by Jerry Dubs
She wore the royal nemes headcloth, striped with bands of river blue and desert gold, and from her chin hung a rectangular false beard, the length of her hand. And, although she wore the traditional false beard of a male pharaoh, she also wore a sheer linen sheath that was wound tightly across her hips and breasts, making no secret of her gender.
At her right was Hapuseneb, aging first priest of Amun. He wore a leopard skin draped over one shoulder. The beast’s head dangled against his left hip, the front paws joined to the rear paws at his right hip. Although his body had grown stocky, his chest heavy and stomach full, Hapuseneb wore only a white kilt beneath the leopard’s pelt, its hundred pleats sharp and straight. In his right hand he held a simple staff that rose beyond his shoulder.
Pharaoh Hatshepsut wore a wide golden bracelet on one arm, a delicately beaded one on her right and armbands of turquoise, but the priest wore no jewelry. He had no need; he was the very voice of Amun, and the great god himself peered from Hapuseneb’s failing eyes tucked deep amid a fleshy, confident face molded from years of success.
Hapuseneb had been first priest under her father, Thutmose I. He had known Hatshepsut from her childhood and he had seen the ambition and strength in the girl. And so, when Thutmose I joined his ancestors and Hatshepsut was married to his young son, Hapuseneb had decided to channel the girl’s ambitions by making her regent until her child-husband came of age to rule alone.
The boy’s mother, Mut-Nofret, who had expected to become regent, was furious, but she could not dispute the word of Amun, nor could she erode the expectations Hapuseneb held for the rewards he would gather from the young queen’s long-lasting gratitude.
Hapuseneb had never regretted his decision, even when Thutmose II died shortly after coming of age and Hatshepsut had appointed herself regent for the next pharaoh, her eight-year-old stepson, Thutmose III. Following custom, she had promised that her infant daughter would marry the boy, legitimizing his claim to the throne. But she had soon grown tired of managing the realm from behind the throne.
Her ambition was irresistible and so Hapuseneb had helped Hatshepsut craft a story that would allow her to sit on the throne of the Two Lands.
- 0 -
“Lord Amun, great among the gods, took the form of the Pharaoh Thutmose,” Hapuseneb had told the priests in the sacred hall of Amun after Hatshepsut had told him that she no longer was content with ruling as a regent.
“He came to Queen Ahmose, Great Wife of the God, while she was asleep. His presence was announced by the pleasant aromas that preceded him and she awoke.”
The priests nodded agreement. Everyone knew that the god Amun planted his seed within the queen, and they loved to hear the story of the royal seduction.
“He gave his heart to her,” Hapuseneb said, “and he showed himself in his godlike splendor.” There were engravings on the temple walls that showed the mighty, rigid splendor of the god, so the priests nodded again. Amun was a mighty bull who never had need of the power of onions or lettuce.
“The queen wept for joy at his strength and beauty and he gave her his love,” Hapuseneb said, smiling inwardly at the blushes that rose on the faces of the young priests. Some of the young men unconsciously moved their hips slightly, imagining themselves giving their love to the queen.
And then Hapuseneb shocked the priests, who were expecting this to be the story of the conception of Thutmose II, by telling them that when Queen Ahmose’s time had been fulfilled she had given birth to Princess Hatshepsut.
He raised his hands to still their murmuring.
“It is true, it is true!” He assured them. “Pharaoh Thutmose confirmed it himself.” Unrolling a papyrus letter from the long-dead ruler, and overlooking the blotches of the still-damp ink – for he had composed the words that morning, he read: “This daughter of mine, Khnumet-amun Hatshepsut – may she live! – I have appointed as my successor upon my throne. She shall direct the people in every sphere of the palace; it is she indeed who shall lead you. Obey her words, unite yourselves at her command.”
He lowered the papyrus and looked at the priests, taking each face in turn and holding their eyes until they nodded agreement.
“And so you will tell all the nobles, the dignitaries, and the leaders of the people. You will proclaim the promotion of Amun’s daughter, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Ma’at-ka-Re – may she live eternally!”
And so Hatshepsut had donned the double crown and sat upon the throne she had always stood beside, and the Two Lands had thrived. And Amun was pleased.
- 0 -
Standing now in the temple courtyard, Pharaoh Hatshepsut at his side, Hapuseneb turned his closed eyes to the sun and nodded. The decision to elevate Hatshepsut to the throne nine years ago had been the right one.
She honored Amun above all the other gods. She had erected twin obelisks before the temple entrance, each of them soaring higher than any ever built before, each of them clad in electrum, white gold of the gods.
She had replaced the delicate alabaster temple built by Pharaoh Amenhotep with a powerful chapel of red quartz and black granite, an offering that would last forever.
And now she had chosen the priests of Amun to dedicate her expedition to Ta Netjer, a journey from the home of one god to the land of another god.
Just outside the temple entrance, along the worn road that led to the river and to the freshly dug canal, stood five giant sledges, each cradling a ship. Five tall masts rose above the wall of the temple courtyard, their tips displaying a waving pendant and before each sledge stood six hundred men. They would drag the empty ships to the canal and then pull them through the hundred-mile-long canal to the Great Green where the ships would be launched.
No one knew how long the journey would take or where it would lead.
No one had ever taken such a trip into the unknown. But Pharaoh Hatshepsut, guided by the strange Imhotep, was confident that her expedition would find Ta Netjer and return with riches and treasures beyond imagining.
Hapuseneb hoped it was true. It would bring such glory to Amun.
- 0 -
Eight-year-old Neferu-Re, only child of Pharaoh Hatshepsut and Thutmose II, stood beneath an awning to the right of the dais. Standing straight, careful not to shuffle her feet, Neferu-Re concentrated on holding her face in a mask of relaxed happiness, but her right hand betrayed her excitement as it slowly reached toward the hand of Senenmut who stood beside her.
Senenmut took her hand gladly. Although officially Neferu-Re’s tutor, he was her surrogate father and he loved her as much as he loved Merira-Hatshepsut, the little girl he and Hatshepsut had created and who was now nestled in his arms. The heat and excitement had exhausted six-year-old Merira and she rested now with her head on her father’s shoulder.
“Father,” she whispered sleepily, and he tilted his head toward her mouth. “Mother looks funny in her beard.”
Senenmut kissed her head and whispered back, “Not as silly as you would look. When we get home we’ll ask your mother if you can wear it.”
Neferu-Re pulled on Senenmut’s hand. He looked down and saw a smile tugging at her mouth. “I’ve worn mother’s beard,” she whispered. She looked at her younger half-sister and said, “It is very scratchy.”
“Will you have to wear one when you are pharaoh?” little Merira asked.
Neferu-Re shrugged.
She knew that she was promised as wife to her sixteen-year-old brother, Thutmose III, but she seldom saw him. Even now he was away fighting the Shasu in Sinai. When Senenmut had taught her about her ancestors he had explained that her own father, Thutmose II, had been pharaoh and that Thutmose III might become pharaoh after Hatshepsut went to the Field of Reeds.
It didn’t matter to Neferu-Re. Her mother had given her the title of God’s Wife of Amun; that was enough for her.
And the beard was scratchy.
Before she could whisper again to her sister, Hapuseneb raised his arms and everyone quickly quieted. He started to shout, no
t the angry shout that Neferu-Re heard one time when she had walked past a room where Nehsy and Ty were having an argument, no, this was the sacred shout that priests used to talk to the gods.
Neferu-Re liked Nehsy, he always talked to her with the same voice he used with her mother and his eyes were always happy. But she didn’t like Ty, he never smiled and sometimes he had mean eyes. When she had told Senenmut that, he had nodded his understanding. “Ty is overseer of the treasury, Princess. He spends his days counting jewels, weighing gold and tallying the number of oxen and goats and geese in the Two Lands. His eyes are not used to seeing something as beautiful as you, so they are out of practice.”
Neferu-Re had smiled; Senenmut always made her feel happy.
But she still didn’t like Ty.
She turned her attention back to Hapuseneb who was still shouting out the many names of her mother.
“Foremost of Noble Ladies! Mighty of Kas! Flourishing of Years! Divine of Appearance! Lord of the Two Lands!”
He stopped and raised his staff overhead with both arms. Somehow his voice got even louder and he screamed, “Ma’at-ka-Re!” Then he lowered his arms and turned his back on the crowd to walk back beside Pharaoh Hatshepsut.
Neferu-Re watched her mother step forward. She is so beautiful, she thought. Just like Maya.
At the thought of her mother’s best friend, Neferu-Re turned her head to look around the dais. Maya wasn’t here.
- 0 -
“This is crazy, mother,” Neferhotep said, clenching and unclenching his fists as he paced across the dressing room of Pharaoh Hatshepsut.
“I talked with father about it,” Maya said, her eyes dancing with excitement. “He said he knew nothing about it. So it must work!”
She picked up a polished bronze mirror. The handle, shaped like the head of a stalk of wheat, led to a crossbar on which two small metal falcons were perched. Their backs supported the round mirror and, looking at it now, Maya saw the face of Pharaoh Hatshepsut staring back at her.
Maya had an eye for detail and she turned it now on the hazy image in the mirror.
“The eyebrows look exactly the same,” she said, comparing the image reflected on the mirror to the sketch Imhotep had made for her of Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s face. She tried to raise her right eyebrow alone, an expression Pharaoh Hatshepsut used when she was skeptical. Both eyebrows rose together.
Wondering how she could learn the expression, Maya started to bite her upper lip, then caught herself; Pharaoh Hatshepsut never looked worried or confused. Never.
She glanced at her son. He was studying her. Perhaps he was right and she would not be able to impersonate Pharaoh Hatshepsut convincingly.
“You do look like her, mother,” he conceded. “Exactly.” He fluttered a hand in the air. “It is uncanny.”
Reassured, she nodded. “And the members of her inner court know about it so they will go along with the deception,” she said.
Neferhotep thought for a moment and, with his grandfather’s habit of dismissing a solved problem and turning to the next, he said. “I wish I were going.”
“You are part of the royal guard, Neferhotep. You have to stay here with me because I will be Pharaoh Hatshepsut,” she said, turning her head to the side and trying to study her profile. “If you went to Ta Netjer, people would think that you were abandoning your duty.”
“Here, mother,” Neferhotep said, picking up a second mirror and angling it so she could use it to see the side of her face in the first mirror.
The roar of a crowd bellowed through the window and Maya quickly stood. Putting down the mirror she nodded toward a row of mannequin heads. One held a formal black wig, another held the double crown of the Two Lands.
As Maya pulled her shoulders back to imitate Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s posture, her son moved behind her and picked up a white ceramic jar painted with blue images of the goddess Hathor. He brought the jar to his face and sniffed.
“Should I use the cedar?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s thicker and should last through the afternoon heat,” Maya said, settling her shoulders.
Neferhotep dipped a finger into the jar and rubbed it along the sticky resin. Then, smiling, he applied the adhesive to his mother’s shaved head. “Shouldn’t Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s hairdresser do this?” he said.
“She is at the celebration,” Maya said. She tilted her head. “Put some just above my ear, I don’t want the wig twisting. And be sure to drive the chariot slowly and avoid holes in the road, I don’t want to have to try and catch the crown if it falls off.”
“I will be the most careful of drivers,” Neferhotep said with mock seriousness as he finished applying the adhesive. He wiped his fingers on a cloth and then lifted the wig, a mass of tight curls, the sides ending in a Hathor bob that was the current style in Waset. Standing in front of his mother, he settled the wig on her head and then gently pressed on it for a moment to allow it to set.
“Nehsy is going to Ta Netjer, and so is Ty,” Maya said, talking herself through her apprehension. “But Senenmut is staying here, so everything will appear normal.”
“Does General Thutmose know?” Neferhotep asked.
Maya started to shake her head, then stopped as she felt Neferhotep tighten his grip on the unsettled wig.
“No,” she said. “Hatshepsut doesn’t want him to think that she is usurping his military role.”
She glanced at her son and said, “She isn’t, you know. This is a trading expedition, not a military incursion.”
After searching her son’s eyes for a moment, she added, “She walks a delicate path with him. In one way he has more power than she has, he does command the armies. However, she has the love of the people. She administers the law, collects the taxes, honors the gods, builds temples. The priests and merchants love Hatshepsut but the soldiers are loyal to Thutmose. Aren’t you?”
Neferhotep frowned.
“I do both. I love Pharaoh Hatshepsut and I obey Thutmose. He is my commander. But there is no conflict, mother. Thutmose has never ordered anything that would oppose Pharaoh Hatshepsut. He shows her only love and respect. I cannot imagine him disrupting ma’at in such a way.”
Maya looked at her son. He was a charioteer, strong and battle-tested. She knew he had killed and she knew that he would unhesitatingly die to protect her. But he was a soldier who had been taught to resolve conflicts with a sword’s blade. And those conflicts had always involved an obvious enemy.
“Eventually Thutmose will decide that he wants the throne, Neferhotep. When he does, he will say that he is restoring ma’at,” she said, reaching up to stroke her son’s cheek. “Only Ma’at herself will know what is right.”
Neferhotep took his mother’s hand and squeezed it.
“I haven’t heard any rumors, mother,” he said.
“I wasn’t questioning you, Neferhotep. I trust you with my life. I would never interrogate you. And,” she added, “I trust in the gods completely.” She smiled and, in a voice that sounded exactly like her mother’s, she added, “They will do as they want. And so will I.”
Testing the wig, she gave her head a small shake. “Hatshepsut will be here soon.”
- 0 -
Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s face was flush from excitement as she hurried into the room.
“I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in years,” she said over her shoulder to Senenmut and then, seeing Maya, she abruptly stopped talking. Eyes alight with curiosity, she walked slowly to Maya, stopping so close that they were almost touching.
She studied her face, her eyes lingering on Maya’s, and then her eyes moved to her hair line, her necklace and her one bare shoulder. Smiling, she said, “I am truly beautiful!” Then she laughed and touched Maya’s arm. “We are both going to have an adventure.”
Senenmut nodded to Neferhotep and, seeing the charioteer’s worry, he said, “Is something wrong?”
Neferhotep glanced at Pharaoh Hatshepsut who was still studying Maya and said, “No, Lord Sene
nmut. Mother assures me there is nothing wrong.”
“But?’ Senenmut prompted.
Neferhotep shook his head. “My confidence in the gods is not as strong as mother’s,” he admitted.
Pharaoh Hatshepsut left off looking at Maya to turn to Neferhotep. She regarded her friend’s son as a favored nephew. Smiling at him she said, “Our trust in the gods must never waver, Neferhotep. Still we must always keep a hand on our knife. That is what my father taught me.”
Senenmut put a hand on Neferhotep’s shoulder.
“There are thirty rowers on each ship. Half of each crew are soldiers, not just muscle-bound sailors,” he said. “Your grandfather insisted that this should be a trading expedition and he assured us that Pharaoh Hatshepsut would be received in Ta Netjer as a god.” He looked to Pharaoh Hatshepsut and nodded, “as she should be.”
“Imhotep assures us that the expedition will be a success. What is it that your grandfather says, ‘It was, so it will be.’ I don’t always understand the meaning of his words,” Pharaoh Hatshepsut admitted, “but he says them with such confidence.”
She smiled at Neferhotep. “And he is eager to travel with us, so he must believe that the journey will be safe and successful.”
Neferhotep lowered his eyes and nodded, but he thought of Bata and his yearly attempt to open the stone portal that Imhotep said would open. Year after year it had refused to open and, when it did, they had found his grandmother slain and Imhotep surrounded by enemies.
And there were other stories that Bata had told him about his grandfather. In each of them Imhotep had foretold the future, in some he had suffered, in some he had nearly died. But he had always survived, even if those around him perished.
A chill of apprehension swept over Neferhotep, as if the black breath of Wepwaret were on his back.
For the Glory of Amun
The air along the road from Ipet-isut to the canal was filled with the aroma of roasted goose and onions, the sweet fragrance of burning incense, the low hum of bees by the fruit stalls, the calls of barkers and the rising and falling dust from a thousand steps.