The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh (30 page)

“General Nehsi,” I said. Nehsi has ever been one of my sturdiest supporters, a man of open mind and adventurous character. I was sure that he would see it as a challenge. Furthermore I considered it possible that the inhabitants of that distant land might understand the language of Nubia rather than ours. “He will exact tribute from the natives to admit their allegiance to their distant King Ma’atkare. What say you, General?”

“I say we essay forth,” he answered. “I will search the records for details that might aid us. If we cannot find the fabled land – well, then we must return empty-handed. But let us try.”

“You will not fail,” I stated positively. “The God has spoken.”

The planning was set in train and an order was placed for five large ocean-going ships. They were built, equipped and provisioned in the space of four months. As usual, my devoted Senenmut played a prominent part in ensuring that this was swiftly and efficiently done.

In fact, one evening when he arrived at the palace to share some wine with me on the cool portico, he begged me to send him.

“Let me lead the expedition to Punt,” said Senenmut, his eyes shining. “I can do it. Nehsi can command the troops, but I would be the leader.”

“It is not necessary,” I told him. “Nehsi can command all perfectly well. Why should you wish to leave Thebes?”

“It is the challenge of a lifetime,” he said excitedly as he strode to and fro. “To seek a land that may not even exist! To make a journey no man living has ever made before!” He gestured widely across the rose garden. “Majesty, I beg of you …”

“I cannot spare you,” I objected. “The temple must be completed in the interim.”

“But, Majesty – it is far advanced, another overseer could complete it. To travel to parts unknown … I have dreamed of it, I have desired it above all else! It has been the dream of my life – Majesty, you have heard me say it!”

“Yes, I have,” I admitted reluctantly. “But without you, the men would grow lazy. Problems would loom large and none would see a way to solve them.”

“I could leave detailed instructions, complete plans, there are men who could oversee the final stages as well as I. Amenhotep, for example, he is a younger scribe who …”

“It would not do. Without your authority, matters will undoubtedly stall. Hapuseneb would tie up the funds. You know he would. And then he would find a way to place the blame on you.”

Senenmut folded his arms across his chest and glared at me.

“It will not be done without you, and you know it,” I said.

“I am building your dream,” he said, in a low, shaking voice. “I am causing your dream to take shape, to become real, to stand against the Theban rock until the water clocks run dry, to show to the ages that Hatshepsut was King and she did live. I eat and drink and sleep with building dust and grit so that your dream may happen. But mine! But mine! You cannot … you will not …”

“I cannot spare you from the building,” I told him. “But even if arrangements could be made, I could not let you go, not so far away, not for years, not on a journey that might never bring you home! Do you not see?” I was trembling.

He took two strides towards me and stopped. He stared intently into my eyes.

I held his gaze. In those wordless moments, much was communicated, and much understood.

At length he said, with a sigh: “I am Your Majesty’s faithful servant to command. As ever.”

“I depend on you, Senenmut,” I said.

The day the ships set forth was one of great festivity. They were seen off with marching bands playing loud music, hordes of well-wishers throwing flowers, and ringing cheers. Offerings were made to the divinities of the air to ensure a fair wind and a safe passage. The plan was for them to sail north down the Nile and then to pass through an ancient canal leading from the eastern delta that connected the Nile with the Eastern Sea. I had ordered the canal to be cleared out by work teams sent ahead as soon as the plans had been made final. Once through the canal, the ships would hug the coast, sailing in a southerly direction, searching for the land that I for one was certain they would reach. Now all we could do was wait.

Here endeth the sixteenth scroll.                      

I was a young scribe then, working with Senenmut on the building of the great temple. Some of the men thought it was a strange design that would not look as imposing as the kind usually favoured by the Pharaohs. But I thought we were working on a masterpiece, and indeed, when the completed temple stood in its fragrant garden against those dramatic cliffs, it was evident that it is superb. Men have thought that nothing could ever compare with the pyramids, but my opinion is that Her Majesty’s temple is as exceptional, if in a different way.

Of course, the temple serves a dual purpose, which the pyramids do not. Those structures are self-sufficient, monumental royal tombs, each a burial place for one Pharaoh, surrounded by sumptuous pyramid complexes all intended to provide for the Pharaoh’s ease and comfort in the Afterlife. King Hatshepsut, together with Senenmut, devised an innovative approach: She attached her own mortuary chapel to a temple of the gods.

She will not be buried in the temple, however. Her tomb – the one she plans to share with her late father, the Pharaoh Thutmose the First, may he live – is located in the mountain behind the temple, to be reached by way of the valley where the entrance to the tomb lies hidden. Her mortuary chapel is not in the central axis of the temple, as one might have expected; King Hatshepsut seldom does what one might expect. Her chapel was placed behind the south colonnade of the upper court. It contains a hall where offerings will be made to sustain the Ka of the deceased King. The central axis of the temple leads to a shrine for Amen, Her Majesty’s heavenly father, and his shrine was dug into the depths of the Theban rock.

There are further sanctuaries and shrines to various gods, such as Anubis and Hathor; there is a dark and secret shrine for the worship of Osiris, and an open solar complex for the worship of the sun god Ra. It has a small open courtyard and a monumental altar, positioned so that ceremonies may be conducted facing the rising sun. Then of course there are chapels for the royal family. Her Majesty honoured her royal father, may he live. So the temple serves multiple purposes and in many ways it is different from anything anyone has ever seen.

However, the strangest element, the one that is truly extraordinary, is the inclusion of images of Senenmut. There are more than sixty – I know, I have counted them – small images of Senenmut, some kneeling, others standing with outstretched arms, concealed within the temple. They are cleverly placed where they would be hidden by open doors of shrines or niches for statues, and they are accompanied by short inscriptions stating that he is engaged in worshipping both the god Amen and King Hatshepsut.

Of course there are images of the royal family throughout the temple, in the form of statues and painted reliefs. There is a beautiful relief, for example, of Her Majesty’s daughter Neferure depicted with Her Majesty’s little sister Neferubity, who also died young. They are shown wearing diadems, jewellery and girdles and nothing else. But to allow images of a person who was not royal, nor even nobly born – a mere commoner – in a sacred space: how could that be? It was completely and utterly unheard of. There was much gossip among the workmen about this. Some of them even made the scurrilous suggestion that the royal children were not so royal at all … springing not from the seed of Pharaoh Thutmose, but from that of an upstart scribe.

But I do not believe it. As I have written, there were so few chances for those two to be alone together. And I believe Her Majesty to be faithful in nature; she would not have cheated on her husband in such a way. Above all, she values the blood royal, and she reveres the Double Throne. No, no, it could not be.

I have my own thoughts about the images of Senenmut. Her Majesty loved the scribe as she loved no-one else in all her life. I have always thought so, and now that I am reading her private journal (I confess to feeling some shame about this, yet I cannot resist it), I see that I am right. I think Her Majesty knew that in this life they could never be together; but perhaps, if she could ensure eternal life for both of them, and ensure that his Ka would be closely associated with hers, then maybe they could be together in the Afterlife. I may be quite wrong – it could just be that she wished to reward what was truly extraordinary devotion and service. But I think I am correct. Yes, yes, I do believe so.

THE SEVENTEENTH SCROLL

The reign of Hatshepsut year 20:
The first month of Shomu day 30

We are blessed with a good harvest this year. I have been able, at the new moon, to cut the first sheaf of wheat with the ceremonial scythe, and everyone is labouring mightily to assist the farmers in bringing in the harvest. The tax collectors are busy and our stores will be replenished, so I can be at ease about that.

However, I am not happy about Bek, my little dwarf, who was attacked while spying for me. Since then, he has been very quiet and downcast. His legs have healed, a tribute to the skill of the young physician Minhotep, who set them well. He is able to walk almost without a limp. But after a few poor attempts at entertaining me, he appears to have given up. He does not seem to want to do anything; he just sits and stares at his toes. Never makes a joke nor even tries to juggle. Only Yunit can sometimes make him smile, and then it is but a poor imitation of his broad grin that used to light up my days when he came bouncing in to ask me riddles.

Yunit grows ever larger with child. This Bek is proud of, as one can clearly see when she sits close to him and he gently strokes her swollen belly.

Yesterday he came to show me a cradle he had fashioned from olive wood, on a matching cart with a handle and small wheels.

“See, Majesty, the cradle is a low one, and it has rockers. So that Yunit can easily reach in, and also rock the babe while sitting down,” he explained. “And it fits onto the cart, so that she can pull it around.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Beautiful and practical. How clever of you. Are you hoping for a son, Bek?”

“Either, Majesty,” said Bek. “But it would be good if Khnum could fashion a child with proper legs.”

Perhaps, when the child comes, it will cheer him – indeed, cheer them both. He lies heavy on my heart.

It further troubles me that I do not hear from Khani. It seems that he was wounded in a skirmish, but surely by this time he is sufficiently recovered to write to me. I miss his regular visits and his dependable reports. Of course, I do have men in my employ whose job it is to keep me informed of everything that may happen across the land: officials, tax collectors, scribes … and Ibana. Yet I do not trust him. He does not serve my interests, only his own; should he sense weakness in me, he will find a new master very soon. No, I have always placed more trust in those whose loyalty to me is personal. Such a one as Khani. I would trust him with my life. But why do I hear nothing from him? Even if he has been ill, he should be well enough now to send me a letter. It disturbs me. As I have written, we always keep in touch. He could send me letters and reports by courier, so why does he not do this?

I have kept letters that he wrote to me while he was in training in Memphis. Reading them now, I am still impressed by his youthful enthusiasm and his devotion to Khemet. Unrolling one of those papyrus scrolls, I am transported back these eighteen years.

Letter from Khani to Her Majesty:
The reign of Hatshepsut year 2