Nor was there any escaping the fact that my marriage to Thut would never happen if things continued on their present course. It had depended on Nefer and Thut being married and having a child together. Hatshepsut would never allow that to happen now. Iset would never allow it. I suddenly had a big decision to make. I could either stay with Nefer and give up on Thut, or go to Thut and abandon Nefer. If I went to Thut there was no question he would make me his Great Wife, and my son would rule Kemet after him. His mother would object, but he loved me too much to let her stand in the way. But my son would then contend with Nefer’s for the throne someday. It would be the ultimate betrayal. But if I stayed with Nefer, gave up Thut, my life would be one of emptiness and longing. I couldn’t accept either option. Both were too painful. The only way for me to be happy was for Thut and Nefer to marry, and so it was up to me to figure out a way to make that happen. I was going to have to pit myself against both Hatshepsut and Iset, somehow convince Thut and Nefer to marry despite the situation.
Breakfast over, Nefer and Hatshepsut and I went next door to the king’s reception room. Aachel hurried on to Ipet–Isut, to finish preparing the new household Nefer would occupy from today on. She’d been moving Nefer’s possessions from the per’aa to her new quarters for the past week, and would spend the day arranging the last of them before Nefer arrived to take up residence this evening. A scribe was already seated at the foot of the dais, papyrus spread across his lap, pot of ink ready, sharpened reed in hand. He would record the business conducted by Hatshepsut, as usual. I slipped into my regular seat to one side of the dais beside Nefer. Hatshepsut had just settled herself on her throne when Vizier Aametshu and Chancellor Neshi and Senenmut and a fourth man I did not know entered the room and bowed low. As always, the vizier and chancellor had met moments before at the flagstaff outside the per’aa and informed each other of pressing business under their respective jurisdictions. The vizier had then opened the gate and door of the per’aa so that people and goods could enter and leave. Then he and the chancellor had proceeded here.
“Is this the man?” Hatshepsut asked Senenmut.
“Senimen, son of the lady Seniemyah,” Senenmut replied.
Senimen was in his mid–thirties, bald, stout. He looked a bit overwhelmed and kept his eyes downcast.
“Nefer, this is your new tutor,” Hatshepsut announced.
Senimen looked up. Nefer nodded to him. He bowed.
Hatshepsut addressed him. “Senimen, I appoint you Tutor to the King’s Great Wife Neferure, upon Senenmut’s recommendation.”
“Thank you, Majesty.” The man bowed low one more.
The scribe scratched on his papyrus.
“So you have given her the title, Majesty? King’s Great Wife?” Senenmut asked.
Hatshepsut nodded. “I see no sense in delaying. Do you?”
“No, Majesty.”
“And now, Senenmut, speaking of titles, I have a few more to bestow on you for your faithful service: Steward of the Estates of Amun; Overseer of All Royal Works; Overseer of Amun’s Granaries, Storehouses, Fields, Cattle, and Slaves; Controller of the Hall of Amun; Overseer of the Works of Amun.”
Senenmut bowed low. “You are too generous, Majesty.” He moved to stand beside Senimen.
“What business do we have today?” Hatshepsut asked her advisors.
Vizier Aametshu ascended the dais and one by one handed her sheets of papyrus, all of them letters from foreign kings. Hatshepsut beckoned me to her side and I translated them out loud for everyone’s benefit. Hatshepsut and the vizier then fashioned replies in our tongue that the scribe recorded. I would translate them back into the proper languages later. Several times Hatshepsut asked Nefer for input, for she kept her involved in affairs of state as much as possible. When they finished Aametshu returned to his place beside Chancellor Neshi.
“Any other business?” Hatshepsut asked.
“No, Majesty.”
Members of the per’aa staff appeared and placed Sekhemti – the double crown – on Hatshepsut’s head, then handed her a crook and flail. She settled herself on her throne and turned to Senenmut. “Show them in.”
He motioned. Two guards stationed at the entrance of the audience hall opened the doors. Men began to enter single file, all of them courtiers and officials located in the Waset region – overseers, mayors, governors, priests, stewards, controllers – a small representation of the vast bureaucracy that ran the Two Lands. Each was dressed in his finest clothing and carried his symbol of office. One by one they ascended the dais, fell to their knees before Hatshepsut, and recited an oath of fealty to her as king, for that was the purpose of today’s gathering. She greeted many with a warm smile, particularly those she had appointed to their positions, for they were beholden to her. Some of the men, I knew, had been appointed by Nefer’s grandfather, and were now serving the third generation of her family. Their loyalty was beyond question. If any of the men objected to making obeisance to a female king, none showed it. After each man made his pledge, he backed down the steps and took a place among the others in the audience hall. Many had a smile for Nefer as well; she had known them her entire life.
The whole procedure took more than an hour. A scribe at Hatshepsut’s side recorded each person’s title and pledge as it was made.
Then Hatshepsut addressed the gathering.
“I have come to the throne that was my husband’s and my father’s before me,” she began.
I did not miss the fact that she had neglected to mention Thut.
“Kemet is at the peak of its glory, thanks to the campaigns of my father, Aakheperkare – life, health, prosperity – justified. Like my husband, I have no need to wage war against the wretches who surround us, because the chiefs of Retenu and Setjet and Wawat and Kush are still under the fear of my father’s time, and their tribute continues to pour unabated into my coffers.”
A different tune than the one sung by her advisors as a pretext for her to steal the throne, I thought.
“During my reign, therefore, I shall concentrate on internal policies and a building program.” Hatshepsut leaned forward. “Kemet was great in the time of Mentuhotep, whose house ruled the land from here in Waset, and whose temple lies just across the river. Then his line failed, and the Two Lands were torn asunder, and the Chiefs of the Foreign Lands stole Ta–mehi. They destroyed many sacred monuments and temples.” Her voice increased in volume. “I shall restore them to their original purity and glory, so that no one will ever remember that the wretches trod this land.”
Cries of approval rang out in the hall. Hatshepsut waited for everyone to quiet.
“Since the role of king passes from individual to individual, what those despicable wretches did to the kings who came before me they also did to me. I will not tolerate the damage they wrought. By my restorations, I shall erase all memory of the time when Kemet was divided.”
More cries rang out.
Hatshepsut turned to Senenmut. “I want the Temple of Hathor at Cusae, which was ruined by the wretches in the wars of liberation, restored. In the days to come I will make a list of other holy sites that must be repaired. You will see to it, Senenmut.”
“As you wish, Majesty.”
“I want the following inscription, stating my policy of renewal, carved on those temples.” Hatshepsut nodded to a scribe.
He unrolled a sheet of papyrus and began to read:
“I have done these things by the device of my heart. I have never slumbered as one forgetful, but have made strong what was decayed. I have raised up what was dismembered, even from the first time when the Aamu were in Avaris of the North Land, with roving hordes in the midst of them overthrowing what had been made; they ruled without Re… I have banished the abominations of the gods, and the earth has removed their footprints.”
The scribe stepped back.
“I will also build new structures throughout the valley, all the way south into Nubia. I want our best craftsmen to travel to Saqqara, to Dahshur, to
Giza, to study the architecture and drawings and renderings of the times of the kings who ruled when Kemet was great, so that their style may live again in the monuments I will erect. Build for me, Senenmut, two new temples to the lion–headed goddess Pakhet – ‘She Who Scratches’ – near Beni Hassan. Tear down the mud–brick temple of Mut south of Ipet–Isut and erect one of stone, with a colonnade, and a shrine of ebony worked with electrum inside, and doors of Tura limestone. Erect a temple for Amun and his primeval ancestors across the river from Waset on the Mound of Djeme, where eight ancient divinities, the Ogdoad – four frogs and four snakes – are buried. I have already built rest houses for the Opet festival between Ipet–Isut and Ipet–resyt. Now I will lavish much attention on Ipet–Isut itself – I will erect several chapels and a per’aa and a pylon across the path to Ipet–resyt, and I will set in place the two obelisks that my daughter brought back from the cataract.”
I saw everyone’s eyes on Nefer.
“Those obelisks will stand some distance east of Amun’s sanctuary, outside the wall that surrounds Ipet–Isut, and will be carved to commemorate my coronation as king. They will be covered with gold from top to bottom, on all four sides,” she continued. “They will be the first objects at Ipet–Isut that Re touches each morning as he is reborn.
The scribe stepped forward again, unrolled another scroll. “These are the inscriptions that will decorate Her Majesty’s pylons: ‘She made her monuments for her father Amun, Lord of the Two Lands, in front of Ipet–Isut, making for him two great obelisks of hard granite from the South, the sides covered with the finest gold in the land so that they could be seen from both sides of the river, flooding the Two Lands with their rays when the Aten shines between as it rises in the horizon of the sky,’ and: ‘I am his daughter in very truth, who works for him and knows what he desires. My reward from my father is life, stability, dominion upon the Horus throne of all the Living, like Re, forever.’”
Hatshepsut spoke again. “In due time, I shall raise my own temple on the west bank at the base of the great cliffs, north of Mentuhotep’s. My tomb shall be dug in the Great Place, near those of my father and my husband.” She surveyed the room. “In the time of Mentuhotep, our forebears honored their ancestors during the Beautiful Feast of the Valley. That festival died out long ago, but I now reinstitute it, and henceforth it shall be one of the two main festivals at Waset, along with the Opet.” Then Hatshepsut turned towards Nefer. “From this day, I proclaim that my beloved daughter, Neferure, shall serve as my Great Wife. And this afternoon I will pass on to her another title borne by all of the first–born women of my house – God’s Wife of Amun.”
***
That afternoon, Nefer was invested as God’s Wife in a long ritual inside the Wadjet Hall at Ipet–Isut, where both Thut and Hatshepsut had been crowned. She wore for the first time in public the regalia of God’s Wife – a gold uraeus diadem with beads trailing down her back, a broad collar and girdle and arm bands and bracelets and earrings and anklets of gold, a tightly–curled wig with braids dangling on either side of her head. She was given the symbols of her office – one broad–bladed length of wood, another with a broad handle, and a Hathor sistrum. At the ceremony’s conclusion she was allowed to join Hatshepsut and the Opener of the Gate of Heaven in the sanctuary of the shrine in the pillar–lined central courtyard to put Amun to bed for the night. She told me later that they allowed her to remove the cloak from the god’s statue and the flowers that bedecked it, and burn some food on a small offering table. Along with Hatshepsut, she had then backed out of the sanctuary, Hapuseneb brushing away their footprints to leave behind no trace of their presence.
Nefer smiled at Aachel and me where we waited beneath the portico outside the sanctuary entrance as Hapuseneb pulled its doors closed. A priest hurried forward to pass a bolt through two bronze staples, one on each door, and then applied a lump of fresh clay over the bolt. For the first time, Nefer pressed her brand new gold signet ring with her cartouche into the clay, sealing the door.
“At dawn we will return to awaken the god, Majesty,” Hapuseneb told Nefer.
A woman stepped to his side. She was a little over thirty, short, pretty. She bowed respectfully.
“This is Seniseneb, Adoratrix of Amun, the senior priestess at Ipet–Isut,” Hapuseneb said, then added proudly, “my own daughter. She will teach you all you need to know of the ceremonies you will take part in.”
Hapuseneb beckoned to a group of young priests standing in the center of the courtyard.
Hori emerged from their midst and hurried to us. He bowed.
“This is Hori, Majesty,” Hapuseneb told Hatshepsut. “He will be the God’s Wife’s chief assistant from now on.” He addressed Nefer. “Hori will ensure that you are awakened each morning and prepared for each day’s ceremonies.”
“Hori attended me at the cataract,” Nefer told Hatshepsut with delight. “We’ll work together very well.”
I was glad Hori had been assigned to Nefer. So many of the priests I’d encountered in the temple precinct over the years were old and dour, and he was anything but. I could tell from Aachel’s shy smile that she was glad too. She’d no longer have to make up excuses to run into him at Ipet–Isut. She’d be able to see him every day as she went about Nefer’s business.
Hatshepsut addressed the priests and workers assembled in the courtyard before the sanctuary. She had served as God’s Wife throughout her husband’s reign and Thut’s, more than seventeen years in all. I thought it must be hard for her to give up such a position after so long, to tell those she had worked with so closely goodbye. “For many years I’ve served beside you all as God’s Wife of Amun,” Hatshepsut said. “I’ll never forget your kindnesses to me. I will treasure always your friendship. But Amun has called me to another role – king – and I have answered. So today my daughter takes my old role, one that has been occupied by the women of my family for generations.” Hatshepsut pointed to the south, beyond the wall that enclosed the courtyard. “As regent, I embellished the route between Ipet–Isut and Amun’s southern sanctuary at Ipet–resyt with a series of barque shrines and sphinxes. As king, I will build another barque shrine for Amun west of this courtyard. I will construct it of red quartzite on a base of black granite. It will permanently house the barque that is used to carry the god in procession. When setting out on future processions, the barque will temporarily rest on a raised platform in front of Amun’s temple, and will be flanked north and south by smaller sandstone cult shrines that will show me making offerings before Kemet’s gods. I will create a new barque for the god as well. It shall be known as Userhat–Amun – ‘Mighty of Prow is Amun.’ The barque shall be of fine wood, gilded, bearing upon it an enclosed cabin in which the god will be concealed when he travels from temple to temple. Amun’s new barque shrine will, of course, be properly endowed.”
“We are blessed by your generosity, Majesty,” Hapuseneb said.
“I will also raise new pylons and obelisks at Ipet–Isut, and create a ‘per’aa of maat’ surrounding the barque shrine west of this courtyard.”
I couldn’t help wondering cynically if the improvements to Ipet–Isut were payment for the Amun priesthood’s support of Hatshepsut’s takeover of the kingdom.
The ceremonies had occupied most of the day. Re had disappeared below the western hills while Hatshepsut spoke, and the courtyard was now lit by a few torches held high by the lowest–ranking priests. Long weird shadows danced across the courtyard and below the portico as the crowd milled around. Hapuseneb gave an order, and Hatshepsut and the priests formed in procession. Musicians began to play and, led by chantresses and torch–carrying priests, everyone marched from the courtyard before Amun’s shrine and disappeared through the pylon that Nefer’s father had erected, leaving only Hori and Aachel and Nefer and I behind.
“I’ll show you to your quarters now, Majesty,” Hori said. “Dinner awaits you there.”
“Later. I have many questions I’d like answered
first.”
My stomach suddenly rumbled with hunger. I’d just as soon have the questions and answers later and the food and drink now.
Nefer moved to a large square block of limestone beside a pillar on one side of the courtyard and took a seat. Aachel and I joined her. A few priests and chantresses and servants and laborers began trudging into the courtyard singly and in small groups, taking up their nightly temple duties, paying us no attention.
“Explain to me how things work at Ipet–Isut,” Nefer commanded Hori. “I’ve watched the comings and goings about the temple precinct from the garden of the per’aa my whole life.” She tilted her head towards a group of workers hurrying past. “But now I realize I never questioned what these hundreds of people do.”
“The fact is, Majesty, that temples – particularly this one – dominate the economy of the river valley. That’s why so many laborers are required in their service.” Hori sat on a block facing ours. “The temple itself is the cosmos in microcosm – where heaven, earth and the netherworld touch. Ipet–Isut represents Nun, the sanctuary itself represents the place of first creation, the hypostyle hall and the base of walls the liminal swamp, the columns plants, the ceilings sky, the floor earth, the vaults the netherworld, the pylons the mountains of the eastern horizon, and the axial way the path of the sun.”
“Amun’s temple is the greatest in the land?” Nefer asked.
“Yes, since Amun is the greatest god. Amun was originally one of eight principal gods of Ashmunein, a site in Middle Kemet. With the rise of your family to the kingship he became the chief god of the state, because your ancestors gave him credit for their great military victories when they expelled the Chiefs of the Foreign Lands from Kemet. So powerful now is Amun that the very right to rule is dependent on his approval. That is why your mother is king – she was born of a human woman and the god. For so the Oracle proclaimed.”
Beauty of Re Page 15
