Part Seven: As they start their holiday together, they both learn that there's more than one kind of journey. Paths of the past, present, and future intertwine and lead to unexpected destinations.

"Let not your heart be troubled during your sojourn on earth, but seize the day as it passes!

Put incense and sweet oil upon you, garlanded flowers at your breast,

While the lady alive in your heart forever delights as she sits beside you."

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Senenmut walked into the blazing light of the courtyard, the late morning sun beating down on the entourage and porters as they stood patiently, sweating in the heat. The great collar was warm on his skin, the counterweight at the back swaying with each step he took.

He was grateful the jeweler had spaced the links and stones far enough apart to let his skin breathe. The flexibility and weight made the piece lay flat against his chest, stationary when he moved or bent as if it was part of him. Nuru glanced in his direction, his eyes growing wide as he took in the collar. His carefully schooled features stayed serene, but Senenmut caught the twinkle in his eyes as he made a lower obeisance than usual before bringing over a cup of wine.

"Something cool, Count Senenmut, before you begin your ride?"

He took the cup with a nod, watching to see that Hatshepsut was talking with the captain of her guard before speaking. The great litter was between them, gilded wood with a carved seat easily wide enough for two people. The sides were loosely woven screens that would allow air to flow while giving them some privacy, while the arched top would shield them from the sun's rays. An elegant conveyance…and completely unfamiliar to him as a traveler.

"Nuru," he said quietly, "have you experience with riding in a litter?" He felt his face flush as he realized he sounded like a country villager.

The cautious expression in Nuru's eyes was unexpected. "I am not completely ignorant in such things, although of course I myself, being a servant, have never been carried in a nobleman's litter. Why do you ask, my lord?"

Senenmut looked down at his feet, already growing dusty in the courtyard. They had always been reliable enough transport, save when he needed the speed and weight-bearing of a war chariot, or—he felt the muscles in his thigh jump as he remembered another time his own limbs had needed assistance. Senenmut ran a soothing hand down his leg. He'd gotten along well enough on foot and river boats, but her life had been different. So different…

"I…never mind, then, Nuru. I would hear something of what it's like, before embarrassing myself in front of God's Wife, was my meaning."

His servant's demeanor relaxed at his words. "I understand, my lord. It is a strange sensation, at first, to be carried about on the shoulders of men. If you would observe—discreetly, Count! Just past my left arm, see how there are two sets of six sturdy bearers?"

"I see," he said, still doubtful.

"They train for this, in between times that their services are needed. Their pace, their distribution of the weight, is carefully calculated. By the time you leave the royal gates, it will feel no different than a boat on a mill pond."

The twinkle returned. "I would suggest that your movement within be decorous and restrained, however. Movements of a…vigorous nature can shift the balance in a way that will be awkward for the bearers. Awkward for the travelers, too, as they realize they've announced to all that their feelings were too strong to wait for their destination."

Senenmut sipped at the cool wine as he watched a hint of ruddiness creep over the royal servant's face. "You speak as though you have great personal knowledge of such things, Nuru." His lips quirked up as he realized the court servant might not be quite as decorous as he appeared.

"A servant of the royal household must have a great, broad knowledge of all manner of things, my lord."

The smoothness had slipped over his face again, leaving Senenmut to speculate what nobleman, or noblewoman, might have invited the young man on an evening outing. He realized Nuru had shared his embarrassing account, vague as it might be, with good intentions. Amun only knew what he thought might take place in the screened litter.

"Nuru, the Lady was greatly pleased with my gift, as you predicted. I doubt, though, that it's awakened any feelings so immediate that our bearers are at risk for discomfort." He pictured her parted lips again, so close to him, felt again the touch of her breasts on his back, and to his embarrassment, he felt himself stiffen enough to slightly tent the front of his kilt.

His servant glanced down as Senenmut adjusted the drape of his garment. "An hour, no more, my lord, before you are at the royal quay and board Pharaoh's yacht. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must give new instructions by runner for the crew, so that they know to arrange for privacy on the observation deck."

"By the Gods, Nuru, I'm not going to—" He stopped as Nuru turned towards Hatshepsut, deep in conversation with her maidservant.

"Perhaps not, my lord, but I see Pharaoh has spoken words to make my old grandmother blush with happiness." He cocked a carefully arched eyebrow at Senenmut.

He was silent for a moment. He watched the smile play over Hatshepsut's lips as she turned her arm so her maidservant could better examine her new bracelet, her fingers stroking the stones. To his surprise, he heard what sounded like an open-throated laugh coming from the Lady of Two Lands as she bent her head to the old woman's ear.

He would do much, to hear that carefree sound from her again. As much as he dreamed of seeing her overcome with passion, he realized he dreamed of seeing her laughing as well, unburdened by the fate of Egypt on her slender shoulders.

Suddenly one hour sounded like ten.

The litter master opened the small screened gate at the side, standing stiffly as the bearers bent, ready to take up their task. Hatshepsut had walked over to where he stood, obviously ready to be seated inside. Even in the heat she still looked cool and fresh as a dish of minted cucumbers.

He handed his empty cup to a nearby servant. "Send the runner with your message, Nuru. I'll see you at the quay." He watched a guard help the old maidservant into a travel chariot, where she waited patiently for her grandson to take the reins.

"Your hand, please, Count Senenmut," Hatshepsut said, as she extended her own hand.
He helped her step in over the raised lip of the litter then seated himself next to her, both sitting straight as statues as the gate was closed and the litter was lifted into the air on long poles. It was an odd sensation, as Nuru had warned, and he was relieved when he felt the conveyance settle on a dozen broad shoulders.

As they started off, he watched her draw a thin white curtain across the inside of the screen, then she gestured for him to do the same on his side. Finally, she tugged at a white cord at the edge of the roof, and another thin curtain fell at the very front, a half-meter beyond their feet, enclosing them in a cool, white space that rippled with the breeze.

"Once we're out of the city, we can retract the curtains, if you'd like to see the countryside." Her eyes were teasing as she smiled.

"I'm content with what I see, Lady, and have no need for other sights." He took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm as she sighed with pleasure and reclined slightly against the fabric-covered pillows. Mindful of his servant's warnings, he slowly reclined next to her, their clasped hands resting together on his thigh.

"I've been advised that it's wise to be very still while riding in a litter," he said as their shoulders touched.

"I've been advised that gentle kisses have never yet caused a litter bearer to break his stride," she rejoined.

"I bow to the greater experience of your maidservant, then, my lady."

It felt like the most natural thing in the world, to slowly bring his hand to her chin, cupping it lightly as he carefully moved to bring his lips down to hers. They were as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, yielding readily under his kiss. He drew back even as he felt her lips part under his. Her eyes shone like the cool jade on his collar, her lids half-closed as she hummed deep in her throat.

"Was that gentle enough, Lady?" he stroked a ringlet of hair that had escaped her circlet.

She looked thoughtful. "Do you test your builders' skills only once, my architect, before determining their worth?"

"No, my lady." He traced the line of her cheekbone, then caressed her ear, lingering at the hidden space behind it. "I test them multiple times, so that I know for sure how best to employ them, as the need arises."

She brought her hand to the back of his neck, stroking lightly at the sensitive spot right over the collar's counterweight. The rest of her body stayed still as stone. The scent of dates and honey was on her breath as she whispered bare inches from his mouth.

"A wise practice, Beloved Architect. It meets with my approval."

He carefully leaned in to kiss the hollow of her throat, his subtle movements not so much as dislodging a single pillow. Suddenly, an hour seemed like no time at all.

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"What was in that small box your maidservant gave you when we arrived?" Senenmut said as he leaned against the ship's rail, watching the prow cut through the water.

Hatshepsut leaned so that she was speaking close to his ear, forearms resting casually next to his on the rail. "She thought I might need to refresh my lip paint before exiting the litter." She smiled as she looked out over the water, her newly painted lips a deep red.

A pavilion had been set up in front of the ship's cabin, the blue and white striped cotton walls gently billowing in the river breeze. Both were screened from the eyes of the ship's crew, and their attendants and royal staff were shadowy silhouettes on the other side of the covered space.

They had been interrupted only once, when the ship's cook brought them plates of grilled fish, caught after they had left the quay, with a salad of lettuce, cucumbers and radishes, soft white rolls and a coarser loaf of barley bread. He had left a tray of sliced melon for the end of their meal, artfully arranged and scattered with ruby-red pomegranate seeds. For all its humble contents, Hatshepsut felt she was at a wedding banquet as she sat next to Count Senenmut, both feeding each other bites of bread dipped in honey.

Her own wedding banquet. The thought was pleasing to something deep inside her, something half-hidden and ageless.

His bracelet kept catching her eye, the moonstones glinting in the sun. The thought that part of him would always be with her made her heart melt like a cone of perfumed wax at midday.

His delight in the river was palpable. He smiled at the changing scene before him, his rugged face animated as he looked at the banks, at the activities of the farmers and fishermen. She knew by the time her tomb was finished, there would be a statue of him, capturing his strong profile chiseled in stone, and that calm, wise look on his face. His eyes would be of lapis lazuli and moonstone, just as his gift suggested, and would look over her tomb forever.

Even if this was a only few days' pleasure, to be put behind them upon returning to the city, the feeling was strong that it was right, even necessary, for his representation in stone to be with her for an eternity. She glanced at his profile again, and took delight in seeing his hand come to rest on her arm as if they had long been lovers. He had stopped asking permission, even with his eyes, before touching her.

She had stopped listening to a thready voice in her head warning her about letting others get too close. She had been obeying that voice for years, now. She had been careful thus far…surely she could have this. He'd proven himself a friend and ally for the year they had worked together. She hadn't found him false in any way, nor had anyone else.

Of course, they hadn't touched on many topics that would tempt a man to lie.

"Look, there, my lady, in the distance to the west. See that road, leading beyond your sight? That is the road to your great tomb, the foundations being built and almost rising above the ground already. As many men as lay the stones and mortar, an equal number carve back into the cliff, uncovering new surface on which to build. I would take you there soon, so that you may see our plans become reality for yourself."

"We've not yet completed one excursion together, Count Senenmut, and you're already planning another? You must find me a very agreeable travel companion, and be confident that I find you the same as well," she teased.

The skin near his eyes crinkled into smile lines. "How could I not find God's Wife agreeable, Lady? And I trust that were you not to find me so, you would make your feelings known."

The title felt heavy, and for a moment she felt a shadow fall over the water in front of her. "Of course, you find Pharaoh agreeable. As does most of Egypt."

His brow furrowed. "Only 'most', my lady?" His expression cleared in understanding. "Ah, you speak of—"

"Not here, please. See that shadow, the one that doesn't move as much as the rest?"

She was pleased to see his movements were casual and cautious as he looked where she nodded without turning his head.

"My train of thought has flown, Lady. What else shall we speak of?"

She leaned close again. "Thank you, Senenmut. We will discuss things more freely after we are settled in the winter palace and all around us are well-trusted."

In a normal tone, she asked, "Will you be installing those of your own, in the palace? Family, or"—she turned to look at the water—"a favored concubine of your own, as did my father?"

His startled reaction was gratifying. "My lady must know that I keep no concubine, if for no other reason that Nuru would have surely passed such information on to his grandmother by now, and she on to you."

"I'm impressed at how well you grasp the pipeline by which all important information is passed, Count."

Her tone was light but she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was curious as to what he'd been doing for his physical desires the past year, and before. He'd never yet been linked to any of the noblewomen, although at least two courtiers had sent their wives back to their estates after hearing admiring gossip about the royal architect. And he never sent for a night companion. He had the right of it; such news would have been whispered in her ear the next day, now that Mandisa knew where her heart was turning.

"Is it such a mystery that I seek information about one so close to me?" She placed her hand on his. "I confess a curiosity about your life before your arrival at court. I have heard nothing about a wife, a concubine…not so much as a drunken tumble after a night of excess wine. And yet you told me without words in the litter that you find a woman's kisses, a woman's touches…pleasing."

A look of old, worn sadness came into his eyes, and she regretted her question. "If you'd rather—"

"No, Lady. It was a long time ago, and no longer pains me as it used to." His deep blue eyes held hers in a steady gaze that bore no current distress. Whatever it was, the sharp edges had long been ground down. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, feeling each ridge above the thick fingers.

"Tell me, then, and may a portion of your sadness come to me, and leave you lighter." She gave him an encouraging smile.

His eyes seemed to darken and take of the look of a younger man.

"It was the year of your father's last great campaign against the Kush, the campaign where"—he dropped his voice—"I got the scar on my thigh, that you noticed."

She looked away, embarrassed again at her boldness in the litter, brushing her fingers slowly up his calf, surprising herself (and him, she suspected) when she didn't stop at his knee. Her maidservant's warnings were ringing in her ears, and she was ignoring them happily, when her fingers touched a long, rough ridge of flesh on his outer thigh. Even in the shadows cast by the curtains, she could see his pushed-up kilt revealed a long puckered scar, still raised and red after what must have been years.

"I know the scar you speak of, yes."

She had noticed the scar…and a great deal more, as he had tried to shift his hips to readjust his kilt without alerting the litter-bearers. He finally had to retie his loincloth, red-faced and moving a couple of inches at a time as he restrained himself again. He had looked so uncomfortable that she had silently promised to leave off provoking him until they were safely ensconced at the palace.

"Battle was an exciting thing then…. I have since come to your majesty's way of thinking on war, and I curse the generals who call you weak and careless for avoiding it. But then, as a youth of twenty, being a soldier was a great adventure."

"I'm surrounded by those who have enjoyed such glory, Count. It's no mystery to me, believe me."

His cheeks seemed to flush a bit, or perhaps it was the sun reflecting off the water. "Then you may know, as well, that there are young maidens in the villages and towns soldiers pass through, and a Pharaoh's military campaign looks glorious from a distance, the horses and flags, hundreds of young men in their short fighting kilts…."

"The ranks of camp followers, you mean. The temporary companions of the battlefields."

"Not all are seeking to lie with a soldier, my lady. Some joined our ranks for excitement, or for the guarantee of bread and meat after losing a husband. And a few sought to hold a shield or dagger and join the fight."

She nodded thoughtfully. She had seen some like he talked about, wearing short, heavy tunics over bound breasts, some with bows slung on their backs by a quiver of arrows. A rare thing, but not unheard of.

"There was one such, called Jasmine, who asked to…." He looked away. Her heart was heavy for him now.

"Who asked to walk with you."

"Yes." He sounded grateful for her quick understanding. "She stayed to the back, with the camp followers, but she kept my weapons in good repair and sparred with me when we camped, to keep my skills well-honed."

He was quiet for a moment, a hint of a smile playing around his lips, then began again.

"When we made the final advance against the Kush, all was chaos as we fought. I went down, a lance, as you saw, piercing my thigh."

A tingle of envy went through her, as she imagined the young woman who had been with him, both of them unfettered by protocol or responsibility past the day's fight. "She was at your side, then?"

"If she had been…" His shoulders slumped as his hand tightened on hers. "But she was not. She had stayed at the camp, helping to tend those already wounded in the previous week's fighting."

His voice roughened with old anger. "We did not know, then, that the Kush army had split off one legion, which had gone north of us, to swoop in at our flank."

Oh, Gods. All envy she had washed away, as she imagined a camp left with women and the wounded, watching for news of the front fighting, and finally hearing the enemy coming from behind.

"The battle won, I was helped back by my unit, and dealt with the pain by imagining Jasmine dressing my wounds, giving me something cool to drink…."

"Were the Kush still there when you returned?"

"There was no one there. No one still alive. I may have taken fever by the time we returned, but to my memory, all was awash in blackening blood, as we feared once we saw the vultures circling in the air. Jasmine…I found her near one of the wounded, both of them speared through the heart." He drew a deep, shuddering breath, and she could tell he could still see the scene, even now.

"She had a dagger in each hand, both blood-stained. There was a Kush soldier dead at her feet, a bloodied lance near him, fallen from his grasp."

He finally looked at her, his eyes looking for signs she was accepting the tale for what it was, a part of his history. She was surprised to feel tears well up for this young, brave woman, now twenty years or more in the land of the dead.

"I gave her a soldier's burial, the weapons she died with left in her hands. We buried many that day. Once my wound was bandaged, I fashioned a crutch from a broken spear and some rags, and did my share of digging one-handed, as best I could."

He shaded his eyes with his free hand and bowed his head, and she watched his lips move as he recited a quick prayer for the dead. Finally he relaxed, and she knew without asking that he had not spoken of this with others, but had carried it with him as quietly as he carried his scar. She hoped the telling had given him some ease.

"After that…I would hide nothing from you, my lady, but I would not bore you with the story of a young man in the capitol city, as it is one story with a million tellers. I never found a woman who wished to see me as I truly was, who did not want to reshape me or my history in some way, more to her liking."

"Never?"

Hatshepsut was drawn taut as a bow string, his past loneliness calling up her own. Her heart leapt in her breast when he smiled at her, looking tired but hopeful.

"Until I came to court, Lady. That first day, I thought I was going mad as I watched you there on the throne of Egypt. How could my mind, my heart be telling me 'this is the woman who will accept your heart as it is' when I was looking at Pharaoh, Ruler of the Two Lands? Thus, I misspoke, and said I was your architect instead of an architect." He shook his head at his remembered embarrassment.

"A prophetic slip of the tongue, it seems, as you have indeed become mine, in so many ways."

She was unprepared for the heat that flashed in the depths of his eyes. The banked desire he had ignited in the litter came roaring back as he turned towards her, raising one hand to the back of her neck under her dark curls. He seemed more imposing that he had only a moment ago, his strength and brawn radiating from him as he moved closer until they were all but embracing.

"Under Nuit's star-filled eyes this night, I will become yours in all ways, my lady, if it pleases you."

Her breath came faster as his words went right to her core. She had wondered, during their careful dalliance in the litter, if she had misunderstood his…his love-talk in her apartments. Men swearing a lifetime of devotion to her was nothing new, as courtiers came and went through her reign. He had been playful as they had teased each other with feather-light kisses and sensual touches.

"I tell you this, Senenmut, it pleases me very much. And speaking not as Pharaoh, but as Hatshepsut, daughter of Thutmose…I was planning to share your bed on this trip, but now…." She smiled to herself as a faint look of consternation crossed his face, as if he feared she had changed her mind.

"Now," she continued, "I would seek to become yours, in all ways, with the goddess of the night sky as witness, as you say."

By the Gods, his look of soul-deep happiness tore at her heart as sharply as his sadness. She had waited long to see this exact expression on his beloved face. Longer than you know, whispered that thin voice in the back of her mind.

The familiar sounds of the crew bustling about as they prepared to dock met her ears, as the quay of the winter palace came into sight. She watched Senenmut as he took in the outbuildings forming a square around the large central structure, the green of the irrigated gardens laid out in neat patterns. To her delight, he wound an arm around her waist as casually as if they had spent years together as intimates.

Hurry, blessed Nuit, and turn the sky the color of his eyes, so that we may be as we were meant to be, joined together with the star-filled sky as our witness.

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