sent the slaves and the guards away. Everyone in my household knows that Khani is to be trusted. He has been loyal to me ever since he was brought to the Kingdom of the Two Lands as a prisoner of war. Soon after his accession as Pharaoh, my late husband Thutmose the Second, may he live, received news of an uprising in Nubia. Naturally he could not leave the court and the capital when his grasp of the sceptre was so recent. He dispatched an army under the command of his most trusted general, who quelled the rebellion, killed many men and captured the ringleaders.
They also captured Khani, a Nubian prince, son of the Kushite rebel chieftain, and brought him with the other captives to be paraded in the presence of the enthroned Pharaoh. The young prisoner was but one year older than I and I had at that time seen thirteen risings of the Nile. I can never forget that day when I stood beside my husband on a massive dais outside the administrative palace, facing the broad avenue lined with masses of people eager to see the victorious general, the great Ahmose pen-Nekhbet of el-Kab, ride into Thebes with the spoils of war. And the captives.
As the general’s war chariot swept up to the dais, then those of the division commanders, followed by a mule train laden with Nubian gold gleaming in the sun, elephant tusks, ebony, and many bulging sacks filled with more booty, a huge roar went up from the watching crowd. The noise intensified when the soldiers climbed down to make deep obeisances while the charioteers held the horses in check. Some way behind came the infantry, led by the standard bearers, row after row of the flower of Egypt’s men marching to the rhythm of drums and trumpets. I had a sudden thought that we needed more broad avenues in Thebes for great processions. Not only for military parades, but also for the festivals when the god Amen-Ra is brought from his shrine for the people to see. Then I forgot about the God as the captives came into view, greeted by yet louder roars and jeers.
Some of them had been badly injured and were loaded on mule-drawn carts, but several were able to walk and they shuffled along between their captors, urged forwards by prods from spears, their steps hobbled by the chains that bound them. Yet they walked as straight as they were able to, tall men, their dark naked torsos powdered with Theban dust; men who still held their bodies with the swagger of power, men with rings of gold in their ears and hatred in their hooded eyes.
So, I thought, these must be the rebel leaders from the wretched Kush. They should know better than to challenge the dominion of Khemet. Prompted by the soldiers with spears, they fell to their knees in front of the dais and kissed the ground. On the far right, I noticed a young boy, considerably shorter than the rest. He must be about my age, I thought with a shock. Walking into Thebes to meet his death, while I stood on a dais above him, a new life growing beneath my heart.
Indeed, it was at that very moment, when I caught the young prince’s eyes – for prince he surely was, else why had he been brought before the King and not simply executed – it was then that I felt, for the first time, the delicate butterfly tickle of a new babe stirring in my slightly swollen abdomen. I put my hand on it. Perhaps, I thought, it is my son. Coming to life while that one comes to death.
My husband conducted the hearing with great dignity. The captives were prodded to their feet, to face the Pharaoh and hear their fate. They stood impassively. “Hear ye,” he said, “thus Egypt punishes those that question our sovereignty. For we have been given dominion over our vassal states, of which Nubia is one. Therefore you are bound to honour the Pharaoh and obey his laws and pay his tribute. To rebel is treason, and punishment for treason is death.” Screams and ululations went up from the crowd. “You, as leaders of the rebellion, are hereby sentenced to be killed and hung head downwards from the walls of Thebes.” Another roar echoed along the dusty avenue as the sentence was pronounced.
I felt a sudden wave of nausea as I looked at the young prince. He must have expected that he too would be executed, but he showed no fear, standing straight as a young tree. Even then he already had a striking presence. When the sentence was pronounced, he did not flinch. He held his head high and his eyes met mine and did not slide away. One day, I thought, I shall have a son whose courage will match his.
Without planning to, I suddenly found myself speaking. “Husband,” I said, “Pharaoh. I beg a word.”
He turned to me courteously but with some surprise. The ranks of senior advisers and priests ranged below our thrones shifted and shuffled. It was not customary for the Great Royal Wife to speak at such occasions. Yet now that I had begun, I had to continue. “It is of course right that rebels should be punished, and in a manner to deter all who might dream of such actions,” I said. “Pharaoh has dealt with them according to their deserts. But Ma’at demands not merely punishment for those who disturb its order. Ma’at is also justice.” I was glad that my voice did not tremble and that it was bold but not shrill. I raised it so that I might be clearly heard. “And justice,” I said, “includes mercy. There is one young man among the captives who surely had no hand in the planning of this rebellion, who fought, if he did fight, on the orders of his father, as would any young Egyptian in his place. I beg the great Pharaoh to show mercy towards him. Let him not be executed. Please, great Lord. Let him be spared.”
For a long moment, my husband frowned as he deliberated. One or two of the priests were nodding. They seemed to agree with my comment about Ma’at. “Very well,” said Thutmose. “We shall be merciful. The prince is spared.” Now the fickle crowd cheered this pronouncement also.
So Pharaoh gave him life and decreed that he was to be educated and sent back eventually to a position of trust in his own country – with, of course, an outlook favourable to our kingdom. Khani was tutored with the children of the upper classes in Thebes, joined the military and progressed to the rank of Officer Commanding the Division of Sobek, currently quartered in Thebes. Commander Thutmose (my nephew-stepson Thutmose, he who would be King) would have sent Khani back to Nubia long ago, but I insisted that he remain here in Egypt. I tell Thutmose that we have need of him because he is an outstanding trainer of soldiers and he is always able to convert the children of conquered enemies into faithful warriors in the Pharaoh’s army. But in truth I need him because his loyalty is to me. I have need of men whom I can trust absolutely.
When I look at Khani, I remember with great clarity the day when he stood before my husband the King together with the other captives from Nubia. Thinking of that day, it seems to me that we were both no more than children then, but at the time I felt mature. Especially I recall that when the youth inclined his head, it was to me that he bowed, not to the King. So he has always been my loyal supporter and, I think, my friend – perhaps, since Senenmut passed into the Afterlife, may he live, the only true friend that the Pharaoh has.
And now he stood before me, an adult and a soldier, one who spied for me.
“Bad news,” Khani informed me. “It seems that the Mitanni are stirring up trouble on our borders with Canaan, aided by the Hittites.”
“Surely not true,” I said, angrily. “The Mitanni are supposed to act as a buffer between the Black Land and the Hittites. They should be dependable, considering the amount of gold we send them. How accurate is your information?”
Khani just looked at me with his inscrutable obsidian eyes. I sighed. I knew that his sources were always impeccable. If he told me something as a fact, he had checked it carefully.
Of course I have a counsellor who advises me on foreign affairs, one Seni, an elderly bureaucrat who served my late father, may he live, and now faithfully serves me. He is spare of figure and sparing of words, but his advice is always well thought through and precisely expressed, and I pay attention to it. Yet my royal father, Pharaoh Thutmose the First, taught me never to depend upon a single source of information or advice and always to discover what the common people are saying. So I have sources of information that are not known to all. Khani is one of them.
“The Great Commander Thutmose is
