Queen of the Heavens (30 page)

Though he still possessed his foreskin and had not yet experienced the phallic miracle that soon would draw him into passionate embraces, I deemed it time to talk to Ramesses about his marital future.

One night, I sat down next to him as he lay in bed. “You are a child blessed by the Neters, my son, and your glorious reign will be a long one.”

“How do you know this, Mother?”

“The auspicious nature of your birth tells me so. You know the story of how your soul sought to leave the earthly realm as you emerged from my womb, but I would not let it.”

“Yes. I’m alive because of your power.”

“Years ago, I also had a dream,” I continued. “A very wise woman named Itet told me what it meant. She said you would live to a great age. Because of this, you must take many wives who will give you many children. A large number of your children will die before you, but at least one of your sons must survive you for the dynasty to continue.”

Sadness welled up in Ramesses and he began to sniffle. “I don’t want my children to die before me.”

I took Ramesses’ hands in both of mine.

“What we want does not matter. You’ve been entrusted with great responsibility by the Neters. So have I, and we must accept their will and respond accordingly. Death is not a bad thing, Ramesses. It’s a good thing, for without death, there could be no life. It is your obligation to have many sons. Always remember this.”

I stroked Ramesses’ cheek then rose to leave.

“Mother,” he said. “Can Hint-mi-re be one of my wives? She and I have talked about this.”

The bonds of affection between the two certainly seemed to be growing stronger. Earlier in the week, Ramesses came to the aid of a tearful Hint-mi-re when she lost the toy lioness with the hinged jaw I had played with as a child. “I’m sorry, Mother. Please don’t punish me for my carelessness,” Hint-mi-re said through her tears.

As I was about to assure my daughter I would not, Ramesses came up to us.

“Don’t worry,” he told his sister. “We’ll look together until we find the lioness.”

They searched side by side until dusk, finally locating the toy behind a tree where Hint-mi-re had been playing with it some days before.

Hint-mi-re was just as loyal. Ramesses and Tjia argued often, and Hint-mi-re always sided with her brother. When Ramesses twisted his ankle and couldn’t walk, Hint-mi-re stayed with him constantly, applying balms and playing the harp to soothe his spirit.

Still, Ramesses’ question about marriage to his younger sister gave me pause. “I don’t know,” I answered. “Astrologers must be consulted, and much will happen between now and the time you take wives. We’ll see.”

As I raised the children, I saw little of my husband. When Sety was in Memphis or Thebes, I would appear by his side at festivals and official ceremonies, such as the investitures of Viziers and High Priests. I also would consult with him on matters concerning the children’s health and education, in which he took great interest.

Most of Sety’s time, however, was spent outside Egypt’s capitals as he single-mindedly sought to restore the nation’s strength and glory. He traveled to all parts of the country, inspecting fortifications, building irrigation systems, and making certain provincial officials performed their duties at the highest levels. He also led the armies in campaigns against desert tribes and the Nubians. The campaigns to Nubia were especially important, for this was where Egypt obtained most of its gold.

When in Thebes or Memphis, Sety made a point of doting on Tjia and Hint-mi-re. Had I not been there to intercede with discipline, he would have spoiled them to the point where they would not have obeyed anyone. This was not the case with Ramesses, with whom Sety was quite firm. He insisted his son practice hieroglyphs diligently and speak with a strong voice and proper diction. Sety would not tolerate the young boy slouching, and demanded Ramesses always sit and stand with his back straight and chin up.

“Perhaps you are being too hard on our son. He’s still a boy,” I said one day to Sety.

“Ramesses will rule Egypt and he must learn how to look and act like a Pharaoh,” Sety replied. “During his lifetime, my son will give many orders. He must do so standing tall and speaking with authority. Otherwise, his commands might not be carried out.”

I could not fault my husband’s logic, or his insistence that Ramesses also develop his martial abilities to the highest levels. Though I worried about his safety as he practiced the skills of a warrior, I recognized leading armies was Ramesses’ divinely appointed duty, and the better his training, the better the chances he would return to me.

When Sety was away, he entrusted Ramesses to his best officers, who instructed the boy in swordsmanship and charioteering, while the finest Nubian bowmen helped him to develop even further his prodigious skills in archery. When at the palaces, Sety often instructed Ramesses himself. Though a stern taskmaster, a strong bond developed between father and son, for Sety treated Ramesses fairly and always complimented him when he performed well. Consequently, I was quite surprised when I walked into the garden one afternoon and saw a tearful Ramesses standing before Sety as his father lectured him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Sety glared at me. “We were hunting. Ramesses had a shot at a gazelle, but he hesitated and the gazelle ran away.”

“Is that so terrible that you bring our son to tears?” I inquired.

“What if it had not been a docile animal, but a lion, or a Hittite?” Sety snapped. “Then Ramesses would be dead.”

“Father’s right,” Ramesses said. “My bow was drawn, but the animal looked at me with fear in its eyes and I did not shoot. I don’t know why I didn’t. It won’t happen again, Father.”

Sety tempered his voice. “See that it does not,” he said before patting his son on the shoulder, then walking away.

Later in the day, I saw Ramesses in the garden with a bow, sending arrow after arrow into three gazelles fashioned from straw and placed at various distances from him. The next morning, he practiced again, and continued throughout the day. Just before dusk, I went to him, carrying a chalice of water.

“Ramesses,” I said, but his concentration was such that he did not hear me as he sent an arrow toward a target and immediately drew another from his quiver. “Ramesses,” I said again, in a louder voice.

My son turned. “What, Mother?”

“Stop and drink.”

Ramesses took the chalice from me, and emptied it without once taking it from his lips.

“I’ll show Father,” he said when he had finished drinking. “I’ll never hesitate again. My arrows will always find their marks. I’ll be the greatest archer who ever lived.”

I took the chalice back from Ramesses. “Practice hard, my son, and hone your skills. Also know that each time you draw the bow across your chest, your heart center opens a bit wider, allowing the love of the Cosmos to flow into you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Ramesses said as he again took aim. I doubted he understood the import of my words, but it didn’t matter, for the effect would be the same.

Day after day, my son practiced with his bow. Arrow after arrow flew into the targets, turning the mock gazelles into heaps of straw.

May his heart open wider than that of any man who ever lived,
I whispered as I watched my son practice with the intensity of Horus as he battled Seth
. By drawing his bow again and again, may Ramesses know how to love
.

XXX

The following day as I was taking tea, Hint-mi-re entered my chambers, looking anxious and distraught.

“Mother, I must talk to you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I’ve been praying to Sekhmet and last night I felt her power flowing through me.”

“I told you this would happen, did I not?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you so troubled?”

“It frightened me, for I worried I was turning into a lioness. I have never before felt such power.”

I smiled at Hint-mi-re, who wore a dress with straps that partially covered her small but developing breasts. The hips of my daughter, who once was as slender as a papyrus reed, were becoming rounder and fuller as well.

“You’re growing into a woman. Of course you feel great power inside you,” I said.

Hint-mi-re sat down in a chair next to me. “I felt fearsome, and I wanted to pounce on something and tear it to pieces with my teeth and fingernails.”

“As your body changes, passions will build within you, causing you to act differently than when you were younger. Don’t be concerned if from time to time you feel like a lioness. When I was your age, I often wanted to rip things apart and scream.”

“I wanted to growl and roar, not scream.”

“Then do so. Ask Sekhmet for knowledge of what this power means, but remember, all girls approaching womanhood feel great forces within them they don’t understand. It is a part of the mystery of life.”

“Yes, Mother,” Hint-mi-re said, but I could tell by her glum expression she found little value in my words.

Ramesses’ body was changing, too. He was growing taller and stronger, and though the change as yet was barely perceptible, his voice was becoming deeper as well. For the most part, he still was a well-behaved and loving son, but at times he would become quite disagreeable with me, as is the wont of boys as they grow closer to manhood. Fortunately, Ramesses’ martial training provided a channel for his energy and the rigors of his activities often exhausted him, making life a bit easier for me.

One morning, his father approached me in the garden as I was practicing the harp.

“Ramesses must soon undergo the rites of manhood,” Sety said. “He and I will leave next week for Thebes, where he first will spend a month at the Great Temple of Amun praying with the priests and purifying himself by bathing each day in the sacred lake.”

I winced. “I know the time has come, but the pain will be great.”

“As the serpent sheds its skin to emerge anew, so, too, will Ramesses. He must learn to deal with pain, Tuya. It’s a part of becoming a man and a warrior. The High Priest will use the sharpest obsidian knife when he removes the foreskin. It will be over quickly, though the pain will last for a while.”

“Our son has never been without me and he’ll be afraid. I’ll accompany you to Thebes and to the temple when he is given over to the priests,” I said.

“No,” Sety insisted. “It is my duty to take Ramesses to the temple, not yours. Women have no place in the circumcision ritual. For boys to become men, the bonds of dependence on their mothers must be severed. Your continued doting on Ramesses would not serve this purpose.”

I didn’t attempt to dissuade my husband, for he spoke with wisdom. Nevertheless, the evening before his departure for Thebes, I asked Ramesses to join me in the garden so I might be with him one last time while he was still a child. We sat down on a bench overlooking a pond, where the scent of blossoming lotus mingled with the smell of jasmine.

My eyes filled with tears as I took my son’s hand. In recent months, Ramesses had objected when I expressed affection by touching him, but he didn’t this time and I felt his love flow into me.

“Why are you troubled, Mother?” he asked.

“You face a great trial and I’m concerned.”

“Don’t worry. I’m brave. I won’t scream or cry. I’ll show Father and the priests I’m ready to become a man.”

“I’m concerned for myself as well,” I said as I embraced my son. “I fear the child whom I brought into the world and nourished with milk from these breasts will no longer need me.”

“I’ll always need you, Mother, not to protect or feed me, but to give me love and advice. Why do you think I would not?”

“My fears are those of every mother when their sons grow up.”

Ramesses sat up straight and looked at me. “You needn’t be afraid. Wherever I go in the world, I’ll always think of you and love you.”

Ramesses’ kind words soothed my spirits. Still, I could not sleep and I cried throughout the night.

The next morning, after Sety and Ramesses departed for Thebes, I asked Hint-mi-re to accompany me for a stroll through the palace menagerie, for I needed to keep myself occupied and I wanted to be near my favorite daughter.

We marveled at the size of the two hippos wallowing in the mud and water at the bottom of a great pit, and we smiled as a mother baboon tethered to a tree meticulously picked lice out of its child’s hair and ears. I so enjoyed watching the baboon care for the infant, I didn’t notice Hint-mi-re wandering away.

To my horror, when I looked down the path, I saw her step over a low stone wall and walk toward a wooden cage holding a lioness. As Hint-mi-re came to within two paces of the enclosure, the lioness pounced with the speed of an arrow. It thrust a foreleg through the bars and the powerful swipe of its claws fell just short of my daughter’s face.

Hint-mi-re backed up, but did not run away. Instead, she reached out to the lioness, which ceased growling, withdrew its leg and lay down on its side. I rushed to my daughter, and to my amazement found the lioness purring like a kitten.

“Can I pet her, Mother?” Hint-mi-re asked as she started walking closer to the cage.

We already were near enough to smell the animal’s breath, made foul by rotting meat between its teeth.

“No,” I shouted as I grabbed Hint-mi-re’s arm and pulled her away.

“Why not? The lioness was fierce at first, but now she is so gentle.”

“I see, but it’s better that you not touch her. She might become fierce again.”

“No she won’t. She’ll let me pet her.”

“You will not try,” I shouted. “You must promise me you’ll never attempt to pet her. She could take your arm off.”

Hint-mi-re gave me a perturbed look. “All right, Mother, but you worry too much.”

What force within my daughter causes a lioness to behave like a gentle house cat? I must find out
, I said to myself as we returned to our quarters.

That afternoon, I sent a message to the Temple of Ptah asking Renoutet, the High Adoratress of Ptah, to come to the palace the next day. Renoutet had the name of the Goddess of the Harvest, which was fitting. Much bigger than most women, she looked as if she could wield a scythe with authority and carry large bundles of wheat under each arm with little effort. In a strange way, Renoutet’s strength gave her great beauty that manifested through a sparkle in her eyes.