CHAPTER 4

 

“Majesty? Hattie? Are you all right? By Amun, I must send for the royal physician…”

The concern in Senemut’s voice shook Hattie out of her trance. “Nay, nay, there is no need for that. Of course I know you.” She tried to smile, though she feared it was more of a grimace. “The past few days have been difficult.”

“How thoughtless of me! You must rest.” He rose from the stool and walked across the room, then slowly turned and came back to her side. “There is one thing I must ask. Will Your Majesty see the princess now? She has been most distraught during your illness.”

Hattie didn’t know how old Hatshepsut’s daughter was, but the child would surely recognize an imposter—even if the imposter looked exactly like her mother. She needed some time to pull herself together, to figure out what to do. She shook her head. “I fear I am not up to it yet, Senemut. Tell her, please, that I will speak with her as soon as—”

She broke off as the curtain flew aside and a small form burst into the room. A beautiful child of about three, with dark hair and eyes and golden skin, flung herself onto Hattie’s recumbent form, knocking the breath out of her.

“Mother!” she cried, throwing her arms around Hattie’s neck. “Aneksi would not let me come to see you. So I ran away from her.”

Hattie frowned at Senemut over Neferure’s head as she tried to catch her breath.

“Aneksi is the child’s nurse,” he murmured.

Ah, of course, the nanny. Hattie stroked the small head. “There, there,” she said awkwardly, as soon as she could speak. “Everything is all right now.”

“But Aneksi told me you were dead! Both you and my royal father.” The child raised her head to stare at Hattie with wide eyes, a tear quivering on her round, pudgy cheek.

“Well, as you can see, I am perfectly healthy. So Aneksi was wrong, and you have nothing to fear.” Hattie had little experience with children and wasn’t sure just what to say, but she kept her voice soothing and gentle.

“Is my royal father alive, too? Is he coming back?” Hope blazed across the small face.

An icy hand clenched Hattie’s heart. “Nay, little one, he is not,” she whispered. “I am sorry.”

Neferure dissolved into tears and flung herself again onto Hattie’s chest. Hattie put her arms around the child and patted her back until the storm subsided.

At last, the girl raised her head, swiped her cheeks with her palms and hiccupped.

“Better?” Hattie asked, stroking the tear-stained cheek.

Neferure nodded. “Will I have to marry my brother Tuthmosis now that my royal father is dead? I do not want to marry him. I do not like him. He puts frogs in my bed and pulls my hair.”

“Marry your brother? I should say not. Why, I have never heard of such a preposterous…” She faltered to a stop. Over the child’s head, Senemut frowned, clearly puzzled. She needed to watch herself; she didn’t want to put her foot in her mouth and say something totally out of character. The sum of her knowledge of Egyptian customs and traditions would fill a thimble. “You need not worry about that now. You are not old enough to think of marriage yet. We will discuss it later.”

Neferure grinned and stuck out her tongue at Senemut.

“Time to return to Aneksi, little one,” Senemut said, taking her hand. “She must be very worried about you. You were naughty to run away.”

Neferure pouted. “I want to stay here with Mother.”

“Your mother needs to rest,” Senemut said in a firm tone. “Out, now.”

Neferure flounced across the room, then turned back for an instant. “Mother, you look different.”

“Of course, she looks different,” Senemut said before Hattie could respond. “She has been ill. Hurry, now.” The child made a face at her tutor before disappearing swiftly from the room.

Senemut chuckled. “The little one has spirit.”

Spirit and intelligence, Hattie thought. How long could she fool the child into thinking she was her mother?

“I fear you have given the princess false hope,” Senemut continued. “She must indeed marry her brother, your stepson. How else can he secure his claim to the throne, since he is the son of a lesser wife?”

Stepson? How many other relatives lurked within the palace walls, ready to expose her at the slightest misstep? “Surely, she is too young to marry anyone at this time,” Hattie said. “She is but a baby. I will hear no more of it.”

“Very well,” Senemut said, confusion marked across the strong planes of his face. “I will take my leave now and allow you to rest.”

Impulsively, Hattie held out her hand to him. “Thank you, Senemut, for all your help. I am most grateful.”

Senemut hesitated, then took her hand in both of his, lowered his head and kissed it gently. “Sleep well, Majesty,” he said, and strode from the room.

Hot sparks shot up her arm from the spot his lips had touched. She put her hand to her suddenly flushed cheek. What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

“Bring me wine, Hori!” Senemut shouted to a bald, wizened servant as he paced the floor in his palace apartments.

“Aye, Lord.” Hori bowed deeply. “May I bring food as well? You appear tired. When was your last meal?”

Senemut glanced at Hori. It was not like him to bow. He and Senemut were on familiar terms and had been so since Senemut’s childhood. Perhaps his harsh tone of voice was responsible for the unnecessary display of subservience. He softened his expression and smiled at the old man. “Always, you see to my comfort and you give me sound counsel. You have been more a father to me than my own ever was! I apologize for growling at you, old friend.” He rubbed his stomach. “Aye, you are right. It has been overlong since I have eaten. Bring food as well and join me at the meal, if you would. I have something I wish your opinion on.”

Hori grinned. “It would be my pleasure. It has been some time since you last sought my advice. I feared you had grown too wise to seek the opinions of your old tutor.”

“Nay, I will never be too wise for your counsel, though at times I fear I am too proud. But in this I would hear your thoughts. Go now, and do not tarry.”

Before long, Hori returned bearing a tray with dishes of roasted fish, figs and cheese, a round loaf of bread, and a flagon of wine. He set the food before Senemut. “Eat, and tell me your troubles,” he said, munching on a fig.

Senemut attacked the food with relish while Hori watched silently. At last Senemut pushed aside the tray with a contented sigh. “I was hungrier than I knew! But now I am content.”

“So, tell me what ails you.” Hori shifted to a more comfortable position on the low stool.

“It is Her Majesty Hatshepsut,” Senemut began slowly, considering his words. “Since her illness, she has changed. She seems like a…like a different person.” He spread his arms helplessly. “I know not how to describe it.”

“How has she changed?” Hori asked. “Has her appearance altered, or does she behave in a different fashion?”

“She is confused, but that is to be expected after such a grave illness. Her memory appears faulty, but that, too, is understandable.” Senemut paused to organize his thoughts. How could he describe a change he felt more than saw? “What concerns me is her unexpected actions and demeanor. This morning, she told little Neferure that she need not marry her brother.” He shook his head. “While Hatshepsut has always been a softhearted woman, she understands the necessity of the marriage to secure Tuthmosis’s claim to the throne. Why then does she make this promise she cannot keep, which will only break the child’s heart?”

Hori whistled softly. “That seems unlike her, indeed. But illness can cause one to reevaluate priorities and choices. Mayhap she has another husband in mind for the girl—mayhap a diplomatic alliance with Phoenicia or Syria?”

Senemut scowled and scratched his head. “I do not think so. She said the girl was too young to marry, nothing more.” How could he explain to Hori his uneasiness at Hatshepsut’s behavior? He looked around swiftly, then lowered his voice. “Old friend, I speak to you now of things I would disclose to no one else. It could mean my life, were my words to travel beyond the walls of this room.”

Hori waved his hand. “You have always had my loyalty and my silence, Lord. You may depend on it. Please, continue.”

Senemut nodded, relieved. He knew he could trust Hori. “She seems more decisive than I have known her to be. Hatshepsut was ever gracious but reserved, conversing more freely with her servants than with her advisors. Now she speaks her mind to all in a most commanding fashion. She sounds more like pharaoh than her husband, the Great God, ever did. Is this a common after-effect of illness, think you?”

Hori frowned. “I have never heard of patients acting thus when they are healed. Mayhap you should consult your physician?”

“Nay, I dare not.” Senemut shuddered. If he discussed this with his physician, who knew how far the tale would spread? He was willing to risk it with Hori, but with no one else.

“Then all I can advise you to do is wait and watch her. It may be that her illness has produced this metamorphosis. Mayhap when she is fully healed, she will return to her former self.” He studied Senemut intently. “But if she remains this way, can you still serve her?”

“Aye. She is my queen and I must obey.” He grinned, remembering her spirited defense of the little princess. “I believe I prefer her with her new boldness and audacity.” He rose and put a hand on Hori’s shoulder. “Thank you for your counsel, old friend. As always, it is sound. I will wait and watch, and see what changes time brings.”