by Marié Heese
“Never to take another husband? Not even … perhaps … a commoner? One who could not usurp the throne? There have been Pharaohs who married a commoner.”
I sighed. “Yes. It has been known. But the commoners were wives. A male Pharaoh is secure enough upon the throne to make such a choice. But I have had to struggle to establish the fact of my divinity. Marrying a common man, I fear, would cast great doubt upon my divine nature, and it would reduce my authority. You must understand how that is.”
“Yes, Majesty. Yes, I see.” There was deep sadness in his face. “Indeed, I do understand.”
Here endeth the fifteenth scroll.
More secret knowledge that I would rather not have had. Well, I am being punished for my curiosity. I shall have to take a trip to my cousin’s mountain farm immediately, for to possess a document relating how the Great Commander tried to force the Pharaoh … it had better be hidden away as quickly as possible. It reflects extremely badly on a man hero-worshipped by many. Besides, how he would hate the story of her method of self-defence and, worse, her laughter, to become public knowledge!
One wonders, though, whether he might not have justifiably thought … well, it does sound as if … oh, dear. It is so hard to know what women want. I would like to see more of that plump little Syrian partridge who works in the tavern where I meet Ahmose. Her name, I have discovered, is Saria. She has many admirers, though; just when I think I have received her most brilliant smile, she bestows an equally generous beam upon a corpulent merchant with hair in his ears and yellow teeth.
Of course, she is merely a slave and I could simply make an offer to buy her. She would probably be expensive, though, since she is undoubtedly an asset to the tavern keeper, and I do not have many debens of silver or gold put by. And even if I could afford her, I would not want her if she did not like me. I would not force a woman; that would make me no better than … the Great Commander? What am I thinking! No, no. This is mere foolishness. Time to blow out the lamp!
THE SIXTEENTH SCROLL
The reign of Hatshepsut year 10
In the tenth year of my reign I lost my beloved Inet. Somehow I had considered her to be indestructible. For many years she was a daily presence in my life. When I no longer needed a nurse, she became a sort of honorary lady-in-waiting; then my children came and they needed her; despite the illness that had affected her manner of walking, she took care of them. Then the children grew older and she again remained as one of my ladies.
When I was young she was always there, never going away on trips and leaving me behind as my royal parents so often did. With her oft-repeated tales of the gods and how they had favoured me, she made me feel safe and she encouraged me to think of myself as someone special, someone with an exceptional destiny. She never thought that I did not belong on the Double Throne; on the contrary, when I acceded to the throne, it was to her merely the fulfilment of predictions that she had been making since I was a child.
Yet she never quite seemed to have grasped that I was indeed the Pharaoh. Especially as she grew older and somewhat forgetful, I remained her dear child, to be scolded if she saw fit, to be cosseted if I was even a little unwell, to be told to eat, made to rest, comforted when sad, and above all loved. To be held. She knew, in principle, that the Pharaoh’s person was sacred and not to be touched, but she forgot. If she felt it was needed, she would hug me or gently take my hand and stroke it. I never reprimanded her for that.
Of course, at times she irritated me. While it was soothing to be treated like a child when one was ill or very tired, at other times it was inappropriate and made me cross. Also, as her memory for recent matters grew worse, her recollections from the past seemed increasingly important to her, and she would retell her tales over and over, in exactly the same words, until I felt ready to scream. Trying to prevent her from doing this was hopeless. One could say, yes, Inet, I know, you have told me, you told me just a minute ago, but that did not stop her. The words would come relentlessly: “Hathor suckled you, Hapi cradled you, and Apophis spared you for your destiny. Did you know that?”
Yes, Inet, I do know. You told me … Don’t tell me again. I cannot stand it.
She seemed to grow smaller as she grew older. Not merely thinner, although she did lose girth, but so stooped that she was at last not much taller than a child. She began to go blind, and for the last years of her life she was very frail. Then the time came when she took ill, with a pain in her abdomen that no prayers or charms or medications were able to cure.
“Inet,” I said, “the time has come when you should lie down. I shall give orders for a wooden bed to be put into your room. You’ll be more comfortable and it will be easier for the servants to assist you that way.”
“A mat has always been good enough for me,” she objected.
“But you struggle to get up.” I was firm with her, and the slaves installed a cedarwood bed in her little room near mine, padded with folded linen and furnished with cool fine linen sheets and a cushioned headrest.
She went on protesting, but finally she could no longer fight the devils that were causing her to waste away and she let herself be put to bed. Hapu told me that the best he could do for her was to give her the juice of the poppy to dull the pain, which grew steadily worse, and to help her sleep. For some weeks she lay there like a good child, never complaining, slipping in and out of consciousness. I looked in often. Sometimes I sat next to the bed and held her hand. I was not sure that she even knew that I was there.
Then, one day while I was sitting beside her, her small black eyes grew suddenly bright in her wrinkled little face. Her bony grip on my hand tightened. “Majesty!” she said. “You are here! You are too good!”
“How are you, Inet?” I asked gently. “Is the pain very bad?”
“Oh, no. No. I am just … very tired. I think I just need to rest a little longer.”
I thought: As always, she still thinks she ought to be up and busy.
“Rest as long as you like,” I told her, stroking her hand.
Her eyes fell shut again. Then, after some time had passed, they opened again. “Majesty,” she said. “My darling Hatshepsut. Now you are the Pharaoh Ma’atkare. You see, I knew.”
“Yes, Inet.
“Hathor suckled you, Hapi cradled you, and Apophis spared you for your destiny. Did you know that?”
“Yes, Inet.”
She lay breathing very shallowly, blinking. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, plucking at the sheets. Then she opened her eyes wide, said: “Oh!” in a surprised tone of voice, and breathed her last.
Dear Inet. I miss her greatly. I had her properly buried, with plenty of grave goods to sustain her in the Afterlife, and I always see to it that she receives mortuary offerings on the Day of the Dead, wishing the sweet breath of the north wind to her loving spirit.
Sad though I was, I was somewhat cheered by the progress on the building of my mortuary temple at Djeser-Djeseru. Work was proceeding apace, but it did not always go smoothly. Aside from the usual problems that beset all building operations, Hapuseneb and Senenmut were often at odds. Hapuseneb was bitterly jealous of Senenmut. It irked him greatly that when I promoted him to First Prophet of Amen, Senenmut was made Steward of the Estates of Amen at Karnak. He also hated the appointment of Senenmut as Overseer of all Royal Works. But most of all he hated the fact that he, Hapuseneb, was merely responsible for my tomb, which was not in the public eye (exactly the opposite, of course), while the task entrusted to Senenmut was so spectacular.
One day they arrived at my small audience chamber towards the end of an early session, having made an appointment to see me together.
Both men made particularly deep obeisances to me, but avoided each other’s eyes.
“Well,” I said, “what is the problem? Vizier, speak.”
“Majesty,” said Hapuseneb, “it concerns the dispersal of revenues. I have always controlled taxes and also the revenue from the various possessions held by the priesthoo
d of Amen across the land, and I have ever had a care for good husbandry.”
“Yes, yes.” I knew that the priests of Amen controlled around a third of the cultivated land and employed easily twenty per cent of the population. I knew they owned not only temples, but all manner of other income-generating properties, which included mines and quarries, sea-going ships and indeed entire villages.
“Majesty, naturally the priesthood has contributed towards the financing of the great project at Djeser-Djeseru. But now, Majesty, my … ah … colleague, the honourable Senenmut …”
I knew it cost him some effort to be so polite. I suppressed a smile. “Yes?”
“… having, as Steward of Amen, access to the stores at Karnak, has diverted inappropriate amounts to the building project. Hugely inappropriate amounts. If this goes on unchecked, Majesty, we shall be beggared. Beggared, I say!” His nasal voice rose ever higher with aggravation.
“Well, Steward? What say you?”
“With all due respect,” said Senenmut, “my honourable colleague exaggerates. I have been using considerable amounts of the temple surpluses, certainly, but there is plenty left. The problem is that the project is at a stage where it requires substantial contributions. Your Majesty knows that we employ many farmers during the quiet season …”
“I know, yes. I am happy that we increase employment.”
“But as Your Majesty is well aware, the inundation is at hand, and we will lose many labourers. So we must push to complete the current phase as fast as possible. And that means materials, and materials mean transport, and all of it means more labour …”
“The pyramids were not built in a day,” interjected Hapuseneb. “I see no need for this urgency.”
“Why must the project be delayed because of miserliness? Miserliness and greed,” said Senenmut, growing angry himself.
“Do you accuse me of greed, Sir? And I say, you are profligate! Better control – ”
“I do control everything! Every single building block, every single tool is accounted for! I am a scribe, among other – ”
“A scribbler from the provinces,” Hapuseneb sneered, “advanced above his – ”
“At least I am not a parsimonious snob!” retorted Senenmut.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I intervened. They had for the moment forgotten where they were and both looked guilty. “Let us have cool heads. Now then, it is true that the inundation is upon us. It seems quite reasonable to me that an attempt be made to complete the current phase as fast as possible. I cannot believe that the temple resources could be so drastically depleted. No, my judgment is that the building should continue apace. That is the end of it. Pharaoh has spoken.”
They made obeisances and left.
I knew Hapuseneb would be seething, but it would be good for him. He should have known better than to complain to me about such a matter. I think he could not resist a bleat of protest at the curtailment of his powers by the appointment of Senenmut to the Stewardship. But as I have written, it was an essential element of my grasp upon ultimate authority that the Vizier’s powers be limited. It is a method that has served me well.
When the building operations were well advanced, Senenmut escorted me on a boat trip to view the site from the river. I was pleased at the reported progress, and I could not wait to see for myself.
It was the beginning of Akhet and the river, which had just begun to rise in the south, was calm and hinting of a change to green. We sailed north, the slight current aiding the rowers as they pulled against a light breeze. As ever, I sensed that Hapi held me, and I felt at home. The shouts of children playing in the shallows rang across the water.
As we neared the bay of Djeser-Djeseru, the sail was furled to allow the boat to swing around and come to rest, wallowing slightly, where we could view the building operations. As Senenmut had promised me, the temple was truly grand in scope and it did indeed dominate the plain. Two broad terraces fronted by wide porticos led down from the core of the temple, the God’s sanctuary, which had been hewn out of the Theban rock deep inside the tall cliffs behind it. A third terrace was being added. Imposing open-air stairways linked the terraces, dividing the structure into northern and southern halves and leading up to the sanctuary. Already it was clear that the proportions would, as he had promised, be magically harmonious.
I sighed with satisfaction. “Oh, but it is beautiful. When I have not seen it for a while I forget, and then I am again surprised. Surprised and delighted.”
“I am glad Your Majesty is pleased.”
We sat companionably side by side on the cushioned deck platform and gazed at the superb structure that was coming into being because we had willed it. My eyes followed the movements of the builders and labourers, tiny, insignificant black figures against the white background. “It is hard to believe,” I observed, “that men, who are such puny things seen at this distance, are able to create such a vast structure.”
“That will stand long after they are turned to dust and have been forgotten,” said Senenmut. “But Your Majesty will be remembered, and rituals in the temple will ensure that Your Majesty lives for ever.”
“It will be a good thing,” I said, “to be remembered for something of such amazing beauty. But you, Senenmut – you are the one who has above all others made this a reality. You, too, should be remembered down the years. You have my permission to have representations of yourself engraved upon the walls.”
“Majesty!” he exclaimed. “You are too good!”
“In inconspicuous places, of course,” I added.
“Naturally. I shall see to that.” His eyes were shining, and he turned with a forward movement as if to take me in his arms. But he bethought himself, and his hands dropped to his lap. He looked away and sighed. “I thank Your Majesty,” he said, in a suddenly flat voice. “It is an extraordinary reward. For a commoner.”
It was indeed an extraordinary reward, for anyone. But then, he had always given extraordinary service. In fact, I had given him considerable recognition before then, by allowing him to order a large number of statues of himself, to place in the forecourts of the many temples dedicated to Amen. There are some of him holding Neferure as a small child that I cannot look at, for they make me weep. But this award was exceptional and he knew it.
He was silent for a while. Then he told me: “When the last terrace is in place, we will create the avenue linking the temple with the old Valley Temple on the Nile. Already the sculptors are hard at work carving the sphinxes, each with the body of a lion and the head of the Pharaoh, that will line the approach.”
“Yes, I have sat for the head to be modelled. It will be very striking.”
“Truly regal,” said Senenmut with a touch of bitterness. “But now we must give thought to the gardens, Majesty. They too should be unique.”
“You are right,” I said, musingly. “You are quite right. I must think about it.”
Very soon the answer came to me. And I say “came to me” advisedly, for I received the answer to the question as to how the temple gardens might be made exceptional in the form of a vision granted by the God himself, while I was carrying out the daily ritual at the temple of Amen-Ra at Karnak. As I stood alone before the shrine it seemed to me that I heard a voice addressing me.
“Hear me, my beloved daughter, King Ma’atkare Hatshepsut, hear my divine will. The route to the fabled Land of Punt must once more be found. The ways to the groves of myrrh should be discovered. For the Land of Punt is a wondrous portion of the God’s land; I have created it for myself in order to lighten my heart. You must send an expedition to Punt, so that you may bring back incense trees, to establish for me a Punt in the garden of the house that you have built for me.
“I will lead your soldiers by land and by sea, to unknown shores where they will find incense as much as they desire. They will load their ships with marvellous plants in abundance and with all the good things of that distant land.”
I made a deep obeisance to the shr
ine and kissed the floor. “I hear, Divine One,” I breathed. “I hear and will obey.”
When first I broached this plan, my counsellors expressed many doubts. All kinds of objections were raised and problems foreseen. Yes, tales were told of voyages to the exotic Land of Punt in the time of our ancestors, but some people doubted that these tales were true, and even if they were, such voyages had happened many generations ago. In the time of the hated Hyksos trading expeditions had been limited. It was now no longer certain exactly where this fabled country was situated, nor how precisely it might be reached. I dismissed all objections with scorn.
“There are records,” I insisted, facing a phalanx of nay-saying advisers. “My late father, may he live for ever, used to speak of it. No, there can be no doubt that the land exists and that it can be reached from Khemet. What our ancestors did, we too can do.” The proposed voyage to Punt would be the crowning achievement of my adventurous foreign policy. It would be a highlight of my reign. I would not be gainsaid.
“But, Majesty, the cost …” Treasurer Thitui was as usual concerned about this.
“Will be negligible compared with the riches we could bring back. Doubtless the natives will be content with relatively cheap baubles in exchange. And we will have much use for the ships that we shall build.”
“Who is to lead the expedition?”
For a moment, I wished that young Thutmose had been there, instead of being away on a lion-hunting expedition. It was just the kind of adventure that would appeal to him. It would rid me of his bothersome presence for some years, I estimated. Indeed it was the kind of undertaking that might even result in his never returning to the Black Land. But he was far away, and besides, at that time he had held the position of Great Commander of the Army for only two years. In truth, he led the army excellently well and it would be hard to replace him.
