Hatshepsut: Daughter of Amun

by Moyra Caldecott

  “There is no reason why, when she has gone, you should not punish them,” he said.

  “That Kenna will wish he'd never been born by the time I'm through with him,” muttered Pawero. He saw the sense of the plan, but it was difficult to hold in check the hatred he felt for the miners’ leader, a big and ungainly man, a bearded giant, who had stirred the men up to this. Physically Pawero was afraid of him, being himself of much smaller build, but he knew he had the cunning, the weapons and the power to destroy him as soon as Pharaoh's back was turned.

  The foremen in these isolated outposts were Pharaoh's representatives. Any violence against them was not only punished by death but by the worst punishment possible for an Egyptian—the removal of his name from all records and the forbidding of his name to be spoken or written by anyone, ever. Even the gods would not recognise someone whose name had been expunged. Without a name, one would fall back into the Void at death, and exist no more. It was the fear of this that kept the men from open rebellion. The foreman's power was bolstered not only by the weight of the state, but by the spells and incantations that were said over him when he took office. These desolate rocks were inhabited by watchful spirits who guarded the chosen one. Nothing the men did to him would pass unnoticed and unpunished. It was Kenna's idea, after one of the young miners had been beaten to death for stealing hungrily from the foreman's store, that their best hope was to petition Pharaoh. Her magic, seeing she was already part god, would outweigh any that Pawero might have. Kenna had seen her once at the festival of Opet, and he had a good feeling about her. “She will listen,” he told his fellow workers.

  It was with difficulty that Pawero smiled when he announced the news of Pharaoh's visit. He pretended he did not know about the petition and set about improving conditions very carefully, bit by bit, so that it would not look too obvious that he was responding to pressure. Nu was at his side, continually whispering and advising, and the job was done so effectively that by the time Pharaoh's arrival was imminent the miners, no longer so hungry and thirsty and with fewer hours to work, had very little to complain about.

  Only Kenna seemed to see through the trick and fear the aftermath.

  As the royal caravan slowly wound down the last hill they were all astonished at the size of it. The line of baggage mules seemed to go on forever. Pharaoh's soldiers led the cavalcade and stood fully armed and ready in a semicircle as Pharaoh herself, her chief advisor and her daughter dismounted in front of Pawero. He bowed at once to the ground, “flattening himself into the sand like the worm he is,” thought Kenna bitterly. All the men followed suit. The last to go down was Kenna himself, and Hatshepsut's eyes did not miss this. Hatshepsut knew at once who the leader of the miners was, and knew also that he had bowed to her at last, not because it was the traditional and expected thing to do, but because in meeting her eyes he had judged her worthy.

  She smiled. Within moments, without a word passing, she had summed up the situation.

  She indicated that they might rise, and stood silently while the interminable formal and flattering speeches of greeting were delivered, first by Pawero, then by Nu and several others of Pawero's ruling group. Most of the men bowed their heads like naughty children, ashamed that their little grievances had exposed this beautiful and fragile-looking woman to all the savagery of the eastern desert.

  After the speeches, Pharaoh raised her hand and spoke a blessing, committing them, pointedly, to the care of Maat, the great goddess whose feather was weighed against the heart on the day of judgement, the Lady whose main concerns were order and balance, truth and justice.

  Hatshepsut then, with Senmut and Neferure, moved into the foreman's tent, and disappeared from sight.

  “Now the lies will begin,” thought Kenna, but for the first time he had hope. Her eyes were clear and true. She was shrewd and wise, and there was a good chance she would see through Pawero's ruse.

  A cheer went up. The men had been told that in honour of Pharaoh's visit there would be a feast, and this day would be marked forever by the erection of a royal stele above the mine. This would draw down the protection of the gods, through the mediumship of the image of Pharaoh carved upon it, more effectively than all the prayers and amulets they had used hitherto.

  Some of the men were still uneasy, and came to Kenna to ask what should be done.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “I will speak to her."

  One laughed.

  “What? Will you force your way into her presence? You know Pawero has his men everywhere, ready to keep you from her."

  “She will ask to speak to me. You will see,” he replied confidently.

  And with that they had to be content.

  The baggage mules were brought forward and unloaded, and there were gasps from dry throats as wine and beer and water by the barrel were lowered to the ground; meats and spices, and even dried fish; cones of salt, beans, bread and honey and baskets of fruit. The miners forgot their grievances and crowded round, chattering and laughing.

  Inside the tent the smooth Pawero entertained his royal guests, feeding them with the choicest food from his private store of delicacies and talking about the men as though they were his beloved children. Hatshepsut was told that he was as shocked as she must have been to hear that they were not happy. He had done his best for them, and as soon as it was brought to his attention that they had grievances he had set them to rights. He could not imagine why they felt it necessary to go over his head to her. He mentioned Kenna as a troublemaker.

  “Kenna,” she said musingly. “The big, dark one?"

  “Yes,” said Pawero. “A son of Set. Always at the centre of any commotion."

  “I was told that several miners died while being beaten."

  “Most unfortunate.” Pawero shook his head sadly. “Hardened criminals. There was no other way."

  “And many deaths by accident."

  “You will find, Majesty, that all of them were due to carelessness. I issue warnings. But if the men will not heed them..."

  “I was told there were faults in the construction of the mine. Dangers that could have been avoided."

  “I assure you there is nothing wrong with the mine construction,” he said. “I would ask you to inspect it yourself,” he crooned, “if it were not that your Majesty is a woman."

  Neferure and Senmut looked at each other behind her back with amusement. The foreman could not have said a more provocative thing. Now, nothing would prevent Hatshepsut from examining the mine shafts from top to bottom.

  “My chief architect and I will inspect everything while we are here,” she said stonily. “I have not come all this way just to sip a cup of wine with you.” She looked at the goblet in her hand with some distaste. This was not the sweet wine she was used to. This was almost vinegar.

  Pawero grovelled at once and denied that he had implied ... that he had suggested ... that it had even crossed his mind...

  “Enough!” Hatshepsut cut him short imperiously. “I am tired, sir, and as soon as my own tent is ready I intend to rest. At moonrise let the feasting begin."

  It would be a full moon this night, the time when there would be festivals in the villages back home. There would be music and dancing and feasting from one end of Khemet to the other. Khonsu, the moon god, the son of Amun and Mut, would walk the sky in all his finery and a thousand thousand of his shrines would be lit with lamps, decorated with white flowers and presented with gifts. Rich lovers would give silver gifts, and poor lovers garlands of white flowers, to their beloveds.

  There were no flowers in the desert, but Senmut had brought with him, in the private pouch that never left his side, a ring of silver with white crystal lotus flowers, made by jewellers to his own design.

  * * * *

  The night had almost half gone when the first eerie glow presaged the rising moon. Outside, in the valley, all the miners were gathered, waiting for the first sign of the god. Most divided their attention between the horizon and the Pharaoh's tent, not sur
e which of the two divine beings they were looking forward to seeing the most.

  Senmut woke Hatshepsut with a kiss. He had not slept with her, because in these hastily erected temporary quarters there was no privacy. Even at this tender moment he was aware that Neferure was nearby and could wake at any moment. Pharaoh's guards were close, warned especially to be alert. They admitted Senmut, but had been given orders to admit no one else.

  He knelt beside her for a few moments, watching the rise and fall of her breast, the dark lashes against her golden cheek. He slipped his gift ring on her finger.

  It was her forehead he kissed and then, when she stirred and opened her eyes, it was almost more than he could do to restrain himself from touching her lips ... and throat ... and...

  “I had a good dream,” she whispered.

  He smiled and drew back a little, aware that Neferure was stirring too.

  “I dreamed I was in a dark cave deep below the earth, and suddenly the moon rolled in like a great silver ball and illuminated the whole place. I was completely surrounded by gigantic amethyst crystals.” She smiled dreamily. “You cannot imagine how beautiful they were! They glowed—the moonlight gleaming through the transparent purple, throwing filaments and ripples of silver light all over the walls and floor and ceiling and on my body...” She lifted up her bare arms and looked at them as though she still expected to see the shimmering silver-purple light playing on her skin.

  Then she shook her head and sighed.

  “Ah well,” she said ruefully. “I'm sure it won't be quite like that in the mine."

  He looked at the finger on which he had secretly placed the ring. Her eyes followed his and for the first time she saw it. Her face lit up and she flung her arms around his neck. It was she who kissed him now, and never once thought of her daughter, who was awake and watching them with cold and hooded eyes.

  A sound at the door made Senmut pull away and stand up suddenly. It was the guards challenging the messenger that had been sent to call Pharaoh to the moon-rising and the feast. Somewhat flushed, Senmut strode to the doorway and told the guards that her Majesty was awake and would join the festivities shortly. With only one quick backward glance he left the tent.

  * * * *

  The moon was vast, and pure gold, as it lifted off the horizon. The multitude of men were all in the shadow of the cliffs, waiting in dead silence: none to be seen or heard. Hatshepsut stood, the crown with Mut's vulture wings clasping her head, a cloak of light blue wool over her shoulders against the desert chill. Nowhere, however remote on earth or among the furthest of the myriad of stars, was beyond the reach of her soaring, powerful attention, her lofty and beneficial love. She thought about the miners, small frail flotsam in the immensity of the universe, yet each with a burning quick of consciousness capable of illuminating all things.

  She drew her cloak closer about herself. If a being that was capable of such awareness could flicker out as easily as a candle flame in wind, what was the point of having such potential in the first place?

  The huge golden moon flooded the darkness with light and her heart lifted. The ancient and certain cycle of renewal was her answer.

  From every throat the song of gratitude and relief rang out. The desert became tumultuous with sound, full of living hope.

  Pharaoh lifted her arms in salute to the great being whose present visible form was the moon. His rays shone on Pawero and Kenna alike and glinted off her silver and crystal ring. Her feeling of insecurity had passed. Behind Khonsu, a mighty invisible force drove all things with order, pattern and regularity. Our consciousness is only part of a much greater one that would not, could not, flicker out.

  She bowed to the ground before Khonsu as her subjects did before her. She could almost hear her heart beating with the awe she felt. She was chosen to be the channel of this mighty force in this time and this place. She had been marked for it. The golden cobra had been placed over her forehead, and with its eyes she looked into the eyes of the gods.

  What she saw dazzled and frightened her. Was she capable of carrying the responsibility this vision gave her? Was she adequate? Was she strong enough? Senmut shifted his position slightly so that his leg inadvertently touched hers. She recoiled like a taut spring. She would accept no distractions, no diversions. At that moment she hated him for bringing her back to her frail and female body. The god was speaking to her—and he dared to interrupt.

  He felt her sudden deadly anger and drew back in alarm. For an instant, he looked into her eyes and saw his own end.

  * * * *

  When the moon was fully up and turned to silver, the real celebrations began. The men had had a difficult and bitter time these past months, and had even forgotten in many cases the wonder of the full moon rising. Now the beer flowed freely and many a drunken and ribald song not fit for the ears of the young princess nevertheless reached them.

  Kenna remained sober. He drank, but carefully, watching Pharaoh. She glanced at him from time to time, knowing that his eyes never left her, but gave him no indication that he should approach. She was placed well back from the rough miners, and Pawero made sure no one could talk to her but himself and a few chosen officials.

  She too drank very little, though now they were serving the good delta wine she had brought with her. Quietly and neatly she drew the veils of polite hypocrisy away from Pawero and led him on to say things he would later very much regret. She smiled and nodded and said very little. Senmut, watching her, knew that in this mood she was as deadly as a cobra. He almost pitied Pawero.

  The feasting and celebrations went on beyond sunrise and moonset, and no one was fit for work. Pawero magnanimously declared a holiday. The royal party retired to their luxurious tents, the miners to their hard and dusty bunks. Pawero nursed the father and mother of all headaches and tried to remember what he had said to Pharaoh.

  * * * *

  The day after the holiday, Pharaoh announced that she was going to inspect the miners shafts and galleries. There was pandemonium as Pawero despatched people in every direction with instructions. He had been sure she was discouraged from going, and now he tried to arrange that she would be shown only the safest and most accessible of the shafts. The whole thing was so much like an underground labyrinth that he had no fear she would find her way to those places he would rather keep hidden.

  The expedition started well. Neferure chose to remain above ground, bored as she was with this desolate place. Hatshepsut was dressed in a male kilt, with hardy leather sandals, a short woollen cloak against the underground cold, and a leather cap fitting closely and protectively around her beautifully shaped head. Senmut, similarly simply dressed for practicality, followed her closely.

  The rough-cut stone steps leading down into the earth were dangerously steep, but little earthenware lamps had been placed in niches at intervals and the going was not particularly uncomfortable. As they went deeper, the walls closed in more tightly and the steps became narrower. Pawero turned to Hatshepsut and tried to offer her a helping hand. Even in the dim light of the stone shaft he recoiled at the expression in her eyes. He did not offer again, and he noticed that Senmut did not either.

  At the bottom of the shaft, they could stand fairly comfortably in a chamber—and Pawero took the opportunity to make a little speech about the depth and extent of the mine and how many improvements had been made since his predecessor's time.

  He led her down one of the corridors that branched off and showed her a working face. She had been right when she said her dream was nothing like the real mine. There seemed to be very little amethyst, and what there was was dirty and chipped. She sighed and asked to be shown another section.

  Pawero showed her two more similar faces and then suggested they returned to the surface.

  “No,” she said. “I want to see it all."

  “I think, Majesty, we should really return to the surface. It might be dangerous for you."

  “If it is dangerous for me, it is dangerous for the men." />
  “There are always dangers in mining, Majesty. The men know this and live with it. It is their professional risk. But there is no need for you to expose yourself to it'

  “The men are Pharaoh's children, Pawero, even more than they are yours. I want to see these dangers you speak of. I want to see if they are the normal dangers of mining—or if they are more than any miner can reasonably be expected to accept."

  The petitioner had told her some horrifying things about the more remote passages, and the roof falls and suffocation that could have been prevented.

  Pawero was sweating profusely.

  “Every precaution has been taken but..."

  “I hear not every precaution has been taken, sir."

  “You have been told lies."

  “Ah, Pawero, do you not think Pharaoh with his cobra vision can see who is lying and who is not?"

  The expression in her voice made him cold all over. He was shivering and sweating at the same time.

  “I tell you, Pawero, no one lies to Pharaoh—and lives."

  There was a terrible silence.

  “Poor Pawero,” though Senmut. He knew she meant what she said. But he himself had lied to her in those early days when he declared a love for her he had not really felt. Had she seen that he was lying? Had she let it pass unpunished because with her cobra vision she knew that it would one day be true? Perhaps she let it pass unpunished because the woman side of her wanted so badly to believe it. Now it was true—and yet he felt more insecure as her lover than he ever had in those early days. His mind began to drift into dangerous waters. What if ... what if he married Neferure? This would give him the ultimate position in the country he had always wanted and Hatshepsut had refused him. Hatshepsut was training her daughter to be Pharaoh. How suitable that he, who had been the girl's foster father, tutor, companion and friend should stand beside her when she came to the throne. She would need the intelligence and cunning, the powerful allies and friends he could bring with him.