Daughter of the Gods: A Novel of Ancient Egypt

by Stephanie Thornton

  Hatshepsut kissed the top of her mother’s head and inhaled a trace of lotus perfume. “Then I shall be careful not to step on her.”

  The former Great Royal Wife snorted before resuming her attack on the embroidered orange fish. “Have Sitre bring you a cut of cold ox flesh. Hold it over that eye to take down the swelling.”

  Hatshepsut shut the door and leaned her forehead against the cool wood. Beaten and disgraced, she now had to court her replacement and find her way back into Thut’s good graces.

  Anything to keep from thinking of Senenmut.

  • • •

  Girl-slaves scattered like tittering sparrows when Hatshepsut was announced into Aset’s airy chambers, some of the largest in the Hall of Women. The rooms had once belonged to a daughter of the Hittite king, but like the rest of the old generation, the woman had been retired to lands near the Atef-Pehu oasis, left to shrivel and die like the grapes those lands were so famous for.

  The apartments were mostly empty, containing only a bed with crisp white sheets and feet carved like cattle legs, several gilded chests and reed baskets, and a scuffed gaming table left behind by the Hittite princess. Aset’s slaves had abandoned a game of senet, the blue faience and alabaster pawns strewn about the board. The match hadn’t been going well; one of the pawns had drowned in the House of Life and several had already been knocked into the afterlife.

  “Hemet.” Aset sank to the ground and pressed her forehead into the woven reed rug. A rough wooden crate appeared to have exploded next to her, gaudy necklaces and rumpled linens strewn about the floor. A pair of worn reed sandals poked from the box along with a chipped wooden statue of Hathor. A thick ivory trinket of some sort lay at the bottom.

  There were no jars of elder flowers or anything else out of the ordinary. Hatshepsut’s mother would be disappointed.

  Hatshepsut managed a smile but winced at the pain that knifed through her eye as Aset scrambled to her feet. Hammered gold bracelets similar to a pair of Thut’s glimmered at the girl’s wrists, but she still wore the same cheap Nubian wig from her first encounter with Hatshepsut. Her painted lips and netted dress of blue faience beads belonged on one of Waset’s prostitutes. The netting strained against her full breasts, threatening to snap and shower beads over the tiles.

  Hatshepsut cleared her throat. “I wondered if you might enjoy some company this afternoon.”

  “Of course. It would be my honor to entertain Egypt’s Great Royal Wife.” Aset glanced about the chambers as if trapped. Then again, she was.

  Hatshepsut’s gaze strayed to a pair of black granite statues on the window ledge. The tall one bore Thut’s pointed chin and broad forehead, while the shorter possessed Aset’s wide eyes and upturned nose. A closer inspection revealed Thut’s cartouche etched into his kilt, an epithet praising his loyal and beautiful concubine on the woman’s sheath.

  Aset bit her lip. “The pharaoh gave those to me this morning before he went hunting.”

  Hatshepsut read the rest of the inscription. She pursed her lips. “So your kas will always be together in the Field of Reeds, even if your bodies disappear.”

  Aset didn’t answer.

  It had been a mistake to come here, she realized, but it was too late to leave now. Another penance from the gods.

  “Do you play?” She gestured to the senet table.

  “Not very well.” Aset ran slender fingers over the alabaster pieces. Her nails were ragged, bitten to the quick.

  Hatshepsut handed over the box of sweets. The inlaid figures of Hathor and Horus seemed to mock her now. “I thought we might enjoy these. The dried apricots are soaked with honey made from bees fed only cornflower blossoms.”

  “Thank you.” Aset opened the box and popped a date rolled in crushed almonds into her mouth. “I hadn’t expected a visit from you so soon,” she said, chewing as she spoke. “Not after the other night.”

  A honeyed apricot stuck in Hatshepsut’s throat. So much for small talk. At least she could be thankful that Aset had seen only the beating, that she’d left before Thut had ordered Hatshepsut to the ground. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “I’ve seen worse.” Aset glanced at her eye. “But the pharaoh does have a temper.”

  “Thut has always been slow to anger but dangerous once he’s crossed.”

  “Like a hippo on a sunny day.”

  Hatshepsut tried to smile but failed, the comment reminding her of another death long ago. Neferubity and Senenmut’s deaths were a result of her own stupidity. Inviting Senenmut to the West Bank had been dangerous, but she’d chanced it anyway. She had only herself to blame.

  She shifted on the hard wooden seat. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for stopping Thut. My relationship with my brother is—”

  “Complicated?” Aset moved her first pawn. Hatshepsut stared at her. This girl was more than a simple dancer. She considered the word complicated, testing it as one would a fine wine.

  Finally, she nodded. “You might say that.”

  Aset chewed another date and rolled the knucklebones. “Not even the gods get along. It stands to reason their children might not either.”

  Hatshepsut gave a wry smile. “I don’t recall Sekhmet and Horus being the best of friends.”

  And yet, before her sat the very embodiment of Hathor. Thut probably couldn’t help loving Aset.

  “Horus and Sekhmet are the god and goddess of war,” Aset said. “It must be difficult to be agreeable to others when you’re always trying to bend them to your will and wreak vengeance upon their heads when they don’t cooperate.”

  Hatshepsut smiled. “Exhausting, too.”

  “But Hathor managed well with both.” Aset glanced up from the game. “I’d like to as well, if that’s possible.”

  Hatshepsut thought about the gossip circling Aset—the High Priest as her lover and the elder flowers as her weapon. What would she do if she were in Aset’s place? It was one thing to warm the pharaoh’s bed and yet another to have the ear of the Great Royal Wife, especially if she planned to be the pharaoh’s favorite. It was in Aset’s best interests to play both sides, but that didn’t mean a friendship with the concubine couldn’t benefit Hatshepsut, too. She’d just have to be careful.

  Despite herself, she found she liked the girl. Aset lacked the polish of court, but her candor was refreshing. She reminded Hatshepsut of another rekhyt, one she’d never see again.

  She shoved that thought away as quickly as it had come.

  Hatshepsut’s last pawn was mired down in the House of Three Truths, but she didn’t care that she was losing the game. “It may be some time before Thut and I are on speaking terms again, but I don’t see why you and I can’t be friends.”

  Aset moved her pawn onto the House of Rebirth to win the game. “You can join us for dinner, if you’d like. Thutmosis promised he’d harpoon an elephant fish for me on his hunting expedition.” She grimaced. “I hate fish.”

  “You’re going to have to acquire a taste for Thut’s hunting spoils if you’re to stay on his good side.”

  “Then I hope he can catch more than fish.”

  “Wait until he takes down an ostrich. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Aset groaned.

  Dining with Thut was the last thing Hatshepsut wanted to do, but avoiding him wouldn’t do her any good either. She’d have to face him sooner or later; it would be better to do so on her own terms.

  Yet another punishment.

  “Dinner would be lovely, Aset. Thank you for the invitation.” She smoothed her sheath and stood to go, but paused for a moment. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

  Aset grinned, deep dimples clefting her cheeks. “I hope you’re right.”

  Aset’s girl-slaves slunk into the shadows as Hatshepsut passed them, her chin held high. The door closed behind her with a thud, followed by a twitter of nervous giggles and Aset’s muffled command.

  She sighed, remembering her mother’s advice.

&n
bsp; Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  Only the gods knew which Aset would be.

  • • •

  The dinner did not go well. Thut managed to ignore Hatshepsut entirely, his lips pursed as if the slaves had served him the bitter gall of ostrich instead of elephant fish seasoned with coriander and cumin. Her fingers brushed his once, but he pulled back as if scalded, then threw down his linen napkin and excused himself. Aset and Hatshepsut finished the meal in awkward silence.

  Two months passed. Hatshepsut did contact Hathor’s temple, but received a scroll from the head scribe informing her that the chantress Merenaset no longer served the goddess of love and beauty. So the truth of Aset’s arrival at the palace might never be known.

  Thut allowed Ineni to begin work on both Hatshepsut’s cliffside tomb and his own. He might not like Hatshepsut, but he wasn’t willing to jeopardize her eternal ka, at least not yet.

  Contrary to Hatshepsut’s predictions, Thut had planned his tomb outside the royal necropolis, fearful that grave robbers might plunder his body if he were buried near any other tomb, no matter how ancient. He had pleased Ineni to no end by picking a site far less treacherous than Hatshepsut’s. The excavation for the well shaft on Thut’s tomb hummed steadily along, but Hatshepsut’s progressed far more slowly, due in part to the difficulty in reaching the spot, but also because of Thut’s order that she have no say in the project. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Her hope for the future waned. Without Senenmut and her place next to Thut’s throne, she spent her days pacing and eating out of sheer boredom. She read every scroll Mouse could smuggle to her until she had them all memorized. She even attempted to take up embroidery for lack of anything better to do. She was now convinced no woman should ever learn to sew; gouging out her own eyes with her needle would be more enjoyable.

  She was rereading the reports on the tombs that Ineni had given Mouse and had already read to the bottom of the papyrus at least five times without absorbing any of the information. Another letter had arrived from Mensah today—one that made her so furious she couldn’t get it out of her mind—begging for forgiveness and claiming he’d told Thutmosis what had happened in the desert only to protect her. She was about to give up on the tomb reports when she saw Aset lurking in the doorway.

  Over the past weeks, she and Aset had spent countless hours playing senet and gossiping, warming to each other without Thut’s shadow hovering over them. This closeness with another woman was something Hatshepsut hadn’t experienced since Neferubity had died, and she had been scarcely more than a girl then. She and Aset talked about everything—Thut, their affinities for Sekhmet and Hathor, and their shared love of dancing. Everything, save Senenmut. Aset had broached the subject once, but Hatshepsut had quickly steered the conversation to calmer waters. She was no fool. Anything she said to Aset might find its way to Thut.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Aset hesitated at the door. “I can come back if you’re busy.”

  “Not at all.” Hatshepsut gestured to the chair opposite her. She’d attempted to set up a sort of office in her apartments in the Hall of Women, but only after realizing she couldn’t bribe the guards at the gilded gate to let her sneak out. She and Thut were barely on speaking terms, but she’d find a way out of here. She just wasn’t sure how. Or when.

  Aset sat gingerly on the cedar stool and bit her fingernails, looking everywhere except at Hatshepsut.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. Perhaps. I don’t know.” Aset sat on her hands, but her foot still twitched. Hatshepsut waited for her to speak again. “When is that Akkadian princess coming to court?”

  Hatshepsut stifled the laugh that bubbled in her throat at Aset’s mournful expression. The concubine enjoyed her status as Thut’s favorite, but the pharaoh still did his duty and visited his Great Royal Wife’s bed, often unsuccessfully. Hatshepsut’s terse interludes with Thut had dwindled significantly since Aset’s introduction to the Hall of Women. Now Aset feared she would be jostled from her place as the pharaoh’s favorite with Thut’s newest acquisition, the Akkadian princess whose marriage contract had sped up his union with Hatshepsut. Whether Aset was upset because she actually loved Thut or because she feared losing her place as favorite, Hatshepsut couldn’t tell.

  “Princess Enheduanna won’t arrive for a few months.” Hatshepsut wrapped an arm around her friend. “She isn’t scheduled to leave Akkad for a few more weeks and then she will have a long journey up the Nile before she reaches the City of Truth.”

  “Thanks be to Hathor for that.” Aset’s smile was full of sunshine. She seemed about to say something else, but stopped. Her smile faded and the nail biting resumed. She wouldn’t have any fingernails left if she kept it up.

  Hatshepsut covered the girl’s hands with her own. “Is there something else?”

  “There is,” Aset answered slowly. “I think it’s good news, but you may not.”

  Hatshepsut knew what she was going to say. What her mother had endured was about to happen to her. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  “I didn’t need to perform my monthly purification this moon.” Aset looked through her lashes at Hatshepsut. “I’m pregnant.”

  Hatshepsut’s lips ceased working. There was a moment’s pause until she could mold her expression into a smile. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you!”

  She gathered her friend into her arms, hoping she couldn’t feel her ka quaking. Taweret, the hippo goddess of fertility and childbirth, had not yet blessed her with the quickening of her womb. Her moon bloods had ceased only days earlier. And yet, in two short months Thut had gotten a child on Aset.

  What if Hatshepsut wasn’t able to conceive? Or if she failed to produce a boy?

  Thus far, she was an utter failure as Great Royal Wife.

  The questions tumbled through her mind at an alarming rate. Aset could feasibly conceive multiple children before Thut’s seed took root in his Great Royal Wife’s belly, mangling the direct line to the Isis Throne. She might be cast aside. Replaced.

  Hatshepsut swallowed her panic.

  Aset stepped back, a glowing smile beaming from her pretty face, which was even more radiant now that she carried the pharaoh’s child.

  “I’m so glad you’re happy,” Aset said. “I worried you might be upset.”

  “Upset?” Hatshepsut choked out the word, wiping her sweaty palms on her sheath. “You’re doing your part to ensure Egypt’s security. The more children Thut fathers, the better.”

  But she’d sacrifice a young lion to Sekhmet if Aset’s babe were a girl.

  Aset’s face darkened at the mention of Thut fathering more children, presumably upon multiple women. Surely she had to realize that the pharaoh would seek out other bedmates as her waist thickened. It was common for pharaohs to call for parades of Egypt’s most beautiful females, ones with well-braided hair and firm breasts whom Taweret had not yet opened up to give birth.

  Hatshepsut felt a moment’s remorse at her tactless words, but Aset brightened. “Of course,” she said. “And this baby will be the first of many.”

  “I’m sure of it.” Hatshepsut’s lips were about to crack from the smile she’d plastered on her face.

  Aset bit her lip and looked at the floor. “I know the gods will choose my child, but I’ve always wished for a daughter. Someone to teach to dance and tell all my secrets.” Her face had a dreamy, far-off expression, as if she could envision such a future.

  “Have you told Thut yet?”

  Aset shook her head. “I wanted to tell you first.”

  Hatshepsut’s smile wavered. Perhaps history would stray from its origins and allow her and Aset to remain friends, to avoid the pattern that Ahmose and Mutnofret had begun. “Thank you. That means so much to me.”

  Aset yawned into the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I can barely keep my eyes open these days. I’d stay in bed all day if I could.”

  H
atshepsut threaded her arm through Aset’s and led her toward the door. “Go rest. After all, you might be carrying Egypt’s heir.” She swallowed hard to wash down the sour taste of the words. No matter how she liked Aset, it was not the job of a rekhyt to birth the future hawk in the nest. That responsibility was hers and hers alone.

  Aset’s hands framed her flat belly and she gazed down in a moment of wonder before she pulled Hatshepsut into a last hug. “I’m so excited!” she said. “And I know you’ll conceive soon—perhaps we’ll even be pregnant together!”

  Hatshepsut couldn’t answer, only watched as Aset’s dancer’s body swayed to silent music down the hall to her chambers.

  She retreated to her apartments, the tomb plans all but forgotten. This new situation threatened to cut the fragile ties between her and Aset. Hatshepsut had only one aspiration left in this life: to regain her control as Great Royal Wife. Without that, she was nothing.

  There was plenty of time for her to conceive, but the sooner, the better.

  And yet there might be a way to speed the process.

  She’d ignored the box of Djeseret’s herbs and amulets these past months, but now they beckoned with the promise of a heavy womb. Isis, Hathor, and Taweret had all received countless pleas from Hatshepsut to conceive Egypt’s heir, but to no avail. If the goddesses had forsaken her, perhaps the dried herbs and Min’s amulet would at least ensure she didn’t trail too far behind Aset.

  She threw open the lid of the ebony box and removed the worn leather pouch, its gilded Eye of Horus staring into her ka. She despised herself for succumbing to the albino witch’s promise, even as she clutched the hope the purse held. This was simply a matter of practicality, a measure to secure Egypt’s peaceful future. It was her duty. And her salvation.

  She slipped the magic amulet into her pocket and made her way back to the airy bedchamber, past the bed she’d shared with Thut. Sitre looked up from organizing a jewelry box as Hatshepsut pressed the precious bag into her menat’s hand. “I need you to brew these into a tea for me.”

  Sitre recognized the bag. “Of course, sherit. I heard from Aset’s handmaid, she’s not had to wash her linens in over a month.”