The Double Crown: Secret Writings of the Female Pharaoh Read online

  Here endeth the tenth scroll.

  I was there that day when Her Majesty was crowned with pomp and ceremony. In fact, it is one of my earliest memories, for I was only six years old, and my father carried me upon his shoulders so that I might see over the heads of the excited crowds. “Look well,” my father said, “you may never again see the coronation festival of a great Pharaoh. That is King Ma’atkare Hatshepsut, may she live for ever.”

  A king who was a woman? Strange, I thought. Perhaps she has both beard and breasts, like Hapi. I strained my eyes, and indeed, she did have a beard firmly attached to her chin. Extraordinary! But whether she also had breasts I could not quite make out, since she wore a mantle and much jewellery. She certainly was the Pharaoh, though, since the Double Crown sat upon her head. I cheered lustily with the rest of the populace. Then I ate too many dates and was very sick.

  I never could have imagined that one day I would serve that self-same Pharaoh in the manner that I do. Nor that I might almost lose my life in saving hers. If an oracle had predicted such a thing, I would have thought it a joke, even a few years ago. Yet now I am Her Majesty’s devoted servant. And if the truth were known, I hold her in my power, for if I were to make known everything that she writes in her secret journal, she would without a doubt be in a dangerous position.

  But of course I will never do that. No, no, I would not betray her. Her Majesty trusts me. I must be worthy. And I will.

  THE ELEVENTH SCROLL

  The reign of Hatshepsut year 1

  The first serious test of my leadership and resolve came very soon in the first year of my reign. It arrived in the form of a plea for help from the Commander of the forts at Semna that overlook the Nile below the Second Cataract and are a key element in our control over the Nubians. His message was urgent: Rebels had taken the furthest fort. The slaughter had been dreadful. The other forts feared a total uprising, and the Commander had brought the garrisons of Semna East and South into the protection of the main fort, Semna West. They were being besieged, and feared that they might be attacked and overrun.

  At this time, the young Thutmose was with the priests at Heliopolis. Khani did not yet hold a high rank, and in any case, I could not expect him to lead an expedition against his own people. This was also true of Nehsi, an able general of Nubian origin. I had one seasoned officer to whom I could turn: the tough but aging old campaigner Ahmose pen-Nekhbet of el-Kab. He had served my husband and my father before him. I called him to a conference with Seni, my adviser on foreign affairs, and Hapuseneb, who as Vizier also serves as Minister of War.

  I read out the message from the Fort Commander. All present were agreed that the Nubians were testing me, and that retribution should be swift and merciless. The question was, what would be required and how soon could we be ready?

  “We have seen such uprisings before,” said Hapuseneb in a bored tone. “They rebel with the inevitability of the inundation, but they are always driven back to the wretched Kush and flee like the water receding after the flood. They seldom muster more than three to four thousand, and they do not possess war chariots such as ours.”

  “Correct.” Pen-Nekhbet eased his hip, which had been stiff ever since his last campaign, when he was seriously wounded. “But they do have archers, although they tend to be a disorganised rabble. One well-trained Egyptian division plus one squadron of chariots should more than suffice to teach them a sharp lesson.”

  I looked at Hapuseneb. “How soon can we muster a division who can depart at once? Which division is quartered here?” I knew that there is always one division in the capital, although the main body of the army resides in Memphis.

  “The Division of Amen, Majesty,” he told me. “It will take several days to muster, organise provisioning and arm them all.”

  I nodded. I knew I could depend on him to know exactly what was possible. That meant that five thousand foot soldiers and five hundred war chariots would soon be dispatched to the aid of the beleaguered soldiers at Semna. “How long will it take to reach the forts?”

  “It is a ten days’ march,” responded Pen-Nekhbet.

  “Will they be able to hold out so long?”

  “They will not be overrun,” stated Pen-Nekhbet confidently. “The fort at Semna West is a sturdy construction with bastions and towers to the landward side. On the river side steep cliffs fall down to the water. They should be able to hold it until we arrive.”

  Anger at the presumption of the rebels rose in me. Doubtless they thought that Egypt, ruled by a woman and a child, would be an easy target. That rather than fight, we would leave the soldiers holding our outposts at their mercy. That we would give up our southern dominion by default. They would discover that they were in error. I was the daughter of a great warrior Pharaoh, who had marked our northern and our southern boundaries with massive steles, one in Palestine and the other deep in Upper Nubia. Under my rule these boundaries would not shrink, not by one cubit. At the same time I was myself the divine son of Ra, and the care of this kingdom had been given into my hands. I would not fail my people. I would not.

  I lifted my chin. “In no less than five days, I will expect to depart,” I told Hapuseneb. “You will govern in my absence and ensure that all the daily rituals take place.”

  Hapuseneb was not a man who easily showed his emotions, but he looked totally astounded at my words. “Majesty!” he exclaimed. “You cannot intend to go yourself!”

  “I am Supreme Commander of the army,” I pointed out. “Who better to lead the troops?”

  “But General Pen-Nekhbet …”

  “Yes. I trust, General, that you will command one last campaign. Well, in truth it will be a punitive expedition, not all-out war. Let us not exaggerate. Can we depend on you?”

  The old soldier straightened his shoulders. “Indeed you can. But Majesty, there is no need for you … Truly, it is not … it is not appropriate …”

  “It is entirely appropriate for the Pharaoh to protect the realm,” I stated. “Also our dominions must know that we will tolerate no rebellions. And the soldiers must be heartened and inspired by the sight of their Pharaoh at the head of the host.”

  Seni was frowning disapprovingly. “Majesty, with all due respect, what do you know of a forced march through the desert? Of sleeping hard and going thirsty? Of hardships that wring the body, before even taking the field against the enemy?”

  “What do you know of childbirth?” I asked him. He blinked. “I have been wrung too,” I said. “If the men can survive, I can survive.”

  “Many will die,” said Hapuseneb, his high-pitched voice rising in agitation. “In combat. We cannot afford to lose our Pharaoh, so recently crowned, to a barbarian horde. Surely, Majesty, you do not intend to engage …”

  “I shall lead the squadron of war chariots onto the field,” I stated, “and take part in the initial onslaught by the archers. I am well trained in archery as you all know.”

  They did know, but they liked it not. Seni muttered something about a stationary target and an attacking warrior, but I ignored him. “Thereafter I shall take up a position towards the rear, from where I may still pick off some of the enemy. I am determined to do this, gentlemen. Pharaoh has spoken.”

  They were silent. Then Hapuseneb sighed. “Very well. I shall order a litter for Your Majesty …”

  “I have absolutely no intention of going to war in a litter,” I told him. “You will find me the Pharaoh’s war chariot to ride in and an able charioteer.”

  “Yes, Majesty,” conceded Hapuseneb. He made an obeisance. But his back was stiff.

  The next verbal battle I had was with Senenmut. He wanted desperately to accompany the expedition. Several scribes would of course be required, to help keep track of supplies, draw up dispatches and so forth. But I insisted that he remain in Thebes.

  “I need someone to be here whom I can trust implicitly,” I said. “There will be no coups in my absence as long as that person acts as my eyes and ears.”

&nb
sp; “But Majesty! Hapuseneb …”

  “It is precisely the priesthood that I do not altogether trust,” I said. “Remember that they have the child.”

  He nodded reluctantly. “That is true. But if you do not go at all – Majesty, you should not be doing this. It is not fitting for a woman.”

  I stated angrily: “It is my duty as the Pharaoh.”

  “Pharaoh can delegate the conduct of warfare to the generals. It has been done before, it will again. Your late husband …”

  “My late husband, may he live, was not strong. It is time to show the vassal states that Egypt has become stronger now, not weaker still. I must demonstrate my absolute resolve. Surely you understand this?” I wanted him to agree. He always did understand my heart.

  “You could be killed, and I … and … and Egypt would be bereft.”

  I looked searchingly into his dark eyes. “And you? Is that what you said?”

  “I spoke out of turn, Majesty. Please forgive your humble servant.” Yet though his words were humble, his regard remained intense. He stood erect, stiffly correct, but I sensed turmoil behind the discipline.

  How I yearned in that moment to reach out to him, to feel his arms enfold me, to be held, to be kissed, to say farewell as one would to a lover! I knew in my bones that that was also his desire. I felt my own limbs tremble. But I was Pharaoh and I could not give in. Steadily, I said: “I hereby appoint you Chief of All Works and Chief Steward of Amen, with all the rights and privileges that those positions entail.”

  That surprised him. “Majesty is good,” he said. A faint smile curled his lips. “Hapuseneb will not be pleased.”

  “Hapuseneb cannot hold all the offices in the land,” I snapped. “These appointments will give you sufficient authority to keep a check on him.”

  This appealed to Senenmut. A twinkle appeared in his eye and he relaxed somewhat. “Majesty is good,” he repeated.

  Within less than a week the Division of Amen was ready to depart. I too had been making my preparations. Hapuseneb had had the war chariot of the King brought out of storage where it had been placed when my late husband, may he live, became too ill and weak to ride in it; sadly, this was soon into his short reign.

  The small, light body of the chariot, slung between huge spoked wheels, was elegantly worked in gold and gleamed in the brilliant sunshine. The two hardy little horses that drew it tossed their heads and whinnied. Suddenly the expedition became a reality to me, and I was filled with equal parts of excitement and trepidation. Could I do this?

  Clearly my charioteer did not think so. When he reported for duty I ordered him to take me outside the city walls for training exercises. He was a short, broad-shouldered fellow named Nofru, with beetling black brows and a jagged scar across his cheek. His manner was taciturn and it was obvious that he disapproved of my intention to lead the expedition. Nor did he look forward to driving a woman into battle. He knew better than to say this, though. Instead he did his best to put me off by driving the horses hard and banking into racing turns designed to throw me off balance as I stood beside him drawing my bow. But not for nothing had I grown up with two brothers, both superb charioteers, archers and hunters; Amenmose, especially, had let me ride with him and I knew how to brace my legs and bend my knees.

  I had some young recruits gallop around the training ground holding shields with circles drawn on them so that I could practise hitting a moving target while at the same time moving myself; it was a far cry from archery as a stationary sport, at which I was accustomed to shine. At first my shots went wild. But I practised relentlessly, keeping at it for hours every day. Leather gloves protected my hands, which had else been raw. My eye had always been good and at last I was able to shoot with consistent accuracy. When I swung myself out of the chariot after the last practice session, Nofru gave a grudging nod. This was sweet praise to me.

  The morning came when the entire division mustered on a plain outside the city. I was dressed in a leather kilt, linen shirt covered in metal scales, and wore on my head the khepresh, the Pharaoh’s blue leather fighting helmet that is also a crown. I strode onto the dais where General Pen-Nekhbet and Hapuseneb already stood. The golden standard of Amen reflected the sunlight as if conveying the blessing of the God. The serried ranks of infantry, five thousand men, stretched out in three directions before me, the bronze tips of their lances catching the sun. They were flanked by the chariots, each bearing two riders, the charioteer holding the restless horses in check. It seemed to me that there was a kind of vibration in the air that intensified as I took up my position front and centre.

  “Soldiers of Khemet!” I said. I had had practice in speaking to crowds but never to such a multitude as this. I pitched my voice to carry; I was glad to note that it rang out clearly without being shrill. “You are our response to a challenge that must not go unpunished. Our southern boundary is threatened, and if we allow it to be breached with impunity, all of our enemies will take heart. This must not happen. Instead, the foul barbarians must be taught a lesson that will cause all others who might plan rebellion to give up before they even begin.

  “I stand before you today not as a woman, but as your Pharaoh, who holds the safety of Khemet unutterably dear. I know that I, and the people of Khemet, can depend absolutely on your valour and your fighting skills. No attack on our sovereignty will be tolerated! Retribution must be swift and it must be merciless. Take no prisoners! Go forth to glory!”

  Ringing cheers swept across the plain. I stepped down from the dais and mounted my chariot, ready to fall in behind the Shock Troops, those battle-hardened veterans who bore the initial brunt of any onslaught and who would lead the march as they would lead the first attack. Of course, mounted scouts had already departed. Pen-Nekhbet would also ride; time was when he would have marched with his men, but his stiff hip precluded that. Close to us would march the Braves of the King, an elite group who had also seen much of war. Then the thousands of infantry, the least experienced bringing up the rear, followed by mules bearing tents and extra supplies. Riding in the vanguard of this military caravan gave me a heady feeling of exhilaration.

  As the day wore on, I soon realised that battle dress was not the appropriate wear for a march across the desert, and I changed my metal-covered tunic for a thin linen shirt and set the blue helmet aside for the cloth nemset crown.

  This was a different world from the Black Land, lying fertile and lush along the river banks; it was the desert, the Red Land, governed by Seth. Harsh and hostile to men. Indeed, it began to seem as if almighty Ra himself had become our enemy, for the sun blazed upon us mercilessly, as though determined to bake our very bones and grind us into dust. Onward and onward our wheels rolled; my eyes stung and watered and I chewed on grit. But not a word of complaint escaped my lips. I had undertaken to do this thing and do it I would. In this manner my warrior father had ridden forth to battle many a time; in this manner my brothers would have gone out to face the enemy; so too my husband, may he live, had his strength been greater. Now it was left to me. And I would conquer.

  Our route took us across the sandy plains between the mountains and the Nile. Looking back over my shoulder at the undulating line of grimly marching men, I was suddenly struck by how small we all appeared in contrast to the tremendous rock formations rearing above us. How many times, I wondered, had these towering cliffs witnessed bands of soldiers bent upon destruction? How many of them had watered the desert with their life’s blood, never to return? How many of these sons of Khemet was I leading to their doom? But I did my utmost to push aside such thoughts.

  When at last we made camp near the river I was almost too stiff to dismount from the chariot and stumble to my tent. My attendant brought buckets of water to bathe me and massaged my weary limbs with unguents, but although I was exhausted, sleep was slow to come. I lay upon my cot shivering under the woollen covers, for the night air had suddenly turned sharply chill, listening to the crunch of my guards’ footsteps outside the tent and
wondering whether the gods were with us. Surely they must be, I thought, for right was on our side and the priests had assured me that the departure date augured well. At length I slept.

  So the march continued, day after day, one punishing royal cubit after another, and the sun leached the breath and strength from us all. At times it seemed to me that I had died and entered the Netherworld, the dread Duat, and having failed the tests of righteousness, had been condemned by the tribunal of the gods to traverse that fearsome world for evermore.

  Yet at long last we neared our destination. The forts of East and West Semna were built to command the river, for they sat on cliffs where the Nile, narrowly constricted, passes through a region of hard rock. The North-South road also passes through West Semna, so that the Commander can control land traffic as well. It was late afternoon when we came up to a rocky ridge, some distance from where the main fort lies.

  General Pen-Nekhbet came with the battalion commanders to confer with me. “The enemy are encamped on the other side of that ridge,” the general said tersely. “Our scouts report that they guard the road on both sides of the main fort, allowing none to pass, either in or out. I would suggest, Majesty, that we dispatch the Shock Troops, a thousand veterans and two hundred chariots to circle around under cover of darkness; then, when the first light breaks, we fall upon them from the north and south at the same time.”