Lauren Haney: Cruel Deceit

Certainly not in the royal house.”

“Will he speak for her?”

“He’s very angry now. How he’ll feel in a day or two, I can’t begin to guess.”

As the standard-bearers passed through the pylon gate into the sacred precinct, the priests followed them across the court, shaking water onto the pathway and filling the air with a strong, musky smell. Before they could get too far ahead, a trumpeter blasted a long, shrill note. Maatkare Hatshepsut and Menkheperre Thutmose, flanked by their fan bearers, strode up the stairs and onto the processional way.

The spectators in front of Ipet-isut roared their approbation.

As the priests passed on by and the royal pair walked closer, Bak could see them clearly. He spoke without think ing. “Each time I see Maatkare Hatshepsut, she looks more like her brother, her deceased husband Ahkheperenre Thut mose.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Amonked said, eyeing her with a fond smile. “She’s never been beautiful-the family nose and protruding teeth have prevented that-and now she’s al most as plump as he was. Too much rich food, too much comfort and ease.”

She could not have heard them speaking but, almost as if she had, her eyes came to rest on Amonked. Her cousin bowed his head in obeisance. Her eyes shifted briefly to

Bak, and with no change of expression whatsoever, she strode on. He understood her well enough. As long as she failed to acknowledge his presence he did not exist, and no matter how great his accomplishment she did not have to re ward him with the gold of honor.

Menkheperre Thutmose, his bearing as regal as that of his aunt, looked their way. If Bak had not known better, he would have said the young man was trying hard not to laugh.

Focusing again on the path ahead, he walked with his co ruler through the towered gate and into the sacred precinct.

“Do our sovereigns know of the flock that came close to disrupting the procession?”

“I was among the spectators when the last animal, the ram, was led away. The standard-bearers were not ten paces away. They and all who walked behind them had to have seen the chaos ahead and the haste with which the guards and spectators re-formed along the processional way.”

“Maatkare Hatshepsut must’ve been furious.”

Amonked gave him a bland smile. “A rumor has begun to circulate through Waset. The lord Amon, her heavenly fa ther, took the form of a ram and joined the procession to help bring to justice the man who stole ritual items from the sacred precinct and slew two men within its walls.”

Bak forbade himself to laugh. Maatkare Hatshepsut was most adept at turning all that occurred, good and bad, to her advantage.

Saying no more, they watched the lord Amon, invisible within his covered shrine, carried high on the shoulders of the priests bearing the sacred barque. In a cloud of incense, they strode across the court and vanished behind their sover eigns through the pylon gate that rose before Ipet-isut.

The deity had returned to his earthly home, marking the end of the Beautiful Feast of Opet.