The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh Read Free Page B

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