Chapter Twenty-Two
THEBES, EGYPT
“The situation requires attention, Your Majesty.”
The general addresses my husband, but his posture is directed toward me.
He never meets my gaze, of course: that would be a most egregious offense.
But from the square of his shoulders to the tilt of his head, I can see that he speaks only to me about the escalating situation in Kush.
How well-known is the scope and scale of my influence?
I wonder. Either way, I will be the one to fix this threat.
My husband sits at the center of the throne room, with Mother and me flanking him on smaller thrones.
Given their acrimonious past dealings, Thutmose II’s mother Mutnofret hadn’t acquiesced readily to my mother’s role as regent, never mind the explicit wishes that my father had left behind.
She’d pled with her son to install her instead of my mother, but Thutmose refused, and here we sit.
From Thutmose’s position on the dais and his imperious, immobile stature, he appears to embody the role of pharaoh.
But beneath the impossibly heavy atef and under the layers of kohl rimming his eyes, he is bored and half-asleep, waiting for this formal session to end so he can hunt.
Any spare moment amidst his religious or political or ceremonial obligations is devoted to his favorite sport.
That and visiting his other wives and his harem, when his health allows.
“I am wondering if Your Majesty would like to hear more from the general.” I prompt Thutmose II to ask the sort of question that the leader of Egypt should.
I want to be irritated with his patent lack of care about our realm and his focus on selfish pleasures, although as king that is his prerogative.
But then I think about an evening not long before Neferure was born, a moonless night when he’d elected to visit me in my chambers simply because he wanted my company.
He’d become somewhat emotional when he felt the baby kick through the sheer fabric of my tunic, a tear welling up in his eye at the notion of becoming a father.
He said that, unlike me, he hadn’t been given the time to know our father very well.
How can I be angry at him for not rising to the role of king when Father never prepared him for it?
Never really paid him any attention at all?
My husband had been raised for the easy existence of bureaucratic work and daily luxury afforded to all royal family members, not a challenging existence with demanding religious rituals, onerous political meetings and decisions, and arduous travel and festivals. As I was.
“Yes, yes,” Thutmose II says, as if he’d been about to pose that very question. “Give us a full status report on this Kush situation.”
“Your Majesty, one of the regions in the province of Kush is rebelling. We have heard rumors that they are secretly amassing forces to rise up against our military stationed there.”
“I see,” my husband says, although he doesn’t see anything. I wonder if he even understands precisely how recent our rule is in this bordering land.
“This is the region that Thutmose the First conquered only ten years ago. Is that correct, General?” I already know the answer, but I continue. “I recall that there was much rejoicing in Thebes because Kush contains a wealth of gold, ivory, and ebony.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but that rejoicing was one-sided. Factions of the Kush people are resisting Egyptian rule, and the remnants of its army are planning to attack our soldiers,” the general says, by way of educating my husband.
“What course do you recommend?” my husband asks, not bothering to mask his impatience.
The general’s eyes widen. My father would never have requested the advice of his military men. The pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt is a god on earth, and, as such, needs only consult himself and the other gods. Thutmose has made a grave error.
My mother does not turn in my direction, but in the corner of my vision, I see her eyes shift toward me. She’s taught me well the art of remaining motionless while communicating privately. Her alarm registers with me, and I know I must act.
Before news of this misstep spreads throughout the court, I say, “Thutmose the Second will, of course, confer with his fellow gods as to the wisest path.”
I think, but do not say, that I will do everything in my power to ensure that my father’s legacy stays intact. Thutmose I extended the borders of Egypt farther than any king who’d ever come before him, and I have no intention of sacrificing a single cubit.
“And only that sacred dialogue shall dictate whether he is lenient with the people of Kush, or if he will order the slaughter of those involved in this plot.” I lay out the options for my husband.
As the queen—even as the God’s Wife of Amun—I cannot express my own mind, but I can find other ways to effectuate my goals.
I hear the rustle of Thutmose II’s tunic and the gentle clanging of his gold girdle and breastplate as he shifts in his seat. Have I made him uncomfortable about his lassitude? Have I made him think? I hope so.
The hall is perfectly silent and still for a long moment—until Thutmose speaks. His voice sounds unusually authoritative. “Egypt will respond to Kush’s insolence as it would under the reign of my father. The rebellious citizens will be executed.”
The general’s expression is unchanged, but he does dare to ask, “Your Majesty, you would prefer that the insurgents be executed instead of brought to Thebes and enslaved? I just want to follow your orders precisely.”
Public enslavement is the normal course—a visible reminder to all our people that the might of the pharaoh prevails.
But it is always the prerogative of the pharaoh as god on earth, and my father often chose a merciless message.
I can recall, in vivid detail, the time Father ordered that the chief of a recalcitrant tribe be killed and his body displayed on the prow of the royal barge.
He ordered that the barge travel the length of the Egyptian Nile—back and forth—to display the body until it stunk so badly our people could smell the barge’s arrival long before they saw it.
If Thutmose II issues this edict, he will be taking the punishment further than I envisioned. But my husband has been accused of weakness so often that I must be satisfied with this show of power, however excessive, or risk an uprising much, much closer to home.
I think of Neferure, my sweet, strong baby girl, and steel myself for her.
With the rare exception of the God’s Wife of Amun, a woman’s power can only come through a man.
If my daughter is to secure a safe place in Egyptian society, then her father must be strong.
And I can see that ensuring the infallibility of Thutmose II will fall to me.
“General, are you daring to challenge the order of your pharaoh, Aakheperenre Thutmose the Second?” I ask.
For the first time since he stepped into this chamber, I see something like fear in the general’s eyes. “Of course not, Queen Hatshepsut.”
“Excellent. Then I am certain you will follow his orders—as they are also the will of the gods.”