Lady of the Two Lands Page 3

  Senemut’s name had made it frighteningly clear: the handsome man bending over her, the man who had been her constant companion and only comfort throughout this inexplicable nightmare, was royal architect and constant companion to the Pharaoh Hatshepsut—and, quite probably, her lover.

  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 prioriti
es 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.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Disturbing images broke Hattie’s sleep. She found herself sitting on a gilded throne inside a glass case at the museum, alongside a brightly painted wooden mummy case and a host of smaller items. There was no way for her to get out. Suddenly, Tom appeared, leading a group of tourists on a tour of the museum. He paused at the display case and began to speak about Hatshepsut and her reign, pointing to the items in the case. Hattie leaped up and pounded on the glass, calling his name, but he didn’t seem to hear her. He finished his lecture and moved on, turning out the lights as he left the room. It was so dark, and she was so alone…

  Hattie awoke with a gasp. Sun streamed in through the high-set windows. It seemed late—she must have slept for a full day. Suddenly ravenous, she looked around for the tray of bread and dates. Sure enough, it lay next to her bed, untouched except for the chunk of bread that Senemut had removed. She leaned over, seized a date and popped it into her mouth. The sweet burst of flavor made her throat ache and her eyes water. If she had any doubts before, she knew now it wasn’t a dream—she actually was marooned in ancient Egypt. No dream ever delivered such reality of taste, touch, sight and sound.

  Somehow, the necklace had brought her here. Were the hieroglyphics a time-travel incantation, and when she finished copying them, the spell was activated? That didn’t seem likely, since she was ignorant of the meaning of the symbols and could very well have set some down incorrectly. Was there a substance, like poison, on the necklace? No, that made no sense either, since Tom and no doubt others had handled it with no ill effect. Was it the type or placement or color of the precious stones?

  Hattie had plenty of questions, and absolutely no answers. She also had a splitting headache. Of all the things I’ve left behind, I miss aspirin most, she thought wryly. Then her stomach growled. That need, at least, she could satisfy.

  She reached for the bread on the tray and tore off a piece. It felt coarse and gritty in her hands. She took a small bite and chewed experimentally. It was like eating sand. Disappointed, she dropped the rest of the bread onto the tray and sighed. Obviously, a croissant would be out of the question in an era where flour was still ground by hand on a large, flat rock.

  The wine, however, was quite good. She finished the wine and dates, then dusted off her hands. Now what? She couldn’t go cavorting around the palace totally nude, could she? Hatshepsut was a queen, so she must have had clothes, for heaven’s sake. Where would they be?

  “Are you there, Hatshepsut?” she murmured. “How about telling me where to find your closet?” Then she shook her head. Even though she accepted now that she was stranded in ancient Egypt, she wasn’t convinced she’d actually met and conversed with Hatshepsut on her way here. More likely, that was a hallucination as a result of the blow to her head.

  Hattie stood up, wrapping the linen sheet carefully around her like a sarong. She felt a little weak, but her headache was fading. She crossed the room to the row of woven baskets and knelt beside them. What did they contain? Not snakes, she hoped. There was nothing she hated more than snakes.

  Cautiously, she removed the lid from the first basket. It contained small alabaster pots and jars, a polished bronze mirror, small paintbrushes, and carved wooden and ivory sticks. She presumed they were all makeup or toiletry items.

  Hattie gasped when she opened the second basket. It was filled to the brim with the sparkle of gold and gemstones. She was tempted to search for the pectoral necklace she’d been faithfully reproducing when she passed out in the museum storage room—it might be a key to her return to her own time. She reached into the basket, paused, and then regretfully replaced the lid. Her immediate priority was clothing. She would have to search for the necklace later.

  She hit the jackpot with the third basket. Piles of snowy, pleated linen lay starched and folded within. Hattie pulled the uppermost article from the pile and held it up to her with one hand. The linen was so sheer, she could see the faint outline of her hand through it—an amazing feat, considering it must have been hand-woven. But it did seem to be rather scandalously low-cut, along the lines of Nesi’s gown.

  At that moment, the curtain flew aside and Senemut entered without ceremony. Hattie stood and dropped the gown guiltily. “I was looking for something to wear,” she stammered, clutching the sheet more tightly around her.

  “Ah, you are recovered! I am pleased to see it,” he said. “Would you like me to send for some food, or your servants to bathe and dress you?”

  Servants? Would they be male or female-or both? Hattie gulped. She hadn’t needed help bathing since she was three, but what would Hatshepsut have done? “Just Nesi, please.”

  “As you wish, Majesty. Nesi will attend you. When you are ready, she will lead you to the throne room.”

  “The throne room? Why?”

  Senemut looked puzzled. “You are Regent now. Today, you and young Tuthmosis must hear the case brought by Merisu the potter against Ahmose the soldier, and render judgment.”

  “A case?” Visions of Perry Mason in a courtroom swirled through her mind. “I know not how to handle a case. What must I do?”

  “Listen, Majesty. Listen and judge. Amun will guide your heart to the truth.”

  “I hope so,” Hattie murmured. “Very well. Shall I see you there?”

  Senemut shook his head. “I must return to my duties as tutor. I have neglected them for far too long.” He flashed her a smile, then bowed and left the room.

  After a moment, Nesi stepped in. “Majesty,” she said, bowing.

  Hattie smiled at her but made no move. A bewildered frown creasing her brow, Nesi gestured in the direction of the doorway with no curtain. Hattie nodded and preceded her into the room.

  A large, sloping stone slab occupied the middle of the floor. There was a small hole in the lowest corner of the slab, and tall pottery jars filled with water flanked it on all sides. Off in an alcove, a small portion of the room was walled off, the entrance hidden by a curtain.

  “Before my bath, I must…” Hattie faltered to a stop. Where was the toilet? Was there a toilet? Hattie added modern
bathroom facilities to her mental checklist of things she missed already.

  Nesi appeared to understand. She led Hattie to the alcove and thrust open the curtain. Inside, what appeared to be a hand-carved wooden toilet seat teetered precariously atop two piles of mud bricks. Directly under the hole in the seat was a large bowl, half-filled with sand. A basket next to the seat was also filled with sand and had a scoop of some type thrust into it.

  Nesi looked at Hattie questioningly. When she merely lowered her eyebrows and frowned, Nesi pantomimed sitting on the seat, then scooping fresh sand into the bowl underneath. Hattie rolled her eyes. It looked like the best bathroom facilities in the country were the equivalent of a cat-box. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for her own cozy bathroom complete with glassed-in tiled shower, fluffy towels, and heat lamp! Sighing, she shooed Nesi away and resigned herself to her fate.

  When she finished, Hattie returned to the larger portion of the room where Nesi patiently awaited her.

  “Majesty?” Nesi gestured toward the slab. Hattie stepped onto it and before she could say a word, Nesi grabbed the linen sheet she had wrapped around her and whisked it away.

  “What are you doing?” Hattie cried.

  “Your bath, Majesty,” Nesi said simply. She picked up one of the tall jars and upended it over Hattie’s head, sending a waterfall of lukewarm water gushing over her.

  “This is not a bath…this is a shower!” Hattie sputtered in shock. “And a cold one at that.”

  Nesi was silent.

  “Where is the…um…” Confused, she lapsed into English. “Soap?”

  “Soap, Majesty?” Nesi was plainly puzzled. “What is soap?”

  “Cleaner? Detergent? You rub it on your skin and it cleans you?”

  Nesi shook her head. “I am sorry, Majesty, I know not…”

  “Never mind, never mind,” Hattie sighed. “Pour the next one more slowly, will you?”