the erpa-ha was prince, was priest, and was scribe, and it was in the latter of these that he had been aptly trained from boyish clumsy lettering to the transcribing of many tomes.
the pass was filled with the many bodies encamped there, to claim luneshale for their queen and gods; senmut found himself seated straight and above them with the servant, in the eye of the moon, though it was beneath such stars he hoped the aspiring godward @Melody also found herself.
pharaoh. none of the others had been named such, surely. if eset saw him as such then perhaps did the other fellahin, all closest attendants and even companions to the queen herself.
proverbial pen to parchment, careful glistening of tongue-laid ink;
the pass was filled with the many bodies encamped there, to claim luneshale for their queen and gods; senmut found himself seated straight and above them with the servant, in the eye of the moon, though it was beneath such stars he hoped the aspiring godward @Melody also found herself.
pharaoh. none of the others had been named such, surely. if eset saw him as such then perhaps did the other fellahin, all closest attendants and even companions to the queen herself.
proverbial pen to parchment, careful glistening of tongue-laid ink;
my sister in the gods,
you will find you are newly made Lady of the Southland Meadows. a profusion of flowers for which i have no name welcomes your eyes; bright oranges, rich purples, verdant greens, and the paleness of night-orchids which open only after nightfall.
at the time of this writing, your subjects have encountered no obstacles nor resistance to our claiming in your name.
here senmut paused, struggling, for the recitation had taken a more reporting tone, not the one he wanted to convey. a long moment, and he went on, inspired by some wilder thought.
your name is upon every mouth and in every heart. may the obelisk built by akashingo for your glory last a thousand years. i asked you to think of me fondly before i departed the palace, and trust that your face has not left my inner sight. i, ushabti, and you, my creator.
i am your eternal servant
--to the ear of queen @Toula,
from her prince & subject,
senmut
September 03, 2023, 10:15 PM
the words that came were listened to with some measure of surprise. now, all three had reached out to her in voice—and she smiled at the thought. but as the words came, Toula found that perhaps she had been wrong to think this the reason or intent for his sending this fellahin. it did not sound like a love letter, after all. it began absent of all sentiment. but even so, Toula listened. Senmut had always had such a way with words, and she found herself hanging on to each of them and imagining him speak them with a smile.
this was all very him, and she had not let herself wonder if she could love him as he was. now she did, her mind wandering for a moment. Toula was then keenly aware that she already did—though perhaps not in a way that would do either of them any good. she was glad to hear them well, had prayed on it each and every day!
but her heart stuttered as the letter continues, surprise flashing across her features as the last words were spoken. now this! it was unexpected! a warm feeling heated her cheeks, and Toula wished to ask the fellahin how he seemed when he spoke this. her mind had just began to ponder what, by marrying him, she might take away from him—his own chance at love!
had she become this to him now? had the days apart… changed things for him? her eyes turned to the flower he had provided for her before his departure. before that? would she have missed that?
her gaze panned to the cuff the Sphinx had delivered to her. and she found her stomach turning as she questioned what she herself might want. it was natural she not know for certain, not before meeting one candidate—it was him she strangely longed for, she found. he who most might understand her.
was he what and who was best? Toula thought he could be—but thought would not be enough, and knew she must uncover this when she met him. and she could not deny that the Sphinx Thutmose surprised her so pleasantly that he came to her in dreams, where they picnicked and he fed to her sweet honeycomb—
no such dreams of Senmut. but now something stirred as she imagined him discovering that, after all this time, he might love her… how romantic!
Toula thought with some amusement how one might enjoy this story told upon her pyramid; she would, someday, have it transcribed. a tale of three princes, and a Queen.
it was true that Akashingo was still abuzz, but there was a difference that Toula had observed. she was drawn toward his own halls, where she—usually—would hear him busy with work. a comfort, truly. a thing she could count on the hour that she passed. and now, in that same space, a stillness she had been unprepared for.
foolish, to let herself think on this at length like she did then. foolish because she knew Senmut was a man of duty, and perhaps that was what this effort was more than anything else—but the fellahin had already gone to find @Senmut and would speak the words to no other, as the rest who sent their words. oh!
Toula frowned at the thought—she must pray on it.
this was all very him, and she had not let herself wonder if she could love him as he was. now she did, her mind wandering for a moment. Toula was then keenly aware that she already did—though perhaps not in a way that would do either of them any good. she was glad to hear them well, had prayed on it each and every day!
but her heart stuttered as the letter continues, surprise flashing across her features as the last words were spoken. now this! it was unexpected! a warm feeling heated her cheeks, and Toula wished to ask the fellahin how he seemed when he spoke this. her mind had just began to ponder what, by marrying him, she might take away from him—his own chance at love!
had she become this to him now? had the days apart… changed things for him? her eyes turned to the flower he had provided for her before his departure. before that? would she have missed that?
her gaze panned to the cuff the Sphinx had delivered to her. and she found her stomach turning as she questioned what she herself might want. it was natural she not know for certain, not before meeting one candidate—it was him she strangely longed for, she found. he who most might understand her.
was he what and who was best? Toula thought he could be—but thought would not be enough, and knew she must uncover this when she met him. and she could not deny that the Sphinx Thutmose surprised her so pleasantly that he came to her in dreams, where they picnicked and he fed to her sweet honeycomb—
no such dreams of Senmut. but now something stirred as she imagined him discovering that, after all this time, he might love her… how romantic!
Toula thought with some amusement how one might enjoy this story told upon her pyramid; she would, someday, have it transcribed. a tale of three princes, and a Queen.
send this in return,she started:
it is as I have prayed it to be;
the Gods are on our side!
day and night I speak to Them,
asking They watch over you, and keep each of you safe.
I am eager to see the sights you speak of—
and I am eager to see you, as well, prince.
I find I miss your voice joining mine in morning prayer to Ra,
and did not know how quiet it might become without you.
it was true that Akashingo was still abuzz, but there was a difference that Toula had observed. she was drawn toward his own halls, where she—usually—would hear him busy with work. a comfort, truly. a thing she could count on the hour that she passed. and now, in that same space, a stillness she had been unprepared for.
do you speak my name more than the rest, prince?
I do think of you—your absence is strangely loud, and I do not like it!
I look upon your flower now, and wonder what your gaze might be upon—may soon you be able to show me,
until then, or next you send word!, your creator—
foolish, to let herself think on this at length like she did then. foolish because she knew Senmut was a man of duty, and perhaps that was what this effort was more than anything else—but the fellahin had already gone to find @Senmut and would speak the words to no other, as the rest who sent their words. oh!
Toula frowned at the thought—she must pray on it.
September 04, 2023, 03:10 PM
her missive returned on the blood-orange sunset, and senmut felt each word sink into his very soul; like lapis rings, he turned them in his mind as the akashingoans settled for the night. ribcage expanding with a sigh that carried a thousand things.
he did not love the queen in a way a husband might seek to love her; he loved akashingo in her, the divinity of her line, and she as her own person, possessor of spirit and intellect and wants that diverged from ambition or bloodshed. senmut loved her goodness and had breathed easier in the peace that the lotus princess had brought by her very kindnesses.
her beauty, her lineage, her education, her courtly manners; all reasons also to favour her, to adore the jewel blessed by the gods. not a prize to be claimed but a goddess in her own right, to be treasured and feared above all.
this he had in the burning thrum of his chest; this he had in spicewine flowing through veins that did not sleep and head that ached to bow once more in her presence? would thutmose see her only as a pretty girl, a vessel for an expanded military might? would rashepses treat her with the same gilt he gave himself, the same honors? could men be trusted to ensure a queen remained such?
senmut shut his eyes, and the desert grew cold upon him, and darkness found the silent moon glowing down upon the young priest who now also held the title of hereditary prince.
what would my father think of me now? old, proud pihuri, father to many children, though the souls of seven had been called to the Land of Reeds through the years. he had sent his son to be a scribe, unable to feed the boy when mother's-milk had dried up from years of hunger. aahmose, she had cried and clutched at the bundle which had been senmut, but pihuri had addressed her roughly, and at last they had surrendered the newborn boy to the priest of Amun at the worn temple.
born into the dark earth of aswan, born into sandlash and windstorm, where peasants eked out a meager existence in a nome farflung from the presence of any pharaoh — that was the blood to which he would bring a divine marriage. no title bestowed by even the queen herself could change him into a hallowed soul, worthy of joining her name.
peasant child, foundling of priests, acolyte, scribe-trained, scribe-for-hire; up and up as senmut grew, given more opportunities as he learned to formalize himself.
but pihuri, pihuri would only beam and smile to see such blessings on the young son he had once given up. and here senmut felt salt upon his mouth, and when he raised a wondering paw to his cheek, it came away wet.
his father would think him worthy to sit beside the queen. they had not foregone their honor when she had created an erpa-ha out of him.
your creator, she had said, and at last he summoned the servant. should not a man of humble birth occupy the throne where so many proud blooded ones had sat? was his own accomplishment so little, that he should even consider himself sullied? legend's voice, that of eset; senmut now reached out to grab the proverbial flail in his mind, and in his mind, no churning of Ma'at upended akashingo when he had touched the sacred item.
tonight senmut would fast. tonight he would dream; but for now, in satin blue-dark, he dictated the words in response to their queen.
he did not love the queen in a way a husband might seek to love her; he loved akashingo in her, the divinity of her line, and she as her own person, possessor of spirit and intellect and wants that diverged from ambition or bloodshed. senmut loved her goodness and had breathed easier in the peace that the lotus princess had brought by her very kindnesses.
her beauty, her lineage, her education, her courtly manners; all reasons also to favour her, to adore the jewel blessed by the gods. not a prize to be claimed but a goddess in her own right, to be treasured and feared above all.
this he had in the burning thrum of his chest; this he had in spicewine flowing through veins that did not sleep and head that ached to bow once more in her presence? would thutmose see her only as a pretty girl, a vessel for an expanded military might? would rashepses treat her with the same gilt he gave himself, the same honors? could men be trusted to ensure a queen remained such?
senmut shut his eyes, and the desert grew cold upon him, and darkness found the silent moon glowing down upon the young priest who now also held the title of hereditary prince.
what would my father think of me now? old, proud pihuri, father to many children, though the souls of seven had been called to the Land of Reeds through the years. he had sent his son to be a scribe, unable to feed the boy when mother's-milk had dried up from years of hunger. aahmose, she had cried and clutched at the bundle which had been senmut, but pihuri had addressed her roughly, and at last they had surrendered the newborn boy to the priest of Amun at the worn temple.
born into the dark earth of aswan, born into sandlash and windstorm, where peasants eked out a meager existence in a nome farflung from the presence of any pharaoh — that was the blood to which he would bring a divine marriage. no title bestowed by even the queen herself could change him into a hallowed soul, worthy of joining her name.
peasant child, foundling of priests, acolyte, scribe-trained, scribe-for-hire; up and up as senmut grew, given more opportunities as he learned to formalize himself.
but pihuri, pihuri would only beam and smile to see such blessings on the young son he had once given up. and here senmut felt salt upon his mouth, and when he raised a wondering paw to his cheek, it came away wet.
his father would think him worthy to sit beside the queen. they had not foregone their honor when she had created an erpa-ha out of him.
your creator, she had said, and at last he summoned the servant. should not a man of humble birth occupy the throne where so many proud blooded ones had sat? was his own accomplishment so little, that he should even consider himself sullied? legend's voice, that of eset; senmut now reached out to grab the proverbial flail in his mind, and in his mind, no churning of Ma'at upended akashingo when he had touched the sacred item.
tonight senmut would fast. tonight he would dream; but for now, in satin blue-dark, he dictated the words in response to their queen.
i wait for the dust of sand upon the horizon to announce your coming.
humbled am i to know your ear seeks my voice;
joyed am i to know your heart speaks on my safety
Amun has smiled upon our excursion and your people wait in delight to look upon your face.
my mouth reminds them of your name. when i rise to greet Ra, i know He too moves your spirit in that hour. there is an emptiness here among the sands that no prayer can fill. i fear only worship might temper such ill-ease, and so i wait in eagerness for the moment i might be a servant in your divine presence once more.
unbidden, the prince felt a warmth upon his face as he spoke moreon, and soon he stopped, turning contemplative verdant stare upon the farlands where akashingo reigned, as her hand also would here in the desert.
you look upon the bloom i brought, and i look toward the sun-bathed dunes.
a leopardess moves upon the golden sand;
she is golden and she is jetstone
the antelope run from her eyes
she is queen, and he is afflicted with the sickness of longing
he has drunk from the river of desire
and Horus has answered the rose-colored sound of his voice
did he mean such things? senmut had never written in this way before; all words he had once held had been dictated to him, as scribe, prized for his near-flawless recitation. now he found himself perturbed and at wonder what had driven such things, and if it was disengenous upon the heels of his tighter message.
he paced awhile, and then stopped; he thought himself prepared to take the role of pharaoh, and worthy of it also. to contemplate it again brought a refreshing rush of confident relief. senmut collected himself and considered that perhaps in this freedom he had found desire. careful he would be with such things.
a fan; fashioned over several days. collected hawkfeather for the plumes, daubed cacti-sap to hold. eleven in all, supported on palest hareskin. the long haft was tooth-stripped of bark and stained in floral dyes, as deeply orange as senmut was capable of in his limitations. a fan, to be held by fan-bearer. but moreso, at its base, a first carving, the small mark which delineated her queenliness and another below, to indicate his position as eternal servant.
now the gift and letter went to the queen herself, and in the skill of his work, the promise of a holy smile and the blessing of what senmut hoped was a stirring of some passion, some true gift if their ruler decided it was he she wished.
this much, at least, must be his to give.
he paced awhile, and then stopped; he thought himself prepared to take the role of pharaoh, and worthy of it also. to contemplate it again brought a refreshing rush of confident relief. senmut collected himself and considered that perhaps in this freedom he had found desire. careful he would be with such things.
a fan; fashioned over several days. collected hawkfeather for the plumes, daubed cacti-sap to hold. eleven in all, supported on palest hareskin. the long haft was tooth-stripped of bark and stained in floral dyes, as deeply orange as senmut was capable of in his limitations. a fan, to be held by fan-bearer. but moreso, at its base, a first carving, the small mark which delineated her queenliness and another below, to indicate his position as eternal servant.
now the gift and letter went to the queen herself, and in the skill of his work, the promise of a holy smile and the blessing of what senmut hoped was a stirring of some passion, some true gift if their ruler decided it was he she wished.
this much, at least, must be his to give.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »