Daughter of the Gods: A Novel of Ancient Egypt

by Stephanie Thornton

  “And we both know I’m extremely wise.” She shot him a mischievous grin. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

  His lips silenced her. “Thank you,” Senenmut repeated. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

  “You’re welcome,” Hatshepsut said. Then she poked his ribs. “I believe that’s only half the surprises for the day.”

  A quick smile flashed across his face. “Follow me.”

  They passed the T-shaped pools in the lower courtyard and left the temple boundaries, but Hatshepsut envisioned the underground arc of her new tomb where it rested beneath their feet. She had abandoned the dangerous and unfinished cliff tomb and instead ordered a second tomb dug to physically link her with Djeser-Djeseru when she flew to the sky. They walked outside her temple’s courtyard, stopping at an inconspicuous door dug into the rubble at the base of the lion-colored cliff.

  “Wait here,” Senenmut said. “And close your eyes.”

  She motioned to the limestone boulders strewn about them. “This isn’t a surprise. It’s the quarry for Djeser-Djeseru.”

  “Do what you’re told for once, nefersha.” Senenmut smiled. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I come back.”

  She pouted, then closed her eyes, enjoying the sun on her face before she heard Senenmut return, accompanied by the acrid smell of a burning torch. She felt its heat before he took her hand.

  “Keep your eyes closed.”

  It was disconcerting as they started down a set of extraordinarily steep stairs. She stumbled once, but Senenmut steadied her. The temperature rose the farther in they went—a result of the heat and stale air trapped within—and beads of sweat dripped at her temples. She reached out several times to be sure the walls weren’t closing in on them.

  She lost track of the number of steps before the ground leveled out. Senenmut stopped, then dropped her hands.

  “Open your eyes.”

  They were too deep in the earth for even the faintest reminder of the sun, but the torch cast a warm glow upon exquisitely painted walls. Shadows danced to a silent melody, bringing the surreal figures of gods and goddesses to life. A false door was carved into one wall of the tomb, so painstakingly crafted that Hatshepsut was tempted to try to open it. She recognized the style—this door would serve its only purpose in allowing the ka of the deceased to enter and exit the room each night.

  This was the closest she would come to the afterlife until she traveled to the Field of Reeds. The dark figures etched into the rock were fluid, lifelike. Seated above the unblinking eyes of Horus were three people enjoying a banquet—one woman and two men. The first man embraced the younger, and a woman held a lotus in full bloom to his nose.

  Hatshepsut read the glyphs. “‘Ramose and Hatnofer.’ Your parents.” She reached out to the middle figure, but her skin barely brushed the stone. “And you.” She breathed deeply, inhaled the aroma of stale air and the burning oil of Senenmut’s torch. “This is your tomb.”

  “My gift from you,” Senenmut said. “I finally built something for myself, but I couldn’t quite leave you out of it.” He gestured to another scene, this one of a man in open adoration of the pharaoh before him. But this pharaoh was different from the ones cut into the stones of Djeser-Djeseru. The figure wore the double crown and bull’s tail, but lacked the false beard and wore a sheath instead of a kilt. The curves under the clothing attested to the fact that this was no man, but a woman.

  Her eyes stung. At least here in the darkness of Senenmut’s tomb she could be depicted in truth. It was a precious gesture.

  She read the inscription next to it aloud, focusing on each word to keep the tears from blurring her eyes.

  “Live, Horus powerful of kas, two ladies flourishing of years, Horus of gold divine of appearances, king of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare, beloved of Amun-Ra, living—”

  The first was her titulary, all her titles repeated, but then linked to something else—someone else.

  “—the sealbearer of the pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, the steward of Amun, Senenmut, born from the bodies of Ramose and Hatnofer—”

  She stopped, unable to read on for the stone lodged in her throat.

  “You’re not the only one breaking tradition,” he whispered.

  Senenmut had linked himself to her in a single line of text—proclaiming his relationship to her forever in stone. It was bold and brash, and she loved him all the more for it.

  He shifted the torch from one hand to another so the hieroglyphs shuddered. “‘A poor man’s name is pronounced only on account of his lord.’”

  She chuckled at the ancient proverb. “You are far from a poor man.”

  “Perhaps not, but I still didn’t think you’d mind.” He stood behind her now, the heat of the torch warming the flesh of her back. A single drop of sweat slipped down her spine. “There’s one more thing,” he added. “Look up.”

  The entire cosmos arched above her head, each haloed star and glowing planet flawlessly recreated in miniature. Senenmut had created the midnight sky, the universe of Nut’s belly canvassing the tomb and enveloping it in eternal night.

  She gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Your new tomb is so close that each night our kas can return here to sit under the stars. It only seemed fitting to take them into eternity with us.” He pointed to the vault of constellations. “There’s Sodpet and Osiris. And Set with the first planet.” He continued talking, pointing out all the clusters of stars they both knew so well.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

  She had never seen Senenmut blush, but even in the shadows she could make out the blood rising to his face.

  “I did it for you, nefersha.”

  “It’s supposed to be for you,” she said. “This was your project, remember?”

  “For us, then.”

  They stayed in the tomb until the torch threatened to sputter out, each lying on the floor with the crowns of their heads touching under the earthen stars and sky. When they finally stepped back into the land of the living, both had to blink away the searing pain of Re’s light. They were halfway down the path that wound away from Djeser-Djeseru and toward the river when a runner from the palace intercepted them.

  Hatshepsut’s stomach turned sour to see the boy race toward them, running as if Ammit herself was chasing him. Perhaps Nubia had decided to revolt again or, Amun forbid, something had happened to Tutmose or Neferure. It wasn’t until the slave got closer that Hatshepsut could see his face ablaze with excitement.

  She didn’t allow him a moment to bow. “What is it?”

  “They’re back!” The messenger gasped for breath, hands on his knees and chest heaving. “The ships from Punt have been spotted upriver—they’re only two days away!”

  Hatshepsut was struck speechless. It had been so long since the ships had left that she’d given up hope of ever seeing Neshi and the rest of the expedition again. There had to be a mistake. “Are you sure?”

  The youth nodded, his head ready to fly from his neck. “Four ships, flying the royal pennants—the same ones that left three years ago.”

  “Four ships.” Hatshepsut thought out loud. “One was lost.”

  “The runners claim they’re carrying all sorts of wonders. The ships are so heavy they can hardly make it up the Nile!”

  Senenmut grinned. “So the trip was a success after all.”

  If the expedition had been a success, her temple would be outfitted with grandeur to impress even Amun. New trade routes would be established with the Gods’ Land, and Egypt would gain prestige and stature. Hatshepsut recited a silent prayer to Amun to thank him for such a blessing.

  “Are you coming?” Hatshepsut, already running back down the path, hollered at Senenmut over her shoulder.

  “What’s the hurry?” His voice grew closer as he chased after her. “They won’t be here for at least two days.”

  She twirled to face him,
grinning like a jackal and flinging her arms open to the sky. “Because this will be a homecoming like none Egypt has ever seen before!”

  • • •

  The drums beat in time to herald Neshi’s approach before he entered Amun’s gates at Karnak. Shielded from Re’s glare by the shadows of her twin obelisks, Hatshepsut stood on a makeshift dais, the smell of new wood and fresh whitewash still lingering in the breeze and the atef crown with its white dome, red ostrich feathers, and gold disk light on her head. Too excited to sit, she ignored the gilded traveling throne and its footstool with engravings of Egypt’s nine enemies behind her. To her left, Tutmose stood on tiptoes to see what wonders Neshi had retrieved from the land of Punt. Senenmut, Neferure, and the rest of Hatshepsut’s counsel clustered at the foot of the dais, each straining to catch the first glimpse of the coming treasures. The temple forecourt overflowed with nobles and rekhyt alike, so that even the causeway outside was jammed with eager onlookers.

  It wasn’t long before Neshi entered, his skin baked almost black and his frame much thinner than when he had left. Weather-beaten men flanked him, each carrying a large basket of woven papyrus. The men placed their baskets far in front of them, then stepped back to kneel and dropped their foreheads to the flagstones.

  “Greetings, Per A’a.” Neshi grinned as he knelt before her. “Your weary explorers have returned with ships full of riches beyond your imagination, all for the glory of Egypt.”

  “We are happy to bear witness to your safe return.” Hatshepsut spoke formally, but couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “We feared the entire expedition had been lost.”

  Neshi’s grin faltered. It took a long moment for him to gather his words. “We hit a storm wind after coming out of the Red Sea. One boat was lost, but we saved as many men as we could. Some didn’t make it.” Hatshepsut could only guess at the horrors he had witnessed as men drowned around him. “Their names are preserved and they died with honor. Osiris feasts with them in the Field of Reeds,” he said, finding his feet and his smile again. “We reached the Gods’ Land as the egrets were nesting and were greeted by Chief Parihou and Queen Ati. She is so massive it takes six men to carry her about the town in her litter, but her husband is as thin as sedge grass and wears golden bracelets on his ankles as if he were a woman!”

  There was a rumble of excitement from the forecourt.

  “Punt is a strange land, Per A’a, both wild and civilized. The people’s skin is darker than even the Nubians’, but they are much more sophisticated than our rebel neighbors. The houses in Punt are built on stilts higher than giraffes and they have to climb into them every night using ladders.”

  Neshi pantomimed climbing, causing a burst of laughter, and then paused for dramatic effect. “But the splendors!” He threw his hands into the air. “I wish we could have brought back all of Punt to show you, but we managed only a sample of the wonders from that strange land.”

  He motioned to the men flanking him, and one by one each swept the lid off his basket with a flourish. Neshi called out the contents as scribes hastily recorded each item.

  “Ebony!”

  “Cinnamon!”

  “Coriander!”

  “Marjoram!”

  “Gold ingots!”

  Neshi grinned again, his face cleft by excitement. “And there’s more!”

  A single boom of the drums swept in the beginning of a long procession of temple priests, each heavily laden with items now dedicated to the Great Cackler himself. Hatshepsut’s eyes welled as she watched. A mountain of black panther skins weighed down one of the marching priests, followed by a river of elephant tusks, and more hills of multihued spices than she could count. There were boxes of creamy frankincense pellets—the opaque tears gathered from the trunks of the sacred trees—and two priests struggled to contain a bevy of collared baboons. The furred monkeys of Thoth squawked at one another, more interested in playing with the contents of each basket than in looking like official prizes.

  “We brought back giraffes, too, but they’re still on the ships. We had to untangle their necks before they could be added to the royal menagerie.” Neshi joked loud enough so that everyone in the whole temple could hear, inciting still more laughter from the amazed onlookers.

  If that wasn’t enough, Hatshepsut nearly wept as she saw the final acquisitions being paraded beneath Amun’s gate.

  Her trees.

  The breath of the gods carried the gentle aroma of myrrh as a dozen precious trees were marched before her, their delicate white trunks topped with a dusting of pale green leaves. Each would be planted in the Garden of Amun at Djeser-Djeseru to cloak the entire complex with their scent and allow the hidden god to enjoy their fragrance. Senenmut’s vision of her temple was complete.

  Gone was the smudge on her reign, the dark spot that would have marred her rule as pharaoh.

  Everything was perfect.

  Chapter 27

  YEAR SEVEN OF PHARAOH HATSHEPSUT

  The clang of bronze scimitars accompanied the grunts of the two men sparring on the packed earth of the training ring, their ox-hide vests denoting their elite ranks within of the Division of Amun. Seasoned soldiers with leathered skin and scarred chests surrounded the hawk in the nest and his sparring partner, but the typical jeers and teasing were tempered today in deference to the three women seated on the raised wooden platform at the edge of the ring. It wasn’t often that royalty descended to join their ranks. Neferure sat to Hatshepsut’s right, picking at a stray thread on her otherwise pristine sheath, and Aset perched on the left, beaming down at her son.

  Nomti wasn’t pleased with Aset’s recent return to the palace, but Hatshepsut felt sure that the past years had been more than enough time to dull the edge of Aset’s hatred. She’d broached the subject of allowing Tutmose’s mother back to court several times, especially as she received an increasing number of letters from Aset begging to be allowed to return to her son, but each time Nomti and her other advisers had managed to persuade Hatshepsut against the decision. In the end, it was Tutmose and Neferure who had convinced her.

  Tutmose had mentioned his wish for Aset’s return during his most recent naming ceremony at the end of Peret, when the seeds that would bring forth the next season of wheat and barley were already sprouting. He had seen seventeen floods and been apprenticed to the army for several years now. The royal family had sat on a rooftop terrace overlooking the Nile, the river shimmering like a long brown snake cutting through green grass. Slaves had hovered behind them, ready to move Tutmose’s many gifts to his chambers as soon as Re’s disk grew too hot and they all retreated inside. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mother,” he’d said, his gaze fixed on the leather helmet Senenmut had given him. “I sometimes wonder if she’d recognize me now.”

  “I miss Aunt Aset, too,” Neferure had said. “Her letters from Dendera sound so lonely.”

  Cold guilt settled around Hatshepsut’s heart. She still hated what she’d done to Aset, knowing it was an affront to ma’at, the same sacred principle of truth and justice she’d always sworn to uphold. Her gaze caught Senenmut’s, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Then she shall return,” Hatshepsut said, folding her hands in her lap.

  Tutmose’s head jerked up. “Truly?”

  Hatshepsut felt another sharp stab of guilt. She’d told Tutmose that his mother had retired from the City of Truth so he might pursue his schooling and military training unencumbered. He’d seemed to accept the story, yet now Hatshepsut wondered if perhaps he had suspected the truth but was too perceptive to question her motives, at least not aloud.

  And so Aset had returned, escorted by two royal ships with mastheads carved like giant lotus blossoms. Hatshepsut had toyed with the idea of not greeting Aset upon her arrival, but she refused to take the coward’s route. If she could face the chiefs of Nubia and order the execution of criminals, then surely she could confront a lone woman who bore her a grudge. She commanded a modest ce
lebration befitting the return of the mother of Egypt’s future pharaoh and ordered her advisers to attend.

  The first boat slipped into its place against the dock, and Aset waited on the prow, staring at Hatshepsut with an expression so regal that it reminded her of her own mother many years ago. Finally, the ropes were secured and Aset stepped onto the fresh flower petals laid out for her arrival. As if on cue, the courtiers—including Senenmut—bowed their heads, leaving only Hatshepsut, Tutmose, and Neferure to witness Aset’s slow progress up the dock. Tutmose stepped forward and clasped his mother’s hands, kissing each of her cheeks before accompanying her to Hatshepsut. Neferure dabbed at the corners of her eyes, her face aglow with happiness at the return of her second mother.

  “Welcome home, Aset,” Hatshepsut said in a low voice, her heart fluttering like a falcon’s wings.

  “I hardly know what to say.” Aset glanced about at the nobility, their heads still bowed. Her eyebrows had been plucked clean away and replaced with thin slashes of kohl, giving her an unnaturally severe expression. “I didn’t expect such ceremony to herald the end of my banishment.”

  Hatshepsut fingered the golden snake bangles at her wrist. “Such a homecoming is worthy of a little celebration.”

  Aset gave her a strange look, but Tutmose seized that moment to take his mother’s arm and lead her into the palace, Neferure trailing after them. Hatshepsut watched them go, wondering how she had escaped so easily. She assumed Tutmose and Neferure would keep Aset to themselves for the rest of the day, so her heart thudded when Aset was announced into the royal menagerie later that night.

  Hatshepsut tossed the last bruised turnip from her basket onto the ground before one of the giraffes from Punt, smiling as the beast bent its graceful neck and nibbled the vegetable, then blinked at her. “I know,” she chuckled. “I wouldn’t eat it either.”

  She liked to come here to visit the animals on occasion, laughing as the baboons groomed one another and watching the giraffes strip the leaves from the trees that were constantly replaced in their stone enclosures. The giraffe wandered off, leaving the half-eaten turnip as Nomti announced Aset, looking none too happy with the unexpected visitor.