Hatshepsut: Daughter of Amun

by Moyra Caldecott

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  Hatshepsut: Daughter of Amun

  by Moyra Caldecott

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  Historical Fiction

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  Mushroom eBooks

  www.mushroom-ebooks.com

  Copyright ©1986, 2000 by Moyra Caldecott

  First published by Arrow Books in 1986

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Hatshepsut: Daughter of Amun

  Moyra Caldecott

  Mushroom eBooks

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  Copyright © 1986, 2000, Moyra Caldecott

  Moyra Caldecott has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the Author of this work.

  First published in United Kingdom in 1986 by Arrow Books.

  This Edition published in 2003 by Mushroom eBooks, an imprint of Mushroom Publishing, Bath, BA1 4EB, United Kingdom

  www.mushroom-ebooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN 1899142169

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  "... May you permit me to reach the eternal sky, the country of the favoured; may I join with the august and noble spirits of the realms of the dead; may I ascend with them to see your beauty..."

  From Spell 15, The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead [1]

  [1—“May you permit me...” from Spell 15, The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, translated by R O Faulkner (British Museum Publications, 1985). What we call The Book of the Dead was known to the ancient Egyptians as The Book of Coming Forth by Day because it consisted of copies of ancient prayers and spells designed to assist the deceased through a series of complicated trials so that he or she might emerge at last, “justified” and “true of voice", to be reborn with the sun and live eternally.]

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  Introduction

  The ancient Egyptian belief system appears very confusing to us if we examine it with minds that have been conditioned to expect rational and scientific explanations for everything. But those of us who are aware that a great deal happens that is not amenable to rational and scientific explanation, have no problem in accepting the ancient Egyptian myths, not as fantasy, but as a different way of looking at reality—a way that shows up certain subtleties and complexities that we had not noticed before.

  The many gods of the Egyptian pantheon are not to be regarded literally as jackal-headed, ibis-headed, ram-headed—no more than Christians are to take it literally that Christ is a lamb and the Holy Ghost is a dove.

  Most people at some point in their lives feel that they have been helped by an invisible someone, and if they don't immediately dismiss the experience as not having really happened, they will acknowledge their helper by a name drawn from their culture—St. Francis, Buddha, the angel Gabriel or, if they are ancient Egyptian, Ra, Djehuti or Ptah. They will also ponder about a life after the death of the body, about that mysterious part of them that has always felt more real to them than their body. Because we have only hints and clues, but no hard and fast facts about the other world, each culture uses its own familiar images to describe it.

  The ancient Egyptians saw the Duat, or other world, in images of rivers, of boats, of fields, of marshes, of deserts, and, as in their own temples, chambers and halls only entered with difficulty through heavily guarded doors. Osiris ruled as king over this world, seated in his great hall on his throne, receiving petitions and passing judgements. A giant pair of scales weighed the heart of the deceased against the feather of truth.

  They saw the body as only one aspect of the living being. They believed there were at least nine aspects in all, separating out at death. Some lingered on earth if the funerary rituals and spells were performed correctly, to pass invisibly in and out of the tomb, still taking an active part in the life of the world, helping their petitioners if required to do so, and enjoying the freedom to wander where and when they pleased. Others faced the tests and trials of the Duat and came at last, if “justified” or “true of voice", to live in a kind of heaven, much like this world, but better. Others passed on to even higher realms, to the stars and beyond. Which of these many parts of the individual could and would come back to earth, reincarnated, to live again in the flesh but in a different body in a different time and place, is never made clear—but that this could and did happen was part of the belief system. Many a pharaoh had “Repeater of Births” among his many titles.

  An extraordinary number of people alive today believe that they once lived in ancient Egypt. The civilisation intrigues and fascinates us. The magnificence of the ruins left to us on either side of the Nile, of the art and the funerary treasures now residing in our museums, of the complex and profound mystic truths revealed to us since their hieroglyphs have been deciphered, has much to teach us. But more and more people find that intellectual interest alone cannot account for their attachment, their obsession, with a particular place and time in such a distant past. Usually these people find that any mention of anything to do with the reign of a particular pharaoh, any glimpse of a particular object from that era, gives them a shiver down the spine, almost a thrill of recognition.

  A belief in reincarnation is very old and very widespread. Many civilisations past and present have held faith in it without question. An increasing number of people these days use the word “karma” from the Hindu religion, meaning the working out in a present life of some problem from a past life. The ancient Celts believed so absolutely in it that debts from one life could be paid off in another. Others, like the Christians and the Jews, have edited out the belief from the main body of dogma, but it still survives in isolated pockets of esoteric teaching.

  For a long time the female pharaoh Hatshepsut has haunted me as she has haunted others. Her mortuary temple at Deir el Bahri in the western cliffs opposite modern Luxor, built to keep her memory alive forever, was defaced shortly after her death, her name obliterated and her images broken up or usurped by other pharaohs. No mortuary priests were appointed to perpetuate her cult and see that her “ka” was comfortable and nourished. In the king lists of Abydos her name is omitted as though she had never existed. Yet archaeologists have found references to her that escaped the chisels of her successor and the vandalism of time, and have built up a fairly full picture of her life.

  In this novel I have used what the Egyptologists have been able to discover about her, and the texts that she herself had inscribed on obelisks and temple walls. But I have also drawn on clues and hints I have received by less orthodox means. In the end I hope the picture I have drawn of Hatshepsut will have enough of history to satisfy those who want history, and enough of the “other” to make her story relevant to those who are experiencing their own complex and difficult journey through many realms and many lives.

  Those who have read my other novels, Guardians of the Tall Stones and The Silver Vortex, will be pleased to recognise Deva, daughter of Kyra, who set off from Bronze Age Britain to train as a priestess in Egypt, the land of her father. In this book she takes her ancient name Anhai.

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  Chapter 1

  The boy, Men-kheper-Ra, looking small and nervous, was seated on his huge throne, almost dwarfed by it. The red crown of the Northern Territories and t
he white crown of the Southern, fitted together, were balanced precariously on his head. Usually they fitted snugly, but the new Master of the Royal Vestments, recently appointed by Hatshepsut, claimed that he was growing so rapidly that a larger crown was called for. This was the first time he had worn it. It was too large, too uncomfortable, and made him look ridiculous.

  Hatshepsut was not yet on the other throne, and this made him uneasy. The hall was filling up with the nobles and officials. His personal attendants, those whom Hatshepsut had not replaced recently, seemed nervous too and clustered as close as they could to each other and to the stepped stone mound on which the two thrones were mounted. Why had she not joined him? Was she ill? Was he going to have to manage this whole ceremonial occasion by himself? Sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He couldn't wipe it away because already the insignia of kingship were in place and he dared not move. The crook and flail, almost too heavy for him, had to be held at just the right angle across his chest.

  The foreign princes were entering now to take their places in the great hall. He tried to remember the words he had been taught to say on such occasions. He had attended many before, but Hatshepsut had always presided and his bored mind had been free to wander where it willed.

  He heard a faint tinkle and jangle to one side of him and managed to move his eyes without moving his head, wondering if it were the arrival of his stepmother-aunt at last, but from the wrong direction. It was his mother, Ast, heavily overdressed in tasteless jewellery, kept just out of whisper range by protocol, trying to get nearer him to tell him not to fidget.

  The most important thing in Men-kheper-Ra's life at this moment was to keep still and somehow ignore the sweat drops that were setting up an itch as they moved down his face.

  Ast, satisfied that her son was now as motionless as a statue, turned her attention back to the scene before her. Light was shafting down from the high slit windows, picking out in gleams and shimmers the gold collars of the nobles and the barbaric splendours of the foreign princes. There was a continual flow of movement as each individual or group entered the hall, prostrated themselves before the child-king, and then found their correct place to stand. All eyes alternated between the empty throne and the door through which the Regent was expected to come.

  Ast became more and more uneasy. She noticed that behind the colonnade that surrounded the throne chamber there seemed to be more royal guards than usual. She narrowed her eyes and strained to see who was who in the crowds. Men-kheper-Ra's own guards were not present. Why? Men-kheper-Ra's own advisors, tutors, secretaries, scribes, were not present. Why? And only a handful of his personal attendants. Suddenly Ast was very frightened indeed and wondered if her son was about to be assassinated. But surely not in front of all these foreign princes? Whatever the internal troubles of Egypt, the Pharaoh must always appear strong, authoritative, invincible to outsiders.

  At last, when the suspense was becoming unbearable and the foreign princes had been kept waiting almost to the point of insult, a fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of Hatshepsut.

  In the total silence that followed the blast, she strode in with her entourage of favourite noblemen following behind.

  Stunned, the crowd momentarily forgot to fall to the ground. Every eye was opened wide, every throat expelled a gasp.

  The female Regent of the Two Lands was dressed as a male king, with ceremonial beard, short kilt, bare chest, royal collar and bracelets—and double crown.

  Men-kheper-Ra jerked with surprise and his own crown, which Hatshepsut had arranged would be too big for him, lolled forward rakishly, but did not fall. Ast bit her lip with rage. “What a spectacle!” she thought. She had always hated Hatshepsut and now she was almost pleased the woman was making a fool of herself. Surely she would be disgraced by this, and Men-kheper-Ra called to rule alone.

  But no one was protesting. No one was laughing. Each and every one was bowing to the ground as though a real pharaoh were striding through the hall.

  Behind her entourage came eight priests of Amun, carrying the holy barque mounted on cedar wood poles upon their shoulders—the golden boat containing the curtained shrine of Amun.

  This in itself was unusual. This was a civil occasion, and the god did not usually come to the throne room when civil matters were being conducted.

  Hatshepsut mounted the steps to the throne regally, but did not sit down. She turned and stood facing the crowd.

  The barque of Amun was brought to rest before her, but not lowered to the floor.

  She did not give the signal for the crowd to rise, but there was scarcely a person in the hall who did not raise his or her head enough to stare, fascinated.

  Hatshepsut gazed straight ahead at the curtained shrine.

  Suddenly three huge golden falcons appeared, apparently from nowhere, and began to circle the hall. Round and round they went, seven times, their wings raising such a wind that every garment and wig and lock of hair began to flutter. The curtain in front of the shrine was blown aside, and from within a beam of light blazed out directly onto the body of Hatshepsut. It was as though she were transformed into gold, her slight figure expanded to tower over them. The three falcons one by one alighted on the back of her throne, also illuminated by the brilliant and eerie light. A voice boomed out. It did not seem to come from anyone in the hall, not even from the shrine. It was in the air above them, vibrating like a mighty drum-roll in their hearts.

  This is my chosen one. This is the King who will return the Two Lands to my feet. Worship him, you princes, you noblemen, you farmers, servants and slaves. Write his name and his mighty deeds on everlasting stone, you scribes. Cover him with my breath of incense, you priests. Hatshepsut. Maat-ka-Ra. Horus of Pure Gold. Sovereign of the Two Lands. King of North and South. Son of the Sun. Beloved Daughter of Amun. Living in Splendour Forever.

  Men-kheper-Ra's mouth was open. What did this mean?

  The High Priest of Amun, who had all this while been waiting beside the golden barque, now stepped forward and took the crook and flail from the boy's nerveless fingers and placed them in the firm and confident hands of Hatshepsut, the man-woman standing in golden light.

  "Rise," the mysterious voice continued. "Sing the praises of your King."

  Trumpets sounded again, almost drowning the sound of scuffed feet as hundreds rose to stand bemused before the magnificent luminous figure in front of the throne. Lines of chantresses from the Temple of Hathor, shaking sistrums, came dancing into the hall, leading the people in praise songs for the new Pharaoh. In the excitement of the moment no one doubted that Horus, the Falcon god, himself had given her his blessing. In triple manifestation he spread his wings and circled above her head before he disappeared as mysteriously as he had come.

  Many in that moment saw her as sole male King, and swore allegiance to her in their hearts, forgetting Men-kheper-Ra completely. The foreign princes looked at each other surreptitiously, wondering how this turn of events would affect their lives and the relationships of their countries with Egypt. Would a woman keep such a tight rein on them? Would they be safer from Egyptian aggression? Many of them had not seen her before, and standing as she did now in that blaze of uncanny light, she seemed a force to be reckoned with. She might well be stronger alone than she had been as Regent for that boy. They looked at the faces of the men who now gathered round her at the foot of the throne steps, at the faces of the priests who carried the shrine, and most of all at the face of Hapuseneb, the First Prophet of Amun, who had actually placed the crook and flail in her hands. They were strong faces.

  Men-kheper-Ra felt foolish and frightened. What was to become of him? He turned to his mother in despair. As his eyes met hers, she forgot the danger they were in, and like an angry lioness springing to the defence of her cub, she stepped forward and accosted Hatshepsut.

  “What about my son? He is the chosen heir of Aa-kheper-en-Ra!"

  “Step back, woman,” growled one of the guards who had silently materialised
beside Hatshepsut, pointing his spear at her breast.

  “Am I to be spoken to thus,” Ast said haughtily, “the mother of the King?"

  “Mother of the heir,” Hatshepsut corrected her clearly and distinctly. “The son of Aa-kheper-en-Ra will rule at the side of my Majesty when he is a man."

  Certain of Hatshepsut's advisors had counselled that it would be safer for her to have Men-kheper-Ra put to death. But she had refused.

  Ast hesitated. She was alone. She could feel the whole mood of the crowd was for Hatshepsut, and everyone present in that hall that day had status and power. Hatshepsut had chosen the moment of her usurpation cunningly and well. She had already proved to be a popular and able regent, so now her claim for greater power could not easily be faulted—let alone the effect of the supernatural dramatics! But it was unnatural, against the laws of Maat, that a woman should become a man. Surely they must see that?

  Ast looked around. The admiration and awe on every face was evident. She and her son seemed an absurd alternative to that magnificent golden being standing in the god's light.

  Well, she and her son were alive. This was Hatshepsut's moment. Theirs would come.

  She stepped back and muttered irritably to Men-kheper-Ra, as she passed him, that he should shut his mouth and straighten his shoulders.

  * * * *

  The balance of power had suddenly and dramatically changed. From being a temporary regent for a young king, Hatshepsut had become a full ruling pharaoh with Men-kheper-Ra in the role of junior partner who might or might not become full pharaoh one day. Announcements to this effect were made throughout the Two Lands so that no one, however remote from Waset, could be unaware of it.

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  Chapter 2

  When had it all started, this determination to be Pharaoh?