Lady of the Two Lands

by Elizabeth Delisi

  “Well, find him!” she cried. “We must find out who did this, and have the traitor imprisoned. Then, the prince will be safe.” And so will I, she added silently.

  “The guards are searching for the cook and questioning the other servants, but I fear the unfortunate servant was not the originator of the plot. He was no doubt a pawn in a much larger scheme.”

  “But he could tell us who is to blame,” she insisted. “We must find him.”

  Senemut sighed and shook his head. “I fear if we do find him, it will be at the bottom of the Nile.”

  Of course. A fiend who wouldn’t hesitate to murder a small boy would have no qualms about getting rid of a servant who could point the finger of blame at him. “What shall we do then, Senemut? How can we protect Tuthmosis? Surely, they will try again.”

  “I fear you are right, Hattie. And the boy may not be so lucky the next time. We must find a way to protect him. It is difficult when we know not whom to trust.” Senemut pursed his lips in thought.

  Hattie, too, puzzled over the situation. She struggled to recall what little she knew of the life of the real Hatshepsut. Perhaps something in that history could help her now. But, try as she might, she couldn’t remember any mention of an assassination attempt on Prince Tuthmosis. Most of what she knew concerned the coronation ceremony when Hatshepsut was crowned pharaoh, although she did remember that Tuthmosis finally came to the throne after Hatshepsut had ruled for a number of years. From that, it appeared Tuthmosis was not the target of any assassination attempts. Or, at least, he survived them to rule after Hatshepsut.

  Pharaoh…wait a minute. Hattie was simply serving as regent for Tuthmosis. No coronation had taken place. Yet, history told her that Hatshepsut had ruled alone, as Pharaoh of all Egypt. What would happen if Hattie were to be crowned now? Would it change the situation? Would it protect the prince?

  One thing was certain: if she were pharaoh, there would be no sense in assassinating Tuthmosis. Hattie herself would be the only one in danger. And though the traitor was obviously bold, he might not dare lift his hand against pharaoh himself. Herself, Hattie amended. It was a bold plan, but it was worth a try.

  “Senemut, I think I have the answer, but you may not like it. Will you hear me out?”

  He looked up at her. “I would be glad to listen to any idea of how we can protect the prince.”

  “In order to protect Tuthmosis, we must find a way…” She paused to gather her thoughts. “We must find some way to have me proclaimed pharaoh. Then there would be no point in further attempts on Tuthmosis’s life and he would be spared. Is that not so?” She clenched her hands in tense fists, waiting to hear his reaction to her startling proposal.

  Senemut’s jaw dropped. “Pharaoh? But…but…you are a woman!”

  She smiled. “I am glad you have noticed.”

  “Nay, nay, that is not what I mean,” he stammered. “Pharaoh must be a man! He is the living incarnation of Horus, and he rules over all Egypt. He is ruler…judge…warrior…defender. He must be male.”

  Hattie realized she was asking a lot of Senemut. There were many men in the twenty-first century who had difficulty with the concept of women’s equality, and Senemut hadn’t had the benefit of nearly thirty-five hundred years of gradual emancipation to get used to the idea.

  “Have I not been ruler of all Egypt these past months?” she asked gently. “Did I not lead my troops into battle? Have I not built a peaceful relationship with Nubia? Do you think a man would have done better?”

  Senemut swallowed. He might not be a modern man, but Hattie knew he was honest. “Nay, Hattie. A man might have handled the situation differently, but I do not believe he could have produced a better outcome. And I confess, I find your judgment sound.”

  “This is the only way we can safeguard the boy,” she continued. “If I were pharaoh, his life would no longer be in danger. There would be no point in killing him because it would have no effect on me. I would still rule Egypt.”

  “But you would still be in danger with this plan of yours. Far greater danger, mayhap,” he protested, his face stricken.

  She shrugged. “I am in danger now. But I think this traitor is a coward. He chooses to work through poison and intrigue, instead of open confrontation. He surely will not dare try to murder pharaoh.”

  “Possibly, but mayhap he would.” Scowling, Senemut paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Hattie could tell he was torn between the logic of her arguments, and the centuries of Egyptian tradition. It was a tribute to his great intelligence and open-mindedness that he would even consider her proposal.

  At last, he turned to her with a strange expression on his face. She watched him carefully, waiting to hear his answer. Two lives depended on it—the young prince’s, and hers.

  Dropping down on one knee, he placed his right hand over his heart. He locked his gaze with hers and said solemnly, “I pledge my loyalty and my life to you, Hatshepsut, incarnation of the living Horus, Pharaoh of all Egypt.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Hattie swallowed hard, trying to force back the tears that sprang to her eyes. “Thank you, Senemut. I cannot accomplish this without your help.” She grasped his hands and pulled him to his feet. “What must we do now?”

  Senemut resumed pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “First, all work on your mortuary temple in the Valley of the Queens must cease.”

  Mortuary temple? Hattie was not aware such a structure was under construction in her name, although she knew it was common practice among royalty to build for themselves magnificent tombs and temples, known as “houses for eternity”. “Why must the construction on my mortuary temple cease? What does this have to do with having me named pharaoh?”

  “You will no longer be a queen. You will be pharaoh…you will be king. Therefore, we will begin construction of a new tomb for you in the Valley of the Kings, as befits your new rank, and a magnificent mortuary temple. Mayhap your temple should be…” He paused a moment. “I have it! We shall build your temple on the west bank of the Nile. There is a perfect spot next to the ancient temple of Pharaoh Mentuhotep II. That spot is sacred to Hathor, goddess of love and music.”

  Hattie nodded enthusiastically. “I like it!” Closing her eyes, she pictured Hatshepsut’s temple from photos she’d seen in the books Tom had pressed on her. “Can we have terraces and white-pillared colonnades?”

  Senemut’s eyes widened. “Little one, you have the soul of an artist. Aye, I can see it in my mind. The terraces must rise until they meet the cliffs. I vow it will be the most splendid temple the world has known and, with Your Majesty’s permission, I will design it thus.”

  Of course! Hattie had forgotten that one of his titles, in those same books, was Royal Architect. “Aye, Senemut! Please do design it. I know it will be exquisite under your direction. What else?”

  “We must begin work at once,” Senemut explained. “The walls of your new temple will be covered with reliefs illustrating your divine conception and birth.” His brow furrowed in thought. “We must show you visiting shrines of the gods, accompanied by your father Tuthmosis I, and scenes of your coronation before the gods and here on earth. We will illustrate your father presenting you to the court, and formally nominating you as his co-regent and intended successor.”

  “But…but he did not do that. Did he?” Hattie asked.

  Senemut frowned at her. “You must never speak thus. If we are to succeed in having you crowned pharaoh, there must be no doubt that you are the chosen one, both by your royal father and by the gods. It is the only way you will be accepted. From this day forth, on every monument, each document, and in every public utterance, you will be referred to as ‘he’ or ‘His Majesty’.”

  “But, surely the people will know that it is not true,” she protested. “They will know that my…my father did not name me his successor. And they can see I am a woman! Can I not be proclaimed pharaoh by virtue of my heritage, my intelligence, and my ab
ility to handle the responsibilities of ruler?”

  “Nay. The people will not accept you thus.” Senemut touched her cheek briefly. “They will not know whether your royal father chose you as his successor or not. They are not privy to court affairs. And though you wear the outward guise of a woman, they must believe you have the spirit, the fierceness, of a man. Do not fear…they will believe.”

  “What about the nobles and the priests? Surely they, at least, will know the truth.”

  “The gods themselves have named you pharaoh. That is how it must be. In time, the nobles and priests, too, will come to believe it. They will forget that it was not ever thus. And you must never say otherwise,” he warned. “They must be afraid to dispute your word, and that of the gods.”

  It’s a little like the massive publicity campaigns launched by politicians in my time, Hattie thought—except that here, the propaganda would come after her succession to the post, not before. “What else?”

  “You will not like this. You must honor your earthly father in every way possible, and you must ignore the memory of your husband. It is necessary for you to be identified with your father in order to justify your claim to the throne,” Senemut said. “We will redesign your father’s tomb in the Valley of the Kings and build him a new mortuary chapel associated with your own.”

  Hattie winced. “I do not wish to ignore the memory of my…of Neferure’s father. It will hurt her to do so. And if I act thus, young Tuthmosis will never forgive me.”

  “Nevertheless, you must do so,” he said harshly. “It is the only way. If we are to make you pharaoh, you must be willing to make these sacrifices. Are you willing? If you are not, then we must cease this speculation now, and think of another way to protect the boy, though I know not what.” He paused, watching her face carefully.

  Hattie was torn. She would pluck her own heart out before she would hurt little Neferure. And she had no wish to alienate Tuthmosis even further; their relationship was strained enough as it was. Yet she had to assure his safety. How ironic that the best way to protect his life was to further estrange him from her.

  She sighed and squared her shoulders. “I will do what must be done, Senemut. Amun help me, I wish there were another way, but I fear there is not. I will not shrink from my duty.”

  His sudden smile was like a burst of sunshine from behind a storm cloud. “You are brave, little one,” he murmured. “You certainly have the heart of a pharaoh.”

  Hattie’s heart leapt at his praise. “Thank you, Senemut. But I could not accomplish it without you.”

  “Your Majesty is gracious,” he said, bowing deeply to her. He arose with a twinkle in his eyes. “Now, we must choose your throne name. What shall it be?”

  “What is wrong with Hatshepsut?” she demanded.

  “Of course, that is your name,” he said soothingly. “But your throne name must link you with the gods. It must show that you are divine and are suited to rule over Egypt, vanquishing all who dare oppose you.”

  Hattie whistled. “It will have to be quite a name to accomplish all that. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Let me think.” He paused for a moment. “Aye, I think I have it! We shall call you, ‘Powerful of Kas, flourishing of years, divine of diadems, Maatkare, Khenmet-Amun Hatshepsut’. What think you of it?” He grinned at her.

  “I think it is quite a mouthful,” she retorted. “How can anyone address me using that name? It will take them an afternoon simply to say it.”

  “It is merely your throne name, Hattie,” Senemut scolded her gently. “No one will call you that. They may refer to you as Maatkare, or they will use your own name.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And what shall I call you, Majesty?”

  “Hattie, please,” she said at once. “I cannot bear it if you call me otherwise.”

  “Hattie it shall be then,” he agreed. “In private. In public, you shall be my pharaoh and my king, His Majesty Maatkare, Ruler of the Two Lands!”

  She gulped. If there was ever a time to awaken from this dream, to return to her own world and leave the past behind, now was that time. If this nightmare didn’t end, if she couldn’t find a way to return to her own life immediately, then she feared there was no turning back. Soon, Hattie Williams, an obscure artist from twenty-first century Chicago, would be sole ruler of all eighteenth dynasty Egypt.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Where are we going, Senemut?” Hattie asked for the fifth time.

  For the fifth time, Senemut merely raised his eyebrows and said, “Have patience, little one.”

  Hattie grinned. There was no doubt about it—the man guarded a secret better than the sands of the desert. Whatever he had planned was bound to be marvelous. Trying to be patient, she leaned back and let the welcome breeze drift over her as the oarsmen dipped and pulled, taking them swiftly across the Nile to the west bank. Though the sun was just rising, the day was already hot.

  They landed and Senemut helped her out of the boat.

  “Well?” she demanded. “What is the surprise?”

  “We walk now.”

  Sighing, Hattie gestured for him to lead the way, two guards trailing them at a respectful distance. He would tell her in his own good time.

  Hurrying to keep up, she followed him as they crossed a broad plain, then scrambled up a steep and precarious path that was little more than a goat trail, leaving the guards puffing and muttering in their wake. Pausing at the top of the ridge to catch her breath, she panted, “I go no farther until you tell me where you are taking me.”

  Senemut smiled broadly and pointed down. “Look. It is your temple.”

  Hattie turned her head to follow his pointing finger and gasped. Backed up to an impressive bay of limestone cliffs, glowing in the rosy light of dawn, stood the partially completed expanse of her temple. Although much work remained to be done, it was an imposing, magnificent sight. A broad causeway led from the river across the valley to the temple. Three sphinxes flanked one side of the avenue, and workmen were hard at work on another of what was obviously a long line of the creatures. Two terraces were in place, with wide ramps leading up from one to another, and a third was under construction.

  “Oh, Senemut,” Hattie breathed. “It is lovely. You are doing a wonderful job.” She had seen Hatshepsut’s ruined temple in the museum’s photographs, but nothing had prepared her for the breathtaking sight of it in person. “I see there is an easier path,” she added, indicating the sphinx-lined avenue. “But I am pleased you brought me this way. What a magnificent view!”

  “You are not angry that I kept our destination from you?”

  “Oh, nay. It is a wonderful surprise.” She smiled. “Tell me about it, please. How will it look when it is completed?”

  “It will be the most imposing temple in all of Egypt! There, in the first court, will be a garden, depictions of the marshes of lower Egypt, and scenes of Your Majesty’s great obelisks for the temple at Karnak under construction,” he said, pointing. “The second court will illustrate to all who come the events surrounding your divine birth, and the great accomplishments of your reign.”

  “Of course, it is blank thus far,” Hattie murmured.

  “But not for long, little warrior.” Senemut grinned. “The south end of the second level will host a chapel dedicated to Hathor, goddess of love and music, on whose sacred site your temple is built. The chapel will include pillars capped with representations of Hathor and a hypostyle hall. And on the north end of the second level will be a chapel dedicated to Anubis.”

  “The god of the dead?”

  Senemut nodded. “The uppermost court will have statues of Your Gracious Majesty—” He bowed deeply. “—before each pillar. A peristyle court leads to the rock chapel dedicated to Amun. Also, we will construct chapels for you and your royal father.” He spread his arms to indicate the entire complex. “You are pleased?”

  “I am awestruck,” she assured him. “How could I be anything but pleased with such a magnificent structure?”
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  “The work will not be completed for many seasons,” Senemut said, sighing. “But even a half-finished temple should have a name. Have you anything in mind?”

  “A name?” Hattie closed her eyes and frowned. Had she ever heard a name for Hatshepsut’s temple? She wracked her brain but couldn’t remember one. The pictures she’d seen simply called it Hatshepsut’s temple. Aloud, she said, “I know not what to call it, but the name should reflect its purpose, should it not? The temple will be dedicated to several gods. It will list the accomplishments of my reign. Priests will perform sacred rites there. It will be holy ground.”

  “Aye. It will be the holiest of the holies,” Senemut said, nodding. Then he opened his eyes wide. “Holiest of the holies…that is it, Hattie! We shall call it Djeser Djeseru. What think you?”

  “I think it is perfect,” Hattie said, relieved. The name was unfamiliar but felt, somehow, right. “Can we get closer? I would like to see the artists at work.” She pointed to the scaffolding around the pillars on the middle terrace.

  “Of course!” Senemut held out his hand to her. “The workmen will be most honored by your presence.”

  She took his hand and, together, they started down the steep path to the temple.

  Senemut led her to the foot of the cliffs. They walked up the sphinx-lined avenue, skirting sweating laborers who pulled and strained against the ropes around a giant limestone block, inching it toward the wall of the temple under construction. Overseers shouted directions and encouragement; women scurried here and there, dispensing water, bread, fish and dates. Hattie breathed deeply. The air smelled of stone dust, mud, and dried fish, and heat already rose in ripples from the ground. Closer to the temple, Senemut pointed out T-shaped pits being excavated. “Those will be reflecting pools, surrounded by gardens,” he explained.