Daughter of the Gods (40 page)

H
atshepsut was one of the greatest rulers during the Golden Age of Egypt’s New Kingdom, but her memory was almost lost to history during a concerted campaign to erase every image and reference to her as pharaoh. The real story of Hatshepsut’s life was one of the great mysteries in Egyptology for many years, as historians struggled to reconcile why various monuments around Luxor included her name and the title Great Royal Wife, yet other obscure monuments (such as the pinnacles of toppled obelisks) bore this woman’s name with references to a male pharaoh. Added to the mystery were the many likenesses and cartouches in temples like Karnak and Deir el-Bahri of an unknown pharaoh that had been removed in antiquity. Finally, Egyptologists realized they had found a case of a woman successfully ruling Egypt as pharaoh, but, for some reason, someone shortly after her rule had tried to erase her memory. Now the only question they had to answer was why.

The most common response was that Hatshepsut’s stepson (and nephew) Tutmose III, had sought revenge against her for usurping his throne and therefore tried to erase her reign from Egypt’s king lists. However, later archaeological digs uncovered evidence that the destruction of her monuments took place at the very end of Tutmose’s reign, hardly the act of a young man bent on revenge. Instead, it is most likely that Hatshepsut’s rule as a female pharaoh was seen as an aberration not to be repeated, and one that needed to be erased from the historical record. Shortly thereafter came a new discovery: Hatshepsut’s mummy. A thorough investigation of the body revealed that Hatshepsut died of natural causes (she was not murdered by Tutmose III, as had been speculated) when she was close to fifty. She was balding, extremely obese, and suffered from a variety of ailments, including a cancerous tumor in her pelvis, osteoporosis, and arthritis.

Although most of the characters and major events in the story did take place, this is a work of fiction, and, thus, I took a few liberties within the frameworks of what is documented in the historical record. I am deeply indebted to Joyce Tyldesley’s excellent biography
Hatchepsut: The Female Pharaoh
and Janet Buttles’
The Queens of Egypt.
One of my first tasks was to make sense of the many tongue-twisting and similar names of the gods, goddesses, and courtiers during Hatshepsut’s time. Hatshepsut’s father, brother, and stepson were all known as Thutmose; I tweaked the spellings for the sake of clarity and ease of reading. I did the same for Aset and the goddess Isis, as both were known as Aset during Egyptian times, but the Greeks then changed the name to Isis.

Mensah was not a real courtier in Hatshepsut’s court, and while we don’t know what made Hatshepsut seize the throne seven years after becoming regent, it is possible that there was some sort of internal coup. The names of the worst criminals in ancient Egypt were obliterated, so if someone like Mensah did exist, his story is now lost to history.

Speculation is rife regarding Hatshepsut’s relationship with Senenmut, but there is evidence pointing to their possible romantic involvement. While we will never know the truth with any certainty, the romantic in me has always believed they were lovers. Senenmut appears in many out-of-the-way places in the temple of Deir el-Bahri, he received more titles than any commoner in Egypt’s history, and there is also a tomb graffito that is commonly assumed to depict Hatshepsut and Senenmut in a rather compromising position. The causes of Neferure’s and Senenmut’s deaths are also unrecorded, but both likely predeceased Hatshepsut by many years. Thus, the pieces of Hatshepsut’s life always seemed to be a tragedy to me; after ushering Egypt into its golden age, she witnessed the death of her only daughter and then her lover, only to die later and have her memory almost wiped from Egypt’s history.

Many people leave their imprint on a book, and this novel has been touched by a small village. I owe my early readers a debt of gratitude for their invaluable feedback: Julie Barry (who deserves a medal of bravery) for being my very first reader; Cindy Davis, Kristi Senden, and Merle Askeland for all their feedback over enchiladas; Shannon O’Donnell, Lessa Host, Amalia Dillin, and Joshua McCune for not suggesting I use early versions of the story to line birdcages; Janet Reid for giving me a well-deserved smack upside the head; Gary Corby for his patience and query regarding why there was no evil priest in the story; and Renee Yancy and Jade Timms for helping me whip the story into shape.

To my wonderful agent, Marlene Stringer, for her excitement over my fascination with obscure women from ancient history; and to my superhuman editor, Ellen Edwards, for making this story better than I ever could have written it alone.

And to my friends and family: Megan Williams, Claire Torbensen, and Eugenia Merrifield for their constant cheerleading over lunch; Dad, Daine, and Hollie for their never-ending well of enthusiasm; and especially Stephen and Isabella for putting up with this five-year roller-coaster ride. I promise not to drag you through the Valley of the Kings during midday in August again anytime soon.

Finally, to my mother, Kristin Louise Crowley, who read countless stories to me when I was a little girl, but never had a chance to read any of my books. This one is for you.

Stephanie Thornton
is a writer and history teacher who has been obsessed with infamous women from ancient history since she was twelve. She lives with her husband and daughter in Alaska, where she is at work on her next novel.

A CONVERSATION WITH

STEPHANIE THORNTON

Q. This is the second novel you’ve written about the “forgotten women of history.” Why did you choose Hatshepsut? What do you think makes her extraordinary?

A. The historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich once wrote, “Well-behaved women seldom make history,” and, from my perspective, that’s totally true. Hatshepsut broke the mold of established history, arguably becoming the world’s first successful female ruler. Before her, women had worn Egypt’s crown, but their reigns were short-lived and always necessitated by the lack of a suitable male pharaoh. Hatshepsut ruled as regent for seven years, usurped the throne from her stepson for unknown reasons, and then went on to reign over Egypt’s Golden Age. She left impressive monuments scattered throughout her country, organized one of Egypt’s greatest trade expeditions, and may have had a rather steamy affair with a commoner. Nothing about her was expected or mundane, and no queen of Egypt—and few male pharaohs—successfully wielded as much power as she did. In fact, the list of women who managed to do so even in the millennia after her death is a short one.

Q. Reading Hatshepsut’s story, I’m struck by the continuity of ancient Egyptian civilization, which lasted for three thousand years and was already ancient when Hatshepsut took the throne. Is there any other comparable civilization, in length and sophistication, in human history? What made ancient Egypt so stable?

A. The Chinese actually win the award for the longest-running continuous civilization because they were never fully conquered, and much of their culture and traditions can still be traced back to ancient times. Chinese civilization has lasted more than five thousand years, while Egypt was conquered by ancient Rome more than two thousand years ago.

That said, ancient Egypt was the most stable of all the ancient civilizations because of one geological gift: the Nile. While the Tigris, Euphrates, and Indus rivers were all unpredictable, the Nile flooded fairly reliably every year. The Egyptians even invented Nilometers—a series of steps marked with measurements—in order to predict how much the river would flood and to determine the time of harvest. The Egyptian government had two major collapses in its history before finally falling to Rome, but the Nile continued to feed the people, allowing their civilization to continue.

Q. Are any particular Egyptologists associated with the gradual acceptance that Hatshepsut was a female pharaoh? Were there noteworthy and exciting archeological discoveries made along the way?

A. Some early Egyptologists slandered Hatshepsut’s reign as unnatural, especially considering her constant depictions as a man, but historian Édouard Naville (1844–1926) was a staunch supporter of the female pharaoh. At the turn of the twentieth century he wrote that it was because Hatshepsut had passed such a stable nation on to Tutmose III that he was able to expand the empire, becoming a sort of Napoleon of ancient Egypt. Naville also posited the theory that Hatshepsut’s monuments weren’t destroyed by Tutmose III until the end of his reign, rendering unlikely all the hypotheses that Hatshepsut’s stepson had sought revenge and possibly even had killed his stepmother.

Probably the most exciting archaeological discovery in Hatshepsut’s saga was the recovery of her mummy in 2007. Howard Carter (1874–1939), the famed Egyptologist who discovered King Tut’s tomb, had excavated KV60 in 1903, but because the undecorated tomb held only two female mummies, he left them there (one on the ground), and resealed the tomb. More recently, Dr. Zahi Hawass decided to search for Egypt’s female pharaoh and, among others, turned to the possible candidates in KV60. Very few objects from Hatshepsut’s tomb exist to this day, but a sealed wooden box bearing her cartouche was x-rayed and found to contain a molar. After scanning all the possible mummy candidates, experts found that the mummy of the obese woman on the ground was missing the exact same molar. The tooth and the hole left behind were a perfect match, thus making way for the very rare, and very exciting, identification of a 3,500-year-old royal mummy.

Q. The novel gives us a good idea of what life was like for highborn women. What was it like for women who were commoners?

A. Compared to other ancient civilizations, women in Egypt had a substantial number of rights, many of which weren’t granted to Western women until more modern history. By law, ancient Egyptian women were seen as equal to men, and could take part in court cases as jury members or as plaintiffs, own land, and initiate divorces. Upper-class women tended to remain home to manage their households, but most Egyptians during this time were farmers, and, as such, a wife worked in the fields alongside her husband. However, women could also own their own businesses as merchants, midwives, mourners, or doctors, and the temples often employed them as acrobats, singers, and priestesses.

Q. Senenmut’s rise from humble beginnings to the nobility is almost as impressive as Hatshepsut’s becoming pharaoh. What do we know from the historical record about the real Senenmut?

A. Senenmut’s early life remains a bit murky, but we do know that he was born to a large family in Iuny and quickly worked his way up the ranks as an efficient bureaucrat. The key to Senenmut’s rise is that he was educated. Few people in ancient Egypt could read and write, and therefore they were unable to advance themselves as he did.

While Senenmut almost certainly served under Hatshepsut’s father and/or brother, it is during her time as regent and pharaoh that his meteoric rise occurred. Hatshepsut heaped titles upon him, ranging in importance from Steward of the God’s Wife to Overseer of Amun’s Gardens, and, my favorite, the Superintendent of the Royal Bedroom. Senenmut gained enough titles and riches to rebury his parents in grand style and to build himself not one, but two tombs, including one with an impressive astronomical ceiling. As the Overseer of the Works at Djeser-Djeseru, he was also allowed the high honor of building a tomb within the sacred confines of the temple grounds and linking his name to Hatshepsut’s. There is no mention of a wife or children in either of his tombs, leading historians to believe he never married. Approximately twenty-five statues of Senenmut exist today, but, unfortunately, his sarcophagus was destroyed in antiquity, and his mummy has never been found.

Q. The idea of siblings marrying each other as Hatshepsut and Thut do, is, of course, very strange to us. It goes against some of our strongest cultural taboos. Can you explain the Egyptians’ thinking about incest? When did this practice begin to fall out of favor?

A. Contrary to popular belief, ordinary Egyptians didn’t engage in incest on a regular basis. (This can be a bit confusing, as their love poetry uses the terms
brother
and
sister
when addressing their lovers.) However, in order to secure the ruling dynasty and keep the crown in the family, incest was a common practice among royalty. Brothers typically married their sisters, and, as squeamish as it makes us, fathers even occasionally married daughters. When the royal family ran out of men, as happened after King Tut’s death, the new male pharaoh often married into the royal family. The practice of royal incest continued well past Hatshepsut’s dynasty, as Cleopatra VII married two of her prepubescent brothers before getting tangled up with Caesar and Marc Antony.

Q. The years during which Hatshepsut reigned were particularly peaceful and prosperous. How do they compare to the reigns of other rulers during that time? Would it be misleading to suggest that as a woman, she was less interested in expanding her kingdom through war and acquisition and more interested in building a healthy, vibrant civilization at home?

A. Hatshepsut and her family dominate any list of famous rulers of the fifteenth century BC. Ancient Greece was barely getting started, and Mesopotamia was already waning. Egypt’s Eighteenth Dynasty is considered the start of the civilization’s Golden Age, leading to the Nineteenth Dynasty of Amenhotep III, King Tutankhamen (who didn’t do much while alive, but had a really great tomb), Seti I, and Ramesses II.

Hatshepsut’s reign is bookended by both her father’s and stepson’s extensive military campaigns and, therefore, she’s often portrayed as a peace-loving queen intent on developing trade routes and initiating building campaigns. However, her treasurer, Ti, and other court officials recorded on their tombs that she was seen in a campaign in Nubia collecting hands from the enemy dead for the official casualty count. Granted, this may have been propaganda, but it’s interesting to realize that, like Queen Elizabeth I of England, Hatshepsut may have been willing to wage war for the good of her country.

Q. Hatshepsut sends an expedition to the ancient land of Punt. Do we know where that would be in modern-day terms?

A. The location of the land of Punt, or “Land of the Gods,” is still debated by historians, but most Egyptologists agree that it was roughly where Somalia lies today. Expeditions from Egypt were sent to the famed land of gold and frankincense as far back as almost 2,500 BC
,
but Hatshepsut’s trip is the most famous, mostly because she recorded it in great detail on her temple walls at Djeser-Djeseru. The roots and trunks of the myrrh trees that she planted in the forecourt of her mortuary temple remain to this day.

Q. What would you like readers to most take away from the novel?

A. My goal in writing this book was to breathe life into Hatshepsut’s story. Her name isn’t as famous as Cleopatra’s or even Nefertiti’s, but, to me, she did so much more for Egypt and for history than either of those women. I hope people enjoy reading about this passionate and determined woman, and learning about her many accomplishments.

Q. In your research, have you come across exceptional women whom you have decided not to write about, but whom readers might want to investigate on their own?

A. I’ve been struck numerous times by the parallels between Hatshepsut and Queen Elizabeth I of England. Both women were seen as unlikely candidates for their country’s thrones, both conducted military campaigns to secure their borders, and both ushered in golden ages for their nations. In addition, I’ve always been intrigued by Elizabeth’s possible relationship with Sir Robert Dudley, a similar situation to that of Hatshepsut and Senenmut. I can’t resist a good romance!

Q. What famous woman are you writing about next?

A. I’m currently writing about the very complicated and almost entirely unknown wife and daughters of Genghis Khan. These women were able administrators who fought tirelessly for their kingdoms while Genghis’ sons spent their time waging war and getting drunk (only one of his sons wasn’t a confirmed alcoholic), but because they were women, they were subsequently cut from much of Mongolian history. It’s time the world saw how ruthless and talented those amazing women were, almost more so than the great Khan himself.