still and dry like drying leaves, vulnerable to every breeze; and Nefertiri may have known my thoughts for She began to speak of the bleached hair in the tail of the bull. "I came to know it very well," She said, "in the seven nights I wore it." And She told me how after the first night, She recognized that it was not hair from an ordinary bull that had been given Her, but from an Apis bull of festival, the kind that is tended by priests and washed in hot baths. Its body, She explained, is always perfumed with sweet unguents and odors of sandalwood, and for such bulls, the priests even lay out rich linen each night for the creature to lie upon. On the day it is to be slain, they lead the bull to the altar, and wine that has been tasted by the priests, is then sprinkled on the ground like drops of rain. Then the head of this bull is cut off and the marble of the altar floor runs red.

Nefertiri placed Her hand on my knee, and I felt the warmth of Her body. "When I was young," She said, "an Apis bull was chosen for a Festival to honor Seti, the father of Usermare. They searched through all the nomes for an animal with proper markings before such a creature was found near the Delta, and the priests sent him up the river to Memphi. There, the bull, to great acclamation, was led through the city and fed cakes of wheat mixed with honey, and roasted goose, and a crowd of boys was brought forth to sing hymns to him. Then the bull was put to pasture in the Sacred Grove of the Temple of Ptah and cows were set aside for him. How beautiful he was. I know because I was visiting relatives in Memphi before My marriage to Sesusi. My aunt, a woman with an everlasting appetite for men, took Me with her to the Sacred Grove of Ptah. There I saw how none but women were allowed to look at this bull of Apis, for when he was near, some would place themselves full in his view, and lift their skirts, and expose all that they had, and all that they were, to the eyes of the animal. I saw My aunt do this. She was a lady of exalted birth and almost a goddess. Still she put her thighs apart and grunted like a beast, and the bull pawed the ground.

"I felt too young to expose Myself, but the pleasure of My aunt entered My navel, and after My marriage to Sesusi, Amon came to Me, and His eyes had the light that was in the eyes of Apis, and I spread My legs like this." So did She now raise Her skirt of woven-air, open Her thighs, and take my face into Her Ka-of-Isis. The smell was noble as the sea, and the spirits of many silver fish lived between Her lips. I kissed Her and lay with my mouth on all that was open to me, and She began to quiver in many a part. I felt the hoofs of the bull of Apis ride into Her belly and through the grove of Her bush. The Ka-of-Isis was wet on my mouth, and I believe She was carried on the Boat of Ra.

I, however, gained no more than I had learned by way of my mouth. When She was calm again, and had put back Her skirt, I was near to Her, and happy that a part of me would know Her forever, but the rest of me was no warmer than before.

Yet, as if She knew the ways of my becoming better than myself, Nefertiri knelt before me, raised my skirt, seized my swollen but still sleeping snake, and proceeded to give Her beautiful face to my limb. As the royal mouth came down upon my honor, my desire, my terror, my shame, my glory, I began to feel the seven gates of my body with all their monsters and snares, and a great heat, like the burning of the sun, blazed in me. Then I was alone again, and the fires were subsiding. She was no longer on me with Her mouth. "You smell like a stallion," She said. "I have never smelled an unperfumed body before."

I knelt and kissed Her foot, ready like a hound to slaver atrociously upon Her sandal. I wished to abase myself. The sensation of Her lips upon the head of my phallus remained, and that was like a halo. My cock felt as if it were made of gold. A glow rose in me. I could die now. I need feel no shame. The woman of Usermare had given me Her mouth, and so my buttocks were my own again, yes, I could have kissed Her feet and chewed upon Her toes.

"Truly, Kazama, you smell dreadful," She said in Her fondest voice and wiped Her mouth as if She would never have any more of me. But then, She knelt, and despite Herself, gave one queenly teasing lick of Her tongue, light as a feather, along the length of my shaft, down into the tense bag of my balls, and around, a fleeting lick.

"You stink! You smell of the end of the road," She said, which, in the Court of Usermare where people spoke so well, was the worst reference you could make to the anus, and I wondered if something out of the marrow of Ma-Khrut's fats, some slime of the hippopotamus, must be oozing forth from me; or so I would have said until I saw Nefertiri's face, and another Ka was on it. Her delicate features had their own thirst. She was full of folly.

"Oh, I adore how dreadful you are," She said. "Did you visit the Royal Stables? Did you rub the foam of a stallion's mouth all over your little beauty?" She took another lick.

I nodded. I had indeed gone to the Stables before coming here. I had rubbed myself, and with one of Usermare's horses, no less, back from a ride with his groom and not yet rubbed down. I had managed to get my hand full of the slather of the beast, nor had I known why.

"You are a peasant. Common as Lower Egypt," She said, and teased what I had anointed by way of Her finger-tips, clever as starlings' wings, but with Her tongue and lips as well, a flutter into the ferment of my seed.

I knew what a mighty revenge She was taking upon Usermare. She never left the crown of my shaft, indeed She called it that, "the crown," and in a crooning voice, almost so pure as one of Her blind singers, said, "Oh, little crown of Upper Egypt," and laid on the butterfly wings of Her light tongue. "Oh," She said, "doesn't the Upper Crown like to be kissed by Lower Egypt," whereupon Her tongue curled like the cobra that comes forward from the Red Crown, and She laughed. "Oh, don't you spit at Me," She said, "don't you dare, don't let that wickedness of yours begin to shine, don't let it leap, don't let it dance," all with the sweetest little kisses and tickles of Her tongue, trailing the finger-tips of one hand like five little sins into my sack and over my shaft, and all the while She played with words in the way I had so often noticed among the most exalted, but all such games were nothing to what She said to me now. It was as if Her heart had tasted no pleasure in so long that She must croon over my coarse peasant cock (and She called it that) and called it by many other names, for after each tickle of Her tongue, I was "groaner," and "moaner," "knife," and "stud," "inscriber," and "anointer," and then, as if that were not enough, She spoke of my "guide" and my "dirty Hittite," my "smelly thickness," and lo, they were all much like the sound you hear in mtha, although a little different each, and then using a word so common as met which I heard every day, now came such sweet caressing sounds as "Do you like the way I tickle your vein, My governor," and She gave me a nip with Her teeth, "or is it death?" Yet, if it were not for the cleverness of my ears after the Gardens of the Secluded, I might have thought She said, "Do you like the way I tickle your governor, My death, or is it the vein?" some such nonsense, but we were laughing so much, and enjoying ourselves so freely that She began to flip my proud (and now shining) crown against Her lips, and She cooed at it and called it "Nefer" but with a different meaning each time so that it was sweet. "Oh My most beautiful young horse," She said, "My nefer, My phallus, My slow fire, My lucky name, My sma, My little cock, My little cemetery, My smat," and She swallowed as much of my cock as Her royal throat could take, and bit at the root until I screamed, or near to it, but then She kissed the tip. "Did I hurt My little hen, My provider, My hemsi, My dwelling place? Oh, is he coming-forth?" and indeed I would have been all over Her face and spewing on the woven-air across Her breast, and there to watch Her rub it into Her skin slowly and solemnly as if painting the insult to Usermare upon Her flesh. By now the desire aroused in me was like a fire that could melt a stone. As I stood before Her, trembling, a fire in my stick, and honey in my bowels, I had to seize myself at the brink before the cream of my loins was shining on Her queenly face. But I had another desire now, large as Usermare Himself. It was to fuck Her, fuck Her good, good and evil. She was murmuring, "Benben, benbenben," but with such little twists and stops of Her mouth, such a beat of Her breath that as I heard it, benben said all too many words, "O, come forth with Me, you little god of evil, you fucker, give Me your obelisk"--for that was also a benben--and then Her gown of woven-air was gone, and Her field was open before me, Her thighs like slim pillars, and Her altar wet with the passions of my tongue. "Hath, hath, hath," She panted like a cat in heat. "Let us fuck, let us fly. Come into My flame, My fire, My hath, My cunt, come into My snare, enter My sepulchre, O, come deep into My cemetery, My sma, My little cemetery, unite with Me, copulate with Me, come to your concubine, O, heaven and earth, hath, hath, hath!"

We kept looking at one another, She on Her back, I on my knees, and I drew into myself all I could remember of the most reverent moments I had known--anything to hold me from shooting every white arrow at once, my lust steaming on the hot stones of my will. I knew all the madness of the lion. "Would You like," I said to Her, my lips as thick as if they had been beaten, nay, scourged, "would You like my obelisk in You?"

"In My cunt, yes, in My weeping fish, oh, speak to My weeping fish, enter My mummy, come into My spell, work your oars, work your spell, slaughter Me, shet, shet, shet, oh, come into My plot, come into My ground, come to My pool, yes, fuck your Ka-t, fuck your cunt."

Yet when I entered, Her breasts looking at me like the two eyes of the Two Lands, the reverence I had drawn into myself made me ache with a radiance equal to a rainbow in a storm. Having banked the fires of my balls, I entered Her with the solemnity of a priest who reads a service, and lay upon Her, but the lips of Her enclosure were so hot that my fires almost flamed over the river. She was lying on Her back and my obelisk was floating on Her river. She made the sounds of a woman in birth, aq and aqaq, yet with all the clarity of a greeting to enter, "Aq, please enter, come to My sunrise, come to My sunset, Oh, aqaq, raid Me, spy into My entrance, look on My uba, rest in My Court, read the prayer, rest in My gale, uba, uba, live in My cave, move in My den, ri, ri, ri, mover of stone, you are a mover of stone, haa, you travel by sea, be My embarkation, haa, My entrance. Oh," She said, going suddenly still, "do not burst into flame, do not burn up, haa, paddle away, oh, slip into My snare, hem, hem, hem, crush My Majesty, hu, hu, hu, let it rain,"--I heard it all. She sang of the beauties of my testicles (which She held with fingers that had learned the tongueless art of the Nubian). She governed me with words of power, with heq and heha and hem, and as She sang to me, I entered the Land of the Dead that was in all the life of Her, and felt like a noble. She kissed me on the side of my mouth with those lips that had brought royalty to the head of my cock, and our mouths were on one another and our tongues met like woven-air and I felt Her voice on my ear. "Netchem and netchemu and netchemut," She crooned. "Oh, what a merry fuck you are, ri, ra, rirara" and on Nefertiri's face was such tenderness that rirara rose in me and I could not enter enough into my nefer of my most beautiful Queen, my nefer-her, beautiful like rain in the fourth hour after rising, She was a goddess, She was Her Majesty, and She was shameless. Tcham, I fucked Her by Her youth, Tcham, Tcham, Tcham, by Her Sceptre and Her Youth, and our hips moving together, She cried out, "Shep, shep, shepit, shepit," and all such words like "shepu and shepa and shepat, oh, light, oh, radiance, oh, brightness, oh, blindness, oh, wealth and shame, vomit and shipwreck, shef, shef, shef, ram into Me, swell into Me, give Me your weapon, give Me your power, shefesh, shefesh, I have your sword, I have your gift, give Me your evil, give Me your wealth. Khut, khut, khut, tehet, tehet, tehet. Tcham, tcham, tcham, qef, qef, qef, show Me to My Ka, dead white, dead black, I am a fortress, ai, ai, what light, what splendor, go deeper, you obelisk, fuck Me into glory, take Me to flame, I am rich, oh, stop, I am fire and light, I am your filth, your offal, your devils, your friends, your guide, oh, good, good, good, give Me your benben, evil fucker, aar, aar, aar, I am your lion, your bird, your lock of hair, your sin, I come, oh, I come, I come forth, I am the Pharaoh."

And even as I was rising into a celestial city by a field of golden reeds, there to know a change in me as great as death itself, I heard the deep sounds of the bowels and high sounds from the wind in my throat, the cries of my heart roaring in the water rising in me, and I flung myself out to fly to the heavens, or crash on the rocks, and saw the legions of the Land of the Dead and a myriad of faces, all the damned and perfected souls that Nefertiri could command, and I rammed into the last gate of Her womb with the moan and groan of a peasant cock, the radiance of Amon blazing in me like the Hidden Sun of my mother's belly, and She rebounded beneath like a beast, Her limbs storming over mine with the strength of Usermare while I was borne aloft, but not by Her so much as by the wrath of my Pharaoh who lifted me high like a feather over the flame, and slammed me down like a rock, then gave me another blow and another blow of Her queenly cavern, my tomb. I gave out within Her while the storm still blew, and She washed over me. She came out of every great space that Usermare had left in Her. She was much more powerful than myself.

"I did not know if it was I who longed for her, or she for me, but there was some longing left."