Hatshepsut: Daughter of Amun

by Moyra Caldecott

  “Yes,” snapped Hatshepsut, holding her temper in check as best she could. Ast's attendants had materialised everywhere in the garden and the whole conversation was being witnessed by a dozen or more pairs of eyes and ears. She could feel the anger in her boiling up to danger point and she knew that she could easily forget the dignity a pharaoh should have at all times, and be provoked into hitting the woman in her sneering, smiling face. “Warn you that you have at last gone too far and I can no longer tolerate your tricks. I am giving orders for you to be moved out of here, out of this palace, out of my life."

  Ast's expression of mocking superiority faltered for a moment. She was clearly shocked.

  “Out? Where to?"

  “Out of the country. Away. As far away as we have vassal states."

  “My son..."

  “Your son will understand no pharaoh can allow the practitioners of malevolent magic against their person to go unpunished. He will be grateful that I have been so lenient."

  “What malevolent magic? What are you talking about?"

  “You know!” snapped Hatshepsut. “You know very well what I am talking about! But because you are the mother of Men-kheper-Ra you will be sent on a long visit to a comfortable and interesting city where you may see your son whenever he chooses to visit you. Kepel—that is the city."

  Ast's complacency had vanished.

  “That is a foreign city!” she gasped.

  “You will not find it too foreign. There are many from our own country there. The Temple of Hathor is said to be the best in the world. You should count yourself lucky that that is where I have chosen to send you."

  “In exile?"

  “Not in exile. On an extended visit."

  “When may I return?"

  “When I have seen that you no longer plot and scheme against me."

  “I do not plot and scheme now."

  “Maybe not, but I'm not convinced of it."

  “My son will not like this."

  “Why? You will be nearer him. He is more often in Kepel and the east than he is in the Two Lands."

  It was Ast's turn to be silent with rage. Plot and scheme! “This woman has no idea of what I am capable!” she thought. “She will not be on the throne another year from this day!” she vowed.

  Hatshepsut turned her back on Ast and walked away, regally and confidently. She felt she had been firm but merciful. It might have been safer to have her secretly killed, but she already had too much blood on her hands and did not intend to add to it.

  * * * *

  It was not the end of Hatshepsut's reign that year as Ast vowed—but it was the beginning of the end.

  When Pharaoh saw Hapuseneb again they were both in the north, in the administrative capital of the Two Lands—Men-nefer. Hatshepsut was never as happy there as she was in Waset, the religious capital and her family home, but she knew that part of the year had to be passed there whether she liked it or not.

  She encountered Hapuseneb for the first time in months in the Temple of Amun-Ra. They had not been lovers since the time Senmut saw them together, and they met now only formally as Pharaoh and High Priest. Not even an intimate or personal glance passed between them as the long and elaborate ritual of cleansing and clothing and feeding the statue of the god took place—the ritual that ensured that when the spirit of the Great Being decided to visit this man-made image, it would be as ready to receive him as they could make it.

  When the ceremony was over, Hatshepsut retired to the palace and Hapuseneb came to visit her there. She accepted him in the state chambers, not in her private ones. Ast had sown a tiny seed of doubt in her mind when she pointed out that Hapuseneb must have been responsible for appointing Men-soneb. Later she mused on the fact that the phantom never appeared when Hapuseneb was with her. She had left the judging of Senmut to him, and although she knew what the sentence should officially be, it disappointed her that he had not found a way round it and had been so hasty administering it. Was it really necessary to destroy his tomb, his name and everything about him so quickly and heartlessly? Had she been unwise to give the High Priest of Amun-Ra so much power? Would it one day be to Pharaoh's disadvantage?

  “Majesty,” he said, bowing low.

  So here he was at last in flesh and blood—tall, lean and strong, an impressive figure of a man with or without the magnificent robes of his office. She had thought about him a lot in his absence, remembering their nights together—partly missing them, partly resenting them.

  “Hapuseneb."

  What should they say to each other, these two with so much to say?

  “I am told that your Majesty has stopped work on Djeser Djeseru,” the High Priest said at last, stiffly.

  “That is so."

  “The walls of the north colonnade in the lower terrace cry out for inscription."

  “It is not in my heart to inscribe them."

  “You have no image of the sacred tree. Djehuti waits to write your names upon the leaves of eternity in vain."

  “He will write them on the living tree. My names will live forever."

  “But future generations will say Djeser Djeseru is not perfect. It is not complete."

  “My life is not perfect, Hapuseneb. My life is not complete."

  Silence fell between them once again.

  “No woman since the beginning of time has had so much,” he said at last. “Why are you not satisfied?"

  She looked at him coldly.

  “No priest since the beginning of time has had so much, Hapuseneb. Why are you not satisfied?” she countered.

  “Majesty?"

  “I speak of your envy of Senmut, and the haste with which you tried to despatch him to the Void."

  “He insulted the divine Pharaoh and the divinity himself. I did no more than my duty."

  She stood up and paced the room restlessly, like a caged panther.

  “I might have wished to forgive him, but you gave me no time."

  “If forgiveness needs time, it is not forgiveness,” the priest said.

  She looked at him quickly. So he had read the wisdom texts in the temple archives after all. How dared he quote them at her! She pressed her lips tightly together. She could feel herself losing control. She thought of dismissing him from office, but knew that she had no one who could take his place. If she weakened the position of the priests of Amun-Ra now, she would weaken her own position. She pulled herself together and began to question him about the appointment of Men-soneb without telling him any of the details of what had happened.

  He told her that he only knew he was a promising and talented young priest appointed by the Second Prophet of Amun-Ra at Ipet-Esut while he himself was away from the city.

  “Surely all such major appointments should be made by you?"

  “They usually are, but sometimes it is not possible. If I recall, the priest who formerly filled that place died suddenly, and Men-soneb was chosen in haste to fill an urgent gap while I was away."

  “When you returned to Waset, did you not check on him?"

  “What has he done to displease your Majesty?"

  “Answer my question."

  “I did. He seemed competent and carried high recommendation from the High Priest of Amun-Ra at Khemnu. If he displeases you I will dismiss him."

  “He is already dismissed."

  “May I ask..."

  “No, you may not. You should keep a closer check on your priests, Hapuseneb, or I will find someone else who will."

  It was Hapuseneb's turn to force himself to keep his temper.

  “If your Majesty does not trust my judgement and if your Majesty finds it in her heart to dismiss my priests without consulting me, I think it were better your Majesty did find someone else to take my place."

  The two eyed each other with hostility for a few tense moments, but both had too much to lose to let it go further.

  “You are Pharaoh's right hand, Hapuseneb. I don't want to lose you. But the priests of Amun-Ra are my priests, and if
I decide one has to go you must accept it."

  Hapuseneb bowed. “I apologise, Majesty,” he said, his voice respectful but not humble.

  She smiled. “I forgive you—immediately,” she said. He laughed, and as suddenly as it had come, their enmity was gone.

  “Ah, Hapuseneb, I too am sorry. It was my place to make the decision about Senmut, and I failed to do so. And Men-soneb proved to be too clever for many people."

  “I will have his appointment even more thoroughly investigated, Majesty."

  “Do so, Hapuseneb, and check back into his past and all who have been close to him. I'm particularly interested in any connections he might have had with Ast."

  Ast? He had wondered why Ast had gone so suddenly to live in Kepel. It was clear Hatshepsut had no intention of explaining what Men-soneb had done to cause her displeasure. If it was something treasonable against the Pharaoh and the state, he and all her officials would have known all about it instantly. That she was keeping it so secret implied that it was probably something private. Could Men-soneb have been one of her lovers? Married as he was to one of her women servants, he would have had easy access to the private chambers of the palace, and after Senmut's death and her rejection of himself, who knew what misery might have caused her to do. Although Hapuseneb still had the powers of a High Priest of Amun-Ra, and was the right arm of Hatshepsut, the Pharaoh, he knew he had lost a great deal by losing his place beside Hatshepsut, the woman. He had destroyed Senmut, not through envy, as many believed, but because he sensed that a shadow had appeared in Senmut's heart that would destroy them all by weakening Hatshepsut. If he was losing control of the appointment and dismissal of his own priests, Hapuseneb realised he might lose everything. He must retrieve the situation as quickly as he could by bringing her the information she wanted. Khemnu was where he would begin.

  * * * *

  Khemnu was more or less halfway between Men-nefer and Waset, a prosperous city built on a broad fertile plain bordering the Great River. It was called “the City of Eight” because it was believed that it was there that Amun-kem-atef, “he who has completed his moment", in the form of a sacred snake, had given birth to the first eight great gods, male and female pairs representing the primordial abyss, infinity, darkness and hidden power. It had then become the cult centre of the god Djehuti, the thrice great, with extensive parkland given over to the care of sacred ibis and baboons. The Holy of Holies housed part of the shell of the sacred cosmic egg from which the sun god was believed to have emerged in the “island of flames".

  Men-soneb had been a priest at the new Temple of Amun-Ra erected since Hatshepsut had come to power, but Hapuseneb started his enquiries among the older priests at the Temple of Djehuti erected during the twelfth dynasty. There was one particular man he had known all his life, in fact who had trained with him as a child. He knew he could trust him absolutely.

  He put his first questions about Men-soneb as they sat comfortably on the terrace of the old man's lush green garden, watching the sun sinking slowly behind the palm trees that fringed the river. The wine they sipped was cool and refreshing, as was the light breeze that had arisen among the tamarisk branches. From the direction of the sacred park there was a cacophony of sound as thousands upon thousands of sacred ibis flew in to settle for the night on every available branch and twig. Somewhere baboons were barking, the savage sounds mingling strangely with the smooth and elegant chanting of the evening prayers.

  “Men-soneb?” said Hapuseneb's friend thoughtfully. “What do you want to know about him?"

  “Anything. His parents. His training. His friends. His private interests."

  “I met the young man only infrequently. I didn't like him much."

  “Why not?"

  The old man shook his head. “I don't know. He had a secretive, dark look. I wondered if he was more interested in the personal use of magic than in the work of the Temple."

  Hapuseneb took a long cool draught of wine. Hatshepsut had spoken about the young priest with a certain amount of fear as well as distaste.

  Neb-ty, the High Priest of the Temple of Amun-Ra, was not much more helpful. Men-soneb had been born and brought up in Khemnu and had made exceptional progress in his training, soon reaching quite a high position in the hierarchy.

  “Why did he go to Waset?"

  Neb-ty shrugged. “It is a place to which any priest of Amun-Ra longs to go."

  Hapuseneb could not disagree with that. He smiled. This quiet provincial town was full of old people, ibis and baboons. Waset had Hatshepsut, and wherever Hatshepsut was, there was life.

  Hapuseneb spoke to Men-soneb's parents, who were anxious about their son, not having heard from him for some time. Hapuseneb understood that he had been a headstrong and difficult boy, but “only because he was so anxious to learn everything there was to learn so that he could serve his Pharaoh", his mother said hastily, trying to counteract the impression her husband was giving that their son had been troublesome.

  He seemed to have had no close friends. The most consistent emotion he seemed to rouse in people was fear—though no one could give an instance when they had been harmed by him.

  “It was just that he seemed to have a sort of power,” one fellow student admitted. “We felt that if we crossed him in any way he would put a terrible curse on us."

  “Did you ever hear of a time when he actually cursed someone and they suffered for it?"

  “No."

  At last one of the junior priests at the Temple of Amun-Ra told Hapuseneb something he wanted to hear. When Ra-hotep of the Temple of the Sun at Yunu had visited recently, he had spent some time talking privately to Men-soneb.

  “It is probably he who made Men-soneb restless. Soon after Ra-hotep left, Men-soneb pestered Neb-ty to be allowed to go to Waset."

  * * * *

  Hapuseneb left for Yunu the next day.

  Ra-hotep was not pleased to hear that Hapuseneb had been enquiring about Men-soneb. He knew a great deal on the subject—about which he would rather not be questioned.

  Finding that Ra-hotep managed time and again to avoid him, Hapuseneb grew even more suspicious.

  After the second day looked as though it would be as frustrating as the first, Hapuseneb determined to get the better of Ra-hotep and strode into his presence without appointment or announcement, just as he was emerging from his last ablutions of the day in the sacred lake.

  “The man is like a great hippo wallowing in a water hole,” Hapuseneb thought irritably. “Who does he think he is to keep the First Priest of Amun-Ra waiting?"

  He positioned himself between the man and his robes, and the other priests withdrew hastily at an imperious nod from him, knowing that they were no match for Pharaoh's right hand.

  Ra-hotep looked at Hapuseneb, and then at his clothes.

  “Forgive me,” Hapuseneb said smoothly, “but my time here is short and there seemed to be no other way to see you. The First Prophet of the Sun appears to be busier than anyone else in the Two Lands."

  Ra-hotep remained half-covered by the water, watching Hapuseneb warily and with dislike. He said nothing.

  Hapuseneb towered above him, amused.

  “I was interested in a conversation you had with one of my young priests, Men-soneb, in Khemnu."

  “I have had many conversations. Why should I remember this one?"

  “You will remember this one,” Hapuseneb said confidently.

  Ra-hotep's skin was beginning to wrinkle in the water. He longed to get out, but he did not want to lose more dignity than he already had.

  “I remember nothing about a young priest called Men-soneb."

  “Would you not remember after more reflection if your life depended on it?” said Hapuseneb, as though he were half-joking; but the menace in his voice was unmistakable.

  Ra-hotep rose from the water, fat and dripping, more like a hippo than ever. But hippos in the Two Lands were not figures of fun. They were violent and dangerous beasts if aroused. The female hippo mig
ht be represented as a helpful goddess connected with childbirth and fertility, but the male was depicted on many a temple wall as the enemy of order, to be fought and speared by the young king in his role of Horus, the avenger and protector.

  Not all priests went naked into the sacred lake, but Hapuseneb had heard that it was the habit of Ra-hotep at the end of the day. He and Hatshepsut had laughed together over the imagined sight, but he could not help respecting Ra-hotep now for the way he retrieved his clothes, and the dignified and unhurried way he robed himself. The advantage he had had was lost as Ra-hotep swept off towards the building, with Hapuseneb having to hurry to keep up with him.

  Later, no matter how hard Hapuseneb probed and questioned, the High Priest of the Sun managed to keep his counsel on what he had really said to Men-soneb and whether he had seen him before or since.

  Hapuseneb was more and more convinced that a magician's skills had been used against Hatshepsut. Because of this he decided to use a magician's skills against Ra-hotep. But he knew he must be careful; he had not forgotten his extraordinary experiences in the Temple of the Sun at the summer solstice. If those had been magic tricks, Ra-hotep must be a most formidable magician himself. If they were not, but genuine religious manifestations, Ra-hotep must be close to the sun god's heart and under his protection.

  Hapuseneb himself had not much training in the use of magic, so he took the advice of some of his own priests at the Temple of Amun-Ra, and sent for an old man living in the western desert.

  The old sorcerer was as crisp and skeletal as a sand-dried corpse, his eyes sunk so deep into their sockets that Hapuseneb could not be sure if they were looking his way or not.

  As soon as he saw him he regretted that he had summoned him. He had managed without the use of sorcery very successfully, and he wondered what had made him change his mind now. It annoyed him that Ra-hotep could hold out against any amount of skilful interrogation, and his suspicion that he was meddling in dangerous and treasonable activities was growing rapidly. He would be pleased to give Hatshepsut not only the information she had requested, but the details of a plot against her.

  “I want to see the thoughts in a man's heart,” he told the sorcerer. “I want to find out hidden things."