They asked me to sit and write my story, to give truth to the person I am. I’m not sure what words will fit or if the effort is worth it. You will judge me the same at the end of it anyway. But I have been asked, so I will tell.
My story starts much before you would imagine. Appearance and age is all a deception. I was born not long after the Roman’s invaded Egypt, by history I’m guessing about 15BC. My mother was of the very old line of Egyptian Pharaohs, the old blood, rich with tradition and duty. My father was an invader, a prince of Rome, fair and tall and blonde. He did not necessarily love my mother, he conquered her, claimed her in the desire to hold the throne of Egypt. To create a Roman son to hold a newly conquered land. And so I was born quietly, in the dark of night, while my father was off at war. A fair haired child, light and colored like the Roman blood I carried, shamefully female. My hair was darkened with coal, swaddling clothes used to conceal gender and the secret was sworn between my mother and the midwife. Egypt needed a king, not a fair haired princess. The deception was born and my identity with it.
I was crowned prince, Amenemhet Lee Khentemsemet, the prince rising from the east. Accorded all the rights and the privileges of a true prince of Egypt. From a young age my mother rigidly taught me to adhere to the strict acts of concealment that made up my being, to hide what I was and to become something more. Truthfully it may have been easier for me than many others or maybe I had been indoctrinated from such an early age to be a man. I was raised with horses and hounds, with the weapons of war, with chariots and scholars. My father ignored me, a young child did not belong among men and warriors. My mother worried herself only with the craft of my deception and forcing me to adhere to it at every moment. I could not have many friendships, my mother felt the risk of exposure was far too great. In my loneliness she continued to promise that once I ascended the throne, I could have things as I wished them. Those hopes didn’t sustain me. So I turned to the scholars, to studies and education and to the masters of horse and hound, acquiring animal mastery skills that exceeded any that was expected of a prince.
Did I know I was different? Of course, did I fully understand the ramifications of concealment? Not likely. It was not till my teenage years when my father expected me at his side, that the gravity of my situation sank in. I had to watch every step, to manage my mannerisms and attend to every moment to ensure that no one could see through what I had become. They considered me regal, distant, a proper prince. In Roman fashion it was not thought uncommon for me to hold myself apart from others. Inside, it was quiet torture.
It was not the necessity of being a man that hammered through my heart, it was the loneliness of concealing who I was and holding everyone at arm’s length. My mother persisted, demanded that I maintain every aspect of the façade, hounded me… and kept anyone who might wish to get close a good distance away. My father was a man consumed by war, he preferred the field of battle to sitting the throne, so at least his scrutiny was far distant.
The demands of my position, my mother’s obsessive watchful eye, and the attentions of my scholars forced me to look elsewhere for the missing attention I so desired. I am only human after all, well… mostly. My mistake was one that many men make, craving the attention of a woman, a touch to ease the loneliness. She was of lesser nobility, the daughter of one of the palace advisors. She sought me out in the shadows, talked to me in secret. Perhaps I had not spent enough time among people to understand manipulation or social gain. I understood only that she wished to be with me, to spend her time with me even if it meant hiding.
In my distraction, my father passed on the field of battle. It was no great loss to me, but to my mother it was everything. It gave her custody of the throne and set me up for exactly what she wished me to be. It also brought the snakes out of the shadows. And I confessed, I missed by duties. I was tangled in the web of a woman who wanted more than me, who wanted ambition and everything it might mean. I was a fool. I thought she cared for me. She cared for my position and my uncle cared for her ability to find out who this prince really was.
After a time, her insistence on affection deepened. How could I deny her, deny myself? I thought that her interest was genuine, her attention the meanings of love. I thought that the truth would not matter, that mentality and physical reality would meld without issue. I was wrong. She was only too happy to run to my uncle with the startling news, hoping the tidbit would raise her above her station.
Shall I tell you that I know what it is to taken from your bed in the middle of the night, to face the sting of a whip against bare skin. To know that death was waiting right around the corner, prepared for you after the torture of reality. I faced countless days slumped in stone prison walls that seemed to be closing in on me. I would be exposed, it was promised. The world would know my shame before I would be allowed to die slowly. I can’t say I experienced terror, only the pain of torture. Perhaps this fate would bring me some inkling of peace.
Maybe it was some touch of guilt, or maybe she didn’t get the reward she hoped for and sought vengeance instead. Either way, she came in the dead of night. Unlocked the door and bade me follow. I couldn’t fathom my feelings for the woman but I was at least smart enough to go with her. We stole away into the night and I thought maybe she had intentions of leaving with me. But it was not so, she saw to it that I had a horse, some food, and a map of the closest oasis. And that is how a prince of Egypt falls.
Does it surprise me that my mother knew enough flee before she was captured? Of course not. That woman was also after her own means, even if it was through me. Does it surprise me that she was waiting for me when I finally clawed my way into Thebes? Of course not. But I surprised myself. I quietly and dismissively told her what I thought of her petty scheming, of the damage she had wrought upon my life. Do I think it really had any effect? Probably not.
My mother spun it well, pointing her finger at an Uncle who supposedly lied to steal the throne for himself. It garnered us some support in Greece and neighboring kingdoms. But I had no heart for returning to Egypt. I made it very clearly. But I took the sponsors money. Took it and invested it in inventors, in scholars, and artists in all the right people to amass wealth and business. To create a barrier between myself and the world at large. As a patron myself I could hide behind my wealth and interests and never face the living world. To them, I was the exiled Prince of Egypt, a legendary figure. To myself I was a shell.
There is a piece of the story that my mother failed to relate. The old blood of Egypt is different, thicker, tied to strange roots, tied to the divine. There is a reason the Pharaohs were worshiped as gods. Did you ever think that maybe the ancients knew something that you do not? No… well then we shall leave it there if it comforts you.
But I am still here.
I let the prince die, even if my mother could never let go. I happily slipped away behind my wealth and business. Not realizing how hollow I had become, how empty I was and far from the world. A prince hidden in the tallest tower. Neither man nor woman, neither dead nor really alive.
It was easy to hide through the years. To pretend that this was the best there was. When the new world opened, I took to the seas on a chance, to maybe start something new. To leave ambition and history behind. I cannot say that I have really made a life here, I have built industry and wealth. Built another name to hide behind. But still I was hiding, neither one thing nor the other. But everything.
It was music that changed me, made me more alive. It was a strange pink haired woman who continued to pick through the exterior to make me breath again. She knew of Egypt, of the past, she knew the right words to say. The right things to offer. It was not me she wanted, but my happiness. We shared no love, but the first real friendship of my life instead. She encouraged me, brought me sheet music, never conceded to the roughness of my pain. And finally, when she thought me ready, she pushed me out of my tower.
I was a little surprised at the world I found. Here I needed to be neither male nor female, not one thing or another. I simply was and it was good. I cannot say what tomorrow will bring. But I know it will bring music and I will be waiting for it.
I will make you see what I want you to see...