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divine mistress engage in not such a divine tantrum.
    â€˜You must not, my lady, be seen to interfere,’ Senenmut declared. ‘The tombs were invaded, the criminals caught; justice will be done.’
    â€˜I want them all to see justice is done. I want people as far north as the market towns of the Delta who stare out over the Great Green to know that I am Pharaoh. I want people who live beyond the Fourth Cataract to tremble at the sound of my name.’
    â€˜They already do.’
    Amerotke leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Hatusu was not angry with him, she was just indulging her well-known temper. In truth he realised this cunning Pharaoh Queen was delighted at what he had achieved.
    â€˜They will see you as mighty of form,’ he continued, ‘strong of heart, beloved daughter of Pharaoh, Lord of the Two Lands, she whom Nekhbet the Vulture Goddess has covered
with her feathered wings, she whom Horus protects as he burns millions.’
    Hatusu now hid her face behind the fan.
    â€˜She to whom,’ Amerotke continued his teasing, ‘the priests of Amun, Isis and Osiris offer incense to the clash of cymbals and the braying of trumpets. She who wears the double crown and the feathered headdress, whose words leap down from her mouth.’
    Hatusu’s rage subsided. She stood for a while listening to Amerotke imitate an imperial herald, then began to laugh, shoulders shaking, fingers going to cover her mouth. She had thrown the fan at Senenmut and hitched more closely around her shoulders the beautiful jewel-encrusted Nenes, the coat of glory, worn only by Pharaoh. Now she clapped her hands in appreciation.
    â€˜If you ever wish to become a herald, Amerotke, I can arrange that, but in the meantime …’ She drew so close Amerotke could smell the beautiful Kiphye perfume, the juice of the resplendent blue lotus. Up close Hatusu’s eyes reminded him of a leopard’s, almost amber-coloured, whilst he knew those beautiful lips, parted so prettily, could curl in a snarl. She lifted her hands, sheathed in their blood-red gloves, and gently touched Amerotke’s face. ‘Three years, Amerotke, I have been Pharaoh, and you are right. I am the beloved of the gods. I am the smiter of the vile Asiatics, the crusher of the rebellious Kushites, and before me the People of the Nine Bows tremble. My ships cross the Great Green, my war barges patrol the Nile, my chariot squadrons go deeper and deeper into the Red Lands. My soldiers build wells, fortify oases, map roads; they set up inscriptions and monuments to my glory. My troops patrol the Horus path across Sinai, I demand the princes of Canaan flood my court with tribute, wines, wool and precious timber. But what is the use of that,’ she pressed her fingers against his cheek, ‘if I can’t even protect the sepulchres of my kin, my father, brother, mother and husband? You know
what they did, Amerotke, those miscreants? They looted the tombs, desecrated the mummies. They stripped them of jewels, gold and silver, selling them like trinkets in the marketplace. What do you think, my lord Amerotke, the princes of Canaan will say when a merchant approaches them and offers to sell jewels which once protected my dead father’s eyes? What does that say about the power of Hatusu?’
    â€˜My Lord Amerotke is not to be blamed.’ Senenmut spoke up. ‘He is the one who hunted these villains down and brought them to justice.’
    â€˜Ah yes. Justice!’ Hatusu stepped away. ‘Make sure my justice is done, make sure it is published and shown that it has been done.’ She snapped her fingers at Senenmut and swept out of the chamber.
    That had been three hours ago, just before dawn. Now Amerotke sat enthroned on the dark-red-quilted Chair of Judgement, its acacia wood inlaid with silver and gold, the back of the chair rising above him from which a tasselled awning stretched out above his head. Both the