The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh (21 page)

Clearly my charioteer did not think so. When he reported for duty I ordered him to take me outside the city walls for training exercises. He was a short, broad-shouldered fellow named Nofru, with beetling black brows and a jagged scar across his cheek. His manner was taciturn and it was obvious that he disapproved of my intention to lead the expedition. Nor did he look forward to driving a woman into battle. He knew better than to say this, though. Instead he did his best to put me off by driving the horses hard and banking into racing turns designed to throw me off balance as I stood beside him drawing my bow. But not for nothing had I grown up with two brothers, both superb charioteers, archers and hunters; Amenmose, especially, had let me ride with him and I knew how to brace my legs and bend my knees.

I had some young recruits gallop around the training ground holding shields with circles drawn on them so that I could practise hitting a moving target while at the same time moving myself; it was a far cry from archery as a stationary sport, at which I was accustomed to shine. At first my shots went wild. But I practised relentlessly, keeping at it for hours every day. Leather gloves protected my hands, which had else been raw. My eye had always been good and at last I was able to shoot with consistent accuracy. When I swung myself out of the chariot after the last practice session, Nofru gave a grudging nod. This was sweet praise to me.

The morning came when the entire division mustered on a plain outside the city. I was dressed in a leather kilt, linen shirt covered in metal scales, and wore on my head the khepresh, the Pharaoh’s blue leather fighting helmet that is also a crown. I strode onto the dais where General Pen-Nekhbet and Hapuseneb already stood. The golden standard of Amen reflected the sunlight as if conveying the blessing of the God. The serried ranks of infantry, five thousand men, stretched out in three directions before me, the bronze tips of their lances catching the sun. They were flanked by the chariots, each bearing two riders, the charioteer holding the restless horses in check. It seemed to me that there was a kind of vibration in the air that intensified as I took up my position front and centre.

“Soldiers of Khemet!” I said. I had had practice in speaking to crowds but never to such a multitude as this. I pitched my voice to carry; I was glad to note that it rang out clearly without being shrill. “You are our response to a challenge that must not go unpunished. Our southern boundary is threatened, and if we allow it to be breached with impunity, all of our enemies will take heart. This must not happen. Instead, the foul barbarians must be taught a lesson that will cause all others who might plan rebellion to give up before they even begin.

“I stand before you today not as a woman, but as your Pharaoh, who holds the safety of Khemet unutterably dear. I know that I, and the people of Khemet, can depend absolutely on your valour and your fighting skills. No attack on our sovereignty will be tolerated! Retribution must be swift and it must be merciless. Take no prisoners! Go forth to glory!”

Ringing cheers swept across the plain. I stepped down from the dais and mounted my chariot, ready to fall in behind the Shock Troops, those battle-hardened veterans who bore the initial brunt of any onslaught and who would lead the march as they would lead the first attack. Of course, mounted scouts had already departed. Pen-Nekhbet would also ride; time was when he would have marched with his men, but his stiff hip precluded that. Close to us would march the Braves of the King, an elite group who had also seen much of war. Then the thousands of infantry, the least experienced bringing up the rear, followed by mules bearing tents and extra supplies. Riding in the vanguard of this military caravan gave me a heady feeling of exhilaration.

As the day wore on, I soon realised that battle dress was not the appropriate wear for a march across the desert, and I changed my metal-covered tunic for a thin linen shirt and set the blue helmet aside for the cloth nemset crown.

This was a different world from the Black Land, lying fertile and lush along the river banks; it was the desert, the Red Land, governed by Seth. Harsh and hostile to men. Indeed, it began to seem as if almighty Ra himself had become our enemy, for the sun blazed upon us mercilessly, as though determined to bake our very bones and grind us into dust. Onward and onward our wheels rolled; my eyes stung and watered and I chewed on grit. But not a word of complaint escaped my lips. I had undertaken to do this thing and do it I would. In this manner my warrior father had ridden forth to battle many a time; in this manner my brothers would have gone out to face the enemy; so too my husband, may he live, had his strength been greater. Now it was left to me. And I would conquer.

Our route took us across the sandy plains between the mountains and the Nile. Looking back over my shoulder at the undulating line of grimly marching men, I was suddenly struck by how small we all appeared in contrast to the tremendous rock formations rearing above us. How many times, I wondered, had these towering cliffs witnessed bands of soldiers bent upon destruction? How many of them had watered the desert with their life’s blood, never to return? How many of these sons of Khemet was I leading to their doom? But I did my utmost to push aside such thoughts.

When at last we made camp near the river I was almost too stiff to dismount from the chariot and stumble to my tent. My attendant brought buckets of water to bathe me and massaged my weary limbs with unguents, but although I was exhausted, sleep was slow to come. I lay upon my cot shivering under the woollen covers, for the night air had suddenly turned sharply chill, listening to the crunch of my guards’ footsteps outside the tent and wondering whether the gods were with us. Surely they must be, I thought, for right was on our side and the priests had assured me that the departure date augured well. At length I slept.

So the march continued, day after day, one punishing royal cubit after another, and the sun leached the breath and strength from us all. At times it seemed to me that I had died and entered the Netherworld, the dread Duat, and having failed the tests of righteousness, had been condemned by the tribunal of the gods to traverse that fearsome world for evermore.

Yet at long last we neared our destination. The forts of East and West Semna were built to command the river, for they sat on cliffs where the Nile, narrowly constricted, passes through a region of hard rock. The North-South road also passes through West Semna, so that the Commander can control land traffic as well. It was late afternoon when we came up to a rocky ridge, some distance from where the main fort lies.

General Pen-Nekhbet came with the battalion commanders to confer with me. “The enemy are encamped on the other side of that ridge,” the general said tersely. “Our scouts report that they guard the road on both sides of the main fort, allowing none to pass, either in or out. I would suggest, Majesty, that we dispatch the Shock Troops, a thousand veterans and two hundred chariots to circle around under cover of darkness; then, when the first light breaks, we fall upon them from the north and south at the same time.”

“We shall trap them in a pincer and crack them like a nut,” I said excitedly.

“Majesty,” ventured Pen-Nekhbet, “will you not content yourself with a position high upon the ridge, from where …”

“I will ride with the other chariots at dawn,” I told him curtly. “Pharaoh has spoken.”

The night wind was as cold as the breath of Seth. The moon was almost full and cast an eerie bluish light over the scene. Around our tiny tents the limitless desert stretched. A distant rumbling could be heard; it was the voice of Hapi roaring through the rocky cleft. Occasionally a horse neighed. Otherwise silence reigned. The officers had departed and, except for the ever vigilant royal guards outside the tent, I was alone. I had told my attendant to go to sleep and she lay curled up on the mat beside my cot, breathing evenly.

If ever there was a time to commune with the gods, I thought, it is now. Standing there in the desert I turned my face to the night sky, which glittered with a myriad points of light. Even now Amen-Ra was traversing the Netherworld in his solar barque, evading and conquering evil spirits and the serpent Apophis, to emerge victorious and powerful enough to recreate the universe in the morning. I had dedicated this expedition to my heavenly father and I had to believe that we had his support. Yet at that moment he seemed to be very distant, perhaps too preoccupied to pay attention to his earthly daughter in her hour of need. This was not a time to pray to Hathor, goddess of love, nor to Hapi the bountiful. This was a time to entreat the support of Sekhmet, the lion goddess of war, daughter of the sun as I was myself, and destroyer of men. I knelt on the cold and sharply gritty sand. Be thou with me tomorrow, Sekhmet, I prayed. Uphold my courage and resolve, and strengthen my arm. Grant us victory.

I slept fitfully and awoke before the dawn. As the sky began to lighten, the Braves of the King were forming up. Orders were snapped out. One by one the chariots rolled into line, drivers muttering to the horses, wheels grating on the sand. Soon I had taken my place beside Nofru, clad in my battle dress, the Pharoah’s blue leather helmet on my head. The horses wore their protective leather quilts. I had my bow, the quiver strapped to my back, and Nofru had an axe stuck into his belt. He and I each wore a dagger strapped to our left arm. I cast a glance over my shoulder and noted the rump of the infantry fanning out.

General Pen-Nekhbet’s chariot drove up. “The other arm of the pincer is in place,” he told me. “A rider has confirmed it. Enemy scouts have discovered our presence and they prepare for combat. We will move forwards slowly until we have them in sight. Then the chariots will lead the charge at the trumpet call. Majesty …”

“I am ready,” I said. My knees were shaking, but despite this I felt strangely calm. Still Amen-Ra had not ascended into the sky, but a pale wash of light across the desert announced that this was imminent. The host of warriors began to move inexorably forwards, a tide of men rolling across the sand like the waters of the Nile. As we breasted the rocky ridge, we could see the enemy. They had ringed the base of the fort with their tents. Westward of their encampment lay a stony stretch of desert, and there they had lined up, bowmen in position, a phalanx of dark figures motionless and ominous in the half-light.

Now the shining rim of the God’s solar barque showed above the horizon, flooding the plain with brightness. At that moment our trumpets sounded the attack. I took this as a good omen and my heart leaped in me. I heard Pen-Nekhbet’s shouted orders to advance and then all the chariots picked up speed to sweep across the plain and loose off a first hail of arrows. Mine lurched as the left wheel struck an obstacle, but Nofru had soon righted us and held the horses on track. A cloud of dust behind the crouching Nubians told me that the Shock Troops were falling upon them from the rear. I heard myself screaming as we tore across the sand: “Khemet! Khemet!” I fixed my eyes on one of their men and shot my first arrow, but we were moving so swiftly amid the churning dust that I could not follow its path.

A howling as of the damned souls in the Duat broke from the barbarian hordes; it seemed to be a battle cry and it caused the hair on my neck to stand on end. Then our infantry were engulfed by a raging river of violence, as the desperate barbarians, set upon on all sides, fought with the utmost strength and savagery and the Egyptians battled to overcome them. Nofru deftly wheeled the chariot around. His control of the horses was superb. We melded into a fine team as he guided the chariot away from the thickest of the fray and circled the perimeter so that I was able to target the enemy and loose off accurate shots. Several of the enemy fell to my arrows.

On the fighting went amid the boiling dust, as cursing men battered and tore at each other; the wounded shrieked and moaned as hacked and broken bodies began to cover the ground and blood flowed like recklessly spilled wine. Chariots were smashed and frantic horses whinnied and screamed in terror and pain. Although Nofru kept me out of the heaviest fighting, I could see that arrows and lances were no longer of much use. Now it was grim hand-to-hand combat with axes and daggers; it was chop and thrust and cut and slash. No quarter asked or given. The stench of horse dung mingled with the metallic odour of blood in the thickening air. It was fast growing unbearably hot as the sun beat down upon the plain.

As the struggle surged to and fro, backing up in whirls and eddies, I had no idea who was gaining the upper hand. For all I knew I had led the troops to a dire defeat. Panting, Nofru drew the horses to a standstill; an arrow from the outskirts of the fray had grazed his forehead and blood was running into his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his wrist. For a breathless interval I seemed to be in a small pool of quiet on the outer edge of it all. Then something whistled past my ear and I saw that a short spear hurled out of the mêlée had pierced his neck. Hot blood spurted over my face as he choked and died, the reins falling slack from his suddenly limp hands. Fury gave me the strength to grab them, steady the horses, and tug his axe from his belt with my other hand. I saw a figure detach itself from the wheeling masses and run towards me, spear in hand.

In that moment I was no longer Hatshepsut. I became as one possessed. I was Sekhmet, daughter of the sun, goddess of war, furious and invincible. I licked Nofru’s blood from my lips. I would avenge him. I would have more blood. I hurled the axe at the running man as my brothers had taught me to throw hunting sticks. It struck him in the chest and he dropped to the ground, blood spurting from the gaping wound. Now another attacker came speeding towards me in a low crouch. I snatched my dagger from its strap and threw it in the same manner. It struck the warrior in the eye and he too fell. I howled with glee.