PENGUIN

BOOKS
HATCHEPSUT

Joyce Ann Tyldesley was born in Bolton, Lancashire. She gained a first-
class honours degree in archaeology from Liverpool University in 1981
and a doctorate from Oxford University in 1986. She is now Honorary
Research Fellow at the School of Archaeology, Classics and Oriental
Studies at Liverpool University, and a freelance writer and lecturer on
Egyptian archaeology. Her books, which are published by Penguin,
include Daughters of Isis: Women of Ancient Eygpt, Hatchepsut: The Female
Pharaoh, Nefertiti and Ramesses: Egypt's Greatest Pharaoh.
 By the same author
DAUGHTERS OF ISIS
 HATCHEPSUT

THE FEMALE PHARAOH

JOYCE TYLDESLEY

PENGUIN BOOKS
 PENGUIN BOOKS

Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
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www.penguin.com

First published by Viking 1996

Published in Penguin Books 1998

16
Copyright © J. A. Tyldesley, 1996
All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted Except in the United States of America, this book
is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold,
hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or
cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser ISBN: 978-0-14-192934-7
For William Jack Snape
 Contents

List of Plates
List of Figures
List of Maps and Chronologies
Acknowledgements

Introduction
1 Backdrop: Egypt in the Early Eighteenth Dynasty
2 A Strong Family: The Tuthmosides
3 Queen of Egypt
4 King of Egypt
5 War and Peace
6 Propaganda in Stone
7 Senenmut: Greatest of the Great
8 The End and the Aftermath

Notes
Further Reading
Index
 Plates

1 The Temple of Amen at Karnak. (Werner Foreman Archive)

2 The Valley of the Kings.
3 Hatchepsut as king offering before the barque of Amen. (Block from
the Chapelle Rouge, Open-Air Museum, Karnak)
4 The God Amen. (Cairo Museum garden)
5 Seated statue of Hatchepsut from Djeser-Djeseru showing the king with
a female body and male accessories. (The Metropolitan Museum of
Art, New York, Rogers Fund and Edward Harkness Gift, 1929
[29.3.2])
6 The near-identical figures for King Hatchepsut and King Tuthmosis
III, Hatchepsut in front. (Block from the Chapelle Rouge, Open-Air
Museum, Karnak)
7 Scene showing the gods crowning King Hatchepsut, which had been
attacked in antiquity.
8 Head of Hatchepsut. (Cairo Museum)
9 Granite statue of Hatchepsut. (Open-Air Museum, Karnak)
10 Red granite sphinx of Hatchepsut. (The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
New York, Rogers Fund, 1931 [31.3.166])
11 The standing obelisk of Hatchepsut at the heart of the Temple of
Amen, Karnak. (Werner Foreman Archive)
12 a and b Djeser-Djeseru.
13 Senenmut and the Princess Neferure. (Cairo Museum and British
Museum)
14 Senenmut and Neferure. (Cairo Museum)
15 Osiride head of Hatchepsut. (Cairo Museum)
16 The carefully erased image of Hatchepsut. (Temple of Amen, Karnak)
17 Tuthmosis III. (Luxor Museum)
 Figures

Chapter 1

1.1 The cartouche of King Sekenenre Tao II

1.2 The cartouche of King Kamose
1.3 The cartouche of King Ahmose
1.4 Old and New Kingdom soldiers (after Wilkinson, J. G., 1853, The
Ancient Egyptians: their life and customs, London, Figs 297, 300)
1.5 The god Amen (after Sharpe, S., 1859, The History of Egypt, London,
Fig. 94)
1.6 The goddess Mut (after Seton-Williams, V. and Stocks, P., 1983, Blue
Guide, Egypt, London and New York, p. 48)

Chapter 2

2.1 King Ahmose and his grandmother, Queen Tetisheri (after Ayrton, E.
R., Currelly, C. T. and Weigall, A. E. P., 1903, Abydos III, London,
Plate LII)
2.2 The god Osiris (after Sharpe, S., 1859, The History of Egypt, London,
Fig. 106)
2.3 The god Horus (after Sharpe, S., 1859, The History of Egypt, London,
Fig. 108)
2.4 The cartouche of King Amenhotep I
2.5 The cartouche of King Tuthmosis I

Chapter 3

3.1 The infant Hatchepsut being suckled by the goddess Hathor (after
Naville, E., 1896, The Temple of Deir el-Bahari, 2, London, Plate LIII)
3.2 A hippopotamus hunter (after Wilkinson, J. G., 1853, The Ancient
Egyptians: their life and customs, London, Fig. 253)
3.3 The cartouche of King Tuthmosis II
3.4 Tuthmosis II (after Naville, E., 1906, The Temple of Deir el-Bahari, 5,
 London, Plate CXXXV)
3.5 Plan of Hatchepsut's first tomb (after Carter, H., 1917, A Tomb
prepared for Queen Hatshepsuit and other recent discoveries at
Thebes, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 4, Plate 20)

Chapter 4

4.1 The cartouche of King Maatkare Hatchepsut

4.2 The pregnant Queen Ahmose is led to the birthing bower (after
Naville, E., 1896, The Temple of Deir el-Bahari, 2, London, Plate XLIX)
4.3 The infant Hatchepsut in the arms of a divine nurse (after Naville, E.,
1896, The Temple of Deir el-Bahari, 2, London, Plate LIII)
4.4 Hatchepsut and Amen on a block from the Chapelle Rouge
4.5 Plan of Hatchepsut's king's tomb (after Davis, T. M., ed., 1906, The
Tomb of Hatshopsitu, London, Plate 8)
4.6 The goddess Isis from the sarcophagus of Hatchepsut

Chapter 5

5.1 Hatchepsut as a man (after Naville, E., 1908, The Temple of Deir el-
Bahari, 6, London, Plate CLVII)
5.2 Tree being transported from Punt (after Naville, E., 1898, The Temple
of Deir el-Bahari, 3, London, Plate LXXIV)
5.3 House on stilts, Punt (after Naville, E., 1898, The Temple of Deir el-
Bahari, 3, London, Plate LXIX)
5.4 The obese queen of Punt (after Naville, E., 1898, The Temple of Deir
el-Bahari, 3, London, Plate LXIX)
5.5 Ape from Punt (after Naville, E., 1898, The Temple of Deir el-Bahari,
3, London, Plate LXXVI)
5.6 Tuthmosis III offers before the barque of Amen (after Naville, E.,
1898, The Temple of Deir el-Bahari, 3, London, Plate LXXXII)

Chapter 6

6.1 Plan of the Speos Artemidos (after Fairman, H. W. and Grdseloff, B.,
1947, Texts of Hatshepsut and Sethos I inside Speos Artemidos,
 Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 33, Fig. 1)
6.2 Reconstruction of the Amen temple at Karnak during the reign of
Hatchepsut
6.3 Plan of Djeser-Djeseru
6.4 Hatchepsut being suckled by the goddess Hathor in the form of a
cow (after Davis, T.M., ed., 1906, The Tomb of Hatshopsitu, London,
Plate 58)
6.5 Hathor in her anthropoid form (after Sharpe, S., 1859, The History of
Egypt, London, Fig. 101)

Chapter 7

7.1 The damaged figure of Senenmut from Tomb 353 (after Dorman, P.
F, 1991, The Tombs of Senenmut, New York, Plate 81)
7.2 Sketch-portrait of Senenmut from the wall of Tomb 353
7.3 Hatchepsut and Senenmut? Crude graffito from a Deir el-Bahri tomb
(after Manniche, L., 1977, Some Aspects of Ancient Egyptian Sexual
Life, Acta Orientalia 38, Fig. 4)
7.4 Senenmut worshipping at Djeser-Djeseru
7.5 Plan and reconstruction of the façade of Tomb 71 (based on Dorman,
P. F., 1991, The Tombs of Senenmut, New York, Plates 4a and 4c)
7.6 Plan of Tomb 353 (after Dorman, P. F., 1991, The Tombs of Senenmut,
New York, Plate 51c)

Chapter 8

8.1 The cartouche of King Tuthmosis III

8.2 Tuthmosis III being suckled by the tree-goddess Isis (after Stevenson
Smith, W, revised by W. K. Simpson, 1981, The Art and Architecture of
Ancient Egypt, New Haven and London, Plate 257)
8.3 Tuthmosis III and his mother Isis, boating through the Underworld
(after Stevenson Smith, W, revised by W. K. Simpson, 1981, The Art
and Architecture of Ancient Egypt, New Haven and London, Plate 257)
8.4 The High Priestess of Amen-Re, Hatchepsut (after Budge, E.A.W.,
1902, Egypt and her Asiatic Empire, London, Fig. 3)
 Maps and Chronologies

Maps
Chronologies
The Tuthmoside Family Tree
Historical Events
 Acknowledgements

Many people have helped with the preparation of this book, and I would
like to express my gratitude to all concerned. First and foremost I must
thank my husband, Steven Snape, for his unflagging support,
encouragement and cooking. Thanks are also due to Eleo Gordon and
Sheila Watson who gave practical advice whenever needed, to Bill
Tyldesley who provided translations from German sources, and to the
members of the Liverpool University S.E.S. photography department, Ian
Qualtrough and Suzanne Yee, who produced photographic prints at
lightning speed. Plates 5 and 10 are published by kind permission of the
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
 Introduction

My command stands firm like the mountains, and the sun's disk shines and spreads rays over the
titulary of my august person, and my falcon rises high above the kingly banner unto all eternity.1

Queen or, as she would prefer to be remembered, King Hatchepsut ruled

18th Dynasty Egypt for over twenty years. Her story is that of a
remarkable woman. Born the eldest daughter of King Tuthmosis I,
married to her half-brother Tuthmosis II, and guardian of her young
stepson–nephew Tuthmosis III, Hatchepsut somehow managed to defy
tradition and establish herself on the divine throne of the pharaohs.
From this time onwards Hatchepsut became the female embodiment of a
male role, uniquely depicted both as a conventional woman and as a
man, dressed in male clothing, carrying male accessories and even
sporting the traditional pharaoh's false beard. Her reign, a carefully
balanced period of internal peace, foreign exploration and monumental
building, was in all respects – except one obvious one – a conventional
New Kingdom regime; Egypt prospered under her rule. However, after
Hatchepsut's death, a serious attempt was made to delete her name and
image from the history of Egypt. Hatchepsut's monuments were either
destroyed or usurped, her portraits were vandalized and her rule was
omitted from the official king lists until only the historian Manetho
preserved the memory of a female monarch named Amense or Amensis
as the fifth sovereign of the 18th Dynasty.

Had Hatchepsut been born a man, her lengthy rule would almost
certainly be remembered for its achievements: its stable government,
successful trade missions and the impressive architectural advances
which include the construction of the Deir el-Bahri temple on the west
bank of the Nile at Luxor, a building which is still widely regarded as
one of the most beautiful in the world. Instead, Hatchepsut's gender has
become her most important characteristic and almost all references to
her reign have concentrated not on her policies but on the personal
relationships and power struggles which many historians have felt able
to detect within the claustrophobic early 18th Dynasty Theban royal
family. Two interlinked questions arise again and again, dominating all
accounts of Hatchepsut's life: What made a hitherto conventional queen
decide to become a king? And how, in a highly conservative and male-
dominated society, was she able to achieve her goal with such apparent
ease?
It has generally been allowed that the answer to these riddles must be
sought in the character of the woman herself. However, this is where all
agreement ends as the identical and rather limited set of facts has
suggested radically diverse images of the same woman to different
observers, to the extent that a casual reader browsing along a shelf of
egyptology books might be forgiven for assuming that Hatchepsut
suffered from a seriously split personality. Egyptologists, normally the
most dry and cautious of observers, have been only too happy to allow
their own feelings to intervene in their telling of Hatchepsut's tale and,
more particularly, in their interpretation of the motives underlying her
deeds. These feelings have tended to coincide with the beliefs common
to a generation, so we find egyptologists at the turn of the century,
unaware of the complexities of the Tuthmoside succession and
accustomed to the idea of successful female rule personified by Queen
Victoria, happy to accept Hatchepsut's own propaganda. To these
champions Hatchepsut was a valid monarch, an experienced and well-
meaning woman who ruled amicably alongside her young stepson,
steering her country through twenty peaceful, prosperous years.

Though unmentioned in the Egyptian king lists, [she] as much deserves to be commemorated
among the great monarchs of Egypt as any king or queen who ever sat on its throne during the
18th Dynasty.2

As a woman who ‘did not fall below the standard of the rest of the 18th
Dynasty… [having given] early evidence of her capacity to reign’,3
Hatchepsut ‘naturally undertook the rule of Egypt, and we are quite
justified in saying that the interests of the country suffered in no way
through being in her hands’.4 In summary:

… though she has never been considered as a legitimate sovereign, and though she has left us no
account of great conquests, her government must have been at once strong and enlightened, for
when her nephew Tuthmosis III succeeded her, the country was sufficiently powerful and rich to
allow him to venture not only on the building of great edifices, but on a succession of wars of
conquests which gave him, among all the kings of Egypt, a pre-eminent claim to the title of ‘the
Great’.5

By the 1960s, knowledge of early 18th Dynasty history had increased,

the climate of opinion had changed, and Hatchepsut had been
transformed into the archetypal wicked stepmother familiar from the
popular films Snow White and Cinderella. She was now an unnatural and
scheming woman ‘of the most virile character’,6 and one who would
deliberately abuse a position of trust to steal the throne from a
defenceless child, thereby cutting short the reign one of Egypt's most
successful pharaohs, Tuthmosis III. Hatchepsut was a bad-tempered,
‘shrewd, ambitious and unscrupulous woman [who soon] showed herself
in her true colours’.7 Her foreign policy – the direct result of her weaker
sex – was quite simply a disaster and:

her reign is marked by a halt in the policy of conquests started by Ahmose and so splendidly
followed by his three successors… [Hatchepsut] was too busy with the internal difficulties which
she herself had created by her ambition to interest herself in the affairs of Asia.8

With the growing realization that Hatchepsut, a flesh-and-blood woman

rather than a one-dimensional storybook character, cannot be simply
classified as either ‘good’ or ‘bad’, most of these more extreme reactions
have been abandoned. However, they have left their mark on the pages
of the more popular histories and a significant number of chronicles of
18th Dynasty court life continue to uphold the tradition of the great
Tuthmoside family feud. While it is very difficult for any biographer to
remain entirely impartial about his or her subject, I am attempting to
provide the non-specialist reader with an objective and unbiased account
of the life and times of King Hatchepsut, gathered from the researches of
those egyptologists who have spent years studying, sometimes in minute
detail, the individual threads of evidence which, when woven together,
form the tapestry of her reign. It is left for the reader to decide on the
rights or wrongs of her actions. However, it will almost immediately
become apparent that Hatchepsut's story unravels to become three
interlinked stories: the history of the king and her immediate family, the
history of Hatchepsut's memory after her death, and the equally
fascinating tale of those who have since studied and interpreted her. It is
impossible to study one without making reference to the others, and I
have made no attempt to separate the three.

Writing about the public King Hatchepsut has proved to be something of

an exercise in detection, as all too often the archaeological record throws
up enough clues to intrigue Hercule Poirot while modestly withholding
the final piece of evidence needed to prove or disprove a particular
theory. Nevertheless, despite the fact that there are huge gaps in our
knowledge, the monuments which testify to her achievements and the
propaganda texts written to explain her actions do provide us with the
evidence needed to reconstruct at least a partial history of Hatchepsut's
reign. The private woman – Hatchepsut as daughter, wife and mother –
has been far more difficult to reach as we are lacking almost all the
intimate details which can help a historical character come alive to the
modern reader. Hatchepsut lived in a literate age, but belonged to a
society which did not believe in keeping personal written records. The
contemporary records which have been preserved are almost invariably
official documents which, by their very nature, rarely express private
opinions. We have no intimate letters written to, by or about Hatchepsut
and no diaries or memoirs to provide us with a glimpse of early 18th
Dynasty court life; we cannot even be sure of Hatchepsut's actual
appearance, as all her portraits are formal works of art designed to
depict the ideal of the divine Egyptian pharaoh. The real Hatchepsut,
therefore, remains something of an enigma, although if we look hard
enough at her relationships with the daughter whom she clearly loved
and the father whom she adored, or if we consider her obvious need to
explain her actions and justify her unusual rule whenever possible, we
may feel ourselves able to detect a more complex and less secure
personality hidden behind the façade of the mighty king.
This lack of more intimate information perhaps explains in part why
Cleopatra VII, a transient and far less successful but infinitely better
documented queen of Egypt, has attracted the attention of biographers
from the time of her death onwards while Hatchepsut has been virtually
ignored by all but the most devoted of specialists. Similarly Queen
Nefertiti, short-lived consort to an unconventional king, has, on the basis
of one remarkable portrait-head, become immortal, her name
synonymous with Egyptian beauty throughout the western world.
Hatchepsut herself would almost certainly approve of our inability to pry
into her private affairs. All Egyptian kings aspired to conform to the
accepted stereotype, and she was no exception. She had no wish to be
remembered merely for her sex, which she regarded as an irrelevance;
she had demanded – and for a brief time won - the right to be ranked as
an equal amongst the pharaohs.

Hatchepsut was a member of the close-knit Theban royal family, a

family which had struggled to unite Egypt at the end of the Second
Intermediate Period and whose reigns straddled the artificial division
between the 17th and 18th Dynasties. To understand the motivation of
this family – its fierce militarism, its promotion of the new state god
Amen and its liberal treatment of royal women – it is necessary to delve
further back, to the period when, for a century, Egypt had been a
fragmented country partially ruled by foreigners. Hatchepsut needs to be
studied within her own context, and I make no apology for the fact that
Egyptian history takes up most of Chapters 1 and 2. Hatchepsut herself
was deeply aware of – some might even say obsessed by – her country's
recent past, and her reign is characterized by a burning desire to re-
create the splendours of the 12th Dynasty, a golden age when Egypt had
prospered under a succession of strong kings.
Hatchepsut was by no means the only king of Egypt to attempt to
replicate the glories of the past. To the Egyptians, always a highly
conservative people, stability and continuity were vitally important signs
that all was well within their world. History, correctly interpreted to
show Egypt and her rulers in the best possible light, provided an
idealized blueprint for the present, so that any pharaoh who could be
seen to be emulating the successes of his illustrious predecessors became
by definition a good monarch. Although the early 18th Dynasty was a
time of architectural, artistic, theological and technological advances,
New Kingdom Egypt remained tied to Middle and Old Kingdom Egypt by
an unparalleled continuity of language, religion and
artistic/architectural convention, and by the idiosyncratic Egyptian view
of the world, and the position of Egypt, her people and her gods within
that world, which had remained basically unchanged for over a
thousand years. The 18th Dynasty monarchs therefore felt the need not
only to emulate the physical deeds of their predecessors but also to
replicate – on as grand a scale as possible – their rituals, paintings,
sculpture and architecture, all of which had become generally accepted
as the true and, indeed, the only way of doing things. Throughout her
reign Hatchepsut, more than any other New Kingdom pharaoh, stressed
the validity of her rule by linking it with both selective aspects of the
past – albeit a past reinvented to fit neatly with contemporary concerns
– and with the state religion. Thus she was able to justify her unique
position to the people, increasing their confidence in her unusual reign.
The Dynastic Period lasted from the beginning of the 1st Dynasty in
approximately 3000 BC to the end of the 31st Dynasty in 332 BC.
Throughout this period of well over two thousand years, it remained a
fundamental principle of religious belief that there should always be a
pharaoh, or king, on the throne of Egypt. The modern word pharaoh is a
metonymy which has evolved from the Egyptian words per-a'a, literally
‘great house’, a term which was used by the Egyptians when referring to
their monarch in much the same way that the modern British refer to
‘the Crown’ or ‘a statement from the Palace’, and contemporary
Americans speak about ‘the White House’. (The words king and pharaoh
are used interchangeably throughout this book to avoid stylistic
monotony.) Usually there was only one male, native-born king of Egypt
at any given time, although occasionally some chose to share their
power with a co-regent, and on at least four separate occasions a woman
rather than a man officially held the reins of power. During the three
decentralized Intermediate Periods there were often two or more
contemporary kings ruling over the various regions of the temporarily
fragmented country; some of these kings were foreigners who were
prepared to abandon their own cultural identity and adopt the
traditional pharaoh's regalia in order to conform to the accepted
stereotype of an Egyptian king. The king was a necessity. He may not
always have been popular with his contemporaries, and indeed a few
kings were even assassinated, but these unfortunate individuals were
immediately replaced by a new king and there was never any move to
establish any other form of government in Egypt.

In the west we have grown used to the idea of the figurehead monarch
as nominal head of state; the present Queen of England, for example,
remains the theoretical head of both secular and religious life in Britain,
although her actual powers are fairly minimal and her existence is in no
way vital to the functioning of her country. The abolition of the
monarchy and the establishment of a republic would have very little real
effect on the day-to-day lives of the majority of the British people. In
ancient Egypt, however, things were very different. The pharaoh was
accepted without question as an absolute ruler who owned both the land
and its people. He was entitled to demand that his subjects worked for
him as and when he liked, and the people were bound to serve their
master in whatever way he required. At any time the pharaoh could call
upon his subjects to abandon their daily tasks and participate in labour-
intensive royal projects such as the building of a public monument, for
which ignominious and physically demanding work they were paid only
subsistence rations. Only the educated upper classes, and those wealthy
enough to pay substantial bribes, could hope to avoid this hated
conscripted labour.
The pharaoh in turn held some responsibilities towards his subjects. As
head of the civil service and the judiciary, it was his duty to ensure that
the country functioned efficiently: that taxes were collected from the
primary producers, surplus food was stored against possible famine,
irrigation canals were excavated, building projects were completed and
law and order were maintained throughout the land. The king ran the
country with the help of a relatively small band of bureaucrats and
advisers selected from the élite educated classes, many of whom were his
close relations, and his word was law. As head of the armed forces the
pharaoh was also responsible for ensuring that Egypt remained at all
times safe from foreign invaders. It was the king who planned military
campaigns and who protected Egypt's borders, and it was the king who
personally led the Egyptian troops into battle.
However, the pharaoh was no mere administrator or politician – any
competent bureaucrat could have performed that function. Indeed, the
king of Egypt was no simple human; he had a dual personality. Although
he was obviously a mortal, born to a mortal mother, who could suffer
joys, misfortunes and sickness like any other Egyptian, when in his
official persona the pharaoh was recognized to be the holder of a divine
office, an ex-officio god on earth. This divinity was inherited along with
his title on the death of his predecessor, when the old king became
associated with the dead god of the Afterlife, Osiris, and the new king
became linked with the living deities Re, the sun god, and Horus, the
falcon-headed son of Osiris. His newly acquired divine status separated
the king from his subjects and allowed him to speak directly to the
Egyptian pantheon, forming a vital link between the humble people and
the divine gods and goddesses who controlled their destiny. As the only
Egyptian able to communicate effectively with the gods, the king
became chief priest of all religious cults; it was the king who took
responsibility for ensuring that the gods were served in the appropriate
manner. In return the gods agreed to guarantee the prosperity of the
land and its people. It was this divine aspect of his role which ensured
that the pharaoh became indispensable to his people. Egypt simply could
not flourish without a king on the throne.
The lack of a legitimate pharaoh was a clear sign that the gods were
displeased, and that maat was absent from the land. Maat, a word which
may be translated literally as ‘justice’ or ‘truth’, was the term used by the
Egyptians to describe an abstract concept representing the ideal state of
the universe and everyone in it; the status quo, or correct order, which
had been established by the gods at the time of creation and which had
to be maintained to placate the gods, but which was always under threat
from malevolent outside influences seeking to bring chaos and
disruption (or isfet) to Egypt. Modern historians have struggled to find
the words which provide an adequate explanation of this concept of
‘rightness’ or ‘the proper way of doing things’; perhaps David O'Connor
has come closest to reaching the original meaning of the term when he
defines maat as:

The appropriate arrangement of the universe and human affairs – an effort to summarize the
Egyptian world-view in coherent, mythic form. Centuries old by the time of the New Kingdom,
the concept of maat was a crystallization of a myriad of religious and secular ideas, and its
continuity depended upon their continuity; nevertheless, its very existence as a formalized
statement of Egyptian beliefs helped to perpetuate the ideas and attitudes on which it was
based.9

Uncontrolled chaos was dreaded more than anything else and a kingless
period, which was by definition a maat-less period, was therefore
something to be avoided at all costs. Times when maat was understood
to be absent from Egypt, such as the kingless Intermediate Periods, were
cited as awful comparatives designed to stress the virtues of more
orthodox times; in the pessimistic and much exaggerated late Middle
Kingdom text known as the Admonitions of Ipuwer, for example, we are
told how ‘merriment has ceased and is made no more, and groaning is
throughout the land… the land is left to its weakness like a cutting of
flax’;10 a clear and deliberate contrast to the peaceful and orderly late
12th Dynasty when the text was composed. More awful offences against
maat, such as attempted regicide, were simply omitted from the
historical record. Such was the power of the written word that by
excluding all mention of a specific deed from a text the deed itself could
be understood not to have occurred.
The office of the divine king was itself an integral part of the concept
of maat, with the king taking personal responsibility for the maintenance
of maat throughout the land; it was the duty of the pharaoh to preserve
maat for the somewhat temperamental gods of Egypt. Throughout the
dynastic age, the concept of maat and the divine nature of the kingship
naturally served to reinforce the position of the royal family. By ensuring
that the powers and rights of the pharaoh could not be openly
questioned without posing a threat to the security of the country (that is,
without threatening the presence of maat) the ruling élite remained
securely at the top of the social pyramid, while the lower classes
continued to labour unquestioningly for the good of the state, and the
educated middle classes remained both too dependent on the crown and
too bound by the customs that they revered to challenge this traditional
allocation of resources.
It is, therefore, not too surprising to find individual pharaohs
exploiting the concept of maat to their own particular advantage, using
it to reinforce their own right to rule and to justify any action which
might otherwise have proved unacceptable or questionable to the highly
conservative Egyptians. Hatchepsut, whose unusual succession may itself
have been interpreted by some as an offence against maat, instigated a
vigorous domestic policy designed to prove beyond any reasonable
doubt that maat was firmly established throughout Egypt: her large-scale
building programme, obvious devotion to the cult of Amen, successful
trading missions and restoration of the monuments which had been
destroyed by the Hyksos invaders during the maat-less Intermediate
Period, were all actions calculated to demonstrate the presence of
prosperity, law and order. Her people could see that the gods, happy
with the new regime, were allowing Egypt to flourish, and the tradition
of non-interference with the status quo helped to maintain Hatchepsut on
her throne.

Archaeological evidence of necessity plays a large part in our

reconstruction of ancient Egypt. The shortfalls of the Egyptian
archaeological record are by now well known, but they are worth
repeating at this point as they have a direct effect on our reconstruction
of Egyptian society. Throughout their history, the dynastic Egyptians
took the view that, while their temples and tombs should be built to last
for ever, their homes, palaces and workplaces were merely temporary
structures and should be designed as such. The temples and tombs were
either constructed of stone or cut into rock, while less important
buildings were built of mud-brick, which was cheap, readily available,
easy to work and well suited to the dry Egyptian climate. Unfortunately,
while the stone structures have survived relatively intact, the mud-brick
villages, towns and cities have crumbled away, collapsing to form
mounds of fertile soil that, until the Egyptian government introduced
protective legislation, were exploited by local peasant farmers ignorant
of their archaeological value. The whole situation has been made even
worse by the damp conditions in the Nile floodplain and the Nile Delta,
which have hastened the destruction of the mud-brick structures so that
the few ancient domestic sites which have survived intact are the
atypical purpose-built towns situated away from the damp of the
cultivation. The surviving archaeological evidence is therefore strongly
biased towards religion and death; we have, for example, two tombs,
three sarcophagi and several temples built by Hatchepsut, but little trace
of the palaces where she lived her life. Overall, we are left with the
misleading impression that the Egyptians were a depressingly gloomy
and morbid race.
The history of archaeological excavation in Egypt has also had a direct
effect upon our understanding of that country's past. The tendency of
early egyptologists to seek out and excavate the more prestigious burial
sites, often acting as little more than glorified treasure hunters and grave
robbers, has certainly added to the funerary and religious bias in our
evidence. Over the past fifty years, with the introduction of more
scientific methods of excavation and recording, modern egyptologists
have grown to realize just how much valuable evidence was overlooked
and even destroyed by their colleagues in the undignified rush to be first
to reach the precious ‘treasure’. Even the new generation of scholarly
excavators, working to the standards of their day, was capable of
inadvertently distorting the archaeological record: when, in 1894,
Edouard Naville criticized Auguste Mariette's habit of dumping spoil
close to the Deir el-Bahri temple where ‘it sometimes resulted in his
covering important sites with earth or sand, and thus led to his
overlooking discoveries to which he himself would have attached high
value’, 11 he was not to know that some thirty years later an American
team led by Herbert E. Winlock would discover a vast number of broken
statues of King Hatchepsut directly underneath Naville's own carefully
planned spoil heap.
Many of the most productive archaeological expeditions at the turn of
the century were funded by wealthy westerners, both individuals and
institutions, who were rewarded for their generosity by a share in the
finds. This has caused its own problems as valuable collections were
routinely split up and dispersed throughout the museums of Egypt,
Europe and America. The statuary of Hatchepsut, whose sites have
generally been funded by Americans, can now be far better studied in
the Metropolitan Museum of New York than in the museums of Luxor or
Cairo. While this has almost certainly led to the preservation and display
of objects which might otherwise have been condemned to languish in
the storerooms of Egypt's over-full museums, it does pose logistical
problems for the impoverished student of Hatchepsut-abilia. Hatchepsut
herself suffered badly from the fact that the tomb of Tutankhamen, a
relatively insignificant king whose burial chamber was stuffed with
golden objects, was discovered in 1922, diverting attention away from
equally valuable but less obviously exciting work which was just starting
at the Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple. From 1922 onwards Tutankhamen
entered the public imagination as the instantly recognized symbol of
ancient Egypt, and any less spectacular discoveries were generally
classified as worthy but dull.

The written evidence used in the reconstruction of Egyptian history

comes from two main sources: the formal monumental inscriptions
carved or painted on the temple and tomb walls, and the more informal
prayers, administrative records, stories and love poems preserved on
papyrus and on broken pieces of pottery or limestone chips now known
as ostraca (singular ostracon). Again, this evidence needs to be
approached with an appropriate degree of caution; we should never lose
sight of the fact that the written record is incomplete, randomly selected,
and carries its own biases. The monumental inscriptions, for example,
are basically a mixture of religious and propaganda texts which tell the
story that the king him-or herself wished to convey, and which cannot
be taken as the literal truth. The translators of these inscriptions are
faced with problems not just of accuracy but of interpretation; even the
most scrupulous of scholars is aware that he or she is likely to read a
text through the lens of personal feelings. Nevertheless, and in spite of
its obvious drawbacks, this type of evidence, taken in conjunction with
the archaeological data and enlivened by the writings of contemporary
and later visitors to Egypt, can provide modern historians with an
invaluable glimpse into the life of ancient Egypt.

Those unfamiliar with Egyptian history are often puzzled by the use of
dynasties and individual regnal years to date events. Rather than
providing a specific calendar date, such as 1458 BC, egyptologists will
refer to Hatchepsut's regnal Year 21, while her reign is itself counted as
part of the early 18th Dynasty of the New Kingdom of the dynastic age.
This is done not to confuse but to ensure the greatest possible accuracy.
We know, for example, that Hatchepsut ruled for twenty-two years, but
her precise calendar dates are less certain, and various experts have
suggested differing time-spans for her reign (for example, 1504–1482 BC
1490/88–1468 BC; 1479–1457 BC; 1473–1458 BC). The practice of
referring to regnal years, followed throughout this book, avoids the
complications engendered by this multiplicity of suggested but unproven
calendar dates.
The Egyptians divided their year into twelve months of 30 days plus 5
additional days each year, giving an annual total of 365 days. The
months in turn were grouped into three seasons based on the
agricultural cycle: inundation, spring and summer. However, there was
no ancient equivalent of our modern calendar, and year numbers started
afresh with every new reign. In order to be sure of their own history, the
Egyptian scribes were forced to maintain long chronological lists
detailing successive monarchs and their reigns. Fortunately, enough of
these so-called king lists have survived to allow us to reconstruct Egypt's
past with a fair degree of accuracy. The work of the Egyptian priest and
historian Manetho has provided useful corroborative evidence. Manetho,
working in approximately 300 BC, compiled a detailed history of the
kings of Egypt. This original work is now lost, but fragments have been
preserved in the writings of Josephus (AD 70), Africanus (early third
century AD), Eusebius (early fourth century AD) and Syncellus (c. AD 800).
These preserved extracts do not always agree, and the names given are
often wildly incorrect, but students of Egyptian history still acknowledge
a huge debt to Manetho, the ‘Father of Egyptian History’. It was Manetho
who first divided the various reigns into dynasties, and it was Manetho
who preserved the memory, if not the actual name, of King Hatchepsut.
Another potential source of confusion is the profusion of slightly
different personal names attributed by various authors to the same place
or person, particularly when older sources are being quoted. Hatchepsut,
for example, is also variously referred to as Hatasu, Hashepsowe,
Hatshopsitu, Hatshepsut and Hatshepsuit; her father Dhutmose or
Thutmose is now more commonly known by the Greek version of his
name, Tuthmosis, and the state gods Amen and Re are often rendered as
Amun and Ra. Some authorities have devised their own exclusive
variants. Sir Alan Gardiner, for example, consistently uses Pwene in
place of the more widely accepted Punt, while Naville, Buttles and other
turn-of-the-century egyptologists reverse Hatchepsut's throne-name
Maatkare to read as Kamara. Unfortunately for modern readers, the
ancient Egyptians wrote their hieroglyphic texts with no weak vowels
and with an assortment of consonants not found in our modern alphabet,
so the correct pronunciation of any Egyptian name must be a matter of
educated guesswork. Throughout this book, the most simple and widely
accepted version of each proper name has been used, all diacritical
marks have been omitted, and the names included in citations within the
text have been, as far as possible, standardized in an effort to avoid an
unnecessary and confusing muddle for the non-specialist reader.
 1
Backdrop: Egypt in the Early Eighteenth Dynasty

I have raised up what was dismembered, even from the first time when the Asiatics were in Avaris
of the North Land, with roving hordes in the midst of them overthrowing what had been made; they
ruled without Re…1

Princess Hatchepsut was born into the early 18th Dynasty, at a time
when the newly united Egypt was still reeling from the ignominy of
seeing foreign kings seated on the divine throne of the pharaohs.
Although the 18th Dynasty was to develop into a period of
unprecedented Egyptian prosperity, the deep humiliation of a hundred
years of Hyksos rule and the widespread civil unrest of the Second
Intermediate Period were never fully forgotten, and a concern with
replicating the halcyon days of the Old and Middle Kingdoms – and in
particular the glorious 12th Dynasty – became a constant underlying
theme of early 18th Dynasty political life.

The 12th Dynasty had represented a truly golden age. Recovering from a
somewhat shaky start which included the assassination of its founder,
Amenemhat I, there had followed almost two hundred years of internal
peace and stability which are now widely regarded as forming one of the
classical periods of Egyptian civilization. Throughout the dynasty a
succession of strong pharaohs ruled over a united land from the new
capital of Itj-Tawy (a northern city lying somewhere between the Old
Kingdom capital of Memphis and the mouth of the Faiyum), their
position as absolute rulers greatly strengthened by a well-planned series
of civil service reforms aimed at restricting the power of the wealthy
nobles who, after the local autonomy of the First Intermediate Period,
might otherwise have been tempted to establish their own independent
local dynasties. Twelfth Dynasty foreign policy was as successful as it
was adventurous, and trade and diplomatic links were established with
both the Aegean and the Near East as Egypt abandoned her traditional
insularity and started to play a more prominent role in the
Mediterranean world. There were intrepid expeditions, including a
mission to the fabulous land of Punt, and significant military conquests
as a new aggressive attitude towards the south pushed Egypt's boundary
further into Nubia. Within Egypt's newly strengthened borders the
eastern desert was exploited for its natural resources which included
gold, the Sinai was mined for turquoise and copper and the Faiyum was
developed for agriculture through a series of innovative irrigation
techniques.
A combination of increasing Egyptian wealth, foreign stimulation and
political stability throughout the Middle Kingdom allowed the arts to
flourish. This was to become the period of classical Egyptian language
and literature when many of the best-known texts, inscriptions and
narrative stories were composed. The writings of the Old Kingdom had
been brief, formal and very self-conscious in style. Middle Kingdom
compositions are both longer and far more fluent; the autobiographies2
recorded on the walls of the private tombs are simultaneously more
informative and more imaginative than their Old Kingdom counterparts
while the instructive texts, or Instructions in Wisdom, show a new realism
in their desire to stress the chaos poised to overwhelm Egypt in the
absence of a strong king. However, it is for the development of narrative
fiction that the Middle Kingdom literature is most justly celebrated. The
Satire of the Trades, The Story of the Eloquent Peasant, The Tale of the
Shipwrecked Sailor and The Story of Sinuhe all date to this period,
allowing us to trace the evolution of the genre from simple action-
packed adventures taken straight from the oral tradition (for example,
The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor – a Boys' Own-style tale of shipwreck
and adventure including a fabulous snake-like creature) to more
thought-provoking tales told in an increasingly more sophisticated blend
of styles (for example, The Story of Sinuhe – the fictional autobiography
of a nobleman exiled from Egypt and longing for home).3
Artists and sculptors were quick to reflect the new mood of combined
nostalgia and realism and their work, while still based on the traditional
and highly formalized style of the Old Kingdom, demonstrates a
willingness to portray subjects as individuals rather than stereotypes.
The royal sculptors now felt themselves free to depict a more human
pharaoh; when we look at the portrait heads of the 12th Dynasty kings
Senwosret III and Amenemhat III we see strong, serious and somewhat
weary men striving to conduct their divine role with regal severity, a
marked contrast to the more serene and remote all-powerful god-kings of
the Old Kingdom. At the same time the range of private sculpture
expanded as ordinary individuals started to be represented in a variety
of innovative forms rather than the limited range of statues found in Old
Kingdom tombs. Few royal paintings have survived from the Middle
Kingdom but the private tombs of Beni Hassan vibrate with colourful life
as representations of wrestling, warfare and dancing now join the more
restrained scenes found in Old Kingdom tombs.
Large-scale building projects recommenced during the 12th Dynasty,
with the form of the pyramid being re-adopted as a means of emulating
the Old Kingdom precedent and emphasizing the status of the king and
his connection with the sun god, Re. However, there was now to be no
single public building on the grand scale of the Giza pyramids. Instead of
following their royal predecessors and concentrating their efforts on one
solitary mortuary monument, the monarchs of the Middle Kingdom
decided to spread their resources rather more widely. The extent to
which these kings were willing to construct stone additions to existing
mud-brick temples in the provinces is unclear because of the extensive
re-modelling which occurred during the 18th Dynasty, but the evidence,
where it survives, suggests a construction programme which extended
the royal monopoly of stone buildings to the furthest corners of the most
distant Egyptian provinces. Unfortunately, many important temples from
this period were deliberately destroyed so that their precious stone
blocks could be re-used in later buildings, and our knowledge of 12th
Dynasty architecture is consequently sadly restricted. Our best-known
example is the White Chapel of Senwosret I. This beautiful building,
which demonstrates a thorough mastery of stone-working techniques
including some impressive relief carving, had been dismantled and used
as part of the filling of a pylon built by the New Kingdom Pharaoh
Amenhotep III at Karnak. After painstaking reconstruction it is now
restored to its former glories and is on permanent display in the Open-
Air Museum at Karnak.

All good things must come to an end. Eventually the royal family, which
had until now provided one of the longest continuous lines ever to rule
Egypt, found itself without a male heir to the throne. Amenemhat IV, the
final king of the 12th Dynasty, was therefore of necessity succeeded by
his sister or half-sister Sobeknofru, who ruled as Queen of Upper and
Lower Egypt for three years, ten months and twenty-four days before
dying a natural death in office. With her death came the end of her
dynasty. Although there was, in theory, nothing to prevent a woman
from becoming pharaoh and, indeed, there appears to have been no
opposition to Sobeknofru assuming this role – although any unsuccessful
opposition would, of course, be difficult for us to detect – such an
obvious departure from royal tradition was a sure sign that something
was very wrong within the royal family, and Sobeknofru's reign is now
generally interpreted as a brave but doomed attempt to prolong a dying
royal line. An alternative view, that she must have seized the crown as
the result of a vicious family quarrel, is now largely discredited on the
grounds of lack of evidence. The fact that Sobeknofru's name was
included on the Sakkara king list may be taken as a good indication that
her reign was acceptable both to her people and to the historians who
preserved her memory.
Sobeknofru was succeeded by an unrelated king, and the 13th Dynasty
started to follow very much in the tradition of the 12th. However, no
strong royal family was established and there was little apparent
continuity between the monarchs traditionally assigned to this period.
Instead, a succession of short-lived kings and their increasingly powerful
viziers reigned over a slowly fragmenting Egypt, and the country
gradually disintegrated into a loose association of semi-independent city
states. A series of freak Nile floods at this time, and the resulting strain
on the Egyptian economy, must have seemed a very bad omen; the
regular rise and fall of the Nile was taken as a general sign that all was
well within Egypt and the 13th Dynasty rulers must have been
unpleasantly reminded of the very low floods which had heralded the
collapse of the Old Kingdom. They would have done well to heed the
omen. The end of the 13th Dynasty saw the ‘official’ end of the Middle
Kingdom and the beginning of the Second Intermediate Period
(Dynasties 14 to 17), a badly recorded phase of national disunity and
foreign rule sandwiched between the well-documented stability of the
Middle and New Kingdoms.

Tutimaios. In his reign, for what cause I know not, a blast of god smote us; and unexpectedly
from the regions of the east invaders of obscure race marched in confidence of victory against
our land… Their race as a whole was called Hyksos, that is ‘king-shepherds’, for Hyk in the
sacred language means ‘king’ and sos in common speech is ‘shepherd’.4

Throughout the Middle Kingdom there had been a persistent influx of

‘Asiatic’ migrants from the east, Semitic peoples who were attracted by
Egypt's growing prosperity and who were themselves being pressured
westwards by immigrants from further east; this was a time of
population shifts throughout the entire Eastern Mediterranean region.
The new arrivals were accepted by the locals and merged peacefully into
the existing towns and villages of northern Egypt.5 During the 13th
Dynasty, however, these groups started to form significant and partially
independent communities in the Nile Delta. At the same time the
previously emasculated local rulers were gradually gaining in power as
national unity began to crumble. Slowly the country resolved itself into
three mutually distrustful regions, each ruled concurrently by different
dynasties. The Nubian kingdom of Kerma developed in the extreme
south, a small group of independent Egyptians controlled southern Egypt
from Thebes (17th Dynasty), and the north was ruled by a group of
Palestinian invaders known as the Hyksos (15th Dynasty) and their
Palestinian vassals (16th Dynasty).6

It was the Hyksos invaders who made the deepest impression on the
historical record, ruling over northern Egypt for over a hundred years
and taking the eastern Delta town of Avaris (a corruption of the Egyptian
name Hwt W'rt, literally ‘The Great Mansion’ or ‘Mansion of the
Administration’, modern Tell ed-Daba) as their capital. To the south the
native-born Theban rulers remained independent and relationships
between north and south were initially peaceful, if distrustful; the
southern kings were able to lease grazing land from their Hyksos
neighbours and there is even some evidence to suggest that Herit, a
daughter of the final Hyksos king, Apophis, may have married into the
Theban royal family. The Hyksos were certainly on good terms with the
Nubian rulers of Kerma, to the extent that the same Apophis, towards
the end of his 33-year reign and no longer on such friendly terms with
his immediate neighbours, felt free to urge the Nubians to invade the
Theban kingdom in order to distract the Theban army and so protect his
own position in the north. A letter written by Apophis to the King of
Kush and fortuitously intercepted by troops loyal to the Theban King
Kamose, details his plotting:
… Have you [not] beheld what Egypt has done against me… He [Kamose] choosing the two
lands to devastate them, my land and yours, and he has destroyed them. Come, fare north at
once, do not be timid. See, he is here with me… I will not let him go until you have arrived.7

Egyptian legend as typified by Manetho regards the Hyksos as an

uncivilized, brutal band of invaders and their reign as a dark, never-to-
be-repeated period of chaos and mayhem:

… By main force they [the Hyksos] easily seized [Egypt] without striking a blow, and having
overpowered the rulers of the land, they then burned our cities ruthlessly, razed to the ground
the temples of the gods, and treated all the natives with a cruel hostility, massacring some and
leading into slavery the wives and children of others…8

This lament is, to a large extent, merely the conventional expression of

horror at the realization that despised and culturally inferior foreigners
could actually conquer the mighty Egypt. Exaggeration was an accepted
and even expected component of historical narrative and the Egyptians
saw no harm in re-interpreting their own past as and when necessary.
The deeply held belief that their land could only flourish under a
divinely appointed Egyptian pharaoh was certainly strong enough to
distort the historical record in this instance. Archaeological evidence,
less obviously biased, makes it clear that the hated Hyksos, far from
inflicting barbaric foreign practices on their new subjects, made a
determined effort to adapt themselves to the customs of their adopted
country. The new rulers retained a few of their own traditions:
architectural styles and pottery forms now show a distinct Near Eastern
influence, the war goddess Anath or Astarte was quickly absorbed into
the Egyptian pantheon as ‘Lady of Heaven’ and her consort, the Egyptian
god Seth, became the chief deity. However, in most other respects the
Hyksos surrendered their own identity as, with the zeal of new converts,
they immersed themselves in Egyptian culture, adopting hieroglyphic
writing, embellishing local temples, copying Middle Kingdom artforms,
manufacturing scarabs and even transforming themselves into Egyptian-
style pharaohs by taking names compounded with ‘Re’, the name of the
Egyptian sun god. Far from bringing economic disaster to Egypt, their
lands were governed efficiently, making good use of the Middle Kingdom
administrative framework which was already in place, and native-born
Egyptian bureaucrats worked willingly alongside their new masters to
ensure that the Delta region prospered under their rule. The long-term
material advantages of the brief interlude of foreign rule now seem very
obvious. Under Hyksos rule, Egypt rapidly lost much of her traditional
isolation as trading and diplomatic links were established with a wide
range of Near Eastern kingdoms, and the resulting flood of exotic and
practical imports both stimulated the economy and inspired the Egyptian
artists and artisans. Egypt benefited from the introduction of new bronze
working and pottery and weaving techniques; there were exciting new
food crops to be tested, and even a previously unknown breed of
humped-back cattle. Most important of all was the Hyksos contribution
to Egypt's traditional military equipment; it was their improvements,
combined with the early 18th Dynasty reorganization of the army
structure, which led directly to the evolution of the efficient and almost
invincible fighting troops of the 18th and 19th Dynasty Empire. The
Hyksos introduced new forms of defensive forts, new weapon-types
(more efficient dagger and sword forms and the strong compound bow
which had a far greater range than the old-fashioned simple bow) and
the concept of body armour to protect the troops. The soldiers – who
during the Old and Middle Kingdoms had marched into battle dressed
only in the briefest of kilts or loincloths and protected by a long and
cumbersome cow-hide shield – were now issued with protective jackets
and a lighter, easier-to-handle tapered shield. Their most important
introduction was, however, the harnessed horse and the two-wheeled
horse-drawn chariot, a light and highly mobile vehicle which, manned
by a driver and a soldier equipped with spear, shield and bow, quickly
became one of the most valuable assets of the Egyptian army.
In the south the Theban 17th Dynasty ruled over Egypt from Elephantine
to Cusae (el-Qusiya, Middle Egypt), successfully continuing many of the
Middle Kingdom royal traditions but on a reduced scale and adapted to
fit local conditions; the 17th Dynasty royal pyramids were

Fig. 1.1 The cartouche of King Sekenenre Tao II

relatively tiny mud-brick structures perched on top of rock-cut tombs. As

the southern dynasty slowly established itself relationships between
south and north gradually deteriorated, and open warfare erupted when
King Sekenenre Tao II, ‘The Brave’, came to the Theban throne. A
fantastic New Kingdom story which purports to explain the outbreak of
hostilities starts by setting the scene:

It once happened that the land of Egypt was in misery, for there was no lord as [sole] king. A day
came to pass when King Sekenenre was [still only] ruler of the Southern City. Misery was in the
town of the Asiatics, for Prince Apophis was in Avaris, and the entire land paid tribute to him,
delivering their taxes [and] even the north bringing every [sort of] good produce of the Delta.9

We are told how the Hyksos King Apophis, now a fervent worshipper of
the peculiar and so far unidentified animal-headed god Seth, decides to
provoke a quarrel by making an intentionally ridiculous demand. A
messenger is sent southwards, and he delivers the complaint to the
bemused Sekenenre Tao:
Let there be a withdrawal from the canal of hippopotami which lie at the east of the City,
because they don't let sleep come to me either in the daytime or at night.

Sekenenre is understandably rendered speechless by this unreasonable

request: it is inconceivable that the Theban hippopotami could have
been making so much noise that they were preventing Apophis from
sleeping in Avaris, some 500 miles downstream. Unfortunately, the end
of the story is lost, and we do not know how the king eventually replied,
or indeed whether Apophis went on to make even more outrageous
demands.
The more down-to-earth archaeological evidence confirms that
Sekenenre Tao II fought against the Hyksos in Middle Egypt before dying
of wounds sustained in battle: his mummified body was unwrapped by
the French egyptologist Gaston Maspero in 1886, and examined by the
distinguished anatomist G. Elliot Smith in 1906. The mummy was clearly
a disturbing sight, with horrific head and neck injuries caused by
repeated blows from a bronze Hyksos battle-axe:

All that now remains of Saqnounri Tiouaqen [Sekenenre Tao II] is a badly damaged,
disarticulated skeleton enclosed in an imperfect sheet of soft, moist, flexible dark brown skin,
which has a strongly aromatic, spicy odour… No attempt was made to put the body into the
customary mummy-position; the head had not been straightened on the trunk, the legs were not
fully extended, and the arms and hands were left in the agonized attitude into which they had
been thrown in the death spasms following the murderous attack, the evidence of which is so
clearly impressed on the battered face and skull.10

The badly preserved body suggests that the king had been hastily
mummified, not necessarily by the official royal undertakers. Sekenenre
Tao II was succeeded by his son, Kamose, who ruled for little more than
three years yet managed to strengthen the Theban hold on Middle Egypt.
After brooding aloud on the unfortunate situation which had divided his
land – ‘I should like to know what serves this strength of mine when a
chieftain is in Avaris and another in Kush, and I sit united with an
Asiatic and a Nubian’11 – Kamose took decisive action. He advanced
northwards towards Avaris and southwards as far as Buhen, obtaining
control of the vital river trade routes and exacting vengeance on those
believed to have collaborated with the enemy, before returning to
Thebes where he recorded his daring deeds on a limestone stela at the
Karnak temple:

Fig 1.2 The cartouche of King Kamose

O wicked of heart, vile Asiatic, I shall drink the wine of your vineyard
which the Asiatic whom I captured press for me. I lay waste your
dwelling place and cut down your trees… I did not leave a scrap of
Avaris without being empty… I laid waste their towns and burned their
places, they being made into red ruins for eternity on account of the
damage which they did within this Egypt, for they had made themselves
serve the Asiatic and had forsaken Egypt their mistress.12

Kamose died young, possibly killed in action like his father, and was
in turn succeeded on the Theban throne by his younger brother Ahmose.
Ahmose, initially too young to fight, waited for over ten years before
resuming the struggle to unite his country. His victorious campaign
against the Hyksos has been recorded in full and somewhat bloodthirsty
detail by a soldier also named Ahmose, the son of a woman named Ibana
and a soldier named Baba, who hailed from the southern Egyptian town
of el-Kab. In his autobiography, Ahmose the soldier aims to impress us
with his lengthy military record and his extreme personal bravery,
quoting directly from a New Kingdom proverb: ‘The name of the brave
man is in that which he has done; it will not perish in the land forever.’
We learn how, when he had ‘founded a household’ (that is, married and
perhaps fathered a child), he started his military service on a ship called
The Northern. Ahmose sailed north to fight alongside his pharaoh in the
Delta, taking part in several bloody battles and playing an active part in
the sacking of Avaris. The Hyksos and their kinsmen had been active
throughout northern Sinai and in the Levantine area and, as they
retreated from Egypt, King Ahmose followed them eastwards into south-
west Palestine, eventually laying siege to the fortified town of Sharuhen,
the last outpost of the Hyksos kingdom. After each successful battle
Ahmose, son of Ibana, was rewarded

Fig. 1.3 The cartouche of King Ahmose

with booty, including the prisoners he had captured, and he proudly

informs us that he was eventually awarded the ‘Gold of Valour’, one of
the highest military honours, for his bravery in battle. His words allow
us a rare insight into the turbulent life of an early 18th Dynasty
professional soldier:

… I was taken to the boat ‘The Northern’ because of my bravery. I accompanied the Sovereign,
life, prosperity and health be upon him, on my feet when he travelled around in his chariot. The
town of Avaris was besieged. I was brave in the presence of his Majesty. Then I was promoted to
[the boat] ‘Rising in Memphis’. There was fighting on the water of Padjedku of Avaris and I
made a seizure and brought away a hand. This was reported to the Royal Herald, thereupon I
was given the gold of valour… Then there was fighting in Southern Egypt, south of this town. I
brought away one man as a living captive… When it was reported to the Royal Herald I was
rewarded with gold a second time.
Then Avaris was sacked. I brought away from there as plunder one man and three women, a total
of four people. His Majesty gave them to me as slaves. Then Sharuhen was besieged for three
years. His Majesty plundered it. I brought away from there as plunder two women and a hand.
The gold of valour was presented to me and, lo, I was given slaves as plunder.13

Following the successful expulsion of the Hyksos, Ahmose turned his

attention southwards to Nubia, where once again he was followed by his
loyal soldier:

[His Majesty] sailed south to Khenthennefer to destroy the Bowmen of Nubia. His majesty made
a great heap of corpses among them. I brought away plunder from there, two living men and
three hands. I was rewarded with gold again and I was given two female slaves. His majesty
travelled north, his heart swelling with bravery and victory. He had conquered southerners and
northerners.

When Ahmose writes of capturing a hand he is referring to the practice

of amputating the hand, or on some occasions the penis, of a dead
enemy so that the true scale of the victory could be assessed. This
effective, but to modern eyes rather gruesome, means of counting is
attested by several large-scale scenes of victorious New Kingdom
pharaohs standing by piles of discarded human body parts.
Following the death of Ahmose the king, Ahmose the soldier
continued his military career serving in Nubia under both Amenhotep I
and Tuthmosis I, and receiving both promotion and gifts of land as a
reward for his loyalty. In his final campaign he accompanied Tuthmosis I
to Syria before returning to enjoy a well-earned retirement and a natural
death at el-Kab where he was eventually interred ‘in the tomb that I
myself made’.

A second soldier, also a native of el-Kab and possibly a young relation of

Ahmose, son of Ibana, somewhat confusingly named Ahmose-
Pennekheb, tells us that King Ahmose undertook a second Asian
campaign in his regnal Year 22, fighting in ‘Djahy’, the general name
used for Syria and Palestine, and perhaps reaching as far east as the
River Euphrates. Presumably this second campaign was intended to
provide conclusive proof that Egypt was once again united under a
strong king and well able to participate in international affairs. This
region, now under the influence, if not the direct control of Egypt,
formed the basis of the Egyptian Empire which was later to be developed
by the Tuthmoside kings. By the end of his regnal Year 16 Egypt was the
chief power in the Near East and Ahmose was free to consolidate his
southern border. Here, as Ahmose son of Ibana has already related, a
series of efficient campaigns ensured that control was re-imposed on
Nubia and Egypt's boundary was re-established below the Second
Cataract.
King Ahmose died after a 25-year rule leaving his son, Amenhotep I,
to inherit a country united and secure within her boundaries for the first
time in over two hundred years. The Hyksos had been expelled from the
north, the Nubians had been crushed to the south and Egypt had
expanded into the Levant in order to protect herself from further attack.
Although Ahmose was clearly continuing the foreign policies started by
his immediate predecessors, to him has gone the credit of militarizing
the country and ridding Egypt of the hated foreigners. In honour of this
magnificent achievement, history traditionally places Ahmose at the
head of the 18th Dynasty, even though his grandfather, father and
brother are still regarded as 17th Dynasty kings. Ahmose later became
the object of a funerary cult based around his cenotaph at Abydos.
Ahmose had been revered throughout the land for his prowess as a
mighty warrior-king. Personal bravery and a good military record now
became desirable attributes indicative of a successful monarch, and
succeeding 18th Dynasty rulers found it prudent to place great emphasis
on their military strength and personal bravery. It was now almost
expected that a new king would mark his accession by leading his troops
to crush the traditional enemies to the south (Nubians) and to the north
(Asiatics). This had not always been the case, although the first king of
Egypt, Narmer, is best known in his role of a military leader. Generally,
as the Old and Middle Kingdoms progressed and as Egypt continued her
policy of self-imposed isolation from the rest of the Mediterranean
world, the armed forces had become more and more insignificant,
although a royal bodyguard was always maintained. Fighting was not
viewed as a particularly noble occupation, being generally associated
with periods of civil war when Egyptian fought against Egyptian, and
most kings did not choose to exploit the military aspect of their rule.
There was no Old or Middle Kingdom standing army; the king relied on
an informal militia-type arrangement to gather groups of fighting men
together whenever needed, and the small group of professional soldiers
who administered these irregular troops were not significant members of
the ruling élite.
However, the time of the Hyksos expulsion from Egypt was a time of
increasing military activity throughout the entire Near East. Egypt now
understood only too well that she was vulnerable to attack and that,
with her lucrative interests in Nubia and Palestine, she could no longer
afford to remain aloof from world affairs. By maintaining an efficient
fighting force, Egypt could remain allies with powerful and well-armed
near-neighbours such as the Hittites, who might otherwise be tempted to
invade a temptingly wealthy and weak country. The fact that the

Fig. 1.4 Old and New Kingdom soldiers

army could also become a focus for national pride and unity was an
additional and quickly exploited bonus. It was now perceived as
excellent propaganda for the king to be seen defending his territory,
subduing foreigners and, by implication, maintaining his control over
the population within Egypt, and large-scale scenes of the king, riding in
his chariot, meeting foes in battle or even grasping a handful of enemies
by the hair, became a standard decoration for monumental gateways and
exterior temple walls. This change in attitude may perhaps be
understood by considering the approach of present-day monarchies to
the armed services. In early eighteenth-century England, following the
civil wars of the late seventeenth century, the army was deeply
distrusted by the population at large, who saw it as a means of
suppressing the rights of free-born Englishmen. It was therefore rare for
a member of the royal family to be seen wearing a military uniform
away from the battlefield. Today, however, following victory in the two
World Wars and the first-hand experience of those required to do
National Service, the army is viewed as an obvious and acceptable
leadership role for young male members of the royal family and military
uniforms are considered appropriate wear for public occasions such as
royal weddings.
The New Kingdom army was suddenly both popular and socially
acceptable, rapidly joining the priesthood and the civil service as one of
the acceptable professions for the educated and literate classes.
Recruitment soared, and there was a constant demand for able
quartermasters and administrators who could ensure the smooth running
of a large and complex organization. Alongside the hard-bitten old
campaigners who had fought their way up through the ranks there could
now be found the ancient equivalent of ‘graduate entry’ officers:
professionals valued more for their administrative skills than their
combative abilities. The army was an attractive career option for those
who, ambitious but illiterate, were denied entry into the bureaucracy
and priesthood, and soon there were whole families who undertook to
serve in the army for several generations in return for the right to tenant
their own farms. The revitalized and greatly expanded army was
organized into highly trained units of infantry, chariotry and more
specialized troops: three or four divisions of up to 5,000 men were
progressively subdivided into hosts (500 men), companies (250 men),
platoons (50 men) and squads (10 men) and a ‘Great Army General’,
often the crown prince, was appointed to take overall command.14 The
pharaoh, of course, remained absolute head of the armed forces.

The monarchs of the 18th Dynasty openly acknowledged that their

military successes were entirely due to the superiority of the Egyptian
deities and, in particular, to the patronage of their local god, Amen of
Thebes. It was no coincidence that the great scenes of the pharaoh as
warrior triumphant were carved on temple walls, emphasizing the link
between devotion and victory; as Hatchepsut herself was to affirm: ‘I
have done this with a loving heart for my father Amen… My majesty
knows his divinity. I acted under his command. It was he who led me,
and I did not plan a single work without his doing.’15
Throughout the Old Kingdom the most important state god had been
Re, the sun god whose cult centre of Heliopolis lay close to the capital
city of Memphis, and whose most striking monuments were the
pyramids in the Memphite royal cemeteries. The form of the pyramid
was designed to associate the dead king with the living god, allowing
him to ascend the stairway to heaven so that he might sail across the sky
with Re every day. The rise of the Middle Kingdom at Thebes did little
directly to reduce the power of Re, although his association with
kingship now became far less obvious than it had been during the Old
Kingdom. The kings of the 12th Dynasty moved their capital north and
recommenced the building of Re-related pyramids, presumably as a
means of stressing their newly acquired royal status. However, they still
retained a loyalty to their local Theban gods and, as their choice of
names – Amenemhat, ‘Amen to the Fore’; Senwosret, ‘The Man of
Wosret’16 – suggests, the provincial southern deities were starting to gain
in national importance. This period saw the beginning of large-scale
development at the Temple of Amen at Karnak. The Karnak temple
complex, set in a northern suburb of Thebes, became, during the New
Kingdom, the largest collection of related religious buildings in the
world.

Fig. 1.5 The god Amen

Amen had started life as an insignificant and rather colourless local
deity worshipped in the immediate area around Thebes. However, he
was quickly to become the most powerful god in the Egyptian Empire,
associated with the most important Old Kingdom deity in the compound
god Amen-Re, linked with the fertility god Min of Coptos in his
ithyphallic form and accorded the magnificent title ‘King of the Gods
and Lord of the Thrones of the Two Lands’. Iconographically, Amen most
commonly appears as a man dressed in a short kilt and sporting a
distinctive feathered headdress of two tall plumes. His sacred animals
are the goose and, far more importantly, the ram, and his main cult
centre is the Karnak temple at Thebes. Egyptian gods do not usually
come singly but as members of divine families of three; Amen's consort
is the anthropoid goddess Mut (‘Mother’), a lady who has links with both
the mother-goddesses Hathor and Bast and with the fierce lion-headed
goddess of war and sickness, Sekhmet, and their son is the local moon-
god, Khonsu. Mut's cult centre is an impressive temple enclosure directly
to the south of Amen's at Karnak, while Khonsu was worshipped in a
temple immediately to the north.

Fig. 1.6 The goddess Mut

Egypt's new prosperity allowed the 18th Dynasty pharaohs to endow
shrines and temples to various gods throughout the land. These new
buildings were now built of stone rather than mud-brick and were
literally designed to last for all eternity. Major cities such as Thebes and
Memphis, previously home to relatively modest mud-brick chapels, now
found themselves dominated by massive, painted stone temples. These
were typically surrounded by clusters of relatively unimpressive mud-
brick buildings housing lesser shrines and administrative offices, the
whole temple complex being enclosed by a high, thick mud-brick wall of
military appearance, designed to keep the common people out. The
Egyptian temple was not the equivalent of a medieval cathedral; it was
the private home of the god who, in the form of a statue, dwelt within.
The temple gates were rarely thrown open to the general public and,
while many townsmen must have worked on the temple buildings, few
would have been aware of the mysteries surrounding the daily practice
of their state religion. Indeed, although the ordinary people owed an
official allegiance to the state gods, they were far more likely to worship
their less exalted and more familiar local gods, while folk-religion,
including magic, superstition and witchcraft, played an important role in
the life of the peasant communities.
By the middle of the 18th Dynasty, Thebes had become a major
religious centre with a full range of temples and shrines dedicated not
only to Amen and his family but to a whole host of lesser deities. On the
western bank of the Nile, opposite Thebes, were the mortuary temples of
the kings, the tombs of the élite citizens and, hidden away in the Valley
of the Kings, the tombs of the pharaohs themselves. All New Kingdom
monarchs showed their extreme devotion to Amen by trying to outdo
their predecessors in embellishing the Karnak complex itself, and a
considerable amount of Egypt's newfound foreign wealth was diverted
towards the Great Temple of Amen so that it grew physically, becoming
an economic force in its own right and employing an increasingly large
staff to carry out the cult ceremonies and administer the god's extensive
portfolio. Theban state religion was now organized on a far more
professional basis and the hitherto private deity started to make a series
of well-organized public parades through the streets, a tradition which
allowed the people to enjoy a day's holiday while subtly underlining the
magnificence and omnipresence of the god and his priesthood.
By the middle of the New Kingdom, the religious foundations
controlled an estimated one-third of the cultivated land and employed
approximately twenty per cent of the population. Amen himself owned
not only temples but major secular investments such as fields, ships,
mines, quarries, villages and even prisoners of war who had been
donated by the grateful monarchy. The income from these assets,
together with the routine daily offerings of thousands of loaves of bread
and hundreds of jugs of beer plus costlier foodstuffs including wine and
meat, was collected by Amen's earthly representatives and was used to
pay the temple employees. Surpluses were stored in vast mud-brick
warehouses kept safe within the temple walls. Within a very short time
the Amen temple at Karnak was second only to the throne itself as a
centre of economic and political influence in Egypt.

Perhaps it is modern cynicism which prompts present-day historians to

question why the 18th Dynasty monarchs should have deliberately
chosen to raise the cult of Amen to state god status, thereby creating an
immensely wealthy and semi-independent priesthood capable of posing a
threat to the throne. The simple answer, that the kings felt a strong
devotion to their patron deity, may well be the true one. However, it is
tempting to see the rise of Amen as a more calculated gesture, perhaps
aimed at reducing the influence of the northern-based cult of Re.
Promoting a new Egyptian state god, one who had demonstrated his
powers by granting victory in battle, may have been a shrewd move
aimed at unifying a demoralized country recovering from the ignominy
of foreign rule. It would certainly have helped the position of the new
pharaoh who, as chief priest of all the gods, and indeed as the very son
of Amen, had the power to interpret the god's wishes as he saw fit.
Hatchepsut herself was to make great use of her filial relationship with
Amen, continually stressing the doctrine of the divine birth of kings to
support her claim to the throne. However, this mutual dependency could
prove to be a two-edged sword. Any public failure by the new god, such
as a refusal to grant further victories to the Egyptian army, could be
taken as a direct sign that the king himself was failing to perform his
duties correctly, and a powerful and wealthy priesthood could ultimately
bring about the fall of a weak or inefficient king.
By the late 18th Dynasty, the monarchy was starting to feel itself
challenged by the power and ever-increasing wealth of the cult of Amen.
Amenhotep II, Tuthmosis IV and Amenhotep III all appointed their own
loyal followers to the position of High Priest in an attempt to maintain a
degree of royal control over the priesthood, while Amenhotep III also
started to pay more attention to the other gods of the Egyptian
pantheon, partially reverting back to Old Kingdom theology by re-allying
the monarchy with the sun god, Re of Heliopolis. His son, Amenhotep IV
(now known as the heretic King Akhenaten, ‘Serviceable to the Aten’),
took this policy to extremes by completely rejecting the traditional
polytheistic religion and imposing a new monotheistic cult based on the
worship of the sun disc, or Aten, on his people. This radical change,
which included the establishment of a new capital in the desert of
Middle Egypt, was too extreme for the conservative Egyptians, and far
too much of a threat to the power of Amen. It was doomed to failure. By
Year 3 of his successor's reign, the old gods, including Amen, had been
reinstated and the new king had changed his name from Tutankhaten,
‘Living Image of the Aten’, to Tutankhamen, ‘Living Image of Amen’.

... all the wealth that goes into Thebes of Egypt, where treasures in greatest store are laid up in
men's houses. Thebes, which is the city of an hundred gates and from each issue forth to do
battle two hundred doughty warriors with horses and chariots.17

The early 18th Dynasty rulers broke with tradition when they
established their capital at their home-city of Thebes. Thebes, or Thebai,
is the Greek name for the southern city which the Egyptians officially
knew as Waset but which they referred to simply as ‘The City’ (literally
Niwt), and which modern Egyptians now call Luxor. The new capital lay
on the east bank of the Nile in the 4th Upper Egyptian province, close
enough to both Nubia and the Eastern Desert to be able to benefit from
the lucrative trade routes, and far enough away from the northern
capital Memphis to have always maintained semi-independent status.
Thebes had been an unimportant provincial town throughout the Old
Kingdom, and it was not until the civil unrest of the First Intermediate
Period that the local Theban rulers started to gain in power and
influence. By the time of Ahmose, Thebes had expanded to become an
extensive city, and the Theban necropolis on the west bank of the Nile
had become the main burial ground for the pharaohs, their families and
the higher-ranking court officials. During the 18th Dynasty, however, the
old city mound was completely flattened to allow the redevelopment of
the Karnak temple, and the residential area was rebuilt on relatively
lowlying ground which now lies below the water-table and which is
consequently lost from the archaeological record.
Living conditions within Thebes must have been, for all but the most
wealthy, somewhat unpleasant during the hot summer months. There
was a permanent shortage of building land, made much worse by the
extension of the Karnak and Luxor temples, and there was no formal
planning policy so that, as the city expanded, the houses were packed
more and more closely together, blocking the light from the crowded
and twisting streets. The lack of any form of official sanitation combined
with the habit of keeping animals within the home to create an
undesirable, vermin-ridden environment that must have been highly
unhealthy for the unfortunate citizens. However, although many were
forced by the nature of their employment to live in the overcrowded
towns and cities, Egypt was still a predominantly rural country and the
majority of Egyptians lived relatively healthy lives working as peasant
farmers in small and politically insignificant agricultural communities.
Throughout the New Kingdom it was fashionable to despise city life as a
necessary evil while rural life strongly – romanticized – was considered
to be ideal. Just as modern city dwellers dream of owning a cottage in
the country, so Egyptian officials yearned for a spacious single-storey
villa set in its own grounds away from the bustle, noise and smells of the
city. For the higher echelons of society, this dream could become a
reality which would continue into the Afterlife; their heaven took the
form of the ‘Field of Reeds’, an idyllic rural retreat where noblemen,
their wives and daughters would spend eternity supervising the labours
of others less fortunate than themselves.
Thebes did, however, boast one example of a well-planned
community. The workmen's village of Deir el-Medina, simply ‘the
Village’ to its inhabitants, was founded by Amenhotep I and largely built
by Tuthmosis I in order to provide a convenient base for those employed
in the cutting and decoration of the royal tombs in the nearby Valley of
the Kings and Valley of the Queens. Situated on the West Bank, opposite
Thebes and over a mile away from the River Nile, the Village was of
necessity built of a combination of stone and mud-brick. For this reason
the Village has survived where others, built entirely of mud-brick, have
crumbled to dust, and is now able to provide us with a vivid insight into
the daily lives of a specialized section of Egypt's middle and working
classes. Deir el-Medina experienced over four hundred years of
continuous occupation by not only the workmen and their supervisors
but their families, dependants, pets and those providing ancillary
services such as potters, priests and laundry workers. By the 19th
Dynasty up to seventy families – about three hundred people – lived in
the modest rectangular houses which had been laid out with all the
precision of a modern American city, within a defining wall. Beyond the
wall there was a cemetery, a collection of chapels for private worship,
and possibly a subsidiary village intended to house the lowest-ranking
servants and serfs. Every month a gang of male workers would leave the
Village and head for the Valley of the Kings, where they lodged in
temporary accommodation for up to twenty-seven working days. Back at
the Village, daily life continued as in any normal Egyptian town or city
for as long as the king was able to provide the rations which served as
wages. During the 18th Dynasty, a period of economic strength and
efficient administration, the workmen's Village functioned well.
Although Thebes may be regarded as the new state capital, and
certainly as the new religious capital, the idea of the single predominant
city was now of far less importance than it had been during the Old
Kingdom when Egypt had been ruled from the northern city of Memphis.
Memphis was at that time not only the largest Egyptian city, it was the
site of the main royal residence and the administrative centre, and
nearby were both the royal burial grounds and the major cult centre of
Re. In many ways her geographical position made Memphis a far more
suitable capital city than Thebes. Situated at the crossroads between the
two traditional regions of Upper (Southern) and Lower (Northern, or
Delta) Egypt, Memphis enjoyed excellent communications with both
north and south. Although an inland city, Memphis, on the River Nile,
was the site of the royal dockyards, and the city flourished as a marine
trading centre. Furthermore, Memphis made an ideal base for the army.
Following the southern campaigns of Tuthmosis I, Nubia, although given
to frequent rebellions, could offer no real threat to the might of Egypt.
The real danger was perceived as coming from the Levant, where semi-
independent city-states were starting to unite under the banners of the
powerful rulers of Kadesh, Mitanni and the Hittites. We know that
Tuthmosis I built a large palace/barrack at Memphis, and it seems likely
that throughout the 18th Dynasty the state bureaucracy was still
controlled to a large extent from that city. Unfortunately, little of ancient
Memphis has survived to be excavated.

Just as the 18th Dynasty rulers refused to commit themselves to a single

capital city, they did not restrict themselves to one principal palace.
Instead they adopted a mobile court, perhaps inspired by their
experiences of military campaigns, and toured the country with a small
entourage, travelling by river to inspect and impose control on the
various regions and staying in short-term palaces known as the ‘Mooring
Places of Pharaoh’, which were often little more than elaborate rest-
houses situated at strategic points along the Nile. The journey from
Memphis to Thebes would have been a slow one of perhaps two to three
weeks and it made sense that the less mobile members of the royal
household, including the majority of the women, their children and their
retinues, were maintained in permanent harem-palaces away from the
main royal residences. By the 19th Dynasty the country had become
even more de-centralized. The official capital was by then Pa-Ramesses
in the Delta but the largest centre of population was still Memphis, while
Thebes remained both the main cult centre and the burial place of kings.
The Mooring Places should be considered as palaces in the sense that
they provided a home for the king and his retinue, but they should not
be imagined as the ancient equivalent of Buckingham Palace or
Versailles. The idea of the settled palace, or indeed the settled upper-
class household, is a relatively modern one. In fourteenth-century
England, for example, even a gentleman of relatively modest means
might be the lord of several manors, all of which he needed to oversee in
person, while a great lord would own many estates throughout the land.
When such a landowner moved from one estate to another he was
accompanied by his household (family, dependants and servants), his
furniture, plate and clothing, all travelling through the countryside in a
style intended to impress his wealth and dignity on the less fortunate
locals. A move every two to three weeks would not have been seen as
excessive, and it was not until the end of the fourteenth century that the
great households became relatively static, moving perhaps two or three
times a year.18
The palaces scattered along the Nile were never intended to act as
impressive stone testimonies to the glories of a particular king's reign;
instead they were constructed quickly and relatively cheaply from mud-
brick wherever and whenever required. The use of mud-brick meant that
the palaces could be designed on the spot to fit the exact requirements of
their occupants, unlike the more or less standard plans used for the
stone-built temples and tombs. However, the use of mud-brick also
meant that the palaces were vulnerable to decay, and we now have few
surviving palace buildings. The royal progression from palace to palace
ensured that the authority of the king became a reality to those in even
the most distant provinces and, at a more practical level, may well have
been an efficient cost-cutting exercise. Although each Mooring Place was
provided with its own farm and granary this did not necessarily provide
enough food for a visit, and it was often necessary to make the local
mayor responsible for provisioning the royal household. Local officials
presumably came to dread the news of an impending royal visit.19 A 19th
Dynasty scribal exercise gives some indication of the preparations
considered necessary to welcome a pharaoh:

Get on with having everything ready for pharaoh's [arrival]… have made ready 100 ring stands
for bouquets of flowers… 1,000 loaves of fine flour… Cakes, 100 baskets… Dried meat, 100
baskets… Milk, 60 measures… Grapes, 50 sacks… 20

By the end of Ahmose's reign the Egyptian economy was booming. Egypt
was naturally a very wealthy country and once unity and central control
had been re-established it was possible to co-ordinate the management
of her ample natural resources, taxing the primary producers – the
peasants and their landlords – to support the bureaucratic and priestly
superstructure and storing up surpluses to provide against harsher times.
The Greek historian Herodotus commented admiringly:

In no other country do they gather their seed with so little labour. They have no need to break
up the ground with the plough, nor to use the hoe, nor indeed to do any of the hard work which
the rest of mankind finds necessary if they are to get a crop. Instead the farmer simply waits until
the river has, of its own volition, spread itself over the fields and withdrawn again to its bed, and
then he sows his plot of land…21

While the farmer's life was almost certainly somewhat harder than the
idyllic existence outlined by Herodotus, it is clear that the peasant
labour force, without undue exertion, was well able to support Egypt's
population of approximately 3,000,000 during the early New Kingdom.
During the period of inundation when the land was flooded and all
routine agricultural work ceased, they provided an unemployed
workforce available to work on major state projects such as the building
of royal monuments. The knowledge that the state and temple
warehouses were brimming with grain must have been intensely
reassuring to the 18th Dynasty monarchs who knew that repeated
famine, just like freak floods, could bring about a quick change of
dynasty.
Away from the immediate Nile Valley, Egypt was rich in building
stone, both the softer limestone and sandstone and harder, more exotic,
stones such as granite, which was quarried at the First Cataract,
quartzite, which came from the Gebel Ahmar near modern Cairo, basalt
from the Wadi Hammamat in the Eastern Desert and alabaster from
Hatnub, Middle Egypt. Although there were no precious gems, the semi-
precious amethyst, carnelian and jasper could all be found within Egypt's
borders, there was gold in the Eastern Desert and Sinai was mined for
both copper and turquoise. The only valuable commodities which were
missing were silver and wood; these could be imported from the Aegean
and from the Near East as and when needed.
Egypt's newly re-imposed control over Nubia led to increased supplies
of gold and highly desirable exotica such as ivory, baboons, pygmies,
ostrich eggs and feathers. This in turn provided surplus items for barter
with Egypt's Mediterranean neighbours; diplomatic and trading links had
been established with Mitanni, Babylon, Assyria, the Hittite Empire and
the Greek islands, and Egypt was able to supply gold, grain and linen,
receiving silver, wood, copper, oil and wine in return. As the Egyptian
sphere of influence slowly expanded throughout the Near East, the
treasury coffers opened wide to receive a steadily increasing stream of
tribute from client states which, together with the trade surplus, internal
taxation and the plunder seized from those unwise enough to resist
Egypt's advances, made Egypt the most wealthy and influential country
in the Mediterranean world. By the time of Amenhotep III, almost one
century after Hatchepsut's reign, an envious King Tushrata of Mitanni
was appealing to his fellow monarch: ‘So let my brother send me gold in
very great quantity without measure. For in my brother's land gold is as
plentiful as dust.’22
The flourishing economy led directly to a rapid expansion of the civil
service as more and more bureaucrats were required to collect, supervise
and re-distribute the nation's newfound surpluses. Less than five per cent
of the New Kingdom population was literate, and the sudden demand for
efficient administrators or scribes combined with the availability of land
for private rental from the temples to allow the middle classes a greater
political influence, and far greater personal wealth and freedom, than
had ever been known in Egypt. The increased demand for scribes led in
turn to an expansion in the education system, and we now find many
texts written specifically for use in schools. One of these texts, Papyrus
Lansing, was very specific about the joys – and potential economic
rewards – which could be attained through devotion to study: ‘Befriend
the scroll, the palette. It pleases more than wine. Writing for him who
knows it is better than all other professions.23 With the exception of
these school texts, the literature of the early 18th Dynasty remained
firmly rooted in the traditions of the Middle Kingdom, and there was no
startling advance in either style or genre at this time.
Most of Egypt's new wealth went directly to the palace, making it
possible for the pharaoh to finance ambitious building works, thereby
enhancing his own status in the eyes of his people and ensuring that his
name, permanently linked to his monuments, would live for ever. Artists
and sculptors, benefiting from the improved financial climate, again
sought their inspiration in Egypt's past, and the artistic conventions of
the 12th Dynasty provided a solid basis for the new-style art. Painting in
particular flourished as, with the new custom of burial in rock-cut tombs
whose crumbling walls were often unsuitable for carving, it was now
necessary to paint funerary scenes. To the modern observer looking
backwards, it seems that there was at this time a new confidence
throughout the country and a new awareness of the exciting foreign
influences which were beginning to filter southwards towards Thebes, so
that the art of the early 18th Dynasty may be regarded as falling halfway
between the restrained and formal styles of the 12th Dynasty and the
intricate informality of the Empire. The artists now appear far more
assured in their work and their ‘subjects are depicted with a restrained
professionalism. Gone are the intimate, soul-revealing pharaohs of the
12th Dynasty; instead we are presented with the rounded cheeks and
faint smile of a king secure in his personal power. Contemporary private
painting, again heavily influenced by the Middle Kingdom tradition,
slowly started to relax and abandon the slightly stiff poses popular
during the Middle Kingdom until ‘a new breadth is given to already
established forms, but with a restraint and simplicity which seems
happily suited to the Egyptian spirit’.24 This growing trend towards less
formal artforms was reflected in the more stylish garments being worn at
this time. The standard Old and Middle Kingdom upper-class clothing
(simple kilt or ‘bag tunic’ for men, long sheath dress and shawl for
women) gradually became less formal and more ornate, until by the late
18th Dynasty the rather understated Old and Middle Kingdom elegance
had been lost and wealthy Egyptians were dressing in a far more
frivolous style involving yards of closely pleated linen and rows of
elaborate fringes.

By the time of Hatchepsut's succession, some fifty years after the

reunification of the country, a well-defined social pyramid had evolved.
As in the Old and Middle Kingdoms, the divine pharaoh owned the land
and everyone in it; in theory, at least, he remained king, chief priest of
every cult, head of the civil service, lord chief justice and supreme
commander of the army. He was supported in his onerous tasks by an
élite band of nobles, all of whom were male and many of whom were his
immediate relations and, one step further down the social scale, by the
prominent local families who gave their allegiance to the king and who
administered local government. This upper tier of society and their
families numbered no more than two or three thousand people, while
the total population of Egypt during the New Kingdom has been
estimated at between three and four million. The literate middle classes
were now enjoying unprecedented prosperity, working as administrators,
soldiers, minor priests and artisans while the semi-educated lower-
middle classes were apprenticed into trades. The lowest and largest layer
of society included foot soldiers, labourers, servants and the peasants
who worked the land owned either by the king, the temples or private
estates. Herodotus, omitting to mention the farmers who were the
mainstay of the Egyptian economy, informs us that there were seven
principal trades: ‘These are, the priests, the warriors, the cowherds, the
swineherds, the tradesmen, the interpreters and the boatmen’;25 it would
appear that these were the Egyptians whom he himself most frequently
encountered on his travels.
At first sight this was a social structure identical to that found in
earlier periods of Egyptian history, and indeed the Egyptians themselves
rejoiced that their land had returned to the correct social pattern
established at the time of creation. However, subtle changes in emphasis
may be detected. The pharaoh remained the ultimate ruler, but he was
now all too aware that his authority was not absolute and could, under
certain circumstances, be challenged and even lost. Eighteenth Dynasty
kings therefore found it prudent to stress the importance of their role by
public displays of heroism, wealth and piety, and by the incessant use of
self-justifying propaganda texts, myths and ritual. The pharaoh now
ruled over a more economically developed country where the army, the
civil service and the priesthood had become important state institutions;
the priesthood in particular was now both semi-independent and
economically very powerful. Egypt's increasing wealth had had a
beneficial effect on the internal economy, and the literate and skilled
middle classes found themselves in great demand. Only the lower
classes, in particular the peasants, would have found little change from
life in the Old and Middle Kingdoms. These workers continued with the
daily routines established by their fathers and grandfathers before them.
To the Egyptians, who prized continuity above almost everything, this
was a very reassuring state of affairs.
 2
A Strong Family: The Tuthmosides

The King [Ahmose] himself said ‘I remember my mother's mother, my father's mother, the Great
King's Wife and King's Mother, Tetisheri the justified. She now has a tomb and cenotaph on the soil
of the Theban province and the Thinite province. I have said this to you because my majesty wants
to have made for her a pyramid estate in the necropolis in the neighbourhood of the monument of
my majesty, its pool dug, its trees planted, its offering loaves established…’ Now his majesty spoke
of the matter and it was put into action. His majesty did this because he loved her more than
anything. Kings of the past never did the like for their mothers.1

When King Ahmose decided to honour the memory of Queen Tetisheri,

the commoner wife of King Sekenenre Tao I, mother of Sekenenre Tao II
and grandmother of both Ahmose and his consort Ahmose Nefertari, he
was making an important public statement about the revised status of
women, and in particular queens, within the new ruling family. In
defiance of previous royal tradition, the Theban rulers of the late 17th
and early 18th Dynasties accepted that their womenfolk were capable of
assuming a prominent role in state affairs and, most importantly, were
happy to acknowledge the unique significance attached to the positions
of King's Wife and King's Mother. For the first time since the Archaic
Period, 1,500 years before, the queen consorts of Egypt were to be
openly celebrated in their own right. Consequently the early New
Kingdom is now widely recognized as being remarkable not only for its
succession of strong and effective warrior-kings but for its sequence of
high-profile, influential and long-lived queens. It was the queens, and
not the kings, who were to provide Egypt with an unbroken succession
lasting for over a century from Queen Tetisheri, who should perhaps be
regarded as the true founder of the 17th/18th Dynasty, to Queen
Hatchepsut and beyond.2
 Fig. 2.1 King Ahmose and his grandmother, Queen Tetisheri

The tradition of the semi-invisible queen consort is one which evolved

during the Old Kingdom. The queens of the preceding Archaic Period –
the 1st and 2nd Dynasties, an unsettled time of gradual consolidation
which saw Egypt slowly evolving from a group of semi-independent city
states into a single unit – seem to have been strong and politically active
women whose role in the unification of their country has for a long time
been greatly underestimated. Unfortunately, our information about the
personalities of the Archaic Period is severely limited, but four queens
(Neith-Hotep, Her-Neith, Meryt-Neith and Nemaathep) have left enough
archaeological evidence to prove that women of high birth could wield
real power, and indeed one of these ladies, Meryt-Neith, may actually
have been a queen regnant rather than a consort.3 However, following
unification and the acceptance of a single divine king ruling over a
peaceful country, there was little need for a strong consort and the
shadowy and now mostly unknown queens of the Old and (even more
so) Middle Kingdoms made little impact on state affairs. Barring
exceptional circumstances, such as the untimely death of the king or the
lack of a male heir to the throne, royal women confined themselves to
family and domestic concerns.
 This queenly modesty was entirely in keeping with contemporary
views on the conduct proper to married women, particularly during the
Middle Kingdom when the sudden disappearance of the queen from
royal monuments coincided with a marked decrease in non-royal titles
accorded to women. Although Egyptian women could always be
included amongst the most legally independent females in the ancient
world, with accepted rights which would have been envied by their
more protected sisters in Asia, Greece and Rome, there was a clear and
well-understood gulf between the work considered appropriate to
women and that done by men. As a general rule, men were expected to
work outside the home while women remained inside.4 Similarly, the
husband had overall control over external affairs while the wife became
Mistress of the House. ‘Keep your wife from power, restrain her’, argued
the Old Kingdom sages. Marriage and motherhood formed the axis of the
woman's world and, like any good Egyptian wife, the pre-New Kingdom
queen had her clearly defined female tasks which, while not exactly
Kinder, Küche und Kirche (presumably the queen would not have been
expected to do too much cooking), must have been something fairly
close. Her duties involved providing her husband with as many children
as possible, ensuring the smooth running of the palace, adding silent
support to her husband's actions and even, if necessary, acting as regent
for a fatherless son. Her primary role was, however, to provide an almost
entirely passive complement to her active husband. She was not
expected to become a prominent public figure, had no state duties, held
few official titles and was powerful only to the extent that she could
influence her husband.
From the late 17th Dynasty onwards, we can see a profound change in
the nature of the role of queen consort. Casting off her cloak of
invisibility, she now emerged to claim a highly public position since,
even though her status was still ultimately derived from her relationship
with the king, increasing emphasis was placed both on the individuality
of each queen and on the divinity of her role. By the early 18th Dynasty,
queens were routinely awarded a range of secular and religious titles,
owned their own estates which came complete with land, servants and
administrators, and were portrayed wearing a range of distinctive
crowns. This newly expanded repertoire of queen's regalia was clearly
designed not only to stress ‘royalness’ and the connection with the king,
but also to emphasize links with various deities. It had always been
recognized that the role of queen had semi-divine origins, but this aspect
of queenship now became far more blatant. For example, the new double
uraeus headdress, two flat snakes worn side by side on the brow, was
directly associated with the Lower Egyptian cobra goddess Wadjyt and
the Upper Egyptian vulture goddess Nekhbet, but also had connections
with the cults of Hathor and Re. The vulture crown, which resembles a
rather limp bird draped over the queen's head with the wings hanging
down against the sides of her face and the head of the vulture rising
above the wearer's forehead, was a long-established queen's crown again
linked with Nekhbet, while the double plumes – tall falcon feathers
attached to a circular base – had been worn since the 13th Dynasty to
stress links with the male gods Min and Amen and with the sun cult of
Re. Depictions of the goddesses Isis and Hathor now show them wearing
similar crowns so that the distinction between the mortal queen and the
immortal goddesses becomes deliberately blurred.

Why should such a change have come about at this time? For over a
century egyptologists, heavily influenced by now largely outdated
theories of kinship and social evolution,5 have speculated that the new
royal family must have been organized along matriarchal rather than
patriarchal lines. The more prominent role allowed to the queens, an
otherwise inexplicable deviation away from normal Egyptian behaviour
patterns, could then be understood as something unfortunate but
unavoidable. However, the theorists, in their desire to provide a simple
explanation for the otherwise inexplicable, were somewhat haphazard in
their classification. In its strictest sense a matriarchy involves the
complete domination of the female line with all property and inheritance
rights being held by women and transmitted from mother to daughter,
and with the women holding all the power within the family unit.6 In
such a system the women may be said to control the men. It is clearly
distinct from both matrilocal kinship systems (where the women remain
in their own homes following marriage) and from matrilineal systems
(where descent is traced through the female line rather than the male);
in both these cases the male, either the spouse or the brother, still
retains overall family control. It is also, unhappily for the theorists,
clearly distinct from the situation in the Theban royal family, where
there is no suggestion that the kings ever relinquished their control to
their queens.
Although the idea of an archaic female-dominated state has been a
popular one amongst both old-fashioned anthropologists and extreme
feminist historians, it is now widely recognized that such a state has
never existed anywhere in the world. The Theban royal family may have
allowed its queens to play a more prominent role in matters of state, but
that role never allowed the queen to take precedence over the all-
powerful pharaoh while Hatchepsut, the seeming exception to this rule,
only sought the powers of a king when she had actually transformed
herself into a female king. She would have probably been as horrified as
anyone to think that a mere consort could rule in the place of a divinely
appointed monarch. The ‘power’ of the Theban women should instead be
seen in its true perspective as an increase in status and perhaps influence
rather than a complete reversal of domestic custom.
Perhaps a more accurate explanation for the change in attitude
towards the higher-ranking royal women can best be found by
considering conditions in Egypt at the start of the Theban royal family's
rule. This was a period when, as during the Archaic Period, Egypt was
suffering from profound civil unrest. The kings who emerged during the
late 17th Dynasty were warrior-kings, their reigns characterized by
successive successful military campaigns. Under normal circumstances,
and apart from a somewhat vague reference to Queen Ahhotep
commanding troops which is discussed in further detail later in this
chapter, it is the active Egyptian men who provide military leadership
while their passive womenfolk attend to their separate domestic
concerns; when the Middle Kingdom pharaoh Amenemhat I asked, ‘Has
any woman previously marshalled troops? And has rebellion previously
been plotted in the palace?’ he was posing intentionally ridiculous
questions.7 However, at times of national crisis we often find that
traditional roles no longer apply, and that women may be actively
encouraged to leave the shelter of their hearths and seek employment
without incurring public disapproval. This is precisely what occurred
during the First and Second World Wars in Britain when women were
expected to play an active part in the war effort, taking over jobs
previously reserved exclusively for men.
When a monarchy feels itself to be under threat, we might expect to
find the royal family relying on its most loyal and devoted supporters –
other family members – to provide much-needed strength and support,
regardless of sex. This is particularly true of the close-knit Theban royal
family where the queen was often the full or half-sister of the king, was
equally descended from the founders of the dynasty and would
presumably have the same interests vested in her family. At such a time,
when family might be set against family, it would be an act of great folly
to overlook the potential contribution of an intelligent and politically
astute woman, and a queen or queen mother who could effectively
deputize for the king would be a valuable asset. It is, therefore, perhaps
not surprising to find that the late 17th and early 18th Dynasty kings
followed their Archaic Period predecessors in utilizing their womenfolk
far beyond their ability to produce male children.
 It is certainly not hard to find parallels for a ruling family where the
influence of the royal women is both acknowledged and respected.
African kingships have traditionally allowed their royal women to play a
conspicuous part in state affairs and it should be remembered that the
city of Thebes was geographically close to Nubia whose royal family also
included powerful women. However, if we really need a parallel for the
Theban royal family we should perhaps look closer to our own time;
Kennedy-like clans where the women, although themselves not the
holders of supreme office, play an important role in the functioning of
the family as a single effective unit of government are not particularly
rare, while the British monarchy itself has recently found that a suitable
spouse, correctly presented, can help to boost the status of the entire
royal family.

Respect for mothers was already a long-established Egyptian custom and

not necessarily one which needed to be imported from further south. The
Egyptian mother was both loved and revered by her children,
particularly her sons, and New Kingdom scribes were constantly
stressing the obligation which a young man owed to his long-suffering
mother:

Double the food that your mother gave you, and support her as she supported you, for you were
a heavy burden to her yet she did not abandon you. When you were born after your months she
was still tied to you as her breast was in your mouth for three years. As you grew and your
excrement was disgusting she was not disgusted. 8

Nor were the royal family the only family to emphasize the importance
of the female line at this time. We have already met Ahmose, son of
Ibana, the mighty warrior from el-Kab. His grandson, Paheri, also a
native of el-Kab, was a bureaucrat who rose to become a respected
Scribe of the Treasury and Mayor of both el-Kab (ancient Nekheb) and
Esna (ancient Iunyt). His magnificent tomb lacks an autobiography like
that provided by his grandfather, but includes conventional images of
agriculture and feasting which are considerably enhanced by the
inclusion of the comments of the participants in each scene. The
banqueting scene is particularly illuminating; here we have the
opportunity to eavesdrop on the female members of the Paheri family as
they relax after a hard day's work. Their comments are perhaps not all
we would expect from a collection of well-bred young ladies:

In the third row are the daughters of Kem, viz. [Thu]pu, Nub-em-heb and Amen-sat; also Paheri's
second cousin Nub-Mehy, and his three nurses… Amen-sat refuses the bowl, and the servant says
jestingly, ‘For thy Ka, drink to drunkenness, make holiday; O listen to what thy companion is
saying, do not weary of taking (?).’
Her companion and distant cousin Nub-Mehy is saying to the servant ‘Give me eighteen cups of
wine, I want to drink to drunkenness; my throat is as dry as straw.’9

Paheri's tomb provides us with details of his descent which is always

traced through the female line; it is his mother, Kam, who is the child of
Ahmose while his father, Itruri, was apparently tutor to Crown Prince
Wadjmose, son of Tuthmosis I, a post which may also have been held by
Paheri himself. Ahmose's father is recorded as Baba, son of Reant (his
mother), and the maternal ancestors and cousins are recorded in
preference to the paternal line. So striking is this preference for the
female branch of the family that the tomb of Paheri was for a long time
cited in support of the theory of a Theban matriarchal tradition. It is
now accepted, however, that Paheri was simply following human nature,
and claiming kinship with the highest-ranking members of his family,
regardless of their sex.
To some modern observers – writing with the obvious benefit of
hindsight – this sudden change in policy was a disaster waiting to
happen, as a newly powerful queen would be unable to resist making an
attempt on the throne itself:

The stubbornness and driving ambition of the queens could not help but precipitate a conflict
with the males of the family, at least if the women persisted in grasping after what must have
been the ultimate aspiration, viz. the crown. After five generations of rule this is precisely what
happened.10

Perhaps a move from queen to king would seem an obvious promotion

to a modern consort dissatisfied with her secondary function. However,
it is doubtful whether an Egyptian queen, particularly one who held a
secure and influential role of her own, would ever under normal
circumstances consider such a dramatic step. The Egyptian abhorrence of
change, the ingrained belief in a correct way of doing things which
always included a divinely appointed male pharaoh on the throne, and
the fact that the king was more than likely to be a close relation
(brother, son or father) all make a female coup, under normal conditions,
highly unlikely.
It can be no coincidence that the queen acquired her enhanced status
at exactly the time that the king was throwing open the doors of the
royal harem to welcome increased numbers of secondary wives and
concubines into the shelter of his protecting arms. Indeed, it may well be
that the queen needed her new titles and regalia simply to distinguish
her, as the consort and mother of the future king, from all the other
women who could now with some justification claim to be a wife of the
king and even, given a bit of good luck, a future King's Mother.
Polygamy had always been something of a royal tradition; it was an
easily affordable luxury and in many ways it made sense to ensure that
the king had as much opportunity as possible to father a male successor.
However, the kings of the Old and Middle Kingdom seem to have been
satisfied with one queen consort plus a rather discreet harem of
concubines about whom we know very little, and it is only during the
13th Dynasty that we encounter the use of the title ‘King's Chief Wife’
which suggests the need to distinguish the queen consort from a host of
other, lesser, wives. With the advent of the New Kingdom there came a
dramatic increase in royal brides and, we must assume, a corresponding
increase in the numbers of royal children, until the 19th Dynasty King
Ramesses II was able to boast of fathering seventy-nine sons and fifty-
nine daughters by his various wives who included his sister, three of his
daughters and at least five foreign princesses.
These secondary wives should by no means be regarded as mere
concubines, a term which has almost come to be synonymous with
prostitute or harlot in our (theoretically) monogamous society. There
was no disgrace in being included amongst the king's wives and, indeed,
the occupants of the harem included high-bred Egyptian ladies and the
daughters and sisters of Egyptian kings. These ladies could not all
become queen consort, but they were all legally the wives or dependants
of the king, and all were entitled to a recognized and respected position
in Egyptian society. It would be fascinating to learn how the Egyptian
harem women were selected – did they volunteer, were they donated by
their parents, or were they press-ganged? It is probably fairly safe to
assume that to introduce a daughter into the royal palace could bring a
family nothing but good, particularly if she managed to attract and hold
the attention of the king or crown prince. Parallels have often been
drawn with the Chinese Han Dynasty harem, where kings and their high
officials occasionally married their concubines and where it was not
unknown for a concubine of non-royal birth to become both the wife and
the mother of a king. A favourite concubine could use her influence for
the good of her family, and for this reason Chinese nobles worked to get
at least one daughter accepted into the royal harem.11 However, non-
royal Egyptian males seem curiously reluctant to acknowledge
association with the palace through a woman, to the extent that Anen,
brother of the commoner Queen Tiy, fails to mention this important link
on any of his monuments. We have no record of any Egyptian donating
his wife or daughter to the king, and no means of ascertaining how
useful a daughter or sister in the royal harem could be.

A miracle brought to his Majesty Gilukhepa, daughter of the prince of Naharin, and the members
of her entourage, some 317 women.12
 By the time of Tuthmosis IV, the harem was also home to a number of
important foreign princesses and their not-insubstantial retinues. These
princesses, the daughters of strong political allies, travelled to Egypt
with a rich dowry which was exchanged for a reciprocal bride price or
tribute paid by the groom. They married the king, and sank into
obscurity. Other, lesser, princesses were the daughters of vassal states
sent as tribute to the Egyptian king; they remained in the royal harem
providing an effective guarantee of their father's loyalty to the pharaoh:

Send your daughter to the king, your lord, and as presents send twenty healthy slaves, silver
chariots and healthy horses.13

Yet other foreign women were sent in groups as gifts for the king. We
must assume that these women rarely, if ever, saw their new husband/
master. They appear to have lived their whole lives within the harem
without the chance of either marriage or returning to their own lands;
when they died they were buried in the nearby desert cemetery.

The women of Egypt have the character of being the most licentious in their feelings of all
females who lay any claim to be considered as members of a civilised nation… Most of them are
not considered safe unless under lock and key.14

While the queen consort seems to have enjoyed the luxury of her own
palace and estates, the remaining royal wives and concubines, their
young children, wet-nurses, nursemaids and attendants, lived together in
the permanent women's palace or the harem. The word harem is today
an unfortunate one; a word which instantly conjures up images of
spoiled and scantily dressed eastern beauties reclining on silken cushions
as they await the bidding of their lord and master. All too often our
ideas of the Egyptian harem are based on what we imagine we know of
the harem in other oriental monarchies, in particular the harem of the
Grand Seraglio, the court of the Ottoman sultans at Istanbul, a harem
which functioned from the Middle Ages until the First World War, when
the Sultanate itself was deposed on the creation of the modern republic
of Turkey. The secret world of the Turkish harem remained an
impenetrable mystery for centuries, and rumours rather than facts about
life in the Grand Seraglio have fed European notions about all harems.
This, combined with a deep-seated belief in the innate decadence of
ancient Egypt and its enviably abandoned women, has found expression
in many forms of western culture. From Mozart to Mailer, the
combination of exotic locations, hot sun and captive women kept for
sexual delectation have been used to entertain and titillate supposedly
sophisticated audiences.15
This vision is far from the truth. It would be far more correct to regard
the Egyptian women's palace as a permanent dormitory used to house all
the female dependants of the king, not just those tied to him for sexual
purposes. These women, for reason of sheer numbers, could not be
expected to travel with the king and his entourage. The harem was
therefore home to a varied assortment of wives, daughters, sisters, infant
sons, attendants, slaves and anyone else who could be legitimately found
in the women's quarters of a private dwelling house. Included amongst
the harem staff were a number of male administrators who found
themselves responsible for the smooth running of a very large
community. These officials bore titles ranging from ‘Overseer of the
Royal Harem’ and ‘Inspector of the Harem-Administration’ to ‘Gate-
Keeper’; this last appears to have been employed to protect the harem
and keep undesirable members of the community out rather than to keep
the women in – as yet we have no evidence to suggest that free-born
Egyptian women were ever forced to remain in the harem against their
will. All the administrators appear to have been married men, and we
find no direct evidence for that classic harem servant, and butt of many
a tasteless joke, the eunuch. While there might have been obvious
advantages in employing castrated men to work with a collection of
attractive, isolated, bored and possibly frustrated women, this does not
appear to have been standard practice in dynastic Egypt. There is no
ancient Egyptian word which has been convincingly demonstrated to
mean eunuch, and representations of harem scenes in the Amarna tombs
of Ay and Tutu do not show any individuals with classic eunuchoidal
appearance. We do have examples of mummified male bodies without
testicles, but these seem to be the result of post-mortem damage during
mummification itself, rather than a deliberate amputation. The
mummified body of Tuthmosis III, known to be a father, was lacking
both penis and testicles, while the hard-man military exploits of the
Pharaoh Merenptah certainly suggest that he metaphorically possessed
what his mummy now lacks.

The food was neither plain nor wholesome. As to the hours spent lolling in Turkish baths, naked
and sleek, ladling perfumed water over each other, twisting pearls and peacock feathers in their
long hair, nibbling sugary comfits, gossiping, idling away the hours, becalmed in the dreamy,
steamy limbo-land…16

So Lesley Blanch describes daily life in the eighteenth-century harem of

the Seraglio, a description which must owe a certain amount to
imagination, as the harem was strictly out of bounds to all non-inmates,
but which is probably correct in its assumption that the Turkish
odalisques led a life of pampered luxury. Things were very different in
Egypt, where the harem-palace itself was a self-contained and self-
supporting unit, fully independent of the king's palace and deriving its
income from its own endowments of land and the rents paid by tenant
farmers. Many of the lesser harem women, far from idling away the
hours, were expected to work for their keep; the harem itself must have
required numerous cooks, washerwomen, nursemaids and general
servants while Mer-Wer, a large harem-palace established by Tuthmosis
III on the edge of the Faiyum, seems to have been home to a flourishing
textile business. Here the finest Egyptian linen was produced under the
supervision of the ladies of the harem.
 The plans of surviving New Kingdom harem-palaces show groups of
independent mud-brick buildings including living quarters, storerooms
and a chapel or shrine, all surrounded by a high mud-brick wall. The
living quarters took the form of enclosed structures focused inwards
towards a central open area or courtyard which sometimes contained
pools of water. This may be compared with the traditional modern
Islamic harem of the early twentieth century, a large house built around
a courtyard which might include a pool or fountain, and surrounded by
high walls.17 The physical setting of the more modern harem was very
firmly focused inwards towards the central open space which became
the scene of the daily activities of the harem-women. Here food was
prepared, cosmetics were applied, and the days and evenings were spent
singing, dancing and telling stories.

The dynastic Egyptian harem-palace served both as a nursery for the

royal infants and as the ‘Household of the Royal Children’, the most
prestigious school in the land. Here the young male royals, under the
supervision of the ‘Overseer of the Royal Harem’ and the ‘Teacher of the
Royal Children’, received the instruction which would prepare them for
their future lives as some of the highest-ranking nobles in the land. The
title ‘Child of the Palace’ (that is, a royal child, or one important enough
to be brought up as one) is one often used by high officials from the
Middle Kingdom onwards, the full reading in the New Kingdom being
‘Child of the Palace of the Royal Harem’. Important 18th Dynasty
officials who chose to emphasize their childhood connection with the
royal court include the Viziers Rekhmire, Ramose and Amenemope, the
High Priest of Amen, Hapuseneb, and the Mayor of Thebes, Sennefer.
Childhood networking in the royal harem must have been of crucial
importance to those living in a state where everyone's career and status
was dependent upon their relationship with the king.
At any time of civil unrest, given the high mortality rates amongst the
male élite engaged in physical combat, we might expect to find the
embattled monarchy placing a great reliance on the production of male
children both to ensure the royal succession, be it father to son (for
example, Sekenenre Tao to Kamose) or brother to brother (for example,
Kamose to Ahmose) and to provide loyal subordinate military leaders.
However, this does not appear to be the case at the start of the New
Kingdom when the more minor male royal personages – the second sons
and younger brothers of kings – take their turn at becoming invisible.
With the younger males this is not so remarkable as both male and
female royal children tended to be relatively obscure in infancy and
childhood; their early invisibility did not necessarily prevent them from
achieving fame later in their careers. However, the lack of adult princes
is something of a puzzle, particularly at a time when the vast increase in
numbers of royal wives might have led us to expect a dramatic increase
in royal children.
In part, the invisibility of the royal sons must be a result of the
selective preservation of the historical records, and in particular the
royal monuments. The temples and funerary monuments of Thebes and
the West Bank are covered with texts and scenes depicting various kings
who are occasionally shown together with their queens and the royal
princesses. However, the royal family only appear in these scenes as
symbolic appendages of the king; they are not intended to be seen as
independent individuals in their own right and indeed New Kingdom
royal art is full of images of dependant royal woman who often appear
as minuscule figures barely reaching to the knees of the colossal king
who is their husband, father or both. The fact that sons are unlikely to
appear as royal dependents in these scenes should therefore not be taken
as an indication that they lacked importance, but rather as confirmation
that they were expected to live a more independent existence. The
princess was given respect as the daughter (or property?) of the king; the
prince had to earn his own respect. This in turn implies that while the
position of King's Daughter was very much seen as a role in its own
right, the role of King's Son was merely an accident of birth, not a
fulltime career. The crown prince was obviously an exception to this
rule; as heir to the throne he was born with a clearly defined role and
was often given the post of Great Army General to reinforce his status,
just as the British heir to the throne is traditionally created Prince of
Wales.
If royal sons are less likely to appear on royal monuments than their
sisters then where, apart from their tombs, are we likely to find them?
Even the location of their tombs poses a problem, as princely burials
dating to the early 18th Dynasty are virtually unknown, although recent
discoveries in the Valley of the Kings suggest that groups of princes may
have been buried in batches in mass burial chambers. We do have
examples of 18th Dynasty individuals classifying themselves as ‘King's
Son' but, for some reason, we have no one claiming to be a ‘King's
Brother’. This had led to the intriguing suggestion that royal princes may
have in some way lost their royalty once the crown prince had produced
an heir, thereby casting them outside the direct line of succession. This
would have the effect of restricting the royal family to the king, his
unmarried sisters, his spinster aunts, his mother and grandmother and
his children; his brothers and uncles would no longer be regarded as
fully royal, although they would still be entitled to a respected place in
the community.18 This automatic pruning of the royal family would have
the advantage of reducing the number of individuals with a potential
claim to the throne and would presumably keep the royal family
securely exclusive. Whatever their official status, we can see that those
princes who grew to adulthood before the death of their father received
high-ranking appointments in the priesthood, the army and the civil
service. The fate of their younger, orphaned brothers is less certain.
The best place to look for the missing 18th Dynasty princes is the
workmen's village of Deir el-Medina. Here, throughout the 19th Dynasty
and particularly during the reign of Ramesses II, the early 18th Dynasty
royal family was regarded with great reverence. On a general level they
were honoured as both the (theoretical) ancestors of the current kings
and as excellent role models for military kingship, while on a more
personal level the inhabitants of Deir el-Medina worshipped the Theban
royal family as both the founders of their village and the initiators of the
ultimate in job-creation schemes in the Valley of the Kings. The villagers
had good reason to worship their partially deified patrons Amenhotep I
and Ahmose Nefertari, and it is not surprising that these two demi-gods
appear on many small monuments, sometimes standing alongside other
Theban deities such as Hathor, Lady of the West. Occasionally, however,
the inhabitants of Deir el-Medina chose to commemorate the lesser
members of the Theban royal family, including some of the missing
princes. The best-known example of this is found in the tomb of a man
named Khabekhnet, where the northeastern wall shows two rows of
seated, named individuals who are identified as ‘Lords of the West’.
Included amongst these are some who are clearly the sons of kings who
did not succeed their father to the throne. Unfortunately, beyond their
names, we have little further information about these lost princes.

From the scanty records surviving from the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty, it emerges that
a remarkable part was played in the history of the newly unified state by three ladies, Tetisheri
and Ahhotpe… and Ahmose Nefertiry… There can be little doubt that their behaviour served as
an inspiration to the leading women of the country (of whom Hatchepsut is the leading example)
throughout the Eighteenth Dynasty.19

King Ahmose was blessed with not only a strong grandmother but
with a forceful and politically active mother. Ahhotep I (or Ahhotpe, as
above), consort and possibly sister of Sekenenre Tao II, exerted a
profound and long-lasting influence on her son; on a stela recovered
from Karnak, Ahmose encourages his people to pay homage to his
mother as the ‘one who has accomplished the rites and taken care of
Egypt’:
She has looked after her [that is, Egypt's] soldiers, she has guarded her, she has brought back her
fugitives and collected together her deserters, she has pacified Upper Egypt and expelled her
rebels.20

The precise meaning of this curious stela is now lost to us. However if,
as it seems to maintain, Ahhotep herself had truly been able to thwart a
rebellion by mustering the Egyptian troops, she must have been a
woman capable of wielding real rather than ceremonial power. We may
even deduce that Ahhotep had been called upon to act as regent
following the untimely death of Kamose because we know that when
Ahmose died at the end of his 25-year reign he was relatively young,
possibly only in his early thirties. We know of no formal declaration of a
regency, but there was certainly a well-established precedent for the
dowager queen to act as regent for her young son; the 2nd Dynasty
Queen Nemaathep had acted as regent for King Djoser and the 6th
Dynasty Queen Ankhes-Merire had ruled on behalf of her six-year-old
son Pepi II. Why the queen should be chosen to act as regent in
preference to a male relation (perhaps father's brother) is now unclear,
although we can speculate that it would be the mother above all who
would safeguard her son's inheritance. If the theory of the royal princes
losing their royalness on the assumption of their brother holds true,
there would in any case be no close male member of the royal family
available to take on the role.
There was certainly a clear divine precedent for a mother taking care
of her son's inheritance. The story of Isis and Osiris tells how Osiris,
rightful king of Egypt in the time of the gods, was murdered by his
jealous brother Seth. Seth cut Osiris' body into many pieces which he
scattered all over Egypt. Isis, his devoted wife and sister, toiled to collect
the bits together and, with her magic powers, granted Osiris temporary
life. So successful was her magic that nine months later their son Horus
was born. The dead Osiris then became king of the Afterlife. Meanwhile
the resourceful Isis hid Horus from his uncle in the marshes until he
became a man, able to avenge his father's death. The women of Egypt
were not routinely expected to display such initiative; they generally
took a more passive role in society. However, decisive behaviour was
acceptable and even to be encouraged in a female if that behaviour was
intended to safeguard the rights of either a husband or child.
After her death Ahhotep was accorded a splendid burial on the West
Bank at Thebes. Her mummy in its elaborate coffin was recovered in the
mid nineteenth century, and is now housed in the Cairo Museum.

Although both Tetisheri and Ahhotep had been honoured by Ahmose it

was his wife, Ahmose Nefertari, who first received the formal accolades
which were to become the right of future queens of Egypt. Ahmose
Nefertari, ‘King's Daughter and King's Sister’, ‘Female Chieftain of Upper
and Lower Egypt’, wife and probably sister of Ahmose, mother of
Amenhotep I, granddaughter of Tetisheri and possibly daughter of
Kamose, was even more influential than her redoubtable mother-in-law.
Unfortunately we have no text detailing her specific achievements, but
we do know that Ahmose Nefertari was either given, or sold, the
prestigious title of ‘Second Prophet of Amen’, a post which was intended
to belong to the queen and her descendants for ever.
 Fig. 2.2 The god Osiris
The queen later renounced this title for an even more prestigious
position, the priestly office of ‘God's Wife of Amen’, an honour which
came with its own endowment of goods and land plus a staff of male
administrators and which, given the rising importance of the cult of
Amen at this time, was a clear indication of the enhanced status of the
queen. It is perhaps cynical to suggest that the position may have been
deliberately contrived to allow the royal family some measure of control
over the increasingly powerful and wealthy cult. Ahmose Nefertari
obviously saw this as her most important role, and used the title of
‘God's Wife of Amen in preference to any other. Contemporary
illustrations show the queen dressed in a distinctive short wig and
strangely archaic-looking clothes as she performs the religious duties
associated with her new office. Unfortunately, we have little
understanding of the precise function of the God's Wife; the title suggests
that it should have been borne either by those queens who had coupled
with Amen to produce a king (that is, by queen mothers), or by
unmarried women who had dedicated themselves to the service of
Amen, but a quick survey of the women who held the post shows that
neither explanation can be correct. Hatchepsut, for example, was neither
a virgin nor the mother of a king. It is possible, however, that the role
related in some (theoretical) way to the sexual stimulation of the god
which would ensure the renewal of the land: a second and less deli-cate
title, ‘God's Hand’, which is occasionally used in conjunction with ‘God's
Wife’, is an unmistakable reference to the masturbation which produced
the first gods, Shu and Tefnut.

Fig. 2.3 The god Horus

The role of ‘God's Wife of Amen' was passed down from Ahmose
Nefertari to her daughter Meritamen, and then to Hatchepsut who used
it until she became king, when it was transferred to her daughter
Neferure. The title fell into decline during the solo reign of Tuthmosis III
– perhaps the new king had experienced enough powerful women – and
died out completely after the reign of Tuthmosis IV, only to be revived
during the Third Intermediate Period when, having merged with the
position of ‘Divine Adoratrice’, it developed into a politically and
economically highly significant post. The God's Wife of Amen now had
theoretical control over the vast wealth of the estates of Amen.
Ahmose Nefertari fulfilled her wifely duties by presenting her
husband-brother with at least four sons and five daughters, five of whom
died in infancy or childhood. However, she was not content to restrict
herself to breeding and abandoned the traditional shelter of the queen's
palace:

To judge from the number of inscriptions, contemporary and later, in which that young queen's
name appears, she obtained as celebrity almost without parallel in the history of Egypt.21

Setting a precedent now followed by modern royal couples, the queen

accompanied her husband as he performed his many civic duties; we
know that when Ahmose opened a new gallery at the Tura limestone
quarry in his regnal Year 22, he was accompanied by his queen who
stood modestly behind her husband in a typical wifely pose. The queen
also seems to have assisted her husband in developing his building
projects and, as we have already noted, Ahmose consulted his wife over
his plans to honour their dead grandmother, Tetisheri. She was certainly
active in the religious sphere; her piety, or perhaps her independent
wealth, led her to dedicate far more religious offerings than any previous
queen and offerings presented by Ahmose Nefertari have been found in
temples as far apart as Karnak in the south and Serabit el-Khadim in the
Sinai Peninsula.
Following the death of Ahmose, Ahmose Nefertari took on the role of
regent for her young son, Amenhotep I, handing over the reins of state
when her son became old enough to rule. Throughout his 21-year reign,
Amenhotep I consolidated the successful foreign policies started by his
father, uncle and grandfather. There was no further military action in
Palestine, but the army ex-further south into Nubia where a viceroy was
appointed to take care of Egypt's interests in the Upper Nubian Kingdom
of Kush. The ubiquitous Ahmose, son of Ibana, was present to witness
the new king's triumph:
 Fig. 2.4 The cartouche of King Amenhotep I

I transported the King of Upper and Lower Egypt Djeserkare [Amenhotep I], the justified, when
he sailed south to Kush to make wider the borders of Egypt. His Majesty smote those Bowmen of
Nubia in the midst of his army. They were brought away in a stranglehold, none escaping. The
fleeing were laid low, as if they had never existed. I was at the head of the army and truly I
fought. His Majesty saw my bravery. I brought away two hands to bring to his Majesty… Then I
was rewarded with gold. I brought away two female captives as plunder, apart from those which
I brought to his Majesty, and I was made ‘Warrior of the Ruler’.22

Internally, there was an ambitious building programme encompassing

several Upper Egyptian sites, and the arts and sciences flourished. Dying
before his mother, Amenhotep I became the focus of a funerary cult at
Deir el-Medina, where he was worshipped as ‘Amenhotep of the Town’,
‘Amenhotep Beloved of Amen’, or ‘Amenhotep of the Forecourt’. When
she, too, flew to heaven, Ahmose Nefertari was also deified and
worshipped at Deir el-Medina as patron goddess of the Theban
necropolis. She eventually became ‘Mistress of the Sky’ and ‘Lady of the
West’ and her cult lasted throughout the New Kingdom.
Ahmose Nefertari's forceful personality completely eclipsed that of her
son's consort and sister, Queen Meritamen. Although we are told that
Meritamen also bore the title of ‘God's Wife of Amen’ we know little else
about this lady, beyond the fact that she did not provide her husband
with a living male successor. Amenhotep I was therefore followed as
king by a man whom he himself had chosen, a middle-aged general who
was to become King Tuthmosis I. As the early 18th Dynasty was a time
when the ruling élite formed a close-knit and well-defined group almost
invariably linked by marriage, the new heir to the throne may well have
been a descendant of a collateral branch of the royal family.23 Tuthmosis
himself, however, makes no claim to royal blood. His father is never
named and remains a man of mystery, although it seems safe to assume
that had he been of noble or royal birth Tuthmosis would have been the
first to acknowledge him, while his mother was a non-royal woman
named Senisenb who was never a queen and who was always given the
simple title of ‘King's Mother’. Tuthmosis himself confirmed his mother's
relatively humble origins when he required his loyal troops to swear an
oath of loyalty on his accession ‘by the name of His Majesty, life, health
and strength, born of the Royal Mother Senisenb’. This choice of
successor seems to have met with general approval and in the fullness of
time Tuthmosis I became pharaoh of Egypt. The Tuthmoside era had
begun.

There is some rather weak archaeological evidence to suggest that

Amenhotep I may have associated himself in a co-regency with his
intended successor. On the wall of the chapel of Amenhotep at Karnak,
Tuthmosis I is shown dressed as a king, performing royal tasks and with
his name written in the royal cartouche. If, as has been suggested, this
scene was commissioned during the lifetime of Amenhotep I, there must
have been two kings on the throne at the same time. Unfortunately, we
have no means of knowing when the carving was made and, while it
would certainly have made good sense for Amenhotep to associate
himself formally with Tuthmosis, the case for a joint reign must rest
unproven. It is, after all, equally possible that the building, started by
Amenhotep, was finished after his death by Tuthmosis. The fact that
Tuthmosis I started to count his regnal years from the death of his
predecessor is of little help in determining whether or not the two
shared a reign.
The tradition of the co-regency, a regular feature of 12th Dynasty
reigns and one which reappears during the early 18th Dynasty, appears a
strange one to those of us accustomed to seeing a single divinely
appointed monarch on the throne. Joint rule must have posed many
practical difficulties – how could the country be ruled by two kings at
the same time? Were the royal duties performed in stereo or were they
divided on some mutually agreed basis? Was there to be a ‘junior’ and a
‘senior’ king? And how was the joint reign to be dated? Egyptian

Fig. 2.5 The cartouche of King Tuthmosis I

theology decreed that the attributes of divine kingship were passed from
father to son, the son becoming the living Horus at the precise moment
that his dying father became the dead Osiris yet, as Gardiner has pointed
out, ‘… there is no hint that the Egyptians ever felt scruples on this
score. In matters of religion logic played no great part, and the
assimilation or duplication of deities doubtless added a mystic charm to
their theology.’24
The question of how such a joint reign was to be dated was no trivial
matter – the Egyptians always described their years with reference to the
current pharaoh. We now know that there were in fact two types of co-
regencies, each employing a different dating system. Where there was
clearly a ‘senior’ and a more ‘junior’ king, the joint reign was dated by
reference to the regnal years of the senior partner with the junior king
counting his own years only from the death of his senior. Such unequal
co-regencies leave very little evidence and are consequently very hard
for the historian to detect. Other co-regencies, where the newest king
started to count his regnal years from the beginning of the co-regency
while his co-ruler continued with his own regnal years, may be viewed
as a more equal partnership. However, this equality led to a certain
amount of chronological confusion as each year of such a co-regency had
two equally valid regnal dates, and indeed we occasionally find ‘double-
dated’ texts and monuments giving the regnal years of two contemporary
kings, while the anniversaries of the succession of each king created two
New Year's days which were not necessarily synchronized with the third
New Year's day, that of the civil calendar.25 Given these not
inconsiderable drawbacks, it is perhaps not surprising to find that
double-dated co-regencies were rare during the New Kingdom.
In spite of the theological, political and dating problems posed by joint
reigns, they remained a feature of Egyptian kingship. There must,
therefore, have been enough compensating advantages to make a co-
regency appear worthwhile. Perhaps the main advantage was that the
co-regency made the intended succession absolutely clear; no one could
dispute the intentions of a king who had already announced his
successor. At times when the new king was not an obvious choice (for
example, when there was no legitimate male heir), the co-regency must
have seemed a sensible precaution which would deter any other
claimant to the throne and ensure continuity of rule in a land where so
much depended on the presence of a pharaoh on the throne. The
additional benefit of allowing the new king to learn the art of
government while the old king eased into a semi-retirement must have
been appreciated by both monarchs.

King Tuthmosis I was married to a lady named Ahmose, a popular

female name in New Kingdom Egypt. There is some disagreement over
the origins of this lady, with some authorities classing her as a daughter
of Amenhotep I and others placing her as the daughter of Ahmose and
Ahmose Nefertari and therefore a full sister of Amenhotep I. Whatever
her parentage, until recently all experts were in agreement that Ahmose
must have been a princess of the royal blood, and that Tuthmosis must
have married her in order to make his position as king even more secure.
It is relatively common for a legally dubious claimant to a throne to seek
to enhance his position by marrying a close female relative of his
predecessor, a match which consolidates his claim while removing any
potential challenge from the children or grandchildren of the previous
king. In Egypt, such political matches appear to have been standard
procedure; indeed, the first pharaoh of the Archaic Period, the victorious
southern King Narmer, contracted a similar marriage when he married
Neith-Hotep, a northern Princess. We should therefore not be too
surprised to find that Tuthmosis appeared to follow this prudent plan.
However, Queen Ahmose, who bears the title of ‘King's Sister’ (senet
nesu) is never accorded the more important title of ‘King's Daughter’ (sat
nesu). The Egyptians were not generally shy of recording their ranks and
achievements, and this unusual reticence may therefore be an indication
that Ahmose was not the daughter of a king, and by extension that she
could not be either the daughter or the sister of Amenhotep I. Instead,
she may actually have been the sister or half-sister of Tuthmosis I. If this
is the case, we may speculate that their brother–sister marriage must
have occurred after Tuthmosis's promotion to heir apparent, as such
incestuous marriages are extremely rare outside the immediate royal
family. This would suggest that Hatchepsut, and indeed her full brothers
and sister, may have been born after Tuthmosis had become co-regent,
and that Hatchepsut may therefore have been little more than twelve
years old when she married her half-brother to become queen consort.
The 18th Dynasty was to become remarkable for the number of times
that the king was married to a close female relation, often his half-or full
sister and occasionally even his daughter. Hatchepsut herself was
married to her half-brother Tuthmosis II, bearing him at least one
daughter who was herself almost certainly intended to marry her half-
brother Tuthmosis III. Nor was this phenomenon confined to the early
18th Dynasty. A century after Hatchepsut's reign, King Amenhotep III
married his daughter Sitamen and elevated her to the rank of King's
Chief Wife alongside her mother, Queen Tiy. Amenhotep III was
followed on the throne by his son Akhenaten who married at least one
and possibly three of his six daughters, and he was followed in turn by
the boy-king Tutankhamen who married his sister(?) Ankhesenamen
who bore him at least two still-born children. It is clear that the tradition
of fully consummated incestuous marriages was well established within
the royal family, and we must not assume that these unions would have
been considered in any way distasteful or even unusual by the parties
concerned. Indeed, a Late Period papyrus now housed in the Cairo
Museum tells the story of Prince Neneferkaptah and Princess Ahwere
who had fallen head over heels in love with each other and who wished
to marry despite the opposition of their father, who worried aloud about
the situation:

If it so happens that I have only two children, is it right to marry one to the other? Should I not
rather marry Neneferkaptah to the daughter of a general and Ahwere to the son of another
general, so that our family may increase?26

The king was concerned about the match not because the bride and
groom were brother and sister, but because it was an insular marriage
which would not introduce new members into the royal family.
Eventually he relented, gave his children his blessing and his daughter a
dowry, and, as Ahwere frankly tells us:

I was taken as a wife to the house of Neneferkaptah… He slept with me that night and found me
pleasing. He slept with me again and again and we loved each other.27

To egyptologists working in the nineteenth and early twentieth

centuries, many of whom had developed their interest in egyptology as a
by-product of their primary interest in Biblical studies, these shamelessly
incestuous unions appeared both unnatural and repugnant; ‘a very
objectional custom' according to Sir J. Gardner Wilkinson,28 speaking for
many of his contemporaries. Such marriages could only be explained as
a necessity which could not be avoided. Already heavily influenced by
the erroneous theory of a matriarchal Theban royal family, egyptologists
now developed the so-called ‘heiress theory’; a theory which neatly
explained the intra-family marriages by deducing that the right to rule
must be transmitted downwards through the generations via the royal
women. It was not enough to be born a royal prince or to be crowned
king as it would be in a western-style monarchy – the true ruler of Egypt
had to marry the royal heiress who was always the daughter of a king
and his consort and who carried the essence of ‘royalness’ in her veins.
The heiress then in turn became queen, and mother of both the next king
and the next royal heiress.
More recent research, and perhaps a greater willingness to accept the
realities of incestuous unions, shows that this heiress theory must be
incorrect. Many of the most successful kings of the 18th Dynasty,
including Tuthmosis I, II and III, were clearly not the sons of royal
women and yet were fully accepted by their people. Conversely
Tuthmosis III, Amenhotep I and Amenhotep III, and possibly Tuthmosis
I, had non-royal consorts who were treated with at least as much respect
as their better-born sisters. We must, therefore, seek some other
explanation for the prevalence of incestuous royal marriages at this time.
The dynastic Egyptians, in contrast to most other peoples, ancient and
modern, were remarkably relaxed in their attitudes to marriage. They do
not seem to have felt the need to impose any state or religious control
over the choice of partners and, although the idea of the family was
always an important one, the impression given is that marriage – or,
more accurately, a sexual union – was of little interest to any but the
immediate families of the couple concerned. Co-habitation with slaves,
with foreigners, with brothers or sisters and even with relatively young
children were all legally permissible, as was polygamy and, it would
appear although we have no known examples, polyandry. Therefore, it
was possible for any Egyptian man to openly marry or sleep with his
sister or one or all of his unmarried daughters without incurring legal
penalties. Whether he would have been allowed to sleep with his mother
– indeed whether he would have wished to – is another question.
Despite their legal validity, brother–sister unions are very rare until
the Roman period when a complex system of inheritance laws forced
families to favour brother–sister marriages in an attempt to keep their
property intact. Unfortunately, the Egyptian habit of referring to wives
and lovers as ‘sisters’ has caused a great deal of confusion in this area;
the New Kingdom poet who sighed, ‘My sister is come, my heart fills
with joy as I open my arms to enfold her’, was longing for his girlfriend,
who was presumably not a close blood relation, and it would appear that
most Egyptian males simply did not fancy their sisters and chose to look
outside the nuclear family for a mate. We may suggest a variety of
reasons for this: local custom, the wish to extend the basic family group,
the wish to extend bonds with other families and perhaps a lack of
sexual attraction between children raised together, may well have
combined to make non-sibling marriage the preferred choice.
The royal family were, however, in an entirely different position. They
were unique, exclusive, and had no desire to either increase in numbers
or unite with other families. Indeed, they were even prepared to exclude
brothers and sons from the immediate family in order to preserve their
select status. Incestuous marriage was therefore a convenient means of
ensuring the purity of the royal line and restricting the size of the royal
family by concentrating ‘royalness’ within a small group of closely
related individuals. As an added advantage, brother-sister marriage
ensured that a suitable husband could always be found for the highest-
ranking princesses who might otherwise have been unable to marry.
Whether they were concerned that the husband of a princess might
attempt to seize the throne for his own descendants, or whether they
simply felt themselves to be superior to all others, the 18th Dynasty
royal family was always very careful when it came to marrying off its
daughters. Egyptian princesses never made diplomatic foreign marriages
and when the King of Babylon, whose own daughter was married to
Amenhotep III, inquired about an Egyptian bride for his own harem he
was given short shrift: ‘Since the days of old, no Egyptian king's daughter
has been given to anyone.’ Ankhesenamen, the young widow of
Tutankhamen, broke with 18th Dynasty tradition when she wrote to
Suppiluliuma, King of the Hittites, asking him to send a suitable prince:
‘If you could send me one of your sons I would make him my husband.’
Unfortunately, the bridegroom was murdered on the way to meet his
bride, and it was not until the 21st Dynasty that an Egyptian princess
was sent as a bride to the Jewish King Solomon.
Brother–sister marriages were a useful means of reinforcing the links
between the pharaoh and the gods while emphasizing the gulf between
the immediate royal family and the rest of mankind. Isis and Osiris, Geb
and Nut and Seth and Nephthys had all enjoyed brother–sister unions,
although as these six existed at a time when there were no other eligible
marriage partners this was perhaps less through choice than through
necessity. Whatever the reasons, what had been good enough for the
gods was good enough for pharaoh. For those who believed that their
royal blood made them profoundly different from other mortals, a sister
made the logical choice of spouse, while an Egyptian princess was surely
the best possible mother for a future king of Egypt.
 3
Queen of Egypt

The king [Tuthmosis I] rested from life, going forth to heaven, having completed his years in
gladness of heart. The hawk in the nest [appeared as] the King of Upper and Lower Egypt,
Aakheperenre [Tuthmosis II], he became king of the Black Land and ruler of the Red Land, having
taken possession of the Two Regions in triumph.1

The former general Tuthmosis I soon proved himself a worthy successor

to the newly established tradition of the mighty Egyptian warrior-king,
embarking on a series of flamboyant and highly successful foreign
campaigns intended to impress Egyptian superiority on the traditional
enemies of the south and north. In his second regnal year Egyptian
troops marched southwards into Nubia where, as Ahmose, son of Ibana,
tells us, they successfully ‘destroyed insurrection throughout the lands
and repelled the intruders from the desert region’, advancing past the
Third Cataract of the Nile, where Tuthmosis set up a stela to
commemorate his great achievement, and reaching the island of Argo.
The new king sailed home in triumph with the body of a Nubian
bowman, a dreadful warning to others who might be tempted to rebel,
draped ‘head down over the bow of his majesty's ship, the Falcon’. He
left behind him a subdued land controlled by a chain of Egyptian
fortresses stretching across Nubia and the Sudan.
This was followed by an even more spectacular victory. After
establishing new military headquarters at the old northern capital of
Memphis, Tuthmosis pressed eastwards into Naharin, crossing the River
Euphrates and entering the territory ruled by Egypt's new enemy, the
King of Mitanni. Here, as the ever-present Ahmose records:
[His Majesty] went to Retenu to vent his wrath throughout foreign lands. His Majesty arrived at
Naharin. His Majesty – life, prosperity and health be upon him – found that the enemy was
gathering troops. Then his Majesty made a great heap of corpses among them. Countless were the
living captives of his Majesty from his victories. Lo, I was at the head of the army and his Majesty
saw my bravery. I brought away a chariot, its horse, and the one who was upon it as a living
captive to present to his Majesty. I was rewarded with gold yet again.2

After a great battle and with many of the enemy killed or taken prisoner,
Tuthmosis laid down the foundations of what was later to develop into
Egypt's Asian empire. Once again a commemorative stela was needed,
this time to be set on the bank of the River Euphrates. On his journey
home the victorious king paused for a celebratory elephant hunt in the
swamps of Syria, thus establishing a family tradition which was to be
followed some fifty years later by his grandson, Tuthmosis III, a prolific
big-game hunter who was to boast of killing or maiming over a hundred
elephants at the same hunting ground.

Tuthmosis I instigated an equally successful domestic policy and his

reign saw extensive and innovative building programmes at all the major
Theban sites. To Ineni, a high-ranking Theban official, Hereditary Prince,
Overseer of Double Granary of Amen and possibly Mayor of Thebes, fell
the responsibility for supervising what was to become the first phase of
the 18th Dynasty embellishment of the Karnak temple complex. The
original Middle Kingdom temple was now enclosed within a sandstone
wall, the processional ways were extended, and two magnificent pylons
or monumental gateways, complete with towers and flagpoles, were
installed, the area between them being roofed over to form a pillared
hall. Most impressive of all, two inscribed red-granite obelisks, each
standing 19.5 m (64 ft) high and with a gold-leaf coated tip designed to
mirror the sun's rays, were erected within the enclosure wall before the
main entrance to the temple.
Ineni was evidently an experienced architect and overseer of building
projects. He had previously worked on the construction of the gate of
Amenhotep I at Karnak, and he was now to be entrusted with the
quarrying of the king's secret tomb which was to be the first excavated
in the remote Biban el-Muluk, the Valley of the Gates of the Kings, now
better known simply as the Valley of the Kings, on the West Bank of the
Nile, opposite Thebes. The autobiography preserved in his tomb tells
how he:

… supervised the excavation of the cliff-tomb of His Majesty alone, no one seeing, no one
hearing… I was vigilant in seeking that which is excellent. I made fields of clay in order to
plaster their tombs of the necropolis. It is work such as the ancestors had not which I was obliged
to do there.3

The tomb was to follow the new custom, established by Amenhotep I, of

physically separating the actual burial chamber from the mortuary
temple. The theological move away from the cult of Re and the
associated pyramid form, and the development of mortuary temples
which were effectively temples of Amen, caused the architects some
problems. It was neither practical nor desirable to site the large and
conspicuous mortuary temples in the steep Valley of the Kings while,
although the mortuary temple could be constructed on the flatter and
more accessible desert fringes, the burial chamber could not be dug
underneath the temple without incurring the risk of flooding. Separation
was inevitable, and brought a welcome side effect; it was now possible
to make a realistic attempt to hide the entrance to the burial chamber
from the thieves who were irresistibly attracted by the sumptuous
paraphernalia traditionally provided with the burial of a king. The
preservation of an intact tomb was vital, not merely to provide storage
for the grave goods which the deceased might need in the Afterlife, but
to conserve the mummified body itself. Egyptian theology decreed that
the soul, or Ka, could not survive if the body was destroyed and, as the
prospect of ‘dying the second death’ (that is, the destruction of the body
and subsequent death of the soul) seemed almost too horrific to
contemplate, the tradition of mummification was developed in a
desperate attempt to defeat nature and preserve the deceased for
eternity. Unfortunately, the custom of wrapping valuable items under
the mummy bandages meant that the bodies of dead kings, once
discovered, were treated with scant respect. By the beginning of the New
Kingdom tomb-robbery was a major problem, and it had become all too
obvious that a large monument placed in close proximity to a wealthy
grave simply served as a signpost to buried treasures.
Tuthmosis’ hidden tomb, usually identified using the modern tomb-
numbering convention as KV 38, was a relatively simple affair consisting
of a rectangular antechamber, a pillared burial chamber and small
storeroom linked together by a series of narrow passages and steep
stairways. His associated mortuary chapel, Khenmetankh (literally
‘United with Life’), which was for a long time mis-identified as the
shrine of Prince Wadjmose, was situated a good hour's walk away from
the Valley of the Kings, at a site later chosen for the mortuary temple of
the 19th Dynasty King Ramesses II, now popularly known as the
Ramesseum.

Tuthmosis had been a middle-aged man with a successful career behind

him when he acceded to the throne and he had reigned for no more than
ten to fifteen years before, aged about fifty, he ‘rested from life’. Fifty
years may seem a short life-span to modern readers accustomed to
seeing relations living well into their seventies and eighties, but it would
have been an eminently reasonable age for an active Egyptian soldier to
achieve; throughout the New Kingdom, life expectancy at birth was
considerably lower than twenty years, while those who survived the
perils of birth and infancy to reach fourteen years of age might then
expect to live for another fifteen years. This compares well with the
average life expectancies normally found in pre-industrial societies,
which tend to vary between twenty and forty years, and with the
suggested average life expectancy of a Roman senator at birth of thirty
years.4 Those élite Egyptian males, who able to maintain higher
standards of hygiene and nutrition than the less fortunate artisans and
peasants, who performed little or no dangerous manual work, who were
not faced with the dangers of childbirth and could afford the best
medical attention, benefited from a slightly increased life expectancy,
but no one could look forward with any confidence to a long old age.
Although the Egyptians were famed throughout the ancient world for
their medical expertise, there was relatively little that any doctor could
do to help when faced with a seriously ill or wounded patient, and the
average age for tomb owners (that is, the male élite) of the Dynastic
Period has been calculated at between thirty and forty-five years.5
The high levels of infant and child mortality, combined with the low
life expectancy, made it very difficult for the Egyptian royal family to
maintain its exclusivity. In an ideal world, as we have already seen, the
heir to the throne would be the son of the king and his consort who was
usually herself a close blood relation, and often a half-or full sister of the
king. The crown prince would, therefore, be of unblemished royal
descent through both his father and his mother, and by marrying his
sister he could maintain the tradition of family purity. However, no
matter how many children were conceived by the royal couple, there
could be no guarantee that any would live to become adults. Given the

lack of effective contraceptives and often-expressed desire for large

numbers of offspring, we might expect to find the nuclear royal family
expanding rapidly throughout the New Kingdom. This was not the case.
Instead, the Tuthmoside royal family was plagued by a dearth of
children, with sons being in particularly short supply and single
daughters becoming the norm. Nor were they the only New Kingdom
royal family to suffer from this problem; King Ramesses II, perhaps
exceptionally unfortunate even by Egyptian standards, was eventually
succeeded by Prince Merenptah, his thirteenth son born to one of his
many secondary wives. Although the Egyptian king always had the back-
up of his multiple wives and concubines, any of whom could in theory
produce a legitimate king's son and heir, the succession of a lesser prince
to the throne was not regarded as ideal.
There is some confusion over the number of children actually born to
Tuthmosis I and his consort, Queen Ahmose. We know of two daughters,
Princess Hatchepsut and her sister Princess Akhbetneferu (occasionally
referred to as Neferubity) who died in infancy. We also have firm
historical evidence that Tuthmosis I fathered two sons, the Princes
Wadjmose and Amenmose, and possibly a third son, Prince Ramose.6
Princes Amenmose and Wadjmose survived into their late teens but
never acceded to the throne. As both boys had been raised in the
tradition of royal princes, and as Amenmose in particular seems to have
undertaken some of the duties of the heir to the throne, it appears that
both were regarded as potential kings who failed to inherit only because
they predeceased their father; both princes disappear before the death of
Tuthmosis I. Wadjmose, the elder brother, is the more obscure. We know
that he was taught by Itruri and possibly by Paheri, grandson of Ahmose,
son of Ibana; he is depicted in the tomb of Paheri as a young boy sitting
on his tutor's knee. He also appears in a prominent role in his father's
badly damaged funerary chapel where a side-room served as a family
shrine for the mortuary cults of various family members including the
secondary Queen Mutnofret, the mysterious Prince Ramose and Prince
Wadjmose himself.
Amenmose, the younger but possibly longer-lived son, was accorded
the title of ‘Great Army Commander’, the role now traditionally
allocated to the crown prince. Physical bravery had become an
important New Kingdom royal attribute and Amenmose was clearly
expected to enjoy the hearty lifestyle of the male élite. A broken stela
tells us that, during his father's regnal Year 4, Amenmose was already
hunting wild animals in the Giza desert near the Great Sphinx, a
favourite playground of the royal princes. Big-game hunting was by now
a major prestige sport recently made infinitely more exciting by the use
of the composite bow and the swift and highly mobile horse-drawn
chariot which allowed the pursuit of fast-moving creatures such as lions
and ostriches. Middle Kingdom hunting had been a far more staid affair,
with the brave huntsman standing still to fire arrows at a pre-herded and
occasionally penned group of ‘wild’ animals.

Fig. 3.1 The infant Hatchepsut being suckled by the goddess Hathor
Just how old could Amenmose have been when he was to be found
chasing ostriches across the Giza desert? If Amenmose was the A son of
Ahmose and Tuthmosis, if Ahmose was the sister or half-sister of
Tuthmosis, and if we therefore assume that the royal siblings embarked
upon their incestuous marriage only after Tuthmosis became king,
Amenmose must have been barely four years old during his father's Year
4; surely a little too young for even the most precocious of princes to be
found training with the army or hunting wild animals. This reasoning is,
of course, full of ‘ifs’, and it is entirely possible that a relatively young
prince could have played a purely honorary role in the life of the army;
Ramesses II, for example, allowed all his sons to travel with the army,
and the five-year-old Prince Khaemwaset is known to have accompanied
a military campaign in Lower Nubia. However, the apparent discrepancy
in ages strongly suggests that Amenmose and Wadjmose, and perhaps
the ephemeral Ramose, may not in fact have been the children of
Ahmose but of an earlier wife, possibly the mysterious Lady Mutnofret
who features alongside Wadjmose in his father's funerary chapel.
We know very little about Lady Mutnofret, but it is obvious that she
was a person of rank, perhaps even of royal blood, who was held in the
highest honour. This is confirmed by an inscription at Karnak where a
lady named Mutnofret is described as ‘King's Daughter’.7 We have
already seen that it is Mutnofret rather than Queen Ahmose who appears
alongside Wadjmose and Ramose in the king's mortuary chapel; here her
statue wears the royal uraeus and her name is written in a cartouche.
Mutnofret is also known to have been the mother of Tuthmosis' eventual
successor, Tuthmosis II. The Princes Amenmose, Wadjmose, Ramose, and
Tuthmosis II may therefore have been full brothers, possibly born before
their father married Ahmose. This tangle of relationships would make
more sense if we had confirmation that Tuthmosis was a widower at his
accession – highly likely, given that he is likely to have been at least
thirty-five years old – his first wife Mutnofret having borne him several
sons before dying.
 Fig. 3.2 A hippopotamus hunter
The Tuthmoside succession following the death of Tuthmosis I – the
so-called ‘Hatchepsut Problem’ – is a subject which greatly perplexed
late nineteenth-and early twentieth-century egyptologists, and the effects
of their confusion still linger in some more recent publications. The
names of the individual monarchs involved had been known for some
time (Tuthmosis I, II and III, Hatchepsut), but the precise sequence of
their reigns and their relationships with each other were not, although it
was generally assumed that the three Tuthmoses followed each other in
sequence with Hatchepsut appearing in some unknown capacity some
time after Tuthmosis II. Unfortunately, the monumental evidence which
might have been expected to help solve the mystery had been tampered
with at some point in antiquity, the original cartouches8 being re-cut to
give the names of other pharaohs
 Fig. 3.3 The cartouche of King Tuthmosis II

involved in the succession muddle. This deliberate defacement of the

royal monuments was generally accepted as evidence of intense personal
hatreds stemming from a desperate struggle for power within the royal
family.
In 1896, the German egyptologist Kurt Sethe, basing his conclusions
on a meticulous study of the erased cartouches, and on the erroneous
assumption that the defaced cartouches must have been recarved by the
monarch whose name replaced the original, suggested that the
succession of monarchs must have been as follows:9

1 Tuthmosis I. Deposed by –
2 Tuthmosis III
3 Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis III co-regents, Hatchepsut the senior king.
Hatchepsut deposed by –
4 Tuthmosis III
5 Tuthmosis II and Tuthmosis I co-regents, until the death of Tuthmosis I
6 Tuthmosis II. Reigning until his death
7 Tuthmosis III and Hatchepsut co-regents until Hatchepsut's death
8 Tuthmosis III

It is perhaps all too easy for modern historians, blessed with the benefit
of hindsight, to dismiss this over-elaborate sequence as a triumph of
scholarly methodology over common sense. To those accustomed to
studying the complex Ptolemaic succession, however, where parent
succeeded child and brother succeeded sister in rapid and confusing
sequence, it was not quite so far-fetched. The theory, accompanied by
appropriate explanations of intra-family feuding to justify the rapid
changes of ruler, became almost universally adopted despite a complete
absence of corroborative evidence, and initially only the Swiss
egyptologist Edouard Naville made a direct challenge to Sethe's
suggested sequence of rulers, maintaining that the cartouches which
replaced those of Hatchepsut should, equally erroneously, all be dated to
the Rames-side period. Sethe and Naville, two illustrious
contemporaries, were never to reach agreement over the fundamental
aspects of Hatchepsut's reign and were, indeed, for a time reduced to
open warfare over the subject; their famous scholarly arguments being
conducted with dignity via the pages of learned journals. A well-known
archaeological story tells of the time when the two found themselves to
be near neighbours, Sethe occupying the ‘German house’ at Deir el-Bahri
and M. and Mme Naville living close by in the newly built British
expedition house. When the Navilles' kitchen collapsed into a tomb-pit,
threatening the continuation of the British mission, Sethe generously
invited his colleague to stay in the German house, on condition that the
name of Hatchepsut would not be mentioned between them. The
Navilles spent several peaceful weeks staying with Sethe before they
returned to their house, their kitchen now restored, and the feud at once
recommenced.10
While Naville was content with a flat denial of Sethe's conclusions,
others struggled to incorporate the new scheme into their own work.
Even those such as Flinders Petrie, who found themselves unable to
accept the full complexities of the proposed succession, were heavily
influenced by the underlying reasoning and unquestioningly accepted
the principal of the Tuthmoside feud. Eventually, dissatisfaction with
Sethe's scheme did start to gather momentum. In 1928 it was publicly
repudiated by both Herbert Winlock and Eduard Meyer, working
independently, and in 1933 William Edgerton11 was able to highlight the
fatal flaw in Sethe's argument: it was simply not safe to assume that
those who defaced the cartouches of their predecessors invariably
replaced the erased name with their own. Indeed, we now know that the
name of Hatchepsut was often replaced by that of her predecessors,
either Tuthmosis I or Tuthmosis II. Edgerton's work was confirmed by W
C. Hayes's study of the royal sarcophagi of the early 18th Dynasty which,
by tracing the stylistic evolution of the sarcophagi, was able to suggest a
more reasonable sequence of rulers.12 Sethe's complex scheme was swept
away, to be replaced by the far simpler succession of Tuthmosis I,
Tuthmosis II, Tuthmosis III, with Hatchepsut taking power during the
earlier part of the reign of Tuthmosis III.
Although Sethe's complex sequence of rulers was abandoned with
some relief, the legacy of his work lingered, with many historians unable
to shake off the idea of the Tuthmosides as a family at war with itself
and the Tuthmoside court as a hot-bed of intrigue and plotting. The
simplified order of succession now made it difficult to justify any hatred
between either Tuthmosis I or Tuthmosis II and the other members of
the family, but the legendary enmity between Tuthmosis III and
Hatchepsut – bolstered by the undeniable fact that many of Hatchepsut's
cartouches had indeed been attacked after her death – remained as an
integral part of accepted early 18th Dynasty history, colouring many
interpretations of their joint reign. Hatchepsut the hated stepmother, and
Tuthmosis III the wronged and brooding king, had entered the historical
imagination and could not easily be dislodged.

On the death of her father the young Hatchepsut, possibly only twelve
years old, emerged from the obscurity of the women's palace to marry
her half-brother and become queen consort of Egypt. Although we have
very little information about Hatchepsut's life in the harem, we are
fortunate enough to have a badly damaged sandstone statue which
shows her as a miniature adult pharaoh sitting on the knee of her nurse
Sitre, known as Inet, with her feet resting on the symbolic representation
of the ‘nine bows’, the traditional means of depicting the military
supremacy of the Egyptian king. Throughout the Dynastic age the
position of royal wet-nurse was an honourable post of some influence
and importance, often given as a reward to the mothers and wives of the
élite courtiers. Hatchepsut clearly bore enough affection for the woman
who had cared for her in infancy to commission a statue of Sitre to be
placed in her Deir el-Bahri temple. Unfortunately, the statue inscription
was so badly damaged as to be almost unreadable, but as Winlock
himself records:

It seems that there has long been a flake of limestone in the Ambras Collection in Vienna… on
which an ancient scribe had jotted down an inscription in vertical columns. Comparing this
inscription with the one on the statue, I have little doubt that the ostracon gives the preliminary
draft for the statue inscription, drawn up by the scribe who was directing the sculptor. On the
statue the inscription is incomplete, and it gives us a curious feeling to find ourselves filling in
the gaps from the original rough draft after a lapse of thirty-five hundred years.13

The text, so fortuitously preserved and identified, was translated by

Winlock as follows:

May the king Maatkare [Hatchepsut] and Osiris, first of the Westerners, [the great god] Lord of
Abydos, be gracious and give a mortuary offering [of cakes and beer, beef and fowl, and
thousands of everything] good and pure, and the sweet breath of the north wind to the spirit of
the chief nurse who suckled the Mistress of the Two Lands, Sit-Re, called Yen [Inet], justified.

During his 1903 season of excavations in the Valley of the Kings,

Howard Carter opened a small tomb, now known by its number KV60,
which housed two non-royal female burials, one of which was still lying
in half a wooden coffin, together with a number of mummified geese
and a mummified leg of beef. Carter was not interested in the tomb,
which had suffered badly at the hands of tomb robbers, and he quickly
sealed it up. However, the tomb was re-opened three years later and the
body in the coffin was transported to the Cairo Museum. The second
body was left where the robbers had abandoned it, lying on the floor of
the tomb. The wooden coffin was inscribed with the name of In or Inet,
and it would appear that Carter had stumbled across the burial of
Hatchepsut's wet-nurse, who had been accorded the unprecedented
privilege of interment in the Valley of the Kings.14 The other body, that
of an unusually fat woman with red-gold hair and worn teeth indicative
of middle age, is so far unidentified.

Tuthmosis II and Hatchepsut buried their father and started to rule

Egypt as a conventional New Kingdom king and queen consort,
following the successful internal and foreign policies developed by
Amenhotep I and Tuthmosis I. At home the now traditional building
works at the Karnak temple of Amen continued, and the country
prospered under the new regime. Unfortunately, the military
achievements of Tuthmosis II have been almost entirely effaced by the
more spectacular campaigns of both his father and his son, but there is
evidence of at least two successful military strikes during his reign, even
though it appears that Tuthmosis himself – possibly because the ‘hawk in
the nest’ was too young – did not accompany his troops into battle. In
Year – an army of foot-soldiers sailed southwards to crush an
insurrection in Nubia, a triumph which was commemorated by a stela
set up on the Aswan-Philae road which told the tale of the rebellion:

... one came to inform His Majesty that vile Cush had revolted and that those who were subjects
of the Lord of the Two Lands had planned rebellion to plunder the people of Egypt…15

‘Raging like a panther’, Tuthmosis took swift action to defeat the rebels.
Later there was a campaign in Palestine where, as Ahmose-Pennekheb
records, Egypt's control of the region was reinforced and many prisoners
were taken.
We are perhaps in some danger of underestimating Tuthmosis II's
military prowess, and indeed of underestimating his entire personality.
Winlock is not alone in seeing the new king as a somewhat negligible
ruler:

The young King Tuthmosis II was a youth of no more than twenty, physically frail and mentally
far from energetic, who let the country run itself. Old officials who had started their careers in
the days of his grandfather – and even of his great-grandfather – occupied their places
throughout his reign, and it was his father's generals who suppressed a rebellion which broke out
in Nubia.16

It is all too easy to fall into the trap of seeing the Tuthmoside
imperialism as a deliberate policy, with Tuthmosis I as the founder of a
potentially mighty Asian empire which was, following the
disappointingly peaceful reigns of Tuthmosis II and Hatchepsut,
successfully consolidated by Tuthmosis III. This expansionist strategy –
so obvious to modern students of Egyptian history – may not have been
quite so apparent to either Tuthmosis II or Hatchepsut. By the time that
Tuthmosis II came to the throne, Egypt had suffered the effects of a
vicious war of liberation followed by a spate of foreign campaigns. Her
traditional boundaries were now secure, an acceptable buffer zone had
been established between Egypt and her nearest enemies, and Tuthmosis
may, with some justification, have seen little need to engage in further
unnecessary and expensive military action.

Fig. 3.4 Tuthmosis II

It is also worth remembering that battles often have little or no impact
on the archaeological record while the texts and monuments which
document military campaigns are subject to the same processes of
random preservation as other historical records. It is entirely possible
that Tuthmosis II indulged in more campaigns than the historical record
now gives him credit for. Nor is it entirely fair to criticize Tuthmosis II
for retaining the efficient bureaucracy of his predecessor. Indeed, it has
probably already become apparent to the reader that the same soldiers
and officials (for example, Ineni, Ahmose, son of Ibana, and Ahmose-
Pennekheb, to name but three) continued to serve under successive
kings, providing strong indirect evidence for the lack of any political
upheaval at the end of each reign.
The new consort was now accorded the conventional queen's titles of
King's Daughter, King's Sister and King's Great Wife, although her
preferred title was always God's Wife. She behaved in an exemplary
fashion throughout her husband's reign. A stela now housed in Berlin
(Ägyptisches Museum 15699) shows us the immediate royal family at
this time: Tuthmosis II stands to face the god Re while immediately
behind him stands the senior lady, the Dowager Queen Ahmose, whose
regal headdress of tall feathers and a uraeus worn on top of a vulture
crown indicates her importance. The Queen Consort Hatchepsut stands
modestly behind both her mother and her husband in approved wifely
fashion. She is dressed in a simple sheath dress and wearing a rather
understated crown, although her lack of tall feathers may owe as much
to a lack of space on the stela as it does to her more junior role. There is
no reason to suppose that Hatchepsut was anything other than content
with her position at this time, and certainly no justification for the
assertion that Tuthmosis II, ‘knowing the temper of his ambitious
consort’, was forced to take measures to ensure that his son would
eventually succeed to the throne.17 Nor is there any proof to support the
assumption that during the reign of the supposedly sickly Tuthmosis II it
was Hatchepsut, the power behind the throne, who ruled Egypt: ‘… the
experience which she gained in the time of her father was of the greatest
use to her, and her natural ability made her to profit by it to the
utmost.’18
Perhaps the clearest indication of Hatchepsut's acceptance of her
subsidiary role is the excavation of her queen's tomb, which commenced
some time towards the end of her husband's reign. At the beginning of
the 18th Dynasty the Valley of the Queens had not yet come into
operation and, in the absence of a formal queen's cemetery on the West
Bank at Thebes, Hatchepsut selected a site in the Wadi Sikkat Taka ez-
Zeida, a lonely and inaccessible ravine approximately one mile to the
west of the site she was later to choose for her mortuary temple. Here
the tomb was hidden high up in the face of the cliff, facing west, where
there was a splendid view over the Nile Valley and where ‘the setting
October sun throws its last beams right into the mouth of the tomb’.19
The tomb was well sited to deter tomb robbers, and almost inaccessible
for its eventual excavator, Howard Carter:

The tomb was discovered full of rubbish… this rubbish having poured into it in torrents from the
mountain above. When I wrested it from the plundering Arabs I found that they had burrowed
into it like rabbits, as far as the sepulchral hall… I found that they had crept down a crack
extending halfway down the cleft, and there from a small ledge in the rock they had lowered
themselves by a rope to the then hidden entrance of the tomb at the bottom of the cleft: a
dangerous performance, but one which I myself had to imitate, though with better tackle… For
anyone who suffers from vertigo it certainly was not pleasant, and though I soon overcame the
sensation of the ascent I was obliged always to descend in a net.20

Having eventually gained entrance to the tomb, and cleared it of its

accumulated debris, Carter discovered that internally the tomb was
similar in plan to that which Tuthmosis II had been constructing

Fig. 3.5 Plan of Hatchepsut's first tomb

in the Valley of the Kings, with an entrance stairway descending to a

doorway and leading in turn to a gallery, antechamber, second gallery
and burial chamber. One of the descending galleries housed an
impressive quartzite sarcophagus, a stone version of the massive
rectangular wooden outer coffin provided for the burials of Queens
Ahhotep and Ahmose Nefertari, measuring 1.99 m × 0.73 m × 0.73 m
(6 ft 6 in × 2 ft 4 in × 2 ft 4 in). The lid, 0.17 m (6½ in) thick, was
discovered propped against a corner of the sarcophagus. This, the first of
the three magnificent sarcophagi which Hatchepsut was to commission,
bore an inscription for ‘The Great Princess, great in favour and grace,
Mistress of All Lands, Royal Daughter and Royal Sister, Great Royal
Wife, Mistress of the Two Lands, Hatchepsut’. On the lid was a prayer to
the goddess Nut, adapted from the Old Kingdom Pyramid Texts:

Recitation: The King's Daughter, God's Wife, King's Great Wife, Lady of the Two Lands,
Hatchepsut, says ‘O my mother Nut, stretch thyself over me, that thou mayest place me among
the imperishable stars which are in thee, and that I may not die.’21

The burial shaft, cut into the floor of the chamber, was unfinished. The
tomb had been abandoned before the preliminary work had been
completed, and it had clearly never been used by its intended owner.

Hatchepsut bore her brother one daughter, the Princess Neferure. For a
long time it was believed that a second contemporary royal princess,
Meritre-Hatchepsut (often referred to as Hatchepsut II), eventual consort
of Tuthmosis III and mother of Amenhotep II, was the younger daughter
of Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis II, but there is no foundation for this
assumption which seems to be based on nothing more concrete than the
coincidence that the two ladies shared the same name. Hatchepsut
herself makes no mention of a second daughter on any of her
monuments while Meritre-Hatchepsut is tantalizingly silent about her
parentage although, given the fact that she became a God's Wife, Great
Royal Wife and Mother of the king, it seems likely that she was born a
member of the immediate royal family.
Neferure, undisputed daughter of Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis II,
appears suitably invisible, as we might expect of a young royal child,
throughout her father's reign. However, following the death of
Tuthmosis II, she starts to play an unusually prominent part in court life,
suddenly appearing in public alongside her mother, the king. The little
princess is now far more conspicuous than her mother was at an equally
early age, and it is difficult to escape the conclusion that, while
Hatchepsut's childhood was overshadowed by that of her brothers,
Neferure as an only child was being groomed from an early age to play
an important role in the Egyptian royal family. However, there is a big
difference between training a daughter to be queen consort – for it
would have been almost a foregone conclusion, given her ancestry, that
Neferure would marry the next pharaoh – and raising her to become
king.
To hint, as some modern historians have done, that Hatchepsut
intended from the outset that her daughter would become pharaoh is to
imply one of two very different views of Hatchepsut's personality. The
first, the simplest and in many ways the most acceptable scenario, is that
Hatchepsut was being merely practical in her assumption that Neferure
might eventually inherit the throne. If Hatchepsut had realized that she
herself, as queen, would not bear a son, if Tuthmosis III had died in
infancy and if the immediate royal family could offer no more suitable
(that is, male) candidate for the crown, she may well have been proved
correct. Historical precedent would certainly have been on ‘King’
Neferure's side, as the Middle Kingdom Queen Sobeknofru had
successfully claimed the throne in the absence of any more suitable male
heir. In this case, we might push our speculation further by suggesting
that Tuthmosis III, the son and eventual heir of Tuthmosis II, was either
not born until the very end of his father's reign, or that for some reason –
perhaps because of his mother's lowly birth – he was not always
considered an entirely suitable heir. It would certainly have been
prudent, in an age where no child could be guaranteed to live to become
an adult, to ensure that as many royal children as possible were
educated as future kings.
Alternatively, it has been suggested by those historians belonging to
the anti-Hatchepsut camp that Hatchepsut's treatment of Neferure was
the outward sign of her own personal disappointment and thwarted
ambition. Hatchepsut may have grown to see the position of queen
consort and eventual queen mother as an unfulfilling and unacceptably
subordinate role both for herself and her daughter. Herself the daughter
and sister of a king, she had experienced years of being passed over in
favour of male relations, and had no intention of seeing her much-loved
daughter repeat her humiliation. She therefore planned that her
daughter should upset the status quo and become a female pharaoh. In
many respect this argument lacks conviction. We have no evidence to
suggest that Hatchepsut was ever dissatisfied with her own role as
consort during the reign of Tuthmosis II, although it could of course be
argued that we are unlikely ever to find such evidence. More to the
point, it seems unlikely that Hatchepsut, the product of a highly
conservative society brought up to think in conventional gender
stereotypes, would even dare to imagine that she had any chance of
successfully challenging maat without a valid and widely acceptable
reason.
From infancy, the care of the royal princess was considered to be a
matter of some importance, and successive high-ranking officials laid
claim to the prestigious title of royal nurse or royal tutor. In his tomb at
el-Kab, Ahmose-Pennekheb proudly recalls how ‘the God's Wife repeated
favours for me, the great King's Wife Maatkare, justified; I educated her
eldest daughter, Neferure, justified, when she was a child at the breast’.22
Later Senenmut, Hatchepsut's most influential courtier, became first
Steward of Neferure and then royal tutor; Senenmut seems to have taken
particular pride in his association with the young princess and we have
several statues which show him holding Neferure in his arms, or sitting
with her on his lap. When Senenmut eventually moved on to greater
glories, the administrator Senimen took over the role of caring for the
young princess. The extent to which Neferure was actually educated by
any of her tutors is hard for us to assess. It seems very probable that
most kings of Egypt could read and write, particularly those who had
been taught in the harem schools, but literacy was by no means a
necessity as the king had access to armies of scribes who could read and
write on his behalf. If Neferure was truly being raised to inherit the
throne, we might expect that she was given the education appropriate to
a crown prince. In general, however, royal women were less likely than
their brothers to be literate but would find this less of a disadvantage
than we might suppose, thanks to the ready availability of professional
scribes who could be hired as often as needed.
Given her background as the daughter and half-sister of a king, it
would seem almost certain that Neferure was the intended bride of
Tuthmosis III. The heir to the throne would have been the only man
royal enough to marry such a well-connected girl, and she in turn would
have made the most suitable mother of the next king. However, we have
no record of their ever marrying, and it was Meritre-Hatchepsut rather
than Neferure who was to become the mother of the subsequent pharaoh
of Egypt, Amenhotep II. It is therefore surprising to find that throughout
her mother's reign Neferure bore the title of ‘God's Wife’, the title which
her mother had preferred as both consort and regent, and one which was
normally reserved for the principal queen or queen mother. Any ‘normal’
king would be accompanied in such scenes by his wife, and here we
almost certainly have the true explanation of Neferure's prominence.
Hatchepsut as king needed a God's Wife to participate in the ritual
aspects of her role and to ensure the preservation of maat. As Hatchepsut
could not act simultaneously as both God's Wife and King her own
daughter, herself the daughter of a king (or rather two kings) and
therefore an acknowledged royal heiress, was the ideal person to fill the
role and act as her mother's consort. The dismantled blocks of the
Chapelle Rouge at Karnak (discussed in further detail in Chapter 4)
include three sets of scenes in which an unnamed God's Wife is shown
performing her duties during the reign of King Hatchepsut. In the
absence of a more suitable candidate for the position, it seems safe to
assume that the anonymous lady must be Neferure. The groups of scenes
make the importance of the God's Wife clear. This was not an honorary
role and, in theory at least, the God's Wife had to be present during the
temple rituals. In one scene the God's Wife is shown, together with a
priest, performing a ritual to destroy by burning the name of Egypt's
enemies. In the second tableau she stands, both arms raised, with three
priests to watch Hatchepsut present the seventeen gods of Karnak with
their dinner. The final ritual shows the God's Wife leading a group of
male priests to the temple pool to be purified, and then following
Hatchepsut into the sanctuary where the King performs rites in front of
the statue of Amen.
Neferure fades out of the limelight towards the end of her mother's
reign; she is mentioned in the first tomb of Senenmut built in regnal
Year 7 and appears on a stela at Serabit el-Khadim in Year 11, but then
vanishes. She is unmentioned in Senenmut's Tomb 353 dated to Year 16,
and the lack of further references to the hitherto prominent princess
strongly suggests that she had died and been buried in her tomb in the
Wadi Sikkat Taka ez-Zeida, close to that being prepared for her mother.
There is only one, inconclusive, shred of evidence which hints that
Neferure may have outlived her mother and married Tuthmosis III.23 It is
possible, but by no means certain, that Neferure was originally depicted
on a stela dated to the beginning of Tuthmosis III's solo reign. However,
although Neferure's title of God's Wife is given, the associated name on
the stela now reads ‘Satioh’. We know that Satioh was the first principal
wife of Tuthmosis III, and that she never bore the title God's Wife. Is it
possible that the stela, originally designed to include Neferure as the
chief wife of Tuthmosis III, could have been altered after her death to
show a replacement chief wife?
There is a general consensus of opinion that Tuthmosis II was not a
healthy man, and that throughout his reign he was ‘hampered by a frail
constitution which restricted his activities and shortened his life’.24 His
mummy, unwrapped by Maspero in 1886, was found to have been badly
damaged by ancient tomb robbers. The left arm had become detached,
the right arm was severed from the elbow downwards and the right leg
had been completely amputated by a single axe-blow. Maspero was
particularly struck by the unhealthy condition of the king's skin:

The mask on his coffin represents him with a smiling and amiable countenance, and with fine
pathetic eyes which show his descent from the Pharaohs of the XVIIth dynasty… He resembles
Tuthmosis I; but his features are not so marked, and are characterised by greater gentleness. He
had scarcely reached the age of thirty when he fell victim to a disease of which the process of
embalming could not remove the traces. The skin is scabrous in patches and covered with scars,
while the upper part of the [scalp] is bald; the body is thin and somewhat shrunken, and appears
to have lacked vigour and muscular power.25

Some years later Smith was also allowed access to the mummy, and
noted that:

The skin of the thorax, shoulders and arms (excluding the hands), the whole of the back, the
buttocks and legs (excluding the feet) is studded with raised macules varying in size from minute
points to patches a centimetre in diameter.26

Smith concluded that the mottled patches of skin were unlikely to be the
signs of disease, as similar blotches were also to be found, albeit to a
lesser extent, on the mummified bodies of Tuthmosis III and Amenhotep
II. He therefore decided that they must have been caused by preservative
used in mummification.
Unfortunately, nothing in egyptology can ever be taken for granted,
and it is by no means one hundred per cent certain that the body of a
man in his early thirties found associated with the wooden coffin of
Tuthmosis II is actually that of the young king. The body and coffin were
discovered not lying in their original tomb but as part of a collection of
New Kingdom royal mummies which is now known as the Deir el-Bahri
cache. Although the new 18th Dynasty tradition of separating the hidden
burial chamber from the highly conspicuous mortuary temple was, at
least in part, intended to protect the royal burials from thieves, it had
proved impossible to embark upon the excavation of substantial rock-cut
chambers in secret, and it was widely known that the Valley of the Kings
contained caches of untold wealth. The temptation proved irresistible,
and the officials who controlled the necropolis were faced with the
constant headache of guarding the royal burials, often needing to protect
the sealed tombs from the very workmen who had worked on their
‘secret’ construction. Security occasionally failed, and the officials were
then faced with the task of attempting to right the wrongs before
resealing the tomb. A graffito from the tomb of Tuthmosis IV, dated to
the reign of Horemheb and therefore written little more than seventy
years after the original interment, tells how this desecrated tomb was
restored on the orders of the king:

His Majesty, life, prosperity, health, ordered that it should be recommended to the fanbearer on
the left of the King, the Royal Scribe, the Superintendent of the Treasury, the Superintendent of
the Works in the Place of Eternity [i.e. the Valley of the Kings]… Maya… to renew the burial of
Tuthmosis IV, justified in the Precious Habitation in Western Thebes.27

Towards the end of the New Kingdom, when Egypt was experiencing a
period of economic instability with unprecedented poverty for the lower
classes and sporadic bouts of civil unrest, it became increasingly obvious
that necropolis security had completely broken down and that many of
the tombs in the Valley of the Kings had been entered and looted. The
royal burials were in a disgraceful condition; the bodies of the kings,
stripped of their jewellery and often minus their wrappings, were simply
lying where they had been flung. Urgent action was needed. During the
Third Intermediate Period reign of Pinedjem II, the officials of the
necropolis decided to conduct an inspection of all known tombs. Those
that had already been desecrated were re-entered and the royal
mummies and their remaining grave goods were removed, ‘restored’ at
an official workplace, replaced in wooden coffins – either their own, or
someone else's – and then transported to one of the royal caches. Most of
the royal burials were transferred to the comparative safety of the rock-
cut tomb of the Lady Inhapi (DB320) while other, smaller, caches were
established in the tombs of Amenhotep III (KV35), Horemheb (KV57)
and Twosret/Sethnakht (KV14).28 Tomb DB320, hidden in a crack
behind the Deir el-Bahri cliff, had been specially prepared to receive the
royal visitors. The burial chamber had been greatly enlarged so that
behind the small doorway of the original tomb there was now a vast
storage area. Unfortunately, the mummies, coffins and grave goods
which eventually made their way to Deir el-Bahri were, in spite of the
labels attached by the necropolis officials, hopelessly muddled; the
mummy of the 19th Dynasty King Ramesses IX, for example, was
discovered lying in the coffin of the Third Intermediate Period Lady
Neskhons, the coffin of Queen Ahhotep I housed the body of Pinedjem I,
and the coffin of Queen Ahmose Nefertari also contained the mummy of
Ramesses III.
The Deir el-Bahri cache had been discovered in 1871 by the Abd el-
Rassul family of Gurna, a village situated close to the royal tombs on the
west bank of Thebes. Throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries, the men of Gurna made their living by farming, by working
for genuine archaeological excavations, and by the illicit selling of
antiquities, both fake and real, to the tourists and antiquarians who were
already flocking to Thebes in ever increasing numbers. In true Gurna
tradition Ahmed Abd el-Rassul and his brothers kept their find to
themselves, and started to sell off the more portable of the highly
valuable contents of the tomb. Dealing in plundered antiquities was
then, as it is now, a very serious offence and, after several years of
lucrative trading, two of the brothers were arrested and the secret of the
tomb was finally revealed. A party of officials led by Emile Brugsch,
assistant to the director of the Egyptian Antiquities Service, was guided
by Mohammed Abd el-Rassul along the steep mountain path behind the
mortuary temple of Hatchepsut to the remote private tomb. Here
Brugsch, the first to enter, was startled by the sight of corridors and
rooms filled with a collection of mummies beyond his wildest
expectations:

Their gold covering and their polished surfaces reflected my own excited visage that it seemed as
though I was looking into the faces of my own ancestors. The gilt face on the coffin of the
amiable Queen Nefertari seemed to smile upon me like an old acquaintance. I took in the
situation quickly, with a gasp, and hurried to the open air lest I should be overcome and the
glorious prize, still unrevealed, be lost to science.29

This collection of royal mummies and their grave goods included the
bodies of at least forty kings, queens and chief priests dating to the 18th,
19th, 20th and 21st Dynasties, amongst whom were to be found
Sekenenre Tao II, Ahmose, Amenhotep I, Ahmose Nefertari and
Tuthmosis I(?), II and III. The shock of the discovery seems to have gone
to Brugsch's head. He took the decision that, for reasons of security, the
entire tomb was to be cleared and the precious antiquities sent at once
by boat to Cairo. Three hundred workmen immediately set to work, and
it is a matter of the deepest regret that no one felt it necessary to either
photograph or plan the interior of the tomb before it was emptied.
Brugsch's behaviour, all the more puzzling because he is known to have
been a proficient and experienced photographer, has led to speculation
that there may have been some sort of cover-up, and that perhaps
Brugsch himself, or someone high-up in the government service, had
actually been dealing in the pilfered antiquities. Brugsch seems not to
have been particularly well suited to his position of responsibility, and
‘he left behind him an evil reputation for his clandestine transactions
with native antiquity-dealers, and for his intriguing and mischief-making
habits’.30
Within a mere two days the precious wooden coffins had been
removed from the tomb, wrapped in matting, sewn into sailcloth, and
carried down to the river. Here, along the riverbank, huge crowds
gathered to witness the final journey of the long-lost kings of Egypt. As
the boat sailed by, the peasant women started to wail and tear their hair
in the traditional Egyptian gesture of mourning. In Cairo, however, the
situation quickly moved from the sublime to the ridiculous as a customs
official, faced with the need to classify the bodies for tax purposes,
decided that the mortal remains of some of Egypt's greatest pharaohs
could best be described as farseekh, or ‘dried fish’.

No tomb has been conclusively proved to be that of Tuthmosis II,

although Tomb KV 42 is the most likely contender. This tomb,
anonymous, unadorned and with an uninscribed sarcophagus, is almost
stark in its simplicity; it is matched by the relatively undistinguished
mortuary temple set on the edge of the cultivation at Medinet Habu.
This lack of elaborate funerary provision strongly suggests that the
sudden death of the king had caught the royal stonemasons napping.
Under normal circumstances a king would oversee the building of his
own funerary monuments, with preparations for his death starting at the
very commencement of the reign. In consequence, the size of a tomb and
mortuary temple, and the magnificence of their decorations, are often
directly related to the length rather than the success of their owner's
rule. It may even be that Tuthmosis was never actually interred in his
unfinished burial chamber;31 a similar situation was to occur over 150
years later when the sudden death of Tutankhamen resulted in the
abandonment of his intended royal tomb and his interment in the tomb
of a nobleman, hastily decorated to make a suitable resting place for a
king.
It is less likely that the simple tomb should be read as a sign of general
indifference towards Tuthmosis II,32 or indeed that Hatchepsut and/or
Tuthmosis III would have neglected the burial of their predecessor as,
under ancient Egyptian tradition, it was the burial of the old king which
legitimized the accession of the new. Nor can we assume that
Hatchepsut, bearing little affection for her late brother, was too
preoccupied with her own plans to provide him with a decent funeral.
She later dedicated at least one statue to her dead brother–husband, a
likely indication that his early death was a genuine cause of sorrow to
the widow–sister who still honoured his memory.
Tuthmosis II was succeeded on the throne by Tuthmosis III, his natural
son by the Lady Isis (also known as Aset or Eset), a secondary and
somewhat obscure member of the harem whose origins are uncertain.
Isis did not have the royal connections of her illustrious predecessor
Mutnofret, and her most prestigious title seems to have been ‘King's
Mother’. Tuthmosis III was therefore only of royal descent on his father's
side, and perhaps in consequence not entirely acceptable as heir to the
royal throne. This may be why in later years, and despite the fact that he
had started the numbering of his regnal years from the death of his
father, he was to suggest that he had been associated with Tuthmosis II
in a co-regency. In an inscription on the seventh pylon of the Karnak
temple, Tuthmosis III tells how as a young boy he had been serving as an
acolyte in the temple of Amen when, on an auspicious festival day, the
great god himself had selected him as a future king:

My father Amen-Re-Harakhti granted to me that I might appear upon the Horus Throne of the
Living… I having been appointed before him within [the temple], there having been ordained for
me the rulership of the Two Lands, the thrones of Geb and the offices of Khepri at the side of my
father, the Good God, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Aakheperenre [Tuthmosis II], given
life forever.33

‘At the side of’ has been interpreted as meaning ‘co-regent of my father’,
although it seems equally likely to mean ‘in the presence of’ or ‘before’;
should the latter be the correct reading the proclamation would
represent Tuthmosis II's formal acknowledgement of his intended heir
rather than the proclamation of a full co-regency. Tuthmosis III was only
a child when his father died, and it would certainly have been unusual
for the still young Tuthmosis II to appoint an infant co-ruler. However,
the true importance of this inscription lies not in its specific details, but
in the fact that Tuthmosis, like Hatchepsut before him, felt that he
needed the support of an oracle of Amen to reinforce his right to rule.
Tuthmosis III was obviously very pleased with this inscription. So
pleased, indeed, that he had it recarved over an earlier text which had
been commissioned by Hatchepsut on the northern side of the upper
portico of the Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple. However, this time the text
was adjusted so that it described the identical elevation of Tuthmosis I.
Tuthmosis III clearly wished his people to understand that both he and
his grandfather had been personally appointed by Amen who used the
same method of announcing his choice on both occasions. Snatches of
the original text underlying the Tuthmosis III recarving suggest that
Hatchepsut too had undergone the same divine selection process and, as
hers is undeniably the earlier carving, it would appear that Tuthmosis
had decided to borrow her experience for both himself and his
grandfather.34
Even more dubious evidence for a Tuthmosis II and III co-regency has
been left by a New Kingdom visitor to the Old Kingdom step-pyramid
complex at Sakkara. The monuments of the most ancient pharaohs –
already a thousand years old by the reign of Hatchepsut – were a
constant source of interest to their New Kingdom descendants, who took
day-trips to picnic at the pyramids just as modern British tourists flock to
Stonehenge or the Tower of London. Here a graffito, scribbled in hieratic
writing, gives the date as Year 20 of the joint reign of Hatchepsut and
Tuthmosis (in that order), and goes on to explain that:

now his majesty was… king with [his?] father, exalted upon the Horus Throne of the Living…
If the ‘majesty’ in question is Tuthmosis III, and if the phrase ‘… king
with his father’ is not simply a meaningless expression, this graffito may
well be considered valid evidence for a co-regency between Tuthmosis II
and Tuthmosis III. However, it is equally likely that the king is
Hatchepsut. In this case the graffito may be referring to Hatchepsut's
‘coronation’ or ‘coming of age’ which is discussed in more detail in
Chapter 4.
At the time of his father's death Tuthmosis III was still a minor. His
exact age at the time of his accession is unrecorded, but given that he
reigned for over fifty years and that his mummy was not that of an
elderly man, we can deduce that he was a young child or even a baby
rather than a teenager. Hatchepsut herself was probably between fifteen
and thirty years of age when she was widowed. To calculate her
maximum age at this time, we must make the assumption that she was
born after her father had acceded to the throne – this seems likely if we
are correct in our assumption that Queen Ahmose was the sister or half-
sister of Tuthmosis I. As her father reigned for approximately fifteen
years, Hatchepsut can have been no more than fifteen years old when
she married her brother and became consort. If Tuthmosis II then
reigned for the maximum suggested period of fifteen years, she would
have been thirty years old at his death. However, the only fixed facts
that we have concerning the marriage of Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis II
are that Tuthmosis I reigned for at least one year, and that Hatchepsut
bore her brother at least one child. Given that puberty probably occurred
at about fourteen years of age, Hatchepsut may have been no more than
fifteen years old when her husband, reigning for only three years, died.35
The young dowager queen was called upon to act as regent on behalf
of her even younger stepson. As we have already seen, this in itself was
not an unusual situation, and it was accepted Egyptian practice that a
widowed queen should rule for her minor son. Indeed, there had already
been two highly successful 18th Dynasty regencies: Queen Ahhotep had
acted as regent for King Ahmose, and later Ahmose Nefertari had ruled
on behalf of her son Amenhotep I. No one, therefore, could have
objected to Hatchepsut being appointed regent on the grounds of her sex
and, as the daughter, sister and wife of a king, there was unlikely to be
any member of the royal family more qualified to undertake the role.
However, in one respect the situation was unprecedented: Hatchepsut
was being called upon to act as regent for a boy who was not her son. To
Naville, a fervent Hatchepsut supporter, this was clearly an intolerable
situation:

It is the story of Sarah and Hagar as enacted in a royal family; but the queen was less happy than
the Sarah of Scripture, for she was obliged to install Ishmael in the heritage of Abraham, to
associate him with herself, and to give him her own daughter in marriage.36

Whatever her private feelings, Hatchepsut accepted her new role with
good grace. Throughout the first couple of years of her stepson's rule she
acted as a model queen regent, claiming only those titles to which she
was entitled as the daughter and widow of a king and allowing herself to
be depicted standing behind the new king in traditional queenly fashion.
Her subordinate status at this time is confirmed by inscriptions at the
Semna temple in Nubia, dated to Tuthmosis III Year 2, where Hatchepsut
plays a very minor role in both the texts and the accompanying carved
reliefs. Here, Tuthmosis III, as sole ‘King of Upper and Lower Egypt and
Lord of the Two Lands’ is shown receiving the pharaoh's white crown
from the hands of the ancient Nubian god Dedwen. However, only five
years later there had been a profound political change. By the end of
Year 7, Queen Hatchepsut had advanced from being the mere ruler of
Egypt by default to becoming an acknowledged king.
 4
King of Egypt

He [Tuthmosis II] went forth to heaven in triumph, having mingled with the gods. His son stood in
his place as king of the Two Lands, having become ruler upon the throne of the one who begat him.
His sister the Divine Consort, Hatchepsut, settled the affairs of the Two Lands by reason of her
plans. Egypt was made to labour with bowed head for her, the excellent seed of the god, which
came forth from him.1

During Year 7 of the reign of Tuthmosis III, the Steward of Amen,

Senenmut, buried both his parents in a modest tomb cut into the hillside
directly beneath the site which had already been selected for his own
magnificent funerary monument on the West Bank at Thebes. Following
the interment, the entrance to the tomb was closed, and it was
subsequently completely covered by the rubble excavated during the
construction of Senenmut's own tomb which started slightly later in the
same year. The smaller tomb disappeared from view until it was
rediscovered by accident during the 1935–6 season of work carried out
by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. The excavators, Ambrose
Lansing and William Hayes, were the first to enter the burial chamber of
Ramose and Hatnofer in over 3,000 years. Here they found a typical
selection of grave goods, including several pottery jars or amphorae, one
of which was dated to ‘Year 7’, one which bore the seal of the ‘God's
Wife Hatchepsut’ and two which were stamped with the seal of ‘The
Good Goddess Maatkare’. Maatkare (literally, maat is the Ka of Re, or
Truth is the Soul of the sun god Re) is the throne name of King
Hatchepsut. The dating of the amphorae, sealed into the burial chamber
by the debris from Senenmut's own tomb, is beyond question, therefore
we know that, by Year 7 of her regency, Hatchepsut was acknowledged
to be a king of Egypt. She was now the Female Horus of Fine Gold, King
of Upper and Lower Egypt Maatkare Khnemet-Amen Hatchepsut (The
One who is joined with Amen, the Foremost of Women).
The exact date of the new king's official elevation is, however,

Fig. 4.1 The cartouche of King Maatkare Hatchepsut

unknown, and the subject is greatly complicated by the fact that

Hatchepsut always used the same regnal years as Tuthmosis III,
effectively dating her own reign from the time of her stepson's accession
to the throne. Given her dominant role in the subsequent partnership,
we might reasonably have expected to find that Hatchepsut had
established her own independent regnal dates. As it seems unlikely that
Hatchepsut ever considered herself to be junior to Tuthmosis III, the
matching reign dates strongly suggest that she must have regarded
herself as a king or co-regent from the moment of her husband's death.
However, we know that this was not the case, and the contemporary
evidence from the Semna temple already considered in Chapter 3
confirms that Hatchepsut was still, in theory at least, subordinate to
Tuthmosis III during the earlier part of his regnal Year 2.
It would be entirely wrong to see Hatchepsut's usurpation of kingly
powers as a sudden and unexpected coup. Hers was a gradual evolution,
a carefully controlled political manoeuvre so insidious that it might not
have been apparent to any but her closest contemporaries. The surviving
monumental evidence, scanty though it is, allows us to track
Hatchepsut's progress as she moves swiftly from the conventional wife of
the Berlin stela, standing placidly in line behind her mother and her
husband–brother, to become the most influential woman Egypt has ever
known. Shortly before her coronation Hatchepsut is both regal enough to
make offerings directly to the gods – hitherto the prerogative of the
divine pharaoh – and wealthy enough to become the first non-king to
commission a pair of obelisks. By now Hatchepsut is surely king of Egypt
in all but name. However, no matter how gradual her assumption of
power, there must have come a time when she crossed the line from
queen to king and made her changed status public. There was a very
great difference between being the person who actually ruled Egypt and
becoming the acknowledged king, and her coronation and subsequent
assumption of royal titles, albeit merely the formal acknowledgement of
a fait accompli, must have had a definite date.
Contemporary documents and monumental inscriptions remain
obstinately silent on this subject, while Hatchepsut herself chose to gloss
over her periods as consort and regent, rewriting her own history so that
she might invent a co-regency with Tuthmosis I which, together with the
emphasis which was now to be placed on the myth of the divine birth of
kings, would ‘prove’ beyond doubt her absolute right to rule. The legend
of the miraculous birth of kings had always been an aspect of Egyptian
kingship. The Westcar Papyrus, for example, a Middle Kingdom
collection of fantastic stories about the 4th Dynasty royal court, tells us
how during the Old Kingdom the Lady Reddjedet, assisted by the divine
midwives Isis, Nephthys, Meskhenet and Heket, gave birth to the triplet
sons of Re. The three baby boys delivered by the goddess were to
become Userkaf, Sahure and Neferirkare, the first three kings of the 5th
Dynasty:

Isis placed herself before her, Nephthys behind her, Heket hastened the birth. Isis said, ‘Don't be
so mighty in her womb, you whose name is Mighty.’ The child slid into her arms, a child of one
cubit, strong boned, his limbs overlaid with gold, his headdress of true lapis lazuli. They washed
him, having cut his navel cord, and laid him on a pillow of cloth. Then Meskhenet approached
him and said: ‘A king who will assume the kingship in this whole land.’ And Khnum gave health
to his body.2

Hatchepsut was, however, the first pharaoh to make a feature of the

story of her own divine conception and birth, ordering that the tale be
told in a cartoon-like sequence of tasteful images and descriptive
passages carved on the north side of the middle portico fronting her
mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahri. Her filial relationship with Amen was
always extremely important to Hatchepsut and throughout her reign she
took every available opportunity to give due acknowledgement to her
heavenly father as, by promoting the cult of Amen, she was effectively
reinforcing her own position and promoting herself. It would be too
simple to see the Deir el-Bahri birth story as merely another example of
Hatchepsut's insecurity about her right to rule. The scenes themselves
are by no means timid or apologetic; they are miraculous and joyful, and
they convey above all a sense of Hatchepsut's pride in her own origins
and achievements. It is perhaps no coincidence that the only other
complete cycle of divine birth scenes comes from the Luxor temple of the
later 18th Dynasty king Amenhotep III, a temple which was dedicated to
the celebration of the royal Ka, or the divine royal identity. Amenhotep
III, not generally regarded as an insecure monarch, was the first pharaoh
to promote himself as a god in his own lifetime. His own birth scenes
bear a striking similarity to those of Hatchepsut, and it would appear
that, having admired his predecessors’ work, he simply copied it
wholesale, substituting the name of his own mother for that of Queen
Ahmose.
Nor should the Deir el-Bahri scenes be regarded solely as a
propaganda exercise as, from their position in the temple, it seems
unlikely that they would have been seen by any but a handful of
officiating priests who were already well aware of Hatchepsut's position.
As we have already seen, Egyptian temples were not public buildings.
They served as the home of the god and, as in any private home, the
general public was kept outside the thick mud-brick enclosure walls.
Only during the great festivals were the gates of the temple thrown
open, and even then the public was only allowed access to the first
court. The innermost sanctuary, where the king or the high priest
worshipped on behalf of Egypt, was an intensely private place
comparable to the master bedroom of a private home. The great temples
of Egypt must have been oases of peace and tranquillity, a world apart
from the bustling city life immediately outside their gates.
As Egyptian theology held that all kings were born the sons of Amen-
Re, logic dictated that all queen mothers must have enjoyed sexual
intercourse with Amen-Re. The Egyptians took a surprisingly practical
approach to the subject of divine conception. Not for them the asexuality
of an impersonal angelic annunciation. They knew that it took a man
and a woman to make a baby and they recognized that their gods were
capable of a variety of sexual feelings – rape, homosexuality and
masturbation all played a part in heavenly life – so they developed the
doctrine of theogamy, the physical union of a queen with a god. Amen-
Re would come to Egypt and actually sleep with the mother of his future
child. In order to preserve the reputation of the queen, for adultery was
a heinous social crime, Amen cunningly disguised himself as the king.
At the Deir el-Bahri temple, the story of Hatchepsut's conception starts
in heaven where Amen has assembled before him a group of twelve
important divinities, including Isis, Osiris, Nephthys, Horus, Seth and
Hathor, in order to make a momentous pronouncement. Amen has
decided that the time has come to father a princess who will govern
Egypt with a glorious reign: ‘I will join for her the Two Lands… I will
give her all lands and all countries.’ The god of wisdom, Thoth, here
acting Hermes-like as the messenger of Amen, proclaims the name of the
chosen mother-to-be: it is Queen Ahmose, wife of Tuthmosis I, for ‘she is
more beautiful than any woman.’
We then move to Egypt. Queen Ahmose, sleeping alone in her boudoir,
is visited by the god whom she believes to be her husband, and they sit
face to face on her bed in a scene which represents one of the few
occasions that a queen of Egypt is allowed to communicate directly with
a deity. Amen tells Ahmose that she is to bear a daughter whom she will
name Khnemet-Amen Hatchepsut (The One who is joined with Amen,
the Foremost of Women). This daughter is destined to be the future ruler
of Egypt. He then passes Ahmose the ankh, or sign of life and, in the
tradition of the best romantic novels, we learn how:

She smiled at his majesty. He went to her immediately, his penis erect before her. He gave his
heart to her… She was filled with joy at the sight of his beauty. His love passed into her limbs.
The palace was flooded with the god's fragrance, and all his perfumes were from Punt.3

We return briefly to heaven to see the royal baby and her identical
soul or Ka being fashioned on the potter's wheel by the ram-headed god
Khnum. The creation of the royal Ka alongside the mortal body is of
great importance; the royal Ka was understood to be the personification
of the office of kingship and therefore its presence was incontrovertible
proof of Hatchepsut's predestined right to rule. At the climax of her
coronation ceremony she would become united with the Ka which had
been shared by all the kings of Egypt, and would lose her human
identity to become one of a long line of divine office holders. Hatchepsut
consistently placed considerable emphasis on the existence of her royal
Ka, even including it in her throne name Maat-ka-re.
 Fig. 4.2 The pregnant Queen Ahmose is led to the birthing bower
Meanwhile, as Amen watches anxiously, Khnum promises that the
newly formed baby will be all that any father could desire:

I will shape for thee thy daughter [I will endow her with life, health, strength and all gifts]. I will
make her appearance above the gods, because of her dignity as King of Upper and Lower Egypt.4

Khnum's work is finished and the frog-headed midwife Heket offers

life to the two inert forms. At the same time, back in Egypt, Thoth
appears before Queen Ahmose and tells her of the glories which await
her unborn child.
Nine months later, the pregnant queen, wearing a vulture headdress
and with a rather small ‘bump’ obvious beneath her straight shift dress,
is led to the birth bower by Khnum and Heket. Here other deities wait to
assist at the birth which, strictly a female-dominated rite of passage, is
left to the imagination of the observer. When we next see Ahmose, she is
sitting on a throne and holding the newborn Hatchepsut in her arms.
Other deities surround the mother and child, while the goddess of
childbirth Meskhenet sits in front of the throne. Meskhenet is to be the
chief nurse and she seeks to reassure the royal infant: ‘I am protecting
thee behind thee like Re.’ Finally Hathor, the royal wet-nurse, takes the
newborn baby, and presents her to her father. Amen is overwhelmed
with love for the infant. He takes her from Hathor, kisses her and speaks:

Fig. 4.3 The infant Hatchepsut in the arms of a divine nurse

Come to me in peace, daughter of my loins, beloved Maatkare, thou art the king who takes
possession of the diadem on the Throne of Horus of the Living, eternally.5

Hatchepsut is presented before the assembled gods, who also greet her
with great joy. There is only one unusual note: the naked infant
Hatchepsut is quite clearly shown as a boy. The message behind the
scenes is quite clear. Hatchepsut has been shown to be the child of
Amen, and therefore a legitimate pharaoh from the moment of her
conception. As Amen is clearly unconcerned about the sex of his child,
and indeed as he made clear his specific intention of fathering a girl-
child, why should Egypt worry?
The story now slowly starts to slide away from the heavenly towards
the real world. Hatchepsut travels north to visit the ancient shrines of
the principal gods of Egypt accompanied by her earthly father,
Tuthmosis I. This is followed by a coronation before the gods and then
by a subsequent earthly coronation by Tuthmosis I who presents his
daughter to the court and formally nominates her as his co-regent and
intended successor:

Said to her by His Majesty: ‘Come, thou blessed one. I will take thee in my arms that thou mayest
see thy directions [carried out] in the palace; thy precious images were made, thou hast received
the investiture of the double crown, thou art blessed… When thou risest in the palace, thy brow
is adorned with the double crown united on thy head, for thou art my heir, to whom I have given
birth… This is my daughter Khnemet-Amen Hatchepsut, living, I put her in my place.6

The news is received with universal joy, and the people start to
celebrate with gusto. The priests confer to decide on Hatchepsut's royal
titulary, and finally her coronation takes place on an unspecified New
Year's day; a practical choice of dates which would allow her regnal
years and the civil calendar to coincide. Unfortunately, this part of the
story is, as far as we can tell, a complete fiction. While it is entirely
possible that some public ceremony did occur during Hatchepsut's
childhood – perhaps a coming-of-age celebration which involved
Hatchepsut being officially presented before the court? – there is
absolutely no evidence to show that Tuthmosis I ever regarded
Hatchepsut as his formal successor, or that he had the intention of
passing over both his son and his grandson in order to honour his
daughter. The unchallenged succession of Tuthmosis II, and her own
conventional behaviour as queen–consort, confirms that, at the time of
her father's death, Hatchepsut did not expect to become king of Egypt.7
A slightly different contemporary tale is potentially far more useful in
our search for Hatchepsut's coronation date. This text, inscribed on what
was once the outside wall of Hatchepsut's Chapelle Rouge at Karnak,
hints that the political situation may have already undergone a profound
change by the end of Year 2 of the joint reign while stopping short of
providing any absolute proof of this.8 The Red Chapel, now known more
commonly by its French name of Chapelle Rouge, was a large sanctuary
of red quartzite endowed by Hatchepsut to house the all-important
barque of Amen. Amen's barque, or barge, known as Userhat-Amen
(Mighty of Prow is Amen), was a small-scale gilded wooden boat bearing
the enclosed shrine which was used to protect the statue of the god from
public gaze. When Amen, on the holy days which were also public
holidays, left the privacy of his sanctuary to process through the streets
of Thebes, he sailed in style concealed within the cabin of his boat-
shrine which was carried, supported by wooden poles, on the shoulders
of his priests. When Amen was not travelling the barque rested in its
own sanctuary or shrine. The sacred barque had always played a minor
role in Egyptian religious ritual, but during the early New Kingdom it
had become an increasingly important part of theology, and most
temples now gave great prominence to the barque sanctuary.
Unfortunately, Hatchepsut's shrine was dismantled during the reign of
Tuthmosis III and subsequently used as filling for other building projects.
Although many of the blocks were rediscovered in the 1950s, the chapel
has never been re-assembled, and over three hundred blocks from the
Chapelle Rouge are now displayed in the form of a gigantic jigsaw
puzzle in the Open-Air Museum at Karnak.
 Fig. 4.4 Hatchepsut and Amen on a block from the Chapelle Rouge
Carved on block 287 of the Chapelle Rouge is part of an important
text, narrated by Hatchepsut herself, in which she describes a religious
procession associated with the festival of Amen, held at the nearby Luxor
temple during Year 2 of an unspecified king's reign. The Luxor temple,
approximately two miles to the south of the Karnak temple and
connected to it by a processional route which Hatchepsut herself
embellished with a series of barque-shrines, was dedicated to both Amen
in the form of the ithyphallic god Min, and to the celebration of the
divine royal soul, or Ka.9 It played an important role in the cult of the
deified king and was the place where, during the celebration of the
annual Opet festival, the king re-affirmed his unity with the royal Ka
which gave him the right to rule. The Luxor temple was therefore an
eminently suitable place for the god to make a pronouncement
concerning a future ruler and it was here, during the later 18th Dynasty,
that Amen was to recognize General Horemheb as a King of Egypt.
During the ceremony described by Hatchepsut, and in the presence of
the anonymous king, the oracle makes the momentous announcement
that Hatchepsut herself is to become pharaoh:

… very great oracle in the presence of this good god, proclaiming for me the kingship of the two
lands, Upper and Lower Egypt being under the fear of me… Year 2,2 peret 29 [that is, Year 2, the
2nd month of Spring, day 29], the third day of the festival of Amen… being the ordination of the
Two Lands for me in the broad hall of the Southern Opet [Luxor], while His Majesty [Amen]
delivered an oracle in the presence of this good god. My father appeared in his beautiful festival:
Amen, chief of the gods.10

The oracle had been developed during the New Kingdom as a channel
of communication between the gods and the common people, and had
proved particularly popular as a means of solving the day-to-day petty
crimes that baffled the police who were forced to operate without the
benefit of divine omniscience. Consulting the oracle provided a quick,
cheap and easily accessible alternative to the formal courts. As the statue
of the god processed through the streets on his ceremonial boat, it was
possible for anyone to step forward and challenge him with a simple
yes/no-type question, such as ‘Did Isis steal my washing?’ or ‘Did Hathor
kill my duck?’ The god would consider the evidence and then answer by
causing his barque-bearers to move either forwards or backwards – a
legal system which to modern eyes at least seems to have been open to a
great deal of abuse, but one which nevertheless satisfied the ancient
Egyptian desire for immediate and public justice. More involved
variations on this theme existed; it was, for example, possible to write
different options on separate ostraca, lay them before the god, and see
whether the god gravitated towards a particular solution, while in more
complicated cases a list of suspects could be read out and the god would
cause his attendants to move at the mention of the name of the guilty
party.
However, those oracles who took the trouble to communicate with the
ordinary people were invariably the lesser local gods; the deified
Ahmose and Amenhotep I both served as oracles and the judgements of
Amenhotep I were particularly well-regarded at Deir el-Medina. The
oracles who spoke to kings were the major state gods. Amen, king of the
gods, was particularly keen on conveying his wishes via an oracle which
could only be translated by the high priest or king, and we should
perhaps not be too surprised to find that Amen's commands often
coincided exactly with the interests of his interpreter.11

Argument has raged amongst egyptologists as to who the unnamed king

of Chapelle Rouge block 287 might be. Some feel that he must be
Tuthmosis I and that the text therefore represents Hatchepsut's
recollection – presumably fictitious – of a time during her father's reign
when the god acknowledged her as the true heir to the crown. If this is
the case, the block can be of little help in determining the date when
Hatchepsut actually proclaimed herself king and the entire scene must
be classified as a further example of Hatchepsut's compulsion to justify
her own reign. However, it is always possible that the mystery monarch
is Tuthmosis III and that the block is therefore a record of the actual
date when Hatchepsut decided to make public her right to the throne.
Indeed, it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Hatchepsut, a
resourceful lady, organized a highly public pronouncement by the oracle
at exactly the moment she was proposing to make her plans known.
Unfortunately, block 287 merely describes an oracle, it does not go on
to record a coronation. However, details of Hatchepsut's coronation at
Karnak are actually included in a third-person narrative carved on
several blocks which, from the direction of their hieroglyphs, must have
originally formed part of the opposite outside wall of the Chapelle
Rouge. The coronation must, therefore, have occurred much later in the
text, and presumably much later in time, than the events described on
block 287. The coronation inscription is unfortunately undated but, as it
is highly unlikely that Hatchepsut would have allowed the date of such a
momentous occasion to go unrecorded, there is always the possibility
that one of the missing blocks from the Chapelle Rouge will one day
reappear to solve the mystery.
 If we do not have a specific date for Hatchepsut's coronation, we do at
least have a date for her jubilee, or sed-festival, which is recorded on the
walls of both the Karnak and Deir el-Bahri temples. The celebration of
the heb-sed, a tradition stretching back over a thousand years to the
dawn of the dynastic age and perhaps even beyond, was a public ritual
of rebirth and renewal intended to revivify the ageing king and increase
public confidence in his reign. 12It marked the start of a new cycle in the
monarch's life and was, of course, the excuse for a nationwide
celebration; the ancient Egyptians were never ones to deny themselves a
good party. Tradition dictated that the jubilee would be proclaimed from
Memphis on the first day of spring – the season of rejuvenation – and
that there would follow five days of festival culminating in a grand
procession of the state and local gods. The more solemn rituals of the
heb-sed included a reenactment of the dual coronation, where the
monarch was reanointed first with the white crown of the King of the
South and then with the red crown of the North, and a ceremonial run
where the king, carrying traditional emblems, was required to race four
times around a specially prepared arena or pavilion in order to prove his
(or in this case her) physical fitness to rule.
In theory, a king was entitled to celebrate his first jubilee thirty years
after his coronation and thereafter as frequently as he desired.
Hatchepsut, atypical as always, announced her jubilee during regnal
Year 15. This was by no means the first royal tradition to be broken by
Hatchepsut, and indeed Hatchepsut was not the first king to bend the
heb-sed rules; it is possible that her father had erected his obelisks to
mark his own jubilee although he is unlikely to have ruled for more than
fifteen years, while five kings later Amenhotep IV, before he became
Akhenaten, celebrated a jubilee after a mere four years on the throne.
There is no doubt that a national celebration relatively early in her reign
would have been a sound political move, boosting national morale and
providing a good omen for the future prosperity of the regime, and
perhaps Hatchepsut felt that, after fifteen years as ruler of Egypt, she
was in need of renewal. However, it remains possible that Year 15 was
chosen as a special year because it marked an important thirtieth
anniversary. If Hatchepsut had only been fifteen years old at the death of
Tuthmosis II, this may well have been her own thirtieth year or, given
that she frequently portrayed herself as the immediate successor to
Tuthmosis I, it may well have been thirty years since the death of her
father. It may even have been, given that Hatchepsut also described
herself as her father's co-regent, thirty years since the accession of
Tuthmosis I.
Hatchepsut's jubilee must, of course, in theory have also been
Tuthmosis’ jubilee, and indeed the young king does appear to enjoy his
own rather muted celebrations at this time. On the walls of the Deir el-
Bahri temple we see both kings making parallel offerings of milk and
water; Hatchepsut offers to the south, Tuthmosis to the north. The
northern colonnade of the middle terrace shows Amen embracing
Tuthmosis who wears the double crown and carries the ankh or life sign,
and a mace, while in the northwest offering hall Tuthmosis presents a
table of offerings to Amen who blesses him accordingly:

I give to you the celebrating of millions of sed-festivals on the throne of Horus and that you
direct all the living like Re, forever.13

However, the occasion appears to have belonged almost entirely to

Hatchepsut and she takes pride of place in every scene. Tuthmosis III
later celebrated his own independent jubilees on a far grander scale
during Years 30 (the correct year for such a celebration), 34 and 37.

We shall probably never know what event precipitated Hatchepsut into

proclaiming herself king. It is, of course, possible that she had always
intended to seize power, and that following the death of Tuthmosis II she
had merely been biding her time, waiting for the politically opportune
moment to strike. Hayes is perhaps the most persuasive proponent of
this theory:

… at the time of his [Tuthmosis II] death, her every waking thought must have been taken up
with the stabilization of the government and the consolidation of her own position…14

It is, indeed, clear that the longer the move was postponed the more difficult it would have
become to accomplish; for Tuthmosis III was all the while growing older, forming his own party
and consolidating his own position.15

However biased his interpretation of Hatchepsut's character, Hayes must

be correct in his assumption that such an unconventional move would
need to be made sooner rather than later. Not only was Tuthmosis
growing up and attracting his own supporters, there was also the
possibility that he might die in infancy, lessening Hatchepsut's own
claim to the throne by precipitating a dynastic crisis in which the
position of the dowager queen might have been compromised by the
introduction of a rival male claimant. Why then did Hatchepsut wait for
between two and seven years before implementing her plan? Was she
too young and inexperienced to act sooner? Or was she simply using the
time to gather the support that she would need for her unorthodox
actions?
The once popular image of the queen as a scheming and power-hungry
woman owes more to the now-discredited theory of the feuding
Tuthmosides than to concrete historical evidence. All that we know of
her previous life, first as queen consort and then as queen regent, shows
Hatchepsut to have been an unexceptional and indeed almost boringly
conformist wife and mother paying due honour to both her husband and
her stepson, loving her young daughter and contenting herself with the
traditional role allotted to royal women. Although abnormal behaviour
in a royal princess is unlikely to have been recorded for posterity, it is
equally unlikely that an obviously egocentric megalomaniac would have
been allowed to rise to the dizzy heights of consort, God's Wife and
regent. Tuthmosis II was not compelled by either law or tradition to
accept his sister as his chief wife and, even though Hatchepsut was a
princess of the royal blood, a speedy banishment to the security of the
harem-palace would have left Tuthmosis free to select a more amenable
queen and a more suitable guardian for his infant son.
Hatchepsut's subsequent lengthy reign, characterized by its economic
prosperity, monumental building and foreign exploration, seems to
confirm her competence and mental stability. This was not, as far as we
can tell some three and a half thousand years later, the rule of a semi-
deranged obsessive but a carefully calculated period of political
manoeuvring which allowed an unconventional pharaoh to become
accepted on the throne and which brought peace and prosperity to her
people. In all ways bar one, it was a conventional and successful New
Kingdom reign. But, if the image of Hatchepsut as a woman motivated
purely by ambition and greed is to be toned down or even entirely
discarded, what possible explanation could there be for her usurpation of
power? And what made her action acceptable to the Egyptian élite? Was
there some unrecorded crisis which demanded a swift response and the
establishment of a strong pharaoh on the throne? A sudden threat to the
security of the immediate royal family, such as an insurrection in the
royal harem, might well have prompted Hatchepsut to take drastic
action to safeguard her stepson's position.16 In any such emergency
Hatchepsut would have been a natural choice as co-regent as she,
already regent and ‘only’ a woman, would not necessarily have been
perceived as posing the threat to the authority of the true king.
Hatchepsut's treatment of the young Tuthmosis III indicates that she
never regarded his existence as a serious problem even though, as an
intelligent woman, she must have realized that every passing year would
strengthen his claim to rule alone. She never attempted to establish a
solo reign and, instead of hiding the boy-king away or even having him
killed, she was careful to accord him all the respect due to a fellow
monarch. Indeed, Tuthmosis was even encouraged to spend part of his
youth training with the army, the now traditional education of the
crown prince but possibly a dangerous decision for one in Hatchepsut's
increasingly vulnerable position, as the support of those who controlled
the New Kingdom army was vital to the survival of the pharaoh.
Although he was represented less often than Hatchepsut, and although
he was undoubtedly the junior partner in the co-regency, ‘leading as
shadowy an existence as a Japanese Mikado under the Shogunate’,17
Tuthmosis never entirely disappeared from view. He even had a few
monuments of his own, although these are almost invariably to be found
outside Egypt's borders, either in Nubia or Sinai. Within Egypt,
Hatchepsut was careful never to appear subordinate to Tuthmosis; her
image or her cartouche preceded that of her co-ruler on all but one of
their shared monuments, and even the private monuments of the time
recognized that Hatchepsut was the dominant king:

... by the favour of the Good Goddess, Mistress of the Two Lands [Maatkare], may she live and
endure forever like Re – and of her brother, the Good God, master of the ritual Menkheperre
[Tuthmosis III] given life like Re forever.18

A consideration of the character and behaviour of Tuthmosis himself

must play an important part in any analysis of Hatchepsut's actions. If
we ignore speculation and stick to known facts we see that, whatever his
private thoughts, Tuthmosis publicly accepted his aunt as co-regent.
Initially, as an infant with a politically insignificant mother and no
influential male relations, he can have had little choice in the matter.
However, he would have been of an age to challenge Hatchepsut for at
least five years prior to her death, and his training in the army would
have made a successful military coup a virtual certainty. Reigning alone,
Tuthmosis was to prove himself one of the most able warrior-pharaohs
that Egypt has ever experienced. It is almost impossible to equate the
hero of no fewer than seventeen aggressive Asian campaigns with the
image of the impotent wimp who resented his co-regent for twenty years
but who was never able to assert his right to rule. Similarly, it is difficult
to envisage the two co-rulers remaining locked in deadly enmity for
almost a quarter of a century; surely one or other would have taken
steps to remove their rival? It has been argued that Hatchepsut felt
unable to dispose of Tuthmosis as he was her passport to the kingship
although, if she was so secure in her rule that Tuthmosis was unable to
challenge her position, it is unlikely that his death would have dislodged
her. There is certainly no obvious reason why Tuthmosis should not have
attempted discreetly to remove Hatchepsut.19
Yet, as far as we are aware, Tuthmosis made no such challenge to his
stepmother's authority. He seems to have been content to allow the
situation to take its course and, again lacking any evidence to the
contrary, we must assume that he was relatively happy to accept the co-
regency. Perhaps, having grown up under Hatchepsut's guidance, he
could not easily envisage removing her from power. Indeed, as we have
already seen, it is even possible that Tuthmosis did not regard his own
right to the throne as automatic. His need to cite an oracle of Amen in
support of his kingship is certainly unusual; the true king generally had
no need of such obvious divine support. In any case, Tuthmosis must
have realized that the situation could not last indefinitely. All previous
co-regencies had ended peacefully, not with an abdication but with a
death. Tuthmosis himself, accustomed to the tradition of the co-regency
and with no particular political axe to grind, may have found his
position easier to accept than the modern observers who today grow
angry and indignant on his behalf.
If Tuthmosis was unable or unwilling to take action against his aunt
during her lifetime, how did he treat her when she was dead? We know
that, following Hatchepsut's death, somebody masterminded a
determined attempt to delete the memory of the female pharaoh from
the Egyptian historical record. To this end her monuments were
desecrated and her name and images were erased, variously being
replaced by the name or image of Tuthmosis I, II or III. Initially these
attacks were regarded as firm proof of a personal vendetta on the part of
Tuthmosis III, and it was assumed that the new king – overcome by his
long-suppressed hatred against the usurper who had denied him his
rights for so long – must have ordered his henchmen to take action
against Hatchepsut's monuments at the very beginning of his solo rule.
However, new evidence has started to indicate that the proscription of
Hatchepsut's memory did not occur until the very end of Tuthmosis'
reign, or perhaps even later in the New Kingdom. This makes it less easy
to attribute the attacks to personal spite; if Tuthmosis was really filled
with such an uncontrollable hatred, why wait for over twenty years to
act? Instead of impulsive actions they start to look like well-calculated
political moves, and it would seem that it is no longer safe to cite the
attacks on Hatchepsut's memory as proof of Tuthmosis' hatred of his
aunt.20
The vast majority of the Egyptian people, the peasants and lower
classes, would have been ignorant of any struggle for power within the
palace. As long as there was a pharaoh on the throne, and as long as the
state continued to function correctly (that is, paying out rations), the
people remained remarkably content with their lot. However, no
pharaoh could hope to rule without the support of the relatively small
circle of male élite who headed the army, the civil service and the
priesthood. These were the men who effectively controlled the country
and kept the king in power. Again, we must assume that these influential
men found their new monarch acceptable even if they did not positively
welcome a woman at the helm. Why was she so acceptable? Was her
assumption of power so gradual that it went unnoticed until it was too
late to act, or was there no one else more suitable? Perhaps Gibbon has
provided us with the best explanation for this uncharacteristic departure
from years of tradition when he observes that:
In every age and every country, the wiser, or at least the stronger, of the two sexes has usurped
the powers of the State, and confined the other to the cares and pleasures of domestic life. In
hereditary monarchies, however… the gallant spirit of chivalry, and the law of succession, have
accustomed us to allow a singular exception; and a woman is often acknowledged the absolute
sovereign of a great kingdom, in which she would be deemed incapable of exercising the smallest
employment, civil or military.21

Hatchepsut, the singular exception, had inherited a cabinet of tried

and trusted advisers from her brother, many of whom had previously
worked under her father and all of whom seem to have been happy to
switch their allegiance to the new regime. The two old faithfuls Ahmose-
Pennekheb and Ineni were still serving the crown, and Ineni in particular
seems to have been especially favoured by the new king:

Her Majesty praised me and loved me. She recognised my worth at court, she presented me with
things, she magnified me, she filled my house with silver and gold, with all beautiful stuffs of the
royal house… I increased beyond everything.22

Although Ineni was obviously deeply impressed by Hatchepsut's rule,

indeed so impressed that he failed to record the name of the ‘real king’,
Tuthmosis III, in his tomb, he never specifically refers to his mistress by
her regal name of Maatkare, and it would appear that he died just before
she reached the height of her powers. In contrast, Ahmose-Pennekheb
omits Hatchepsut from the list of kings whom he has served and offers
an unusual combination of her queenly and kingly titles: ‘the God's Wife
repeated favours for me, the Great King's Wife Maatkare, Justified’,
which would indicate that his autobiography too might have been
composed at a time when there was some confusion over Hatchepsut's
official title.
Gradually, as her reign progressed, Hatchepsut started to appoint new
advisers, many of whom were men of relatively humble birth such as
Senenmut, steward of the queen and tutor to Neferure. By selecting
officials with a personal loyalty to herself, Hatchepsut was able to ensure
that she was surrounded by the most devoted of courtiers; those whose
careers were inextricably linked to her own. However, by no means all
the new appointees were self-made men and some, like Hapuseneb, High
Priest of Amen and builder of the royal tomb, already had close links
with the royal family. Hapuseneb may have actually been a distant
relation of Hatchepsut; we know that his grandfather Imhotep had been
vizier to Tuthmosis I. Other important characters at Hatchepsut's court
included Chancellor Neshi, leader of the expedition to Punt, the
Treasurer Tuthmosis, Useramen the Vizier, Amenhotep the Chief
Steward and Inebni, who replaced Seni as Viceroy of Kush. After
Hatchepsut's death, some of her most effective courtiers continued to
work for Tuthmosis III, and there is no sign that they suffered in any
way from having been linked with the previous regime.
From the day that Hatchepsut acceded to the throne, she started to use
the five ‘Great Names’ which comprised the full titulary of a king of
Egypt and which reflected some of the divine attributes of kingship. To
the ancient Egyptians each of these names had its own significance. The
Horus name represented the king as the earthly embodiment of Horus;
the Two Ladies or nebty name indicated the special relationship between
the king and the goddesses of Upper and Lower Egypt; the golden Horus
name had a somewhat obscure origin and meaning; the prenomen, which
always followed the title ‘he who belongs to the sedge and the bee’
(generally translated as ‘King of Upper and Lower Egypt’), was the first
name to be enclosed within a cartouche; the nomen, also written within a
cartouche and preceded by the epithet ‘Son of Re’, was usually the
personal name of the king before he or she acceded to the throne. The
prenomen was always the more important name, and this was either used
by itself, or with the nomen. Thus we often find contemporary texts
referring to the new king simply as Maatkare (maat is the Ka of Re),
although her full title was Horus ‘Powerful-of-Kas’, Two Ladies
‘Flourishing-of-Years’, Female Horus of Fine Gold ‘Divine-of-Diadems’,
King of Upper and Lower Egypt ‘Maatkare’, Daughter of Re, ‘Khenmet-
Amen Hatchepsut’. Similarly Tuthmosis III, often accorded only his
prenomen of Menkheperre (The Being of Re is Established), was more
properly named Horus ‘Strong-bull-arising-in-Thebes’, Two Ladies
‘Enduring-of-kingship-like-Re-in-Heaven’, Golden Horus ‘Powerful-of-
strength, holy-of-diadems’, King of Upper and Lower Egypt
‘Menkheperre’, Son of Re ‘Tuthmosis Beautiful-of-Forms’.
Throughout her reign, Hatchepsut sought to honour her earthly father,
Tuthmosis I, in every way possible, while virtually ignoring the existence
of her dead husband–brother, Tuthmosis II. It is not particularly unusual
to find that a young girl brought up in a female-dominated environment
feels a strong desire to emulate and impress her absent father,
particularly when he is acknowledged to be the most powerful and
glamorous man in the land. However, to some observers this hero-
worship went far beyond the natural affection that a young woman
might be expected to feel for her dead father:

This [devotion to a dominant father] is a trait which prominent females sometimes show. Anna
Freud turned herself into Sigmund's intellectual heir, Benazir Bhutto makes a political platform
out of her father's memory, and one is reminded of a recent British prime minister whose entry in
Who's Who included a father but no mother. Did Tuthmosis I ever call his daughter ‘the best man
in the dynasty’, and is this why Hatchepsut shows no identification with other women?23

Perhaps the most important point here is that all these women lacked an
acceptable female role-model and therefore, once they had made the
decision to commit themselves to a career in the public eye, had little
choice but to follow their fathers rather than their mothers, sisters,
cousins or aunts into what had become the family business. Hatchepsut,
as king, had no other woman to identify with. She had already spent at
least fifteen years emulating her mother as queen and now wanted to
advance to king. Of all the women named above, Mrs Bhutto, a lady who
is not afraid to use the name and reputation of her father to enhance her
own cause, is perhaps the closest parallel to Hatchepsut. More telling
might be a comparison with Queen Elizabeth I of England, a woman
who inherited her throne against all odds at a time of dynastic difficulty
when the royal family was suffering from a shortage of sons, and who
deliberately stressed her relationship with her vigorous and effective
father in order to lessen the effect of her own femininity and make her
own reign more acceptable to her people: ‘And though I be a woman, yet
I have as good a courage, answerable to my place, as ever my father
had.’
Citing Tuthmosis as the inspiration for Hatchepsut's actions is,
however, in many ways putting the chariot before the horse. Tuthmosis I
was Hatchepsut's reason to rule, not her motivation, as Egyptian
tradition decreed that son should follow father on the throne. Given
Hatchepsut's unusual circumstances, she needed to stress her links with
her father more than most other kings. Therefore, in order to establish
herself as her father's heir – and thereby justify her claim to the throne –
Hatchepsut was forced to edit her own past so that her husband-brother,
also a child of Tuthmosis I, disappeared from the scene and she became
the sole Horus to her father's Osiris. To this end she redesigned her
father's tomb in the Valley of the Kings, emulated his habit of erecting
obelisks, built him a new mortuary chapel associated with her own at
Deir el-Bahri and allowed him prominence on many of her inscriptions.
Nor was Hatchepsut the only 18th Dynasty monarch to revere the
memory of Tuthmosis I; Tuthmosis III also sought to link himself with
the grandfather whom he almost certainly never met while virtually
ignoring the existence of his own less impressive father. As a sign of
respect Tuthmosis III, somewhat confusingly, occasionally refers to
himself as the son rather than grandson of Tuthmosis I. Fortunately, the
autobiography of Ineni specifically tells us that Tuthmosis II was
succeeded by ‘the son he had begotten’, removing any doubt as to the
actual paternity of Tuthmosis III. The terms ‘father’ and ‘son’ need not be
taken literally in these circumstances; ‘father’ was often used by the
ancient Egyptians as a respectful form of address for a variety of older
men and could therefore be used in a reference to an adoptive father or
stepfather, patron or even ancestor. That Tuthmosis I should be regarded
as an heroic figure by his descendants is not too surprising. Not only had
he proved himself a highly successful monarch, he was also the founder
of the immediate royal family. His predecessor Amenhotep I, although
officially classified as belonging to the same dynasty, was in fact no
blood relation of either Hatchepsut or Tuthmosis III.

As a king of Egypt, Hatchepsut was entitled to a suitably splendid

monarch's tomb. Therefore, soon after her accession, work on the rather
understated tomb in the Wadi Sikkat Taka ez-Zeida ceased and the
excavation of a far more regal monument commenced in the Valley of
the Kings. Following recent 18th Dynasty tradition, this tomb was to
have two distinct components: a burial chamber hidden away in the
Valley (now known as Tomb KV20) and a highly visible mortuary
temple, in this case Djeser-Djeseru or ‘Holy of the Holies’, a magnificent
temple nestling in a natural bay in the Theban mountain at Deir el-
Bahri.24 Two architects were appointed to oversee the essentially
separate building projects, and Hapuseneb was placed in charge of work
at KV20 while Senenmut is generally credited with the work at Deir el-
Bahri. However, it is possible that the two elements of the tomb were
originally intended to be linked via hidden underground passages, and

Fig 4.5 Plan of Hatchepsut's king's tomb

an unusually long and deep series of tunnels leading straight from the
Valley of the Kings to the burial chamber may have been designed to
allow the chamber itself to lie directly beneath the mortuary temple.
Deir el-Bahri is separated from the Valley of the Kings by a steep outcrop
of the Theban mountain. Today it takes a good half an hour to walk
between the two, following the steep mountain trail which had been
named ‘Agatha Christie's path’ on the grounds that it plays an important
part in her ancient Egyptian detective mystery Death Comes as the End.25
However, the two sites are actually less than a quarter of a mile apart as
the mole tunnels. It would therefore have been perfectly feasible for
Hatchepsut to be buried below her mortuary temple while enjoying the
security of a tomb entrance hidden in the Valley. Unfortunately, the
unstable nature of the rock in the Valley of the Kings seems to have
thwarted this plan and, in order to avoid a localized patch of
dangerously crumbling rock, the straight passages were forced to curve
in on themselves, creating a bent bow shape. The finished tomb, if
straightened out, would in any case have been approximately one
hundred metres too short to reach the temple.
For many years egyptologists have assumed that Tuthmosis I was, by
the beginning of Hatchepsut's reign, peacefully resting in Tomb KV 38,
which had been built for him in secret ‘no one seeing, no one hearing’ by
his loyal architect Ineni. It therefore made sense for his devoted
daughter to select a nearby site for her own tomb, KV 20. However, a
recent re-examination of the architecture and contents of KV 38 has
made it clear that, while this tomb was definitely built for Tuthmosis I, it
is unlikely to have been started before the reign of his grandson,
Tuthmosis III. This means that, wherever Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis II
buried their father, it could not have been in Tomb KV 38. Where then
had Tuthmosis I been interred?
It could be that the original tomb of Tuthmosis I has yet to be
discovered; his would not be the first tomb to be ‘lost’ in the Valley of
the Kings. However, it seems far more likely that Hatchepsut, rather
than build herself a completely new tomb, had taken the unusual
decision to extend the tomb already occupied by her father by adding a
further stairway leading downwards to an extra chamber. This extension
would make the tomb eminently suitable for a double father–daughter
burial. The proportions of the burial chamber of KV 20, and the
unusually small stairway which leads to this chamber, certainly hint that
this section may be a late addition, while its architectural style has
indicated a direct link with the Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple which is
not suggested by the remainder of the tomb.26 The inspiration for the
double-burial may have been the simple filial love that Hatchepsut felt
for her father, or it may have been a more practical move designed to
associate Hatchepsut permanently with her ever-popular father's
mortuary cult: Winlock has suggested that Hatchepsut needed to use her
father's remains to enhance the sanctity of her own burial just as ‘in the
Middle Ages the bodies of the saints were translated from the Holy Land
to Europe to enhance the sanctity of the new cathedrals'.27
The new plan means that Tuthmosis I was actually interred twice in
Tomb KV 20, firstly during his funeral when he was placed in a
traditional wooden sarcophagus (now lost) in the original burial
chamber, and later, during Hatchepsut's reign, when he was provided
with a splendid quartzite sarcophagus and moved downwards to the new
chamber. This would, of course, cast doubt upon the hitherto accepted
theory that the tomb was designed to run directly beneath Djeser-Djeseru;
the unusual length of the passageways may instead represent a fruitless
search for the layers of hard rock which would permit the carving of
decorations on the tomb walls.
The location of Tomb KV 20 – if not of its original owner – had been
known since the Napoleonic Expedition of 1799; in 1804 a gentleman
named Ch. H. Gordon had left his mark on the entrance door-jamb; in
1817 Giovanni Battista Belzoni had recorded the tomb on his map of the
Valley of the Kings; in 1824 James Burton had gained access to an upper
chamber; and in 1844 Karl Richard Lepsius had partially explored the
upper passage. However, all the passageways had become blocked by a
solidified mass of rubble, small stones and other rubbish which had been
carried into the tomb by floodwaters. It was not until 1903–4 that
Howard Carter, after two seasons of strenuous work, was able to clear
the corridors and make his way along the long and winding passageways
to the double burial chamber. This he found to be filled with debris from
a collapsed ceiling, and he embarked on a further month's clearance
work, labouring under the most trying of conditions:

… the air had become so bad, and the heat so great, that the candles carried by the workmen
melted, and would not give enough light to enable them to continue their work; consequently we
were compelled to install electric lights, in the form of hand wires… As soon as we got down
about 50 metres, the air became so foul that the men could not work. In addition to this, the bats
of centuries had built innumerable nests on the ceilings of the corridors and chambers, and their
excrement had become so dry that the least stir of the air filled the corridors with a fluffy black
stuff, which choked the noses and mouths of the men, rendering it most difficult for them to
breathe.28

All the rubbish extracted had to be carried in baskets along almost 200
m (656 ft) of narrow, curving passageways and steep stairways to the
surface 100 m (328 ft) above. Overcoming these obstacles with the aid
of an air suction pump installed by the excavation's American sponsor,
Mr Theodore M. Davis, the intrepid Carter discovered that the tomb
followed a fairly simple plan, with four descending stepped passages
linked by three rectangular chambers leading to a rectangular burial
chamber measuring 11 m × 5.5 m × 3 m (36 ft × 18 ft × 10 ft). The
ceiling of the burial chamber was originally supported by a row of three
central columns, and there were three very small store rooms opening
off the main chamber. Here Carter found not one but two yellow
quartzite sarcophagi and Hatchepsut's matching quartzite canopic box.
Unfortunately, the tomb had been robbed in antiquity, and the once-
magnificent grave goods were reduced to piles of broken sherds,
fragments of stone vessels and ‘some burnt pieces of wooden coffins and
boxes; a part of the face and foot of a large wooden statue covered in
bitumen’.29 It does not seem beyond the bounds of possibility that the
burned wooden fragments might be the remains of the original coffins
and sarcophagus of Tuthmosis I. Fifteen polished limestone slabs
inscribed in red and black ink with chapters from the Amduat, a book of
royal funerary literature provided during the New Kingdom for the use
of the dead king, and here obviously intended to line the burial
chamber, were lying on the floor where the builders had abandoned
them.
Included amongst the debris of broken pottery and shattered stone
vessels recovered from the burial chamber and lower passages were the
remains of two vases made for Queen Ahmose Nefertari. These vessels
seem to have been regarded as Tuthmoside family heirlooms, and as
such were a part of the original funerary equipment of Tuthmosis I. One
of the vases gives the name and titles of the deceased queen ‘long may
she live’, plus a later inscription which tells us that Tuthmosis II ‘[made
it] as his monument to his father’. Other vessels, this time bearing the
name and titles of Tuthmosis I, had also been inscribed by Tuthmosis II
and were presumably also a part of the original funerary equipment of
Tuthmosis I placed in his tomb by his son. The tomb also contained
fragments of stone vessels made for Hatchepsut before she became king
– possibly transferred from her previous tomb – and vessels bearing the
name of Maatkare Hatchepsut which must have been made after she
acceded to the throne.
 Fig. 4.6 The goddess Isis from the sarcophagus of Hatchepsut
The magnificent sarcophagus of King Hatchepsut was discovered open,
with no sign of a body, and with the lid lying discarded on the floor. It is
now housed in Cairo Museum along with its matching quartzite canopic
chest. Carved from a single block of yellow quartzite, the sarcophagus
has a cartouche-shaped plan-form with a rounded head end and a flat
foot end, and it has been inscribed, polished and painted. The second
sarcophagus, found lying on its side with its almost-undamaged lid
propped against the wall nearby, was eventually presented to Mr Davis
as a gesture of appreciation for his generous financial support. Mr Davis
in turn presented the sarcophagus to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
This second sarcophagus had originally been engraved with the name of
‘the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare Hatchepsut’;
incontrovertible evidence that it had been intended for the use of the
female king. However, just as the sarcophagus was virtually complete,
there had been a change of plan. A new sarcophagus was commissioned
for Hatchepsut, and the rejected sarcophagus was transferred to
Tuthmosis I. The stonemasons made the best that they could of the
situation, restoring the surface of the quartzite so that it could be re-
carved with the name and titles of its new owner. In an attempt to erase
the original carvings several centi-metres of the outer surface were lost
and the sarcophagus was reduced by 6 cm (2½ in) in width and 1.5 cm
(½ in) in length, while the lid was made good by the judicious use of
painted plaster. Finally, the sarcophagus was re-carved with the name of
Tuthmosis I. A dedication text makes Hatchepsut's generosity clear:

… long live the Female Horus… The king of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare, the son of Re,
Hatchepsut-Khnemet-Amun! May she live forever! She made it as her monument to her father
whom she loved, the Good God, Lord of the Two Lands, Aakheperkare, the son of Re, Tuthmosis
the justified.30

The sarcophagus finally measured 222.5 cm (7 ft) long x 89 cm (3 ft)

wide with walls 13 cm (5 in) thick, and would therefore have been too
short to have held the anthropoid coffin of Tuthmosis I which, recovered
from the Deir el-Bahri mummy cache, measures 232 cm (7 ft 6 in) long
by 72 cm (2 ft 3 in) wide at the elbows and 70 cm (2 ft 3 in) high at the
face. The feet, normally the deepest part of the coffin, had been
destroyed in antiquity. The 18th Dynasty workmen, realizing that the
reconditioned sarcophagus might prove too small for its intended
occupant, had attempted to enlarge the cavity by hacking away at the
inner surfaces of the end walls. However, even when the inner space had
been enlarged twice, it still only measured 210 cm x 64 cm x 64.5 cm (6
ft 10 in x 2ft x 2ft); it would have easily accommodated a mummified
body, but not one encased in a nest of two or three wooden coffins.
Presumably, when the time came to inter the king, his coffin's) would
have been discarded.
At around 155 cm tall (approximately 5 ft) Tuthmosis would certainly
not have been considered a giant amongst the ancient Egyptians, but nor
would he have been unnaturally short for a New Kingdom man; an
average male height of approximately 166 cm (5 ft 5 in) is suggested by
the available human remains.31 The Tuthmosides evidently had a family
tendency towards shortness; Tuthmosis II was 169 cm (5 ft 6 in) tall and
Tuthmosis III, at 161 cm (5 ft 3 in), has often been likened to an ancient
Egyptian Napoleon Bonaparte (or, less frequently, to Alexander the Great
and even to Horatio Nelson) on account of both his military prowess and
his stocky build. As Hatchepsut's sarcophagus was too short for
Tuthmosis I we must assume that she was less tall than her father;
presumably her body, wrapped in bandages and encased within at least
one wooden coffin, would have fitted into her smallest sarcophagus, that
recovered from the Wadi Sikkat Taka ez-Zeida, which would have taken
a coffin up to 181 cm (5 ft 11 in) in length.
Tuthmosis I was not, however, destined to lie alongside his daughter
as, sometime after the death of Hatchepsut, Tuthmosis III decided to re-
inter his grandfather in an even more magnificent tomb. To some
modern observers this seems a very natural reaction:

That… upon finding himself supreme master of Egypt he should have permitted the body of his
revered ancestor and predecessor on the throne to lie buried in the tomb – in the very
sarcophagus – of the accursed usurper is, to the mind of the writer, incredible… One would
expect him to have striven to surpass his former co-regent in lavishness and to have scorned the
shoddy expedient of ‘doing over’ a second-half [sic] monument or of failing to provide one at
all.32

The new tomb (KV 38) contained yet another yellow quartzite
sarcophagus dedicated to Tuthmosis I and inscribed by his loving
grandson: ‘It was his son who caused his name to live in making
excellent the monument of [his] father for all eternity.’33 This time the
workmen made sure that the sarcophagus was exactly the right size to
accommodate Tuthmosis’ new cedarwood anthropoid coffin; one of a
series of three coffins thoughtfully provided by Tuthmosis III.
Unfortunately, Tuthmosis was once again to be denied his eternal rest.
During the late 20th Dynasty his new tomb was plundered, the
sarcophagus lid was broken, the body was stripped of its precious
jewellery and the valuable grave goods were stolen. One of the coffins
prepared for Tuthmosis I by Tuthmosis III eventually came to light as
part of the Deir el-Bahri mummy cache. As might be expected, this coffin
was obviously an early 18th Dynasty artifact and bore the name of
Tuthmosis. However the coffin had been ‘borrowed’ by a later king; it
had been re-gilded and re-inlaid for use by the Theban ruler Pinedjem I,
a monarch who ruled southern Egypt over 400 years after the death of
Tuthmosis I. The gold foil carefully applied for Pinedjem's interment had
itself been subsequently removed, possibly by the necropolis officials
who stored the coffins in the cache, allowing the original name of
Tuthmosis to be seen once again.
It is obvious that Tuthmosis’ body must have been separated from its
coffin before Pinedjem was buried. This must cast serious doubt upon
the mummy tentatively identified as that of Tuthmosis I at the end of the
nineteenth century. Maspero had found this mummy resting, Russian
doll-style, in a nest of two coffins, the inner one a Third Intermediate
Period coffin originally intended for Pinedjem and the outer coffin that
of Tuthmosis I but adapted for the use of Pinedjem. This unlabelled body
seemed of the correct size and age to be Tuthmosis I although, like many
of the other mummies in the cache, it had been ‘restored’ in antiquity
and was now wrapped in late New Kingdom cloth. When the newer
wrappings were removed, it was revealed that the original mummy, that
of a man with a wrinkled face apparently in his mid-fifties, was badly
decomposed and that the hands of the body had been torn away by
thieves searching for precious jewellery. The head, however, as
described by Maspero ‘presents a striking resemblance to those of
Tuthmosis II and III’ while the rather long narrow face displayed ‘refined
features… the mouth still bears an expression of shrewdness and
cunning’.34
Maspero took this physical similarity to the other Tuthmoside kings as
confirmation of the mummy's royal identity and suggested that the body
must have been restored to its original coffin by the officials responsible
for packing the Deir el-Bahri cache. This, of course, suggests that
Pinedjem's body had also become separated from its coffins in antiquity,
and indeed Pinedjem later turned up inside the coffin of Queen Ahhotep
II. X-ray analysis of the ‘Tuthmosis I’ body, however, indicates that it
may in fact be the body of a man in his late teens or early twenties.
While there are many problems with the ages suggested by the X-ray
analysis of mummies, this does leave us with the tantalizing possibility
that the body, if it is not that of Tuthmosis I, may be that of a young
male member of the royal family, possibly even one of Hatchepsut's
elder brothers, Amenmose or Wadjmose.35
Tuthmosis III furnished his grandfather with his third mortuary
chapel, a part of his own cult temple, Henketankh, which was situated
halfway between the original mortuary temple of Tuthmosis I and the
point where the Deir el-Bahri temple causeway reaches the desert's edge.
The mortuary chapel which Hatchepsut had built to honour her father
within Djeser-Djeseru was abandoned, while Tuthmosis' original mortuary
temple, Khenmetankh, was left to become a generalized Tuthmoside
family chapel; a scene showing Tuthmosis I seated in front of the
enigmatic Prince Wadjmose and receiving an offering from Tuthmosis III
suggests that Tuthmosis III may have actually restored this chapel as a
cult temple dedicated to the memory of his grandfather.36
 5
War and Peace

To look upon her was more beautiful than anything; her splendour and her form were divine; she
was a maiden, beautiful and blooming.1

Hatchepsut lived before the full-length looking glass had been invented.
She could examine her features in the highly polished metal ‘see-face’
which, carried in a special mirror-bag designed to be slung over the
shoulder, was an essential accessory for every upper-class matron, but
she was forced to turn to others for confirmation of her overall beauty.
We should perhaps not be too surprised to find that her loyal and
prudent courtiers dutifully praised their new king as the most attractive
woman in Egypt. Her own words, quoted above, betray a rather touching
pride in her own appearance – clearly these things mattered to even the
highest-ranking Egyptian female – while incidental finds of her most
intimate possessions, such as an alabaster eye make-up container, with
integral bronze applicator, engraved with Hatchepsut's early title of
‘God's Wife’, or a pair of golden bracelets engraved with Hatchepsut's
name but recovered from the tomb of a concubine of Tuthmosis III, serve
as a reminder that Hatchepsut, the semi-divine king of Egypt, was also a
real flesh-and-blood woman.
We have no contemporary, unbiased, description or illustration of
Hatchepsut, although we can assume that, in common with most upper-
class Egyptian women of her time, she was relatively petite with a light
brown skin, a relatively narrow skull, dark brown eyes and wavy dark
brown or black hair. She may, in fact, have chosen to be completely
bald. Throughout the New Kingdom it was common for both the male
and the female élite to shave their heads; this was a practical response to
the heat and dust of the Egyptian climate, and the false-hair industry
flourished as elaborate wigs were de rigueur for more formal occasions.
The king's smooth golden body was perfumed with all the exotic oils of
Egypt:

His majesty herself put with her own hands oil of ani on all her limbs. Her fragrance was like a
divine breath, her scent reached as far as the land of Punt; her skin is made of gold, it shines like
the stars…2

Hatchepsut's surviving statues, although always highly idealized,

provide us with a more specific set of clues to her actual appearance.
The new king evidently had a slender build with an attractive oval face,
a high forehead, almond-shaped eyes, a delicate pointed chin – which in
some instances is almost a receding chin – and a rather prominent nose
which adds character to her otherwise rather bland expression. Towards
the beginning of her reign her features show a certain feminine softness,
a possible indication of her youth; later statues show her sterner,
somehow harder, and more the embodiment of the traditional pharaoh.
To some sympathetic observers her face betrays outward signs of her
inner struggle: ‘… worn, strong, thoughtful and masculine but with
something moving and pathetic in the expression’.3 To Hayes, describing
a red granite statue from Deir el-Bahri, the king displays ‘… a handsome
face, but not one distinguished by the qualities of honesty and
generosity’.4 There is a general family resemblance between the statuary
of Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis III – large noses obviously ran in the
Tuthmoside family – which is not necessarily the result of both kings
being sculpted by the same workshop. This can present problems for the
unwary student of egyptology, and entire learned papers have been
devoted to the question of exactly which monarch is represented by a
particular statue.
From the time of her coronation onwards Hatchepsut no longer
wished to be recognized as a beautiful or indeed even a conventional
woman. She chose instead to abandon the customary woman's sheath
dress and queen's crown and be depicted wearing the traditional royal
regalia of short kilt, crown or headcloth, broad collar and false beard.
Very occasionally, towards the beginning of her reign, she took the form
of a woman dressed in king's clothing; two seated limestone statues
recovered from Deir el-Bahri show her wearing the typical king's
headcloth and kilt, but with a rounded, almost girlish face, no false
beard and a slight, obviously feminine body with an indented waist and
unmistakable breasts (see, for example, Plate 5).5 More often, however,
she was shown not only with male clothing and accessories but
performing male actions and with the body of a man (Plates 8, 9 and

Fig. 5.1 Hatchepsut as a man

10). When depicted as a child at the Deir el-Bahri temple, she was
presented as a naked boy with unmistakable male genitalia. Her soul, or
Ka, was an equally obvious naked boy. To any observer unfamiliar with
Egyptian art-history and unable to read hieroglyphic inscriptions, the
female queen had successfully transformed herself into a male king. At
first sight the explanation for this transvestism seems simple:
The Egyptians were averse to the throne being occupied by a woman, otherwise Hatchepsut
would not have been obliged to assume the garb of a man; she would not have disguised her sex
under male attire, not omitting the beard… How strong this feeling was in Hatchepsut's own time
is shown by the fact that she never dared to disregard it in her sculptures, where she never
appears as a woman.6

To dismiss Hatchepsut's new appearance as a naive attempt to pose or

pass herself off as a man7 in order to fool her subjects is, however, to
underestimate both the intelligence of the new king and her supporters
and the sophistication of Egyptian artistic thought. It is perfectly possible
that the vast majority of the population, illiterate, uneducated and
politically unaware, were indeed confused over the gender of their new
ruler, and Hatchepsut may well have wished to encourage their
confusion; if her people felt more secure under a male king, then so be
it. However, the lower classes were to a large extent unimportant. There
was no Egyptian tradition of popular political activity and the peasants
had absolutely no say in the government of their country. Indeed, Egypt
was never regarded as ‘their country’; everyone knew that the entire
land belonged to the king and the gods. Those who did matter were the
male élite and the gods, and both of these were already fully aware of
Hatchepsut's sex.
Hatchepsut, former God's Wife and mother of the Princess Neferure,
was widely known to be a woman. There is absolutely no evidence to
suggest that she suddenly came out as a transsexual, a transvestite or a
lesbian, and the fact that she retained her female name and continued to
use feminine word forms in many of her inscriptions suggests that she
did not see herself as wholly, or even partially, male. Although we have
absolutely no idea how the new king dressed in private, we should not
necessarily assume that she invariably wore a man's kilt and false beard.
Accusations of ‘deviant personality and behaviour… [and] abnormal
psychology’,8 levelled by those who have attempted to psychoanalyse
Hatchepsut long after her death, are generally lacking any supporting
evidence. At least one modern medical expert has attempted to link this
perceived ‘deviant’ behaviour with Hatchepsut's devotion to her father:

... Hatchepsut, from her early years, as exemplified by her apparent identification with her
father, had a strong ‘masculine protest’ (to use Adler's term), with a pathological drive towards
actual male impersonation… The difficulty with her marriage partners [sic] might indicate a
maladjustment in hetero-sexuality. The fact that she had children [sic] does not obviate such a
maladjustment.9

However, such analyses, based on the scanty surviving evidence, betray

a profound lack of understanding of the nature of Egyptian kingship.
Similarly, it would be wrong to dismiss these male images as mere
propaganda. They were, of course, intended to convey a message, but so
were all the other Egyptian royal portraits from the start of the Old
Kingdom onwards. None of the images of the pharaohs was entirely
faithful to their original, but nor were they intended to be. They were
designed instead to convey selected aspects of kingship popular at a
particular time. Therefore we find that the kings of the Old Kingdom are
generally shown as the remote embodiment of semi-divine authority, the
rulers of the Middle Kingdom appear more careworn as they struggle
with the burdens of office and the pharaohs of the New Kingdom have
acquired a new confidence and security in their role. Conformity was
always very important and physical imperfections were generally
ignored, to the extent that the 19th Dynasty King Siptah is consistently
portrayed as a healthy young man even though we know from his
mummified body that he had a deformed foot. The same rule of
conformity applied to queens, so we find that the unfortunately buck-
toothed Queens Tetisheri and Ahmose Nefertari are never depicted as
anything other than conventionally beautiful. If a royal statue or painted
portrait happened to look like its subject, so much the better. If not, the
all-important engraving of the name would prevent any confusion as the
name defined the image. Indeed, it was always possible to alter the
subject of a portrait or statue by leaving the features untouched and
simply changing its inscription.
 Hatchepsut's assumption of power had left her with several unique
problems. There was no established Egyptian precedent for a female king
or queen regnant and, although there was no specific law prohibiting
female rulers – indeed Manetho preserves the name of a King Binothris
of the 2nd Dynasty during whose reign ‘it was decided that women
might hold kingly office’ - this was purely a theoretical concession. It
was generally acknowledged that all pharaohs would be men. This was
in full agreement with the Egyptian artistic convention of the pale
woman as the private or indoor worker, the bronzed man as the more
prominent public figure. Hatchepsut, as a female king, therefore had to
make her own rules. She knew that in order to maintain her hold on the
throne she needed to present herself before her gods and her present and
future subjects as a true Egyptian king in all respects. Furthermore, she
needed to make a sharp and immediately obvious distinction between
her former position as queen regent and her new role as pharaoh. The
change of dress was a clear sign of her altered state. When Marina
Warner writes of Joan of Arc, history's best recognized cross-dresser, she
could well be describing Hatchepsut:

Through her transvestism, she abrogated the destiny of womankind. She could thereby transcend
her sex; she could set herself apart and usurp the privileges of the male and his claims to
superiority. At the same time, by never pretending to be other than a woman and a maid, she
was usurping a man's function but shaking off the trammels of his sex altogether to occupy a
different third order, neither male nor female, but unearthly…10

Both these women chose to shun conventional female dress in order to

challenge the way that their societies perceived them. However, there
are clear differences between the two cases. Joan wished to be seen as
neither a woman nor a man, but as an androgynous virgin. By taking the
(surely unnecessary) decision to adopt male garb at all times, not just on
the field of battle where it could be justified on the grounds of
practicality, she was making a less than subtle statement about the
subordinate role assigned to those who wore female dress.
Unfortunately, in choosing to make this statement she was not only
flouting convention but laying herself open to the charges of unseemly,
unfeminine behaviour which were eventually to lead to her death. Her
cropped hair and her transvestism horrified her contemporaries. Cross-
dressing, generally perceived as a threat to ordered society, was in fact
specifically prohibited by the Old Testament:

The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a
woman's garment; for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord.11

Hatchepsut, living in a far more relaxed society, had a far more

focused need. The queen, however well-born, would always be seen as a
mere woman who was occasionally permitted to rule Egypt on a
temporary basis. The king was male (an irrelevance to Hatchepsut),
divine, and able to communicate with the gods. Hatchepsut did not want
to be seen as a mere queen who ruled: she wanted to be a king.

To emphasize her changed status, Hatchepsut made full use of the

concept of the divine duality of kings. Theology decreed that the king of
Egypt should be a god, the son of Amen, who received his divinity on
the death of his predecessor. At the same time, however, it was obvious
that the king of Egypt was a mere human being born to mortal parents
and incapable of performing even the most minor of divine acts in his
own lifetime. This duality of existence resulted in the recognition of an
important distinction between the office and the person. The office
holder (pharaoh) who enjoyed a particular status because of his office
was recognized as being a completely separate entity from the human
being (Hatchepsut) who was that office holder. It was this con which
helped men from outside the immediate royal family, such as Tuthmosis
I, to become accepted as the true pharaoh: the coronation confirmed the
divinity of the new king, and from that point on he was truly royal.
Throughout her reign Hatchepsut strove to emphasize the conventional
aspects of the role of pharaoh, a role which she felt she could fill
regardless of gender. By so doing, however, she effectively eliminated
herself from the archaeological record as an individual in her own right.

Why, then, was it so necessary for Hatchepsut to become a king rather

than a queen? To modern observers there may appear to be little
difference, if any, between the roles of king and queen regnant. If Queen
Elizabeth II were suddenly to announce that she wished to be known as
King Elizabeth her decision would be viewed as eccentric, but not as a
fundamental change of function. It would be a mere playing with words.
Hatchepsut was not, however, playing with words. To the ancient
Egyptians, a vast and almost unbridgeable gulf separated the king from
the rest of humanity, including the closest members of his own family.
There was, in fact, no formal Egyptian word for ‘queen’, and all the
ladies of the royal household were titled by reference to their lord and
master: the consort of the king was either a ‘King's Wife’ or a ‘King's
Great Wife’, the dowager queen was usually a ‘King's Mother’ and a
princess was a ‘King's Daughter’. An Egyptian queen regnant simply had
to be known as ‘king’; she had no other title.
The correct presentation of the king was clearly a matter of great
importance to the ancient Egyptians, to the extent that those who
invaded and conquered Egypt almost invariably adopted the traditional
pharaonic regalia as a means of reinforcing their rule. We therefore find
non-Egyptians, such as the Asiatic Hyksos rulers of the Second
Intermediate Period or the Greek Ptolemies of the post-Dynastic Period,
all dressing as conventional native pharaohs. It may be that the obvious
combination of female characteristics and male accessories shown at the
start of her reign should be interpreted as a short-lived attempt to
present a new image of the pharaoh as an asexual mixture of male and
female strengths.12 If this is the case, the experiment surely failed, as
Hatchepsut soon reverted to the all-male appearance of the conventional
Egyptian king. These early statues do not suggest a blend of sexual
characteristics in the way that the later statuary of Akhenaten does – it is
always possible to tell whether Hatchepsut intended to be depicted in
the body of a woman or a man – and this may be an indication that they
in fact belong to a transitional period when either Hatchepsut or her
sculptors was uncertain of the image which the new king wished to
project.
The only king who dared to go against established tradition,
consistently allowing himself to be depicted as far removed from the
accepted idealized stereotype, was the later 18th Dynasty Pharaoh
Akhenaten. This unconventional monarch was apparently happy to see
himself presented as a virtual hermaphrodite with a narrow feminine
face, drooping breasts, a sagging stomach and wide hips, although even
he retained the conventional crown, false beard and crook and flail
which symbolized his authority. These representations have cast a doubt
over the sexuality of Akhenaten, although he is known to have had at
least two wives and to have fathered at least six daughters, which is
entirely absent from images of Hatchepsut. Many early egyptologists
believed, on the basis of his portraits, that the heretic king was a
woman, while Manetho's second 18th Dynasty queen regnant,
Akhenkheres daughter of Oros (Amenhotep III), is now thought to be
Akhenaten.
Hatchepsut's bold decision to throw off the feminine appearance
which would for ever classify her as a queen (and therefore by definition
as not divine and vastly inferior to the king) was an eminently sensible
one which solved several constitutional problems at a stroke. She could
now be seen to be the equal of any pharaoh, she could ensure the
continuance of the established traditions which were vital to the
maintenance of maat, she could become the living embodiment of Horus,
a male god and, last but certainly not least, she could replace Tuthmosis
III in the religious and state rituals which only a king could perform. It
may be that a more secure female monarch would have had the
confidence to adapt the traditional masculine garments and accessories
to produce a more feminine version for her own use, and indeed the
previous queen regnant Sobeknofru had not found it necessary to alter
her way of dress when she ascended to the throne, but Hatchepsut
clearly felt that it was important to be seen to be as ‘normal’ a king as
possible. Sobeknofru in any case does not present an exact parallel to
Hatchepsut. She came to the throne at a time when there was no obvious
male heir, and therefore she had no need to justify or excuse her rule.
She also reigned for less than four years; hardly enough time to
construct the impressive monuments and statues which would present
her with the opportunity to display large-scale images of herself as king.
Throughout the dynastic period the image was viewed as a powerful
force which could, if required, provide a substitute for the person or
thing depicted. The image could also be used to reinforce an idea so
that, by causing herself to be depicted as a traditional pharaoh in the
most regal and heroic form, Hatchepsut was making sure that this is
precisely what she would become. Egyptian art is notoriously difficult
for modern observers to understand on anything other than a superficial
level; it needs a willingness to abandon ingrained ideas of perspective,
scale and accuracy of depiction as well as an understanding of
contemporary symbolism. However, Hatchepsut's regal scenes must be
regarded as highly successful in that they effectively convey a
comparatively simple message: here is the legitimate king of her land.
Just as Queen Elizabeth I of England, as an old woman in the last decade
of her 45-year reign, could be celebrated and painted as ‘Queen of Love
and Beauty’ – an ever-young maiden with flowing hair and a smooth
complexion and wearing the crescent moon of Cynthia, goddess of the
Moon13 – so Hatchepsut, a widow and mother, could command her
artists and sculptors to depict her as a traditional Egyptian pharaoh,
complete with beard.

The god knows it of me, Amen, Lord of the Thrones of the Two Lands. He gave me sovereignty
over the Black Land and the Red Land as a reward. None rebels against me in all lands. All
foreign lands are my subjects. He made my boundary at the limits of heaven. All that the sun
encompasses works for me…14

Hatchepsut chose to re-invent herself not merely as a king, but as a

traditional warrior-king, conqueror of the whole world. To many modern
historians this was nothing but a giant fraud. Her reign was perceived as
being disappointingly ‘barren of any military enterprise except an
unimportant raid into Nubia’,15 and it therefore followed that ‘the power
of Egypt in Syria was much shaken during the regency of Hatchepsut’.16
This deliberate non-aggressive stance was in marked contrast to the
expansionist policies of Tuthmosis I, Amenhotep I and the great warrior
Ahmose, and was to put Tuthmosis III at a severe disadvantage when, at
the beginning of his solo reign, he was required to quell uprisings
amongst the Egyptian client states in Palestine and Syria. The
unfortunate tendency towards pacifism was generally considered to be
the direct result of Hatchepsut's gender. As a woman, it was reasoned,
she was not only unlikely to wish to indulge in wars, but she would also
have been physically incapable of leading the army into battle:

Hatchepsut was neither an Agrippina nor an Amazon. As far as we know, violence and bloodshed
had no place in her make-up. Hers was a rule dominated by an architect, and the Hapusenebs,
Neshis and Djehutys in her following were priests and administrators rather than soldiers.17

Hatchepsut stands out as one of the great monarchs of Egypt. Though no

wars or conquests are recorded in her reign, her triumphs were as great
as those of the warrior-kings of Egypt, but they were the triumphs of
peace, not war. Her records, as might be expected from a woman, are
more intimate and personal than those of a king… This was no
conqueror, joying in the lusts of battle, but a strong-souled noble-hearted
woman, ruling her country wisely and well.18

Few historians working in the pre-politically correct 1950s and 1960s,

faced with the apparent pacifism of Hatchepsut's reign and the well-
documented military activities of Tuthmosis III, were able to resist
drawing sweeping conclusions. The two kings, already deadly enemies,
were now to be seen as the leaders of two opposing political factions.
Hatchepsut the female, with her interest in internal works and foreign
trade, belonged to what could be classed as the party of peace. She was
supported in her ideas by a party of self-made bureaucrats. Tuthmosis,
supported by the traditional male élite including the priesthood of
Amen, belonged to the more radical ‘war’ party, his vigorous programme
of conquests and expansion being interpreted as a sign that Egypt was
attempting to shake off her insular past and become a major world
power:

Our theory then is that there was a choice to be made and that two different parties chose
differently, Hatchepsut's faction in terms of the lesser effort of earlier times and Tuthmosis III's
faction in terms of a new and major international venture.19

Old-fashioned egyptologists are not the only ones to have assumed

that a woman's natural sensitivity, physical frailty and ability to generate
life would naturally lead her to shy away from bloodshed. For a long
time this, in a slightly altered form, has been the sincerely held belief of
many feminist theorists and historians who view extreme violence and
aggression as a purely male phenomenon and who associate the peace
movement, now seen as a strength rather than a weakness, with women
and motherhood. Woman's ability to create life is often seen as
incompatible with the wish to order the death of another human being.
Various theories have been put forward to explain the phenomenon of
male aggression, ranging from the simple biological (the higher
testosterone levels found in men) to the complex psychological (men's
need for compensation for their inability to bear children), while Freud
suggested that male aggression was the natural result of the sexual
rivalry between father and son competing for the love of the mother.
Freud went on to deduce from this that men had developed civilizations
as a means of compensating for the suppression of their childhood sexual
instincts, while the feminist theorist Naomi Wolf, discussing the ‘beauty
myth’ which she sees as ensnaring modern women, has developed this
argument a stage further by suggesting that as ‘Freud believed that the
repression of the libido made civilization; civilization depends at the
moment on the repression of the female libido…’20
However, the idea that a woman would automatically be less
aggressive than a man may appear strange to those who have lived
under some of the world's most recent female rulers. Neither Mrs Golda
Meir nor Mrs Indira Gandhi was known for her soft and passive
femininity while the track record of the ‘Iron Lady’, Margaret Thatcher,
speaks for itself. Mrs Thatcher, following a tradition established by
Hatchepsut and continued by Elizabeth I, even dressed as a soldier
during an official visit to Northern Ireland, a gesture which was
presumably intended to express solidarity with the troops as she herself
had no intention of taking up arms and fighting on the streets of Belfast.
It could almost be argued on this admittedly very small sample that
modern women who obtain positions of power normally reserved for
men are more and not less likely to resort to military action, particularly
if they feel that they still have something to prove. There is certainly
nothing in Hatchepsut's character to suggest that she would be
frightened of taking the military initiative as and when necessary.
A quick survey of the prominent women of history tends to confirm
that being female is not necessarily a bar to taking decisive military
action. Societies in general may have prevented their women from
fighting but there have been some notable exceptions. Hippolyta,
Penthesilea and the other single-breasted warrior Amazons may be
dismissed as a legend invented to frighten men but Boadicea, Zenobia of
Palmyra and Joan of Arc, real women living in societies which would
not traditionally allow females to enlist, all donned masculine battle
dress to lead their male soldiers into action. Other queens, including
Elizabeth I as she rallied the English fleet at Tilbury, wore the battle
dress to show their commitment to the cause but commanded from afar,
while Cleopatra, who participated peripherally in the battle of Actium
before fleeing ‘true to her nature as a woman and an Egyptian’21 never,
as far as we are aware, dressed as an Egyptian soldier. All these women
seem to have been instinctively aware that the very presence of a fragile
woman on the field of battle, far from discouraging the troops, may
actually bring out feelings of latent gallantry and thereby inspire their
soldiers to greater effort. Antonia Fraser, who dubs this type of woman a
‘Warrior Queen’, notes that:

… a Warrior Queen – or female ruler – has often provided the focus for what a country
afterwards perceived to have been its golden age; beyond the obvious example (to the English) of
Queen Elizabeth I, one might cite the twelfth-century Queen Tamara of Georgia, or the fifteenth-
century Isabella of Spain.22

The woman who takes up arms on behalf of her country, such as

Marianne of France, is often seen as the ultimate patriot. At the same
time the enemy who is forced to fight against a woman may be shamed
by his unchivalrous actions. He is caught in a classic ‘no-win’ situation;
he can never achieve a great victory by defeating a mere woman, while
a lost battle could lead to open ridicule by his male contemporaries.
Evidence is now growing to suggest that Hatchepsut's military prowess
has been seriously underestimated due to the selective nature of the
archaeological evidence which has been compounded by preconceived
notions of feminine pacifism. Egyptologists have assumed that
Hatchepsut did not fight, and have become blind to the evidence that, in
fact, she did. As has already been noted, ancient battles do not
necessarily have a great impact on their immediate environment, and we
are dependent upon the preservation of monumental or textual evidence
for confirmation that any skirmish took place. Occasionally we may
learn of a great battle by chance from a single inscription, and it will
already have been noticed that Ahmose's war of liberation, which freed
Egypt from Hyksos rule, is only actually recorded in its full detail in the
tomb of Ahmose, son of Ibana. As so many of Hatchepsut's texts were
defaced, amended or erased after her death, it is entirely possible that
her war record is incomplete. Furthermore, Hatchepsut's reign, falling
between the reigns of two of the greatest generals Egypt was ever to
know (Tuthmosis I and Tuthmosis III), is bound to suffer in any
immediate comparison. A more realistic comparison, say with the reign
of Tuthmosis II, shows that Hatchepsut's reign was not at all unusual. It
is almost certainly a mistake based on hindsight to see the Asiatic empire
as a master-plan devised by Tuthmosis I, hindered by Tuthmosis II (who
may be excused on the grounds of ill-health) and Hatchepsut and finally
brought to fruition by Tuthmosis III.

The Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple, Djeser-Djeseru, provides us with

evidence for defensive military activity during Hatchepsut's reign. By the
late nineteenth century Naville had uncovered enough references to
battles to convince him that Hatchepsut had embarked on the now
customary series of campaigns against her vassals to the south and east.
These subjects, the traditional enemies of Egypt, almost invariably
viewed any change of pharaoh as an opportunity to rebel against their
overlords, while the pharaohs themselves seem to have almost welcomed
these minor insurrections as a means of proving their military might:

The fragments and inscriptions found in the course of the excavations at Deir el-Bahri show that
during Hatchepsut's reign wars were waged against the Ethiopians, and probably also against the
Asiatics. Among these wars which the queen considered the most glorious, and which she desired
to be recorded on the walls of the temple erected as a monument to her high deeds, was the
campaign against the nations of the Upper Nile.23

Blocks originally sited on the eastern colonnade show the Nubian god
Dedwen leading a series of captive southern towns towards the
victorious Hatchepsut, each town being represented by a name written
in a crenellated cartouche and topped by an obviously African head. The
towns all belong to the land of Cush (Nubia). Elsewhere in the temple,
Hatchepsut is portrayed as a sphinx, a human-headed crouching lion
crushing the traditional enemies of Egypt. There is also a written, but
unfortunately badly damaged, description of a Nubian campaign in
which Hatchepsut appears to be claiming to have emulated the deeds of
her revered father:

… as was done by her victorious father, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Aakheperkare
[Tuthmosis I] who seized all lands… a slaughter was made among them, the number [of dead]
being unknown; their hands were cut off… she overthrew [gap in text] the gods [gap in text]…24

The evidence from the Deir el-Bahri temple is a mixture of official

pronouncements and conventional scenes, and it is therefore possible
that the Nubian campaigns may be battles which Hatchepsut has
‘borrowed’ from earlier pharaohs, possibly her father. Such borrowing or
usurping, disgraceful cheating to modern eyes, would have been entirely
in keeping with Egyptian tradition which stated that the pharaoh had to
be seen to defeat the enemies of Egypt; those who did not actually fight
simply invented or borrowed victories which, as they depicted them,
became real through the power of art and the written word. This means
that a formal inscription carved by a king of Egypt and unsupported by
independent collaborative evidence can never be taken as the historical
truth. However, an unofficial graffito recovered from the Upper Egyptian
island of Sehel (Aswan), and written on behalf of a man named Ti who
served under both Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis III, confirms that there was
indeed some fighting in the south during Hatchepsut's reign:

The Hereditary Prince and Governor, Treasurer of the King of Lower Egypt, the Sole Friend, Chief
Treasurer, the one concerned with the booty, Ti. He says: ‘I followed the good god, the King of
Upper and Lower Egypt Maatkare, may she live! I saw him [i.e. Hatchepsut] overthrowing the
Nubian nomads, their chiefs being brought to him as prisoners. I saw him destroying the land of
Nubia while I was in the following of His Majesty…’25

Ti goes further than the Deir el-Bahri evidence in suggesting that

Hatchepsut was actually present during the fighting in Nubia. He himself
was present at the battle not as a soldier, but as a bureaucrat. Further
confirmatory evidence for at least one Nubian campaign comes from the
tomb of Senenmut, where a badly damaged and disjointed series of
inscriptions read ‘I seized…’ and later ‘the land of Nubia’, and from the
stela of a man named Djehuty, a witness to the southern fighting, who
tells us that he actually saw Hatchepsut on the field of battle, collecting
the spoils of war.
There is less direct evidence for military campaigning to the northeast
of Egypt, although again the Deir el-Bahri temple does hint at some
skirmishes; in at least one inscription it is said of Hatchepsut that ‘her
arrow is amongst the northerners’. However, it is a consideration of the
subsequent conquests of Tuthmosis III which provides the best evidence
for the maintenance of firm military control over the northeastern
territories. When Tuthmosis III eventually became sole ruler of Egypt,
the client states in Syria and Palestine seized the traditional opportunity
to rebel, a reaction which suggests that the death of Hatchepsut may
have been viewed as a potential weakening rather than strengthening of
Egypt's power in the Levant. The Egyptian army, however, had been
properly maintained, the soldiers were ready, the correct administration
was in place, and Tuthmosis was able to launch an immediate and
successful counter-attack. Tuthmosis, in his role as head of the army
throughout the latter part of the co-regency, had already conducted at
least one successful campaign in Palestine, during which he had
captured the strategically important town of Gaza; by Year 23, the first
year of Tuthmosis solo reign, Gaza is described as ‘the town which the
ruler had taken’. Tuthmosis went on to become one of Egypt's most
successful generals, pushing back the eastern and southern boundaries of
the Egyptian Empire until Egypt became without doubt the dominant
force in the Mediterranean world. Would his career have been so
brilliant had it not been preceded by the reign of Hatchepsut?26
 Hatchepsut's military policy is perhaps best described as one of
unobtrusive control; active defence rather than deliberate offence. While
either unwilling or unable to actually expand Egypt's sphere of influence
in the near east, she was certainly prepared to fight to maintain the
borders of her country. Her military record is in fact stronger than that
of Tuthmosis II, who did not lead his campaigns in person, and far more
impressive than that of Akhenaten, a male king who showed an extreme
reluctance to protect his own interests even though he received a stream
of increasingly desperate letters from his Levantine vassals begging him
for military assistance. It would certainly be very unfair to draw a direct
comparison between the campaigns of Tuthmosis I, Tuthmosis III and
Hatchepsut, and then criticize the latter for not adopting a more
aggressive stance. It is, in fact, Tuthmosis III who is unusual in this line-
up; all the other 18th Dynasty pharaohs embarked on the customary
campaigns towards the beginning of their reigns, but only Tuthmosis III
made fighting his life's work. After all, although a good military record
was a desirable aspect of kingship, not all kings could be lucky enough
to participate in a decisive military campaign. The fact that Hatchepsut
did not need to fight may actually be taken as an indication of strength
rather than weakness. The most successful 18th Dynasty monarch,
Amenhotep III, a king who ruled over Egypt at a time of unprecedented
prosperity, certainly had a less than impressive war record. This was not
through personal cowardice or adherence to a deliberate policy of peace;
Amenhotep III did not fight because he did not need to. Throughout his
rule Egypt remained the greatest power in the Mediterranean world and,
rather than rebel, Egypt's vassals and neighbours stood in awe.
We have ample evidence to show that Hatchepsut's wider foreign
policy should be classed as one of adventurous trade and exploration.
Her famous expedition to Punt, clearly one of the highlights of her reign,
should not be seen as an isolated event but as the climax of a series of
trading missions which included visits to Phoenicia to collect the wood
which Egypt so badly needed to build her ships, and the exploitation of
the copper and turquoise mines in Sinai which is attested by stelae and
inscriptions at the Wadi Maghara and Serabit el-Khadim. All of these
missions were standard indications of a successful rule, comparable to
the exploits of the great pharaohs of the past, and as such were recorded
with pride on the walls of the Speos Artemidos temple, Middle Egypt:

Roshawet [Sinai] and Iuu [now unknown] have not remained hidden from my august person,
and Punt overflows for me on the fields, its trees bearing fresh myrrh. The roads that were
blocked on both sides are now trodden. My army, which was unequipped, has become possessed
of riches since I arose as king.27

Trade, throughout the 18th Dynasty, was a matter of obtaining

luxurious imports rather than, as in the modern western world, the
problem of finding markets for exported Egyptian surpluses. The
mysterious and exotic Punt, the ‘land of the god’, had been known since
Old Kingdom times as a source of such desirable commodities as myrrh,
incense, ebony, ivory, gold and even dancing pygmies, who were
particularly prized at the Egyptian court:

You said in your dispatch that you have bought a dwarf of the god's dances… like the dwarf
whom the god's treasurer Bawerded brought from Punt in the time of King Isesi… Come
northward to the residence at once! Hurry, and bring with you this dwarf… If he goes down into
a boat with you, choose trusty men to be beside him on both sides of the boat in case he falls
overboard into the water. If he lies down to sleep at night, choose trusty men to be beside him in
his tent. Inspect him ten times during the night. My Majesty longs to see this dwarf more than
the spoils of the mining country and of Punt.28

Expeditions to Punt had been a feature of several Middle Kingdom

reigns, and the trading missions of Mentuhotep III, Senwosret I and
Amenemhat II had all successfully navigated their way to and from this
fabulous land. The exact location of Punt is now a mystery, although the
flora and fauna depicted in the reliefs indicate that it must have been an
African country, probably situated somewhere along the
Eritrean/Ethiopian coast between latitudes 17°N and 12°N. Punt could
therefore be reached via the Red Sea port of Quseir which lay at the end
of an arduous trek along the desert road from Coptos. The Egyptians,
well accustomed to sailing up and down the Nile, were not particularly
well versed in the hazards of sea travel, and the long voyage to Punt
must have seemed something akin to a journey to the moon for present-
day explorers. However, the rewards of such a journey clearly
outweighed the risks, and missions to Punt continued during the reigns
of Tuthmosis III and Amenhotep III. The tradition of trading with Punt
died out during the 20th Dynasty, and by the end of the dynastic period
Punt had become an unreal and fabulous land of myths and legends.
We are told that it was actually Amen, not Hatchepsut, who took the
decision to send an expedition to Punt during regnal Year 9, and that the
king of the gods gave his personal guarantee that the mission would be
successful:

Said by Amen, the Lord of the Thrones of the Two Lands: ‘Come, come in peace my daughter, the
graceful, who art in my heart, King Maatkare… I will give thee Punt, the whole of it… I will lead
[your soldiers] by land and by water, on mysterious shores which join the harbours of incense,
the sacred territory of the divine land, my abode of pleasure… They will take incense as much as
they like. They will load their ships to the satisfaction of their hearts with trees of green [that is,
fresh] incense, and all the good things of the land.29

The fact that her expedition proved itself able to emulate the glories of
former pharaohs, returning in triumph from Punt with ships bursting
with wondrous goods, presented the new king with a marvellous
propaganda coup and an irresistible opportunity to advertise the glories
of her reign. The undeniable success of the mission must have made it
obvious to even the most hardened of sceptics that the gods were not
offended by the female monarch, and that maat was indeed present
throughout the land. It is therefore no surprise that Hatchepsut deemed
the story worthy of inclusion in her mortuary temple. Here the record of
the expedition to Punt is preserved in a series of delightful vignettes and
brief texts first carved and then painted on the southern half of the
middle portico. The prominence of this position (the story of
Hatchepsut's divine conception and birth was carved on the opposite
side of the same colonnade) gives some indication of the importance
which Hatchepsut attached to the tale.
Most unusually, the story of the expedition does not take the form of a
sequence of static, lifeless and rather dull images; instead the artists
have attempted a realism which is rarely found in monumental Egyptian
art. The native people, their animals and even their trees are vibrant
with life, providing the viewer with a genuine flavour of this strange
foreign land and making it difficult to imagine that the artists who
carved the fat queen of Punt or her curious home had not actually left
Egypt's boundaries. Unfortunately, the charm and fine workmanship of
the individual scenes has attracted the inevitable treasure hunters, and
the story is now to a certain extent spoiled by the gaps which mark the
position of stolen blocks. The loss of the blocks depicting the remarkable
queen of Punt is particularly to be deplored although fortunately one of
these blocks, now safely housed in the Cairo Museum, has been replaced
in the temple wall by an exact plaster replica.
Throughout the text Hatchepsut maintains the fiction that her envoy,
the Chancellor Neshi, has travelled to Punt in order to extract tribute
from the natives who admit their allegiance to the distant King
Maatkare. In fact the expedition was a simple trading mission to a land
which, occupied by a curious mixture of races, seems to have been a
well-established trading post. The Puntites traded not only in their own
produce of incense, ebony and short-horned cattle, but in goods from
other African states including gold, ivory and animal skins. In return for
a vast selection of luxury items, Neshi is to offer a rather feeble selection
of beads and weapons; as Naville, a man of his time, commented in
1898, he offers the men of Punt ‘… trinkets like those which are used at
the present day in trading with the negroes of Central Africa’:30

The necklaces brought to Punt are in great number; they perhaps had only a slight value; but
they pleased the Africans, as they now please the Negros, to whom articles of ornament which
are in themselves things of no intrinsic value, or cheap stuffs with showy colours, or cowries are
often given in exchange, things valueless in themselves, but much in request amongst these
African peoples.31

Naville forgets to mention that the fact that Neshi was accompanied by
at least five shiploads of marines may have encouraged the Puntites to
participate in this rather one-sided trade.
Punt had many desirable treasures, but was particularly rich in the
precious resins (myrrh, Commiphora myrrha, and frankincense, Boswellia
carterii) which Egypt needed for the manufacture of incense. Incense
could be made from either a single aromatic tree gum or a mixture of
them; a favourite Egyptian incense known as kyphi was said to contain as
many as sixteen different ingredients, but the recipe is now
unfortunately lost. Incense was burned in great quantities in the daily
temple rituals, and employed in the formulation of perfumes, the
fumigation of houses, the mummification of the dead and even in
medical prescriptions, where those suffering from sour breath – women
in particular – were advised to chew little balls of myrrh to relieve their
symptoms. This might explain why the odour of Amen, in the legend of
the divine birth of kings, is reported to smell like the odours of Punt. The
Punt brands of incense were highly prized, but could not be found in any
great quantity within Egypt's borders where trees of any kind were rare.
Therefore Neshi was dispatched to obtain not only supplies of the
incense itself, but living trees complete with roots which could be re-
planted in the gardens of the temple of Amen. The thirty or so trees or
parts of tree depicted in the Deir el-Bahri scenes seem to represent either
two different species or the same tree at different seasons, as one type is
covered in foliage while the other remains bare. The trees have been
tentatively identified as representing frankincense and myrrh, although
it is unfortunate that different experts cannot agree which type of tree is
which.
 Fig. 5.2 Tree being transported from Punt
Five Egyptian sailing ships equipped with oars are shown arriving at
Punt where the sailors disembark into small boats, unload their cargo
and make for the shore. Here they find a village set in a forest of ebony,
incense and palm trees, its houses curious conical structures resembling
large beehives made of plaited palm fronds and set on poles above the
ground so that their only means of access is by ladder. The inhabitants of
the village are a curiously mixed bunch, some being depicted as black or
brown Africans while others are physically very similar to the Egyptian
visitors. However, the animals shown are clearly African in origin. There
are both long-and short-horned cattle, long-eared domesticated dogs,
panthers or leopards, a badly damaged representation of a creature
which might possibly be a rhinoceros and tall giraffes, which were
considered so extraordinary that they were led to the ships and taken
back to Egypt. The tree-tops are full of playful monkeys and there are
nesting birds, a clear indication that it is spring.
 Fig. 5.3 House on stilts, Punt
The Egyptian envoy Neshi, unarmed but carrying a staff of office and
escorted by eight armed soldiers and their captain, is greeted in a
friendly manner by the chief of Punt who is himself accompanied by his
immediate family of one wife, one daughter and two sons. The slender
chief is obviously not of Negro extraction; his skin is painted a light
shade of red, he has fine Egyptian-style facial features and an aquiline
nose. It is his long thin goatee beard, and the series of bracelets adorning
his left leg, which mark him out as a foreigner. However his grotesquely
fat wife, with her wobbling, blancmange-like folds of flab and enormous
thighs emphasized by her see-through costume, presents a marked
contrast to the stereotyped image of the upper-class Egyptian woman as
a slender and serene beauty. Her appearance must have seemed
extraordinary to the ancient Egyptians and even Naville, normally the
most courteous of commentators, found the portrait of the queen and her
already plump young daughter highly unnerving:
 Fig. 5.4 The obese queen of Punt

Their stoutness and deformity might be supposed at first sight to be the result of disease, if we
did not know from the narratives of travellers of our own time that this kind of figure is the ideal
type of female beauty among the savage tribes of inner Africa. We can thus trace to a very high
antiquity this barbarous taste, which was adopted by the Punites [sic], although they were
probably not native Africans.32

We can only wonder how the queen of Punt, who is evidently too fat to
walk and is therefore carried everywhere by a disproportionately small
donkey, ever managed to ascend the ladder which led to her home.
The Egyptians present the natives with a small pile of trivia; amongst
the trinkets shown we can distinguish beads, bracelets, an axe and a
single dagger in its sheath. The Puntites appear to receive these less than
impressive offerings with delight, and cordial relations are so well
established that Neshi orders that the appropriate preparations be made
to entertain the chief of Punt in his tent:

The preparing of the tent for the royal messenger and his soldiers, in the harbours of
frankincense of Punt, on the shore of the sea, in order to receive the chiefs of this land, and to
present them with bread, beer, wine, meat, fruits and all the good things of the land of Egypt, as
has been ordered by the sovereign [life, strength, health].33

It is possible that the expedition spent several weeks travelling

westwards to the interior of Punt escorted by Puntite guides and
collecting both ebony and incense. It would almost certainly have been
necessary for the ships to wait for the reversal of the winds which would
carry them back to Egypt. However, when next we see the expedition
the ships are being loaded for the return journey. Egyptians and Puntites
labour side by side as baskets of myrrh and frankincense, bags of gold
and incense, ebony, elephant tusks, panther skins and a troop of over-
exuberant monkeys are all taken aboard. Truly, ‘Never were brought
such things to any king, since the world was.’34
The return journey is left to the imagination, presumably because it
would not have added to our appreciation of the vast treasure being
carried to Egypt. Instead, we skip directly to the unloading of the ships
in the presence of Hatchepsut herself. We are told that this momentous
event occurred at Thebes although, given that the River Nile was not yet
connected to the Red Sea, it seems unlikely that the ships were able to
sail directly from Punt to Thebes. There is, however, some evidence to
suggest that sea-going ships, originally constructed in the Nile Valley,
were dismantled and carried in kit-form overland both to and from the
Red Sea port of Quseir. The
 Fig. 5.5 Ape from Punt

final leg of the sea–land–river return journey, the voyage from Coptos to
Thebes, could therefore indeed have been by boat. Papyrus Harris I, a
contemporary text detailing the reign of the 20th Dynasty King Ramesses
III, includes an explicit description of a return from Punt:

They arrived safely at the desert-country of Coptos: they moored in peace, carrying the goods
they had brought. They [the goods] were loaded, in travelling overland, upon asses and upon
men, being re-loaded into vessels on the river at the harbour of Coptos. They [the goods and the
Puntites] were sent forward downstream, arriving in festivity, bringing tribute into the royal
presence.35

The Red Sea coastal area, with its desert conditions, lack of fresh
water and great distance from the known security of the Nile Valley, was
not considered a suitable place to live, and no fixed ports were
maintained along its length. Quseir, the traditional departure point for
voyages south, did not in any case have the satisfactory harbour facilities
which would warrant the establishment of a permanent port.
Whichever the port of arrival, we once again see the parade of luxury
goods as the expedition disembarks. In fact, more space is devoted to the
loading and unloading of the vessels than is given to the mysteries of the
land of Punt itself. Egyptian sailors struggle under the weight of incense
trees temporarily planted in baskets and slung between two carrying
poles while behind them come men carrying ebony and boomerangs,
amphorae filled with precious unguents and curiously shaped blocks of
resin. Yet other sailors drive the herds of cattle and one even leads a
cynocephalus ape, highly valued as the sacred animal of Thoth, god of
wisdom. The precious silver, gold, lapis lazuli and malachite are
carefully weighed in the scales of Thoth while a motley collection of
foreigners, both Puntites and Nubians, disembarks and kneels before the
King.

Fig. 5.6 Tuthmosis III offers before the barque of Amen

Hatchepsut, the ever-dutiful daughter, dedicates the best of the goods
to her father Amen:

The King himself, King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare, takes the good things of Punt, and
the valuables of the divine land, presenting the gifts of the southern countries, the tributes of the
vile Kush, the boxes [of gold and precious stones] of the land of the negroes to Amen-Re, the
Lord of the Throne of the Two Lands. The King Maatkare, she is living, she lasts, she is full of joy,
she rules over the land like Re eternally.36

Hatchepsut stands proud before the god himself. Senenmut, the king's
favourite, prominent in his role of Overseer of the Granaries of Amen,
stands with Neshi to praise the king on the success of her mission; all
three figures and much of the accompanying text have been hacked off
the wall in antiquity. Meanwhile, in the background of just one scene,
the figure of Tuthmosis III appears, wearing the regal blue crown and
holding out two tubs of incense to the sacred barque of Amen.
 6
Propaganda in Stone

I am his daughter in very truth, who works for him and knows what he desires. My reward from
my father is life, stability, dominion upon the Horus Throne of all the Living, like Re, for ever.1

King Hatchepsut embarked at once upon an ambitious programme of

public works, restoring the monuments of past pharaohs and establishing
new temples for the glory of the gods. The benefits of this policy were to
be felt up and down the Nile, but it is for the monumental work in and
around Thebes that her reign is now best remembered. Such a
programme was of threefold importance. At its most obvious level it
impressed upon the people the economic prosperity of the new regime.
Although Hatchepsut, as absolute ruler, had no need to pay for land,
labour or materials, she did need to feed her workforce, and only the
more affluent pharaohs could afford to dispense the daily rations of
bread, beer and grain which were given in lieu of wages. Similarly, only
a well-established and well-organized monarch could boast the efficient
and far-sighted bureaucracy necessary to implement such labour-
intensive plans. The massive stone buildings now starting to rise amidst
the mud-brick houses of Thebes and the other major centres of
population served as a constant reminder that there was a powerful
pharaoh on the throne. They were, as Winlock has remarked,
‘everlasting propaganda in stone’.2
At the same time the new buildings, literally intended to last as
‘mansions of millions of years’ (temples) or ‘houses of eternity’ (rock-cut
tombs), would ensure that the name of their founder would live with
them for ever. The preservation of the personal name, always an
important consideration for upper-class Egyptians, was particularly
important to Hatchepsut, who seems to have understood that she would
need to provide constant justifications of her own atypical reign. If her
monuments could be larger and more impressive than those of her
predecessors, then so much the better; a flattering comparison with the
past was often a useful means of stressing the achievements of the
present. Finally, the new temples would serve as perhaps the greatest
offering that a king could make to the gods; they would be a tangible
and permanent proof of the king's extreme piety, and would ensure that
the gods would cooperate in maintaining the success of the reign.
The larger-scale stone buildings possessed one very useful feature
which was quickly recognized and exploited. Their walls provided the
new monarch with an enormous, obvious and permanent billboard upon
which to speak directly to both her present and future subjects. Indeed,
there was no other effective means of conveying general propaganda to
the people. Word of mouth was doubtless used on a daily basis to
communicate more specific and ephemeral matters, but spoken messages
would surely perish with time, while the writings preserved on fragile
papyri and ostraca would never reach a wide audience. Hatchepsut,
never one to miss an opportunity, soon became adept at using the walls
of her own buildings to proclaim her own glories and justify her own
reign.
In the deserts of Middle Egypt, approximately one mile to the south-
east of Beni Hassan, Hatchepsut endowed two temples dedicated to the
obscure deity Pakhet, ‘She who Scratches’, a fierce lion-headed goddess
of the desert, worshipped locally. Much later the Greeks equated Pakhet
with their own goddess Artemis, and her larger temple, cut into a small,
steep-sided valley, is now widely known by its classical name of Speos
Artemidos, or the ‘Grotto of Artemis’. Its local name is the Istabl Antar
(the stable of Antar; Antar was a pre-Islamic warrior poet), while the
neighbouring smaller temple of Pakhet is known as the Speos Batn el-
Bakarah. The Speos Artemidos survived the reigns of both Tuthmosis III
and Akhenaten virtually intact, but was unfortunately ‘restored’ by Seti I
who added his own texts to the previously unadorned sanctuary. The
Speos Batn el-Bakarah was badly defaced during the reign of Tuthmosis
III.
The Speos Artemidos consisted of two chambers: an outer pillared
vestibule or hall which led via a short passage to an inner sanctuary cut
into the living rock. A niche set into the back wall of the sanctuary,
intended to house the cult statue of Pakhet, formed the religious focus of
the shrine. The internal walls bore few decorations, although a series of
texts and scenes carved on the south wall of the vestibule, around the

Fig. 6.1 Plan of the Speos Artemidos

doorway to the sanctuary, were intended to re-emphasize Hatchepsut's

filial bond with Amen, the father who had chosen her as ruler of Egypt.
Here we can read Amen's words as he proclaims Hatchepsut's kingship:

Utterance by Amen-Re, Lord of the Thrones of the Two Lands…, ‘O my beloved daughter
Maatkare, I am thy beloved father. I establish for thee thy rank in the kingship of the Two Lands.
I have fixed thy titulary.’3

The accompanying scene shows Hatchepsut kneeling before the seated

Amen, while the fierce Pakhet extends her left arm and pledges her
support for the new king: ‘my fiery breath being as a fire against thine
enemies…’ Thoth then announces the accession of Hatchepsut before the
assembly of gods. Finally we see Hatchepsut offering incense and
libations to Pakhet who again extends her rather bloodthirsty blessing: ‘I
give thee all strength, all might, all lands and every hill country crushed
beneath thy sandals like Re.’
However, it is the lengthy text carved high above the pillars across the
front of the temple which is of great interest to students of Egyptian
history. Here Hatchepsut makes a bold pronouncement of the policy of
her reign; a policy of renewal and restoration. She wishes her readers to
understand that, from the very moment of her creation she, Hatchepsut,
was destined to restore the purity of the Egyptian temples to their
former glories:

I have done these things by the device of my heart. I have never slumbered as one forgetful, but
have made strong what was decayed. I have raised up what was dismembered, even from the
first time when the Asiatics were in Avaris of the North Land, with roving hordes in the midst of
them overthrowing what had been made; they ruled without Re… I have banished the
abominations of the gods, and the earth has removed their footprints.4

Here Hatchepsut is deliberately invoking the legend of the dreadful

maat-less Second Intermediate Period – a much exaggerated version of
real events – in order to underline the peace and stability of her own
reign. Indeed, she is the first of the post-Ahmose pharaohs to express a
loathing of the Hyksos, establishing a useful tradition of hostility and
hatred which many later rulers were to copy. Hatchepsut was not a
woman to allow a few factual inaccuracies to hinder her from writing a
revised version of history, and she now claims credit for both ridding the
land of the detested foreigners and for restoring the monuments and
indeed the religion of her ancestors, pious acts which would have met
with approval from gods and mortals alike. There can be no truth at all
in her boast that she rid Egypt of the Asiatics; Hyksos rule had ended
many years before Hatchepsut came to the throne. Similarly, her claim
that the Hyksos heathens ‘ruled without Re’ is also untrue; as we have
already seen, the Hyksos rulers adapted their own religion to that of
their adopted country and several Hyksos kings actually bore names
compounded with that of Re. However, in Hatchepsut's eyes, these
exaggerations would not have been lies. The role of pharaoh was a
permanent one which passed from individual to individual and, as the
current officeholder, Hatchepsut was quite entitled to use the
achievements of previous pharaohs when and as she saw fit.
There is, however, more than a grain of truth in Hatchepsut's boast
that she undertook the restoration of the monuments of her forebears,
particularly those of Middle Egypt which had suffered badly during the
Second Intermediate Period. Earlier in the inscription we are given
specific details of Hatchepsut's repairs to the temple of Hathor at Cusae,
a building which had fallen into such disuse that ‘the earth had
swallowed up its noble sanctuary, and children danced upon its roof’.
Cusae, an Upper Egyptian town approximately forty miles to the south of
the Speos Artemidos, had been at the very limit of the Hyksos sphere of
influence and had suffered badly during the late 17th Dynasty wars of
liberation.
The tradition of preserving or restoring the monuments of the
ancestors was one dear to the heart of all Egyptians; the Middle Kingdom
text ‘The Instruction for Merykare’ makes the position absolutely clear:

Do not destroy the monuments of another!… Do not build your tomb by demolishing what was
already made in order to use it for that which you wish to make… A blow will be repaid in
kind.5

A king who respects the monuments of his ancestors will in turn have his
own buildings respected; a king who deliberately demolishes an earlier
monument is storing up trouble for himself. It is not even acceptable to
plunder ancient ruins in order to salvage building materials for the
erection of a magnificent new edifice; decayed older buildings should be
left alone, and fresh building supplies sought for the new. However, it
seems to be enough to merely respect an ancient monument. The king
has no particular duty to restore any such ruin although, if he does, this
will undoubtedly be interpreted as an act of filial piety pleasing to both
the gods and the ancestors. Restoration of a monument, the bringing of
order to chaos and the remembrance of the name of a past king, could
all be seen as a small echo of the role of the pharaoh as the upholder of
maat. The principle that monuments should be preserved was never in
doubt. Hatchepsut, however, did not always practise what she preached.
At Karnak she demolished a gateway built by Tuthmosis II, and she
ruined her father's hypostyle hall by removing its wooden roof and
erecting a pair of obelisks in the now-open space, although she claims in
mitigation that Tuthmosis I himself ordered her to make this alteration.
Potentially more serious was the fact that her workmen dismantled a
sanctuary of Amenhotep I and Ahmose Nefertari which stood in the path
of the processional way leading to her mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahri.
Hatchepsut had started her regal building programme early,
anticipating her elevation to the throne by ordering a pair of obelisks
from the Aswan granite quarry while still queen regent. By the time
these had been cut she was an acknowledged king, and her newly
acquired royal titles could be engraved on their tips. Obelisks – New
Kingdom cult objects intended to be a stone representation of the first
beams of light to illuminate the world – were tall, thin, square stone
shafts tapering to a pyramid-shaped peak. Traditionally erected in pairs
before the entrance to the temple, their twin tips were sheathed in gold
foil so that they sparkled and shimmered in the rays of the fierce
Egyptian sun. Obelisks were dedicated to the god by the king, and their
shafts contained columns of hieroglyphs giving details of their erection
and dedication. However, they were also regarded as living beings;
obelisks were given personal names, and offerings were made to them.
In continuing the newly established obelisk tradition, Hatchepsut was
once again emulating the deeds of her esteemed father who, with the
help of Ineni, had been the first monarch to erect a pair of obelisks
before the entrance to the Karnak temple. Indeed, Hatchepsut tells us
how Tuthmosis himself had urged his daughter to follow his precedent:
‘It is your father, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt Aakheperkare
[Tuthmosis I], who gave you the instruction to raise obelisks.’6 To
Senenmut fell the responsibility of overseeing operations and, in an
inscription carved at the Aswan granite quarry, we see him standing to
present his work to his mistress who is still only a ‘King's Great Wife’:

… the Hereditary Prince, Count, great favourite of the God's Wife… the Treasurer of the King of
Lower Egypt, Chief Steward of the Princess Neferure, may she live, Senenmut, in order to inspect
the work on the two great obelisks of Heh. It happened just as it was commanded that everything
be done; it happened because of the power of Her Majesty.7

The successful planning, cutting, transportation and erection of a pair of

obelisks was a remarkable feat of engineering for a society totally reliant
on man-power, river transport and human ingenuity. Some successful
New Kingdom examples reached over 30 m (98 ft) in height and
weighed over 450 tons (457,221 kg) while Hatchepsut's ‘unfinished
obelisk’, abandoned in the Aswan quarry after it developed a fatal crack,
would have stood over 41 m (134 ft) tall and weighed an estimated
1,000 tons (1,016,046 kg).8 The work in the granite quarry was
physically demanding, labour intensive and mind-numbingly repetitive.
After a suitable band of rock had been identified, a series of small fires
was lit and doused with water to crack the surface of the granite which
could then be worked with relative ease. Once the uppermost face had
been prepared the sides were cut not by saw – the granite was far too
hard – but by teams of men rhythmically bouncing balls of dolerite (an
even harder rock) against the granite surface. The underside was then
prepared in the same way until the obelisk was lying supported by
isolated spurs of the mother-rock and a large quantity of packing stones.
The supporting spurs were then knocked away, the packing carefully
removed, and the obelisk was ready to be dragged to the canal where it
would be loaded on a barge and towed first to the River Nile and thence
to Thebes. The classical historian Pliny, fascinated by the techniques
developed to load the unwieldy obelisks on the barges during the Roman
Period, noted how:

A canal was dug from the river Nile to the spot where the obelisk lay and two broad vessels,
loaded with blocks of similar stone a foot square – the cargo of each amounting to double the
size and consequently double the weight of the obelisks – was put beneath it. The extremities of
the obelisk remaining supported by the opposite sides of the canal. The blocks of stone were
removed and the vessels, being thus gradually lightened, received their burden.9
Hatchepsut included Senenmut's work amongst the major achievements
of her reign, recording the transportation of the obelisks both in a series
of illustrations on blocks from the Chapelle Rouge at Karnak and on the
lower southern portico of her Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple. Here we
are shown the two obelisks lying lashed to sledges as they are towed on
a sycamore wood barge towards Thebes by a fleet of twenty-seven
smaller boats powered by over 850 straining oarsmen. Fortunately, the
flow of the river helps the barge on its way. The transport of the obelisks
is an important civil and religious event, and the great barge is
accompanied by three escort ships whose priests appear to be blessing
the proceedings. The two obelisks are not shown as we might expect,
lying side by side, but are lying base-to-base, their tips pointing up and
down stream respectively. To transport the obelisks in this way would
have required an enormously long barge (over 61 m, or 200 ft), and the
difficulties in handling such a long vessel would have been daunting
even for the Egyptians, who were accomplished boatmen. It seems
highly likely that this artistic convention intended to stress the fact that
there were actually two obelisks rather than one, and that the obelisks
were in fact transported side by side. Upon their arrival in Thebes there
is a public celebration. A bull is killed, and further offerings are made to
the gods. Of course, it is Hatchepsut, not Senenmut, who takes full credit
for the achievement, and on the displaced blocks of the Chapelle Rouge
we see the new king presenting the obelisks to her father Amen. The
bases of these two obelisks may still be seen at the eastern end of the
Amen temple at Karnak; their shafts have long been destroyed.
Hatchepsut's second pair of granite obelisks was commissioned to
mark her sed-jubilee in Year 15. This time the granite came from the
island of Sehel at Aswan, and the work was under the control of the
steward Amenhotep:

The real confidant of the King, his beloved, the director of the works on the two big obelisks, the
chief priest of Khnum, Satis and Anukis, Amenhotep.10
The new obelisks were erected in the hypostyle hall of Tuthmosis I – its
roof and pillars being removed for the occasion – and here one still
stands. It is now, at 29.5 m (96 ft 9 in) high, the tallest standing obelisk
in Egypt. The inscriptions carved on the shaft and base once again follow
the same old themes, stressing Hatchepsut's relationship with both her
earthly and her heavenly father and emphasizing her right to rule, but
we are also provided with some original details concerning the
commissioning of the monument:

My majesty commissioned the work on it in Year 15, day 1 of the 2nd month of winter, ending in
Year 16, the last day of the 4th month of summer, making seven months from the commissioning
in the quarry. I did this for him [Amen] with affection as a king does for a god. It was my wish to
make it for him, gilded with electrum… My mouth is effective in what it speaks; I do not go back
on what I have said. I gave the finest electrum for it, which I measured in gallons like sacks of
grain. My Majesty called up this quantity beyond which the Two Lands had ever seen. The
ignorant know this as well as the wise.11

While Hatchepsut's first pair of obelisks was entirely covered in gold foil,
‘two great obelisks, their height 108 cubits, wrought in their entirety
with gold, filling the two lands [with] their rays’,12 the second pair had
gold leaf applied only to their upper parts.
The erection of the obelisks was perhaps the most spectacular of the
improvements which Hatchepsut made to Ipet-Issut, or ‘The Most Select
of Places’, now better known as the Karnak temple complex. The Karnak
temple had retained its same basic 12th Dynasty form throughout both
the Second Intermediate Period and the reigns of Kamose and Ahmose.
However, during the time of Amenhotep I, when the war of liberation
was completed and the sandstone and limestone quarries had been re-
opened, serious building works commenced. From this reign onwards,
each succeeding New Kingdom king attempted to outdo his predecessors
in the scale of his or her embellishments, and the temple slowly grew
from a relatively simple collection of mud-brick chapels and shrines
linked by processional ways to become the vast religious complex whose
magnificent ruins may be seen today.
Although the Great Temple of Amen remained the focus of the site,
and the Theban Triad (Amen, Mut and Khonsu) were always its principal
gods, a variety of other deities was worshipped at Karnak and there were
eventually chapels dedicated to Montu, Ptah, Sekhmet, Osiris, Opet and
Maat. There was a substantial temple dedicated to Amen's spouse, Mut,
which stood within its own enclosure wall and which was linked to the
Great Temple by a paved processional way, and a much smaller temple
of their moon-god son Khonsu situated close to that of his father, Amen.
The Karnak temple was connected to the nearby temple of Amen-Min at
Luxor by a processional way lined by sphinxes, and was linked to the
River Nile by a system of canals.

Fig. 6.2 Reconstruction of the Amen temple at Karnak during the reign of
Hatchepsut
Within the grounds of the temple complex was a small mud-brick
palace which, lacking any sleeping quarters, was used during the
celebration of some of the religious rituals associated with kingship,
particularly the coronation. We know that during Hatchepsut's reign this
palace was situated on the north side of the temple façade, but
unfortunately no trace of it now remains. The larger, fully equipped
palace where the King and her retinue stayed while visiting Thebes is
also lost; almost certainly built on lower ground (the Karnak temple was
on the raised mound of the old township), this palace is probably now
below the level of the ground water.
Amenhotep I had started the Karnak embellishment ball rolling by
adding an alabaster kiosk or barque shrine, a monumental gateway, a
limestone replica of the White Chapel of Senwosret I and a cluster of
smaller shrines or chapels. Tuthmosis I made far more extensive
improvements; in addition to his famous pair of obelisks, he built two
white stone pylons or gateways (pylons IV and V) which were connected
by the hypostyle entrance hall where Hatchepsut later placed her
obelisks, and he extended the processional ways. Even the short-lived
Tuthmosis II undertook some improvements to the temple, although a
few re-used blocks are now all that remain of his efforts.
Hatchepsut's main contribution to the Temple of Amen was her
Chapelle Rouge, the red quartzite barque sanctuary of Amen which has
already been discussed in some detail in Chapter 4. The Chapelle stood
on a raised platform immediately in front of the original mud-brick and
limestone Middle Kingdom temple, flanked to the north and south by
groups of smaller sandstone cult shrines, the so-called ‘Hatchepsut Suite’
whose decorations show the king making offerings before a variety of
gods. At the same time improvements were made to the processional
way which linked the temple of Amen to the temple of his consort Mut,
and a series of wayside kiosks was built to provide resting places for the
barque of Amen as it travelled from temple to temple within the Karnak
complex. A new pylon (pylon VIII), a magnificent monumental gateway
passing between two tall towers each topped by a gold-tipped flagpole,
was the first such gateway to be built on the southern axis of the temple.
This pylon was originally decorated with images of Hatchepsut as king,
but suffered at the hands of later ‘restorers’, so that Tuthmosis III and
Seti I are now shown on the reliefs and Tuthmosis III and Tuthmosis II
(who replaces Hatchepsut) appear on the doorway.

The tourists who annually swarm into Thebes seldom depart from the ancient city of Amen
without visiting the magnificent natural amphitheatre of Deir el-Bahri, where the hills of the
Libyan range present their most imposing aspect. Leaving the plain by a narrow gorge, whose
walls of naked rock are honeycombed with tombs, the traveller emerges into a wide open space
bounded at its furthest end by a semi-circular wall of cliffs. These cliffs of white limestone, which
time and sun have coloured rosy yellow, form an absolutely vertical barrier. They are accessible
only from the north by a steep and difficult path leading to the summit of the ridge that divides
Deir el-Bahri from the wild and desolate Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. Built against these
cliffs, and even as it were rooted into their sides by subterranean chambers, is the temple of
which Mariette said that ‘it is an exception and an accident in the architectural life of Egypt’.13

Hatchepsut's mortuary temple, Djeser-Djeseru or ‘Holiest of the Holy’,

was set in a natural bay in the Theban cliffs on the West Bank of the Nile
close to the ruined mortuary temple of the 11th Dynasty King
Mentuhotep II and almost directly opposite the Karnak temple complex.
Later Tuthmosis III was to choose a nearby site for his own West Bank
temple dedicated to Amen, Djeser-Akhet or ‘Holy Horizon’. The name
Deir el-Bahri, which literally means ‘Monastery of the North’, and which
is now often used to refer both to the general area and more specifically
to Hatchepsut's mortuary temple, is a reference to the mud-brick Coptic
monastery established at the site during the fifth century AD.
The Deir el-Bahri bay had for a long time been revered as a holy place
associated with the cult of the mother-goddess Hathor in her role as
Goddess of the West or Chieftainess of Thebes. For this reason it had
been chosen as the location of the mortuary temple of Nebhepetre
Mentuhotep II, the Theban founder of the Middle Kingdom. Mentuhotep
II had been the epitome of a successful Egyptian king. He had united
Egypt at the end of the First Intermediate Period, instigated successful
campaigns against the traditional enemies to the north and south,
established a new capital at Thebes and, throughout his 51-year reign,
undertaken prolific building works, including the restoration of ancient
monuments and the construction of new buildings. The parallel between
his glorious reign and that of Tuthmosis I must have been obvious and it
is not surprising that Hatchepsut, ever prone to hero-worship Tuthmosis
I, held her ‘father Mentuhotep II’14 in special regard.

Fig. 6.3 Plan of Djeser-Djeseru

Mentuhotep had modelled his funerary monument, ‘Glorious are the
Seats of Nebhepetre’, on the Old Kingdom pyramid complexes, and his
was the first temple in Egypt to utilize terraces so that different parts of
the building were constructed at different levels with the most sacred
part of the temple cut directly into the Theban mountain. Unfortunately,
the temple was ruined in antiquity and its original plan is now
uncertain, although it seems that the sequence of terraces rose to a solid
mastaba-or pyramid-like core. It was these terraces which first inspired
the architects of Tuthmosis II, the initial 18th Dynasty developer of the
site, and the original plans for the New Kingdom temple adhered fairly
faithfully to the Middle Kingdom model. However, with the untimely
death of Tuthmosis II, the building works were halted, the plans were
redrawn on a far more ambitious scale, and Djeser-Djeseru became very
much Hatchepsut's own monument, an architectural masterpiece
providing a superb example of a manmade object designed to fit
perfectly into its natural setting. The beauties of Djeser-Djeseru have
inspired many egyptologists to flights of purple prose:

It is built at the base of the rugged Theban cliffs, and commands the plain in magnificent fashion;
its white colonnades rising, terrace above terrace, until it is backed by the golden living rock.
The ivory white walls of courts, side chambers and colonnades, have polished surfaces which
give an alabaster-like effect. They are carved with a fine art, figures and hieroglyphs being filled
in with rich yellow colour, the glow of which against the white gives an effect of warmth and
beauty quite indescribable.15

Few who have enjoyed the privilege of visiting Deir el-Bahri would
argue with this assessment, and today Djeser-Djeseru remains beyond
doubt one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. It certainly
occupies a unique place in the history of Egyptian architecture, and
indeed the columned porticoes which provide a striking contrast of light
and shade across the front of the building appear to many modern eyes
more Greek than Egyptian in style, provoking anachronistic but
flattering comparisons with classical temple architecture in its most pure
form. Only Winlock, the long-term excavator of Djeser-Djeseru, has gone
on record as expressing his doubts about the magnificence of the edifice,
and even he reserves his criticism for its construction rather than its
design:

Unquestionably, when it was completed the building was far more imposing than its eleventh
dynasty model, and its plan had been adapted to fit its magnificent surroundings in a wholly
masterful way. But whenever we have had occasion to examine its shoddy, jerry-built
foundations, we have had an unpleasant feeling of sham behind all this impressiveness which up
to that time had not been especially characteristic of Egyptian architects. Possibly Senenmut was
a victim of necessity and speed was required of him – or perhaps there is some more venal
explanation.16

The architect of this masterpiece is generally assumed to be

Hatchepsut's favourite Senenmut, who numbers amongst his titles
‘Controller of Works in Djeser-Djeseru’. However Senenmut never
specifically claims the title of architect, a strange omission for one not
normally shy of listing his own accomplishments, and it seems that the
Chief Treasurer Djehuty, who ‘… acted as chief, giving directions, I led
the craftsman to work in the works of Djeser-Djeseru’, may well have
played a major part in its development. Other high-ranking courtiers,
including the Vizier (unnamed, but almost certainly Hapuseneb who is
credited with the building of Hatchepsut's tomb) and the Second Prophet
of Amen, Puyemre, also had some involvement in its construction; all of
these officials are known to have been the recipients of so-called ‘name
stones’, building blocks donated to the construction project by the
ordinary citizens of Thebes. These roughly cut stones, recovered from
the foundations of the Valley temple, all bear the cartouche of Maatkare
plus an additional hieratic inscription detailing the date that they were
sent to the building site, the name of the sender and the name of the
recipient. Further bricks recovered from the Valley temple are stamped
with the cartouches of Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis I, which appear side
by side.
The name of Tuthmosis I is also to be found amongst the engraved
scarabs which formed a part of the temple foundation deposits. These
deposits – offerings intended to preserve the name of the builder and to
ensure good luck in the founding of the temple – were buried with
ceremony in small mud-brick-lined pits at every important point around
the boundaries of the temple and its grounds.17 They included a mixture
of amulets, scarabs, foods, perfumes and miniature models of the tools
which would be used in the building of the temple. The inscriptions all
make it clear that Hatchepsut alone was to be regarded as the temple's
founder:18

She made it as a monument to her father Amen on the occasion of stretching the cord over Djeser
Djeseru, [the ritual laying out of the temple ground-plan] may she live forever, like Re!

Hatchepsut intended her new temple to house both her own mortuary
chapel and, on a slightly smaller scale, that of her father, Tuthmosis I.
The mortuary chapel in its most simple form, as provided for a private
individual, was the place where the living could go to make the offerings
of food, drink and incense which would sustain the Ka or soul of the
deceased in the Afterlife. The cult-statue, a representation of the dead
person which stood within the chapel, became the focus for these daily
offerings as it was understood that the soul could actually take up
residence within the statue. A royal mortuary chapel, however, was not
simply a cafeteria for the deceased. The divine king, once dead, could
become associated with a number of important deities, particularly
Osiris and Re, both of whom represented a potential Afterlife; the king
could choose whether to spend eternity sailing daily across the sky in the
solar boat with Re, or relaxing in the Field of Reeds with Osiris. The
royal mortuary chapels reflected these associations, providing a dark and
gloomy shrine for the worship of Osiris and a light open-air court for the
worship of Re. During the New Kingdom they also reflected the growing
power of Amen. Amen now started to play a prominent role in the
scenes which decorate the walls, and his shrine now formed the focus of
the mortuary chapel.
All these elements were to be found at Djeser-Djeseru, which was
designed as a multi-functional temple with a complex of shrines devoted
to the worship of various deities. In addition to the mortuary temples of
Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis I, there were twin chapels dedicated to the
local goddess Hathor and to Anubis, smaller shrines consecrated to the
memory of Hatchepsut's ancestors, and even a solar temple, its roof open
to the cloudless Theban sky, dedicated to the worship of the sun god Re-
Harakte. The main shrine was, however, devoted to the cult of Amen
Holiest of the Holy, a variant of Amen with whom Hatchepsut would
become one after death. It was as the focus of the Amen-based ‘Feast of
the Valley’, an annual festival of death and renewal, that Djeser-Djeseru
played an important part in Theban religious life.

The Feast of the Valley was celebrated at new moon during the second
month of Shemu or summer. Amen normally dwelt in splendid isolation
in the sanctuary of his own great temple at the heart of the Karnak
complex. Here he spent the days and nights in his dark and lonely
shrine, visited only by the priests responsible for performing the rituals
of washing and dressing the cult-statue, and by those who tempted him
daily with copious offerings of meat, bread, wine and beer. However, on
the appointed day he would abandon the gloom of his torchlit home
and, accompanied by the statues of Mut and Khonsu, would cross the
river to spend the night with Hathor at Djeser-Djeseru.
With an escort of priests, musicians, incense-bearers, dancers and
acrobats and doubtless an excited crowd of Thebans, and with his own
golden barque carried high on the shoulders of his servants, Amen made
his way in the bright sunlight along the processional avenue to the
canal. Here he embarked on his barge, sailed in state across the Nile and
navigated his way through the network of canals which linked the
mortuary temples of the West Bank. He disembarked at the small Valley
Temple situated on the desert edge (now entirely destroyed) and, after
the performance of a religious rite, proceeded along the gently sloping
causeway which, aligned exactly on Karnak, was lined with pairs of
painted sphinxes. Along the route there was a small barque shrine where
his bearers could pause if necessary before passing into the precincts of
the temple proper. That same evening many Theban families would set
off in procession for the West Bank where they too were to spend the
night, not in a temple, but in the private tomb-chapels of their relations
and ancestors. The hours of darkness were spent drinking and feasting
by torchlight as the living celebrated their reunion with the dead. After
the climax of the Feast, a religious rite performed at sunrise, Amen
sailed back to his temple, and the bleary-eyed townsfolk returned home
to bed.
The Djeser-Djeseru was surrounded by a thick limestone enclosure wall.
Once through the gate, Amen passed immediately into a peaceful,
pleasantly shaded garden area where T-shaped pools glinted in the
sunlight and trees – almost certainly the famous fragrant trees from Punt
– offered a tempting respite from the fierce desert sun. Looking upwards,
Amen would have seen the temple in all its glory; a softly gleaming
white limestone building occupying three ascending terraces set back
against the cliff, its tiered porticoes linked by a long, open-air stairway
rising through the centre of the temple towards the sanctuary. Amen's
route lay upwards. Passing over the lower portico he reached the flat
second terrace where his path was marked out by pairs of colossal,
painted red-granite sphinxes, each with Hatchepsut's head, inscribed to
‘The King of Upper and Lower Egypt Maatkare, Beloved of Amen who is
in the midst of Djeser-Djeseru, and given life forever’.
The second imposing stairway continued upwards so that Amen
entered the body of the temple on its upper and most important level.
Amen passed from the bright desert light to the cool shade and, making
his way between the imposing pairs of kneeling colossal statues which
lined the path to the sanctuary, he reached his journey's end; the haven
of his own dark shrine cut deep into the living rock of the Theban
mountain. Here the secret, sacred rites would be performed by
torchlight, and magnificent offerings would first be presented to the god
and then shared out between his priests.
It is possible that Hathor too only spent a limited amount of time at
Djeser-Djeseru. A much-damaged scene on the northern wall of the
outermost room of the shrine depicts the arrival of the barque of Amen
at the Valley temple. Hathor's barque is also shown, as indeed are three
empty royal barges which seem to belong to the two kings Hatchepsut
and Tuthmosis III and to their ‘queen’, the Princess Neferure. These three
have presumably left their boats to join the festivities. The
accompanying text suggests Hathor's visitor status:

Shouting by the crews of the royal boats, the youths of Thebes, the fair lads of the army of the
entire land, of praises in greeting this god, Amen, Lord of Karnak, in his procession of the ‘Head
of the Year’… at the time of causing this great goddess [Hathor] to proceed to rest in her temple
in Djeser-Djeseru-Amen so that they [Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis III] might achieve life forever.19

Hathor, ‘Lady of the Sycamores’, ‘Mistress of Music’ and patron of

love, motherhood, and drunkenness, could take several forms. She could
appear as the nurturing cow-goddess who suckled amongst others the

Fig. 6.4 Hatchepsut being suckled by the goddess Hathor in the form of a
cow

infant Hatchepsut, as the serpent goddess, the ‘living uraeus of Re’ who
symbolized Egyptian kingship, as a beautiful young woman or as a
bloodthirsty lion-headed avenger. She could even, in her more sinister
role as the ‘Seven Hathors’, become a goddess of death. Hatchepsut
seems to have felt a particular devotion for Hathor, a devotion which
may well have stemmed from her period as queen-consort. Throughout
the dynastic period successive queens of Egypt were each closely
identified with Hathor, and indeed during the Old Kingdom several
queens had left the seclusion of the harem to serve as priestesses in her
temple. This tradition had faded somewhat during the Middle Kingdom,
but the strong queens of the late 17th and early 18 th Dynasties had
revived it, becoming firmly associated with the goddess in her dual role
as divine consort and mother of a king. Our best-known example of a
queen associated with Hathor comes from the smaller temple at Abu
Simbel, Southern Egypt, whose colossal statues of Queen Nefertari, wife
of Ramesses II, show her represented as the goddess. Contemporary
depictions of Hathor show her wearing the customary queen's regalia so
that the link between the queen and the goddess is made obvious to all.
Hatchepsut dedicated a number of shrines to Hathor in her various
manifestations; these often took the form of a rock-cut sanctuary fronted
by a colonnade or vestibule. The Speos Artemidos with its unfinished
Hathor-headed pillars may be included amongst these, as Pakhet was a
local version of Hathor's fierce lion-headed form. It is therefore not too
surprising that Hatchepsut's mortuary temple, established on the site of a
traditional shrine and home to a chapel dedicated to Hathor, includes
many representations of this goddess. Here she is not only shown as a
cow feeding the baby Hatchepsut, she plays an important role during
Hatchepsut's birth and she even, in her role as ‘Mistress of Punt’,
manages to gain a mention in the tale of Hatchepsut's epic mission. This
link between Hatchepsut and a powerful, female-orientated mother-
goddess is highly significant, suggesting as it does that Hatchepsut
principally known for her association with the male god Amen may not
have been averse to having her name linked with a predominantly
feminine cult.20

Fig. 6.5 Hathor in her anthropoid form

Almost all New Kingdom cult temples were decorated with scenes
intended to demonstrate the good relationship which existed between
the king and his gods. The outer, more public parts of the temples (the
pylon and courtyard) usually depicted the pharaoh in his most obvious
role, that of the warrior-king defending his land against the traditional
enemies of Egypt, while the inner, more private areas showed more
intimate scenes: here the king could be seen acting as high priest, or
making an offering before the cult statue. Djeser-Djeseru cannot be
classed as a typical New Kingdom temple. Not only did the building have
an unprecedented three-tiered design, its owner also had her own unique
propaganda message which she was determined to put across via the
walls of her temple. Nevertheless, and bearing these two important
differences in mind, the scenes found on the two lower porticoes do
seem to contain the same mixture of public and more private scenes that
we might expect to find at a more conventional temple site.21
 The two broad stairways connecting the terraces effectively cut the
temple in two, so that the two lower porticoes which front the temple
are divided into four distinct sections. Here we find scenes depicting
significant events from Hatchepsut's life and reign, all chosen to
emphasize her filial devotion to Amen. Along the bottom south (or left
hand as we face the temple) portico we see scenes of the refurbishment
of the Great Temple of Amen at Karnak, including the erection of the
famous obelisks, while on the opposite side of the same portico, which is
now unfortunately much destroyed, we are shown Hatchepsut in her role
as the traditional 18th Dynasty huntin’, shootin' and fishin' pharaoh; she
takes the form of an awesome sphinx to trample the enemies of Egypt,
and appears as a king fowling and fishing in the marshes. The middle
portico tells the tale of Hatchepsut's divine birth and coronation
(northern side) and the story of the expedition to Punt (southern side).
At each end of this portico is a chapel, the northern chapel being
dedicated to Anubis, the jackal-headed god of embalming, and the
southern chapel, possibly the site of her original Deir el-Bahri shrine,
being dedicated to Hathor.
The uppermost level, the most important part of the temple, took the
form of a hypostyle hall fronted by an Osiride portico with each of its
twenty-four square-cut pillars faced by an imposing, twice life-sized,
painted limestone Osiriform statue of Hatchepsut staring impassively
outwards over the Nile Valley towards Karnak. These statues were
matched by the ten Osiride statues which stood in the niches at the rear
of the upper court, by the four Osiride statues in the corners of the
sanctuary and by the enormous Osiride statues – each nearly 8 m (26 ft)
tall – which stood at each end of the lower and middle porticoes. All
these statues showed the king with a white mummiform body and
crossed arms holding the emblems of Osiris, the ankh or life sign and the
was-sceptre, symbol of dominion, combined with the traditional
emblems of kingship, the crook and flail. Her bearded face was painted
either red or pink, her eyes were white and black and her eyebrows a
rather unnatural blue, while on her head Osiris/Hatchepsut wore either
the White crown of Upper Egypt or the double crown.
On the southern side of the upper portico was the mortuary chapel of
Hatchepsut, a rectangular vaulted chamber with an enormous false-door
stela of red granite occupying almost the entire west wall. The cult-
statue of Hatchepsut would have stood directly in front of this stela.
Next door was the much smaller chapel allocated to the cult of
Tuthmosis I; the west wall of his chamber has been demolished and his
false-door stela is now housed in the Louvre Museum, Paris. It is possible
that there was originally an even smaller chapel dedicated to the cult of
Tuthmosis II, although all trace of this has now been lost. On the
opposite side of the upper portico was an open-air solar temple with a
raised altar of fine white limestone dedicated to the sun god Re-
Harakhte. There was also a small chapel dedicated to Anubis and to
Hatchepsut's family; here her parents Tuthmosis I and Ahmose and her
non-royal grandmother Senisenb all appear on the walls. The sanctuary
itself, two dark, narrow interconnected rooms designed to hold the
barque of Amen and the statue which represented the god himself, was
carved with images of the celebration of the beautiful Feast of the
Valley; Hatchepsut, Neferure, Tuthmosis I, Ahmose and Hatchepsut's
dead sister Neferubity all appear on the walls to offer before the barque.
Hatchepsut's mortuary cult was abandoned soon after her death, and
Djeser-Akhet took over as the site for the celebration of the Feast of the
Valley. It is therefore highly likely that Senenu, High Priest of both
Amen and Hathor at Djeser-Djeseru during Hatchepsut's lifetime, was
both the first and last to hold this exalted post. However, the cult of
Amen and, to a lesser extent, the cult of Hathor continued to be
celebrated at Djeser-Djeseru until the end of the 20th Dynasty. By this
time the Tuthmosis III temple Djeser-Akhet and the Mentuhotep II
mortuary temple had been abandoned and both lay in ruins. The
Hatchepsut temple, its upper level now badly damaged, continued to
flourish as a focus for burials until, during the Ptolemaic period, it
became the cult centre for the worship of two deified Egyptians, Imhotep
the builder of the step-pyramid, and the 18th Dynasty sage and architect
Amenhotep, son of Hapu. The Amen sanctuary was cleared of its rubble,
extended and refurbished for their worship. The site then fell again into
disuse until the fifth century BC when it was taken over by a Coptic
monastery who also used the Amen sanctuary as a focus for their
worship. The site was finally abandoned some time during the eighth
century AD, apparently because rockslides had rendered the upper levels
dangerous.
 7
Senenmut: Greatest of the Great

I was the greatest of the great in the whole land. I was the guardian of the secrets of the King in all
his places; a privy councillor on the Sovereign's right hand, secure in favour and given audience
alone… I was one upon whose utterances his Lord relied, with whose advice the Mistress of the Two
Lands was satisfied, and the heart of the Divine Consort was completely filled.1

Amongst Hatchepsut's loyal supporters there is one who stands out with
remarkable clarity. Senenmut, Steward of the Estates of Amen, Overseer
of all Royal Works and Tutor to the Royal Heiress Neferure, played a
major bureaucratic role throughout the first three-quarters of
Hatchepsut's reign. As one of the most active and able figures of his
time, Senenmut occupied a position of unprecedented power within the
royal administration; his was the organizational brain behind
Hatchepsut's impressive public building programme, and to him has
gone the credit of designing Djeser-Djeseru, one of the most original and
enduring monuments of the ancient world. And yet, in spite of a
comprehensive list of civic duties successfully accomplished, it has
almost invariably been Senenmut's private life which has attracted the
attention of scholars and public alike. In effect, Senenmut's considerable
achievements have not merely been blurred as we might expect by the
passage of time, they have been distorted and almost effaced by a host of
preconceptions and speculations concerning Senenmut's character, his
motivation and even his sex life.2 The traditional tale of Senenmut, a
classic rags-to-riches romance with a moral ending warning the reader
against the twin follies of over-ambition and greed, is generally told as
follows:
Senenmut, the highly talented and fiercely ambitious son of humble
parents, started his career in the army where his natural abilities soon
became apparent. Driven by a burning desire to shake off his lowly
origins, he rose rapidly through the ranks before quitting the army to
join the palace bureaucracy. Here, once again, his remarkable skills soon
became apparent and Senenmut enjoyed accelerated promotion to
become a high-grade civil servant. As it became obvious that there was
no immediate heir to the throne, the royal court started to buzz with
intrigues and plotting. Senenmut now took the calculated decision to
link his future totally with that of Hatchepsut. He became the female
king's most loyal supporter within the palace as he worked ruthlessly
and efficiently to ensure that, against all the odds, her reign would
succeed. When his gamble paid off, and Hatchepsut finally secured her
crown, Senenmut was amply rewarded for his loyalty. He was showered
with a variety of secular and religious titles including the prestigious
Stewardship of the Estates of Amen, a position which allowed him free
access to the vast wealth of the Karnak temple. His most publicized role
was, however, that of tutor to the young princess Neferure.
Our hero's golden future seemed assured. He had amassed great
personal wealth, and had started to build himself a suitably splendid
tomb in the Theban necropolis. His position at court appeared
unassailable. Not only did he have effective control over the state
finances, he was a close personal friend of the royal family and a major
influence in the life of the heiress-presumptive to the Egyptian throne.
Most important of all, he was Hatchepsut's lover, dominating the passive
queen to the extent that she, dazzled by his charm and ignorant of his
true nature, became totally dependent upon his judgement. From his
unprecedented position of power, Senenmut was able to exert great
influence over the land. Effectively, Senenmut was ruler of Egypt.
Unfortunately, in best story-book tradition, Senenmut did not remain
content with his lot. Caught in the grip of an uncontrollable avarice and
corrupted by a false sense of his own importance, he started to take
advantage of his exalted position, plundering the royal coffers for his
own ends and permitting himself privileges hitherto reserved for the
pharaoh. Showing great daring he abandoned his traditional T-shaped
Theban tomb and, diverting the royal workmen away from their official
task, started to excavate, in secret, a new tomb within the precincts of
Hatchepsut's own mortuary temple. Eventually Senenmut committed his
most heinous crime of all: he ordered that his own name and image be
hidden behind the inner doors of Djeser-Djeseru.
Inevitably Nemesis struck and the betrayal of trust came to light.
Hatchepsut's revenge was swift and furious, as befits a volatile woman
deceived. Senenmut was instantly stripped of all his privileges and
disappeared in mysterious circumstances. His unused tombs were
desecrated, his monuments were vandalized and his reliefs and statues
were defaced in a determined attempt to erase both the name and
memory of Senenmut from the history of Egypt. However, in her
impulsive destruction of her lover, Hatchepsut effectively destroyed
herself. Bereft of Senenmut's guidance and unable to function alone, she
rapidly lost her grip on the crown, and within two years of Senenmut's
fall, Tuthmosis III was sole Pharaoh of Egypt.
 Fig. 7.1 The damaged figure of Senenmut from Tomb 353

So much for the popularly accepted biography of Senenmut which, with

innumerable variations, was for a long time accepted as a true account
of the spectacular rise and sudden fall of Hatchepsut's greatest
supporter.3 Any reader could choose whether to believe in Superman-
Senenmut, the dashing hero and devoted lover, or Svengali-Senenmut,
the cunning manipulator and malevolent power behind the throne;
either way, it was always Senenmut's dominant relationship with the
queen that was important; his actual achievements were a relatively
insignificant part of their joint story. Recently, however, there has been
a growing awareness that the cloud of suppositions which has almost
invariably hovered around any discussion of Hatchepsut and her court
has spread to engulf Senenmut, obscuring him from the cold light of
objective assessment. A review of the known facts about Senenmut,
uncoloured as far as possible by prejudgements and assumptions,
presents us with a less dramatic but equally fascinating portrait of an
atypical 18th Dynasty man.
Archaeological evidence confirms that Senenmut hailed from Armant
(ancient luny), a medium-sized town lying approximately fifteen miles to
the south of Thebes. Armant had originally been the capital town of the
Theban province; it was later to become well known for its Ptolemaic
buildings and its Bucheum, the necropolis of the sacred Buchis bulls. The
discovery of the shared tomb of Ramose and Hatnofer, Senenmut's
parents, confirms that Senenmut was not of particularly high birth.
Within his tomb Ramose, Senenmut's father, was given the non-specific
epithet ‘The Worthy’, a polite but somewhat meaningless appellation
invariably used for the respected dead. His mother, Hatnofer, daughter
of a woman named Sitdjehuty, was simply identified as ‘Mistress of the
House’, a very general title awarded to married women. The ancient
Egyptians did not suffer from any sense of false modesty. They felt that
their official titles were an important part of the personality, and it was
customary for all ranks and decorations, no matter how trivial, to be
recorded for posterity. An Egyptian would only have considered omitting
a lowly or unimportant title from his parent's tomb if it had been
superseded by a more prestigious accolade. We must therefore assume
that Ramose and Hatnofer, with their rather modest epithets and
undistinguished tomb, did not play a prominent role in public life.
However, it would be entirely incorrect to assume that Senenmut
sprang from lowly peasant stock. We know that Senenmut was an able
and well-educated administrator, and from this we may deduce that his
father and grandfathers before him were members of the literate upper-
middle classes. Education was always the key to professional
advancement in ancient Egypt, and never was it more important than
during the 18th Dynasty when the expanding empire created a constant
demand for bureaucrats to maintain the vast civil service. The rather
vague title of ‘scribe’, which could be applied to any literate Egyptian
regardless of occupation, was a prestigious accolade to be accepted with
pride. Literacy was, however, by no means widespread, and only the
more privileged of middle-and upper-class boys – possibly five per cent
of the total population were educated. Most people remained illiterate
and unable to gain the foothold in the professions which would allow
them to advance up the social pyramid. Their lack of mobility was
reinforced by custom which demanded that sons should follow the trade
or profession of their father, and by the tradition of marriage within the
same family. To modern western eyes, accustomed to the idea of
advancement through education, this acceptance of a static society may
appear strange. However, in the ancient world, it was generally accepted
that one had to be content with one's lot. As St Paul wrote, ‘Let each
man abide in the same calling wherein he was called.*
Senenmut must, therefore, have belonged to the top ten per cent of the
population. He was probably the scion of one of the families which
formed the literate provincial classes and from which a talented son
could rise to national prominence. Such meteoric rises were by no means
common in Egypt, but they were certainly not unknown. The Pharaoh
Ay, successor to Tutankhamen, who ruled Egypt 250 years after
Hatchepsut, seems to have come from a family who first became
prominent in the southern city of Akhmim, while thirty years after Ay's
reign the family of the great King Ramesses II had their origins in a
comparative backwater of the Eastern Nile Delta.
We know that Senenmut came from a typically large Egyptian family;
he had at least three brothers named Amenemhat, Minhotep and Pairy
and at least two sisters, Ahhotep and Nofret-Hor. For a long time it was
assumed, on the basis of a mistranslation, that Senenmut also had a
fourth brother named Senimen. Senimen's existence is not open to doubt;
he was a contemporary court official who rose to succeed Senenmut as
tutor to Princess Neferure, who was depicted in Senenmut's Tomb 71
(but not in Tomb 353 where Senenmut's true siblings were shown
together with their parents), and who was buried in Theban Tomb 252
which makes no mention of any family link with Senenmut. However,
we now know that Senimen was the son of a woman named Seniemyah,
not Hatnofer and, while it is possible that the two were half-brothers,
there is no evidence to show that this was actually the case.4
Nor is there any evidence to suggest that Senenmut ever married;
there is no mention of a wife or children in either of his tombs. If he did
remain single, he must have been an oddity, one of the few bachelors
living unwed in a country where married life and the fathering of many
children was viewed as the ideal. Given the constant emphasis placed on
family life, and the particular need for a son to perform the funeral rites
of his dead parents, we might expect Senenmut to have married at the
start of his career, and therefore to have been either divorced or
widowed before he came to national prominence as a single man.
However, had Senenmut ever been widowed, we would expect to find a
reference to his dead wife within his tomb. Did his later involvement
with the queen prevent him from referring to the fact that he had ever
been married, no matter how briefly? It certainly is tempting to draw a
parallel with the court of the English Queen Elizabeth I, albeit over
3,000 years later and in a different land, where, in turn, the Earl of
Leicester and his stepson the Earl of Essex, both favourites of the queen,
found it prudent to keep their inconvenient wives hidden in the country,
away from the queen's unforgiving gaze.
Our meagre information about Senenmut's early life comes from the
joint tomb of Ramose and Hatnofer. Careful excavation has shown that
Ramose, aged about sixty, predeceased his wife and was buried in a
relatively humble grave. This suggests that his children did not at the
time of his death have the means to give their father a more splendid
interment, as tradition decreed that it was a son's duty to bury his father
in the best manner possible. When Hatnofer died of old age, during Year
6 or 7 of Hatchepsut's reign, Senenmut was in a far better position to
provide for his mother's funeral. He had already chosen the site for his
own final resting place and he decided to bury his mother on the same
hillside, just below his own tomb. Here a relatively simple chamber was
cut into the rock, and the expensively mummified body of Hatnofer was
interred in a wooden anthropoid coffin together with a gilded mask,
canopic jars and a selection of traditional grave-goods suitable for a
woman. Ramose was then resurrected from his more lowly resting place,
hastily re-bandaged, placed in a painted anthropoid coffin and re-united
with his wife.
Hatnofer's tomb was also home to two further coffins housing the
badly mummified remains of three anonymous women and three
unknown children. The discoverers of the tomb saw these six bodies as
the grisly evidence that Senenmut' immediate family had been struck by
sudden catastrophe:

... that eight persons of the same family or group should have died so nearly at the same time
that they could be buried together on one occasion is certainly extraordinary, but seems,
nevertheless, to be what actually happened.5

It actually seems far more likely that these bodies represent members of
Senenmut's immediate family who had previously been buried nearby;
their decayed wrappings and disarticulated skeletons encrusted with
mud suggest that they too had been retrieved from less impressive
cemeteries. The re-burial of private individuals, while not common, was
certainly not unknown at this time, and Senenmut's filial devotion would
have met with general approval. Clearly, the parents of the few
upwardly mobile children were able to enjoy the posthumous benefits of
their offsprings' success.

There were three major career paths open to the educated and ambitious
18th Dynasty male: the army, the priesthood and the civil service. It is
always possible that Senenmut chose to join the army, and a badly
damaged fragment of what appears to be autobiographical text within
his tomb (Tomb 71) lends some credence to this idea. The text, which
includes the words ‘capture’ and ‘Nubia’, is positioned next to images of
running soldiers. However, the remainder of the inscription is virtually
unreadable and is therefore open to a variety of interpretations. His lack
of military titles in later life, and his father's lack of any military titles,
perhaps indicates that Senenmut selected a vocation more obviously
suited to his organizational skills. The priesthood and the bureaucracy
were very closely linked at this time, and it seems sensible to deduce
that Senenmut rose to prominence as a local administrator working
either for the royal bureaucracy or the temple, before being seconded to
state administration at Thebes. Given Senenmut's subsequent plethora of
Amen-based titles (for example, Overseer of Amen's Granaries,
Storehouses, Fields, Gardens, Cattle and Slaves; Controller of the Hall of
Amen; Overseer of the Works of Amen, etc.), the suggestion that he
began his career as an administrator in the temple of Amen at Karnak
appears entirely reasonable.
Our first concrete sighting of Senenmut, dating to the period before
Hatchepsut's accession, finds him already busy at the palace with a
variety of prestigious appointments including steward of the property of
Hatchepsut and Neferure and tutor to the young princess. Unfortunately,
we have no means of knowing when Senenmut had started his illustrious
royal career. Our only clue is provided by a shrine built at the Gebel
Silsila; this informs us that Senenmut was already ‘Steward of the God's
Wife and Steward of the King's Daughter’ at the time of construction.
These two tantalizingly anonymous ladies have been tentatively
identified as Queen Ahmose and Princess Hatchepsut, indicating that
Senenmut was in royal service during the reign of Tuthmosis I, but it is
perhaps more likely that the two women are Queen Hatchepsut and
Princess Neferure, and therefore that Senenmut was initially appointed
either by Tuthmosis II or during the early part of Hatchepsut's regency
following the death of Tuthmosis II.
Gebel Silsila, forty miles to the north of Aswan, was both the location
of sandstone quarries and a cult centre for the worship of the Nile in
flood. Senenmut's shrine, which is of uncertain use and which has been
variously described as a grotto, cenotaph, temple and tomb, is one of a
number of such edifices built on the West Bank by the highest-ranking
civil servants of the 18th Dynasty, including Hapuseneb, the first
Prophet of Amen and architect of Hatchepsut's burial chamber, and
Neshi, the leader of Hatchepsut's celebrated expedition to Punt. The
monument therefore serves to emphasize Senenmut's prominent role
amongst the great and the good (and the influential) of his time.
Senenmut's shrine (Shrine 16) is situated high on the cliff and faces
east, towards the Nile. It was almost certainly designed to be reached
from the river at the time of high water. The shrine consists of a framed
doorway, cut into the sandstone cliff, leading into a square room housing
a seated statue of Senenmut, cut from the living rock. The walls
originally displayed a series of sunk relief scenes and inscriptions. These
are now badly damaged, although the flat ceiling still shows traces of its
original colourful pattern. Although most of the Gebel Silsila shrines
incorporate a fairly consistent funerary emphasis in their texts and
scenes, Senenmut'S shrine omits the customary earthly and funerary
feasts and includes instead a depiction of Hatchepsut being embraced by
the crocodile-headed god Sobek and Nekhbet, the vulture goddess of
Upper Egypt, shown as a woman wearing a feathered vulture headdress.
As other commentators have observed, ‘the peculiar status of Senenmut
and the relationship between him and his monarch no doubt account for
these unusual features’.6

… I was promoted before the companions, knowing that I was distinguished with her; they set
me to be chief of her house, the palace, may it live, be prosperous and be healthy, being under
my supervision, being judge in the whole land, Overseer of the Granaries of Amen, Senenmut…7

Following Hatchepsut's rise to power, Senenmut dropped a number of

his lesser titles, including that of tutor to Neferure, acquired a clutch of
more prestigious accolades (such as Overseer of the Granaries of Amen
and Overseer of all the Works of the King [Hatchepsut] at Karnak), and
settled into his principal post as Steward of Amen. Although, as far as we
are aware, he never held the title of First Prophet of Amen, arguably the
most powerful position that a non-royal Egyptian could aspire to, the
stereotypical and self-congratulatory propaganda text quoted above
confirms the wide range of his official duties. Titles in ancient Egypt
were not necessarily indicative of actual employment, but rather served
to place a man in the social hierarchy; for example, the exact duties of
the ‘Sandal-bearer of the King’ or the ‘Royal Washerman’ are unknown,
but it is highly unlikely that they involved the performance of
undignified personal services for the monarch, as both posts were held
by men of rank and breeding. Winlock's intriguing suggestion that, in
addition to his obvious public duties, Senenmut had ‘held more intimate
ones like those of the great nobles of France who were honoured in
being allowed to assist in the most intimate details of the royal toilet at
the king's levees’8 appears very unlikely. Winlock based this remarkable
conclusion on the fact that Senenmut bore what we now assume to be
the purely honorary titles of ‘Superintendent of the Private Apartments’,
‘Superintendent of the Bathroom’, and ‘Superintendent of the Royal
Bedroom’.
Senenmut's plethora of epithets should, therefore, be taken as an
indication of his general importance rather than a precise listing of his
actual duties, and the exact amount of time that he was actually
required to devote to his official posts remains unclear. His range of
titles does, however, suggest that he might by now have been a
relatively elderly man. As the average life expectancy for a high-ranking
court official was between thirty and forty-five years, any official who
lived past forty years could reasonably expect to become a much
venerated and much decorated elder statesman, if only because death
had removed almost all his contemporary competitors. The longer that
Senenmut lived, and of course the longer that he continued in the
queen's favour, the more titles he could expect to acquire. Thus we find
Ineni, an equally long-serving statesman, rejoicing in the titles of:

Hereditary Prince, Count, Chief of all Works in Karnak; the double silver-house was in his charge;
the double gold house was on his seal; Sealer of all contracts in the House of Amen; Excellency,
Overseer of the Double Granary of Amen.9

Unofficially, Senenmut seems to have acted as the queen's right-hand-

man and general factotum. The rapid increase in his personal wealth at
this time is obvious. Not only was Senenmut now rich enough to bury
his mother with appropriate pomp, he was also able to start constructing
his own magnificent tomb, acquire a quartzite sarcophagus and build his
Silsila shrine.

In the absence of any contemporary written description of Senenmut, we

must turn to his surviving images in an attempt to find clues to his
character. What did the queen see when she turned to look at her
faithful servant? Possibly not what modern observers have seen when
studying Senenmut's somewhat unprepossessing physiognomy:

Whatever first attracted Great Royal Wife Hatchepsut to Senenmut, it certainly was not his good
looks…. portraits show a pinch-featured man with a pointed high-bridge nose and fleshy lips that
seem pursed; with a weak chin tending to jowliness and eyes that might be judged a bit shifty;
and with deep creases or wrinkles about the cheeks, nose and mouth, and under the jaw.10

Winlock was also struck by Senenmut's ‘aquiline nose and nervously

expressive, wrinkled face. As for the wrinkles, they surely were the
feature by which Senmut was known’.11 However beauty, or in this case
a shifty eye, wrinkles and a tendency towards ‘jowliness’, lies as always
in the eye of the beholder, and others have been prepared to take a
kinder view of his features:

The profile has the imperious outline of the Tuthmoside family. A slight fullness of the throat,
with two strokes of the brush suggesting folds, the sparingly executed lines around the eyes, and
a reversed curve from the eyes past nose and mouth indicate in masterful fashion the sagging
plump features of the aging man of affairs.12

Each of these descriptions has been based on our four surviving ink
sketches of Senenmut's face. Three of these portraits are on ostraca now
housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, while the fourth
has survived undamaged on the wall of Tomb 353. All four show
Senenmut in profile, with a single eye and eyebrow facing forwards in
the conventional Egyptian style. His rather rounded face and double chin
certainly suggest a man used to enjoying the finer things in life, while
his crows’ feet and wrinkles confirm that he was no longer in the first
flush of youth when the sketches were made. The striking similarity
between these less-than-flattering sketches suggests that all four may be
actual depictions of Senenmut, drawn by people who actually knew him.
In contrast, our other more formal images of Senenmut, his statues and
his tomb illustrations, are merely conventional representations of a
‘great Egyptian man’ with little or no attempt at accurate portrayal.

… Grant that there may be… made for me many statues from every kind of precious hard stone
for the temple of Amen at Karnak and for every place wherein the majesty of this god
proceeds…13

At least twenty-five hard stone statues of Senenmut have survived the

ravages of time. This is an extraordinarily large number of statues for a

Fig. 7.2 Sketch-portrait of Senenmut from the wall of Tomb 353

private individual; no other New Kingdom official has left us so many

clear indications of his exalted rank and, as we must assume that most, if
not all, were the gift of the queen, his highly favoured status. In ancient
Egypt, statues were not simply designed to be objets d'art, intended to
enhance rooms or beautify gardens. All images were automatically
invested with magical or religious powers, and they were commissioned
so that they could replace either living people or gods within the temple
and the tomb. It seems likely, given his links with Amen, that the
majority of Senenmut's statues would have been placed in the courtyard
of the great temple of Amen at Karnak, although Senenmut appears to
have dedicated statues of himself in most of the major temples around
Thebes. Within the temple the statues would have been positioned in
ranks facing the sanctuary, ensuring that the living Senenmut received
the benefits of their proximity to the god.
The artistic inventiveness of the Senenmut figures confirms the
innovative nature and general technical excellence of small-scale
sculpture throughout Hatchepsut's reign. They depict Senenmut in his
various roles, most typically holding the infant Neferure in his arms, a
pose designed to stress Senenmut's importance rather than his tender
feelings towards his young charge. Some show him squatting with the
child's body wrapped in, and almost obscured by, his cloak, while one
shows Senenmut sitting with Neferure – stiff and unchild-like – held at
right angles in his lap, a position hitherto reserved for women nursing
children. The majority of the remaining statues show Senenmut kneeling
to present a religious symbol such as a sistrum or a shrine. At least one
statue, a 1.55 m (5 ft 1 in) high granite representation of Senenmut
presenting a sistrum to the goddess Mut, originally housed in the temple
of Mut at Karnak, was so admired by its subject that it was reproduced
in black diorite on a smaller scale, presumably so that it could be placed
in a less public shrine and used for private worship.

Not all contemporary representations of Senenmut were intended to

flatter, as crude graffiti from an unfinished Middle Kingdom tomb show.
This chamber, situated in the cliffs above Deir el-Bahri, was used as a
resting place by the gangs of workmen engaged in building Hatchepsut's
mortuary temple. Here the builders idled away their rest breaks by
doodling and scribbling on the walls. Included amongst the doodles are a
number of mildly pornographic scenes including depictions of naked,
well-endowed young men. One sketch shows a tall, fully clothed,
unnamed male who has variously been identified as both Senenmut and
Hatchepsut, and who is apparently being approached by a smaller naked
male with an improbably large erection. Although it is possible that the
two figures represent entirely separate and unconnected doodles, they
are close enough together for us to speculate whether
Senenmut/Hatchepsut is about to become the subject of a homosexual
encounter.
Homosexual intercourse for pleasure in ancient Egypt is not well
attested. Instead, homosexuality was generally regarded as a means of
gaining revenge on a defeated enemy. By implanting his semen the
aggressor not only humiliated his victim by forcing him to take the part
of a woman, but also gained a degree of power over him. If Senenmut is
really being approached in this way, he is about to be thoroughly
degraded. No disgrace ever attached to the aggressor performing the
homosexual rape; the shame belonged entirely to the victim. Thus, in the
New Kingdom story which tells of the seduction of the young god Horus
by his uncle Seth, it is Horus who feels the shame of a woman. Seth is
merely acting like any red-blooded male:

Now when evening had come a bed was prepared for them and they lay down together. At night
Seth let his member become stiff, and he inserted it between the thighs of Horus. And Horus
placed his hand between his thighs, and caught the semen of Seth.14

By catching the semen before it enters his body and subsequently

throwing it into the marsh, Horus has effectively thwarted his uncle's
evil plan to discredit him in the eyes of other males. Later, with the help
of his mother, he is able to turn the tables on Seth. He sprinkles his own
semen over the lettuces growing in the palace garden which he knows
that Seth will eat. When the two gods are called to give an account of
their deeds, although Seth claims to have done ‘a man's deed’ to Horus,
the semen of Horus is discovered within Seth's own body and Seth is
totally humiliated.
Nearby on the tomb wall (Fig. 7.3) are shown a couple, naked but for
their idiosyncratic headgear, who are indulging in a form of sexual
 Fig. 7.3 Hatchepsut and Senenmut? Crude graffito from a Deir el-Bahri
tomb

intercourse which has modestly been described as ‘a method of approach

from the rear’.15 As Manniche has noted:

Intercourse from behind (‘dog fashion’)… seems to have been rather popular in Egypt, to judge
from the number of extant representations of the position, the man most frequently standing,
with the woman bending over. Whether any of these examples indicate anal intercourse cannot
be determined from the representations alone, but it seems rather unlikely in that no practical
purpose would have been served…16

The more dominant male figure sports what has been described as an
overseer's leather cap, but which may actually be a bad haircut, while
his larger and curiously androgynous companion has a dark female
pubic triangle but no breasts. She is wearing what has been identified as
a royal headdress without the uraeus, and is generally acknowledged to
represent Hatchepsut. The whole scene has been interpreted, some might
say over-interpreted, as a contemporary political parody intended to
highlight the one way in which Hatchepsut could never be a true king –
she could never dominate a man in the way that she is now being
dominated.17 Senenmut is shown quite literally taking his queen for a
ride.
Hatchepsut is by no means the first woman in a position of authority
to be insulted by this type of graffiti. The deep-rooted feeling that any
female who rejects her traditional submissive role is both unfeminine
and unnatural has often led to wild charges of wanton behaviour fired at
dominant women. Accusations of sexual lust and impropriety are
perhaps the only way in which less powerful and therefore, it has been
argued, emasculated and frustrated men can attack their more powerful
mistresses. Nor is this type of assault the prerogative of men. Women
who have not themselves breached social boundaries are often the first
to condemn those who have and, as women well know, an attack on a
woman's reputation is the most damaging attack of all. Certainly the
influential females of history – women who have dominated in a man's
world – have consistently attracted prurient speculation concerning their
sexual behaviour. These women, who range from Cleopatra of Egypt via
Semiramis of Assyria and Livia of Rome to Catherine the Great of Russia,
were routinely accused of sexual promiscuity of the grossest and most
vivid kind.
It seems that only by making a deliberate feature of her virtue and
chastity, often maintained under the most difficult of conditions, can a
powerful woman hope to avoid tales of her sexual depravity becoming
her main contribution to her country's history. Thus Odysseus's faithful
Penelope, Shakespeare's ‘most unspotted lily’ Elizabeth I and Joan of
Arc, ‘the Maid of Orleans’, all strong women, deliberately made purity
one of their main attributes. We should therefore not be surprised to find
that Hatchepsut's subjects, unused to the idea of a strong female ruler,
were prepared to speculate on the relationship between the female king
and Senenmut, her servant and their immediate boss. Humour would
have been the only weapon that the workmen could use to attack their
superiors, and it would perhaps be attaching too much importance to
what appears to be a casual scribble, were we to assume that it signifies
anything other than a crude attempt to depict Hatchepsut in her rightful
female place: being dominated by a man.

Fig. 7.4 Senenmut worshipping at Djeser-Djeseru

Nevertheless, the suggestion that Senenmut and Hatchepsut were more
than just good friends is worthy of serious consideration. An intimate
relationship with the queen would account for the rapid rise in
Senenmut's fortunes and would explain why Senenmut chose to defy
tradition and remain unmarried. It is certainly tempting to see
Senenmut's unprecedented privileges, such as burial within the confines
of Djeser-Djeseru and the linking of their two names within Tomb 353, as
Hatchepsut's tacit acknowledgement of Senenmut's role as her
morganatic partner, if not her consort. Queens, however great, are not
immune from normal human feelings, and at times Hatchepsut may have
found her position to be an intolerably lonely one. A trusted companion
may have helped to ease the burden of state.
In theory, Hatchepsut and Senenmut, both unattached individuals,
would have been free to enjoy an open sexual relationship without
public censure. Dynastic Egypt was not an unduly prudish society and
Hatchepsut, as king, would have been at liberty to choose her own
partners just as other New Kingdom monarchs were free to fill their
harems with the women of their choice. And yet Hatchepsut, firstly as a
woman and secondly as a king with a rather tenuous claim to the throne,
was in a very difficult position. Throughout her reign she en-deavoured
to emphasize her unique royal position as the daughter, wife and sister
of a king. The enormous gulf which separated the divine pharaoh from
the people is hard for us to understand but would have been very real to
Hatchepsut. Marriage or a permanent alliance with a commoner would
have compromised and damaged her position, making the aura of
divinity with which she chose to cloak herself appear more transparent
to those around her.

Senenmut is generally credited with being the political force behind Hatchepsut's assumption and
exercise of kingship. While this assessment cannot be proved, it is probably correct.18

If Hatchepsut and Senenmut were not lovers, did they enjoy anything
other than a purely professional relationship? Did Senenmut control
Hatchepsut by the power of his personality? And if so, was he directly
responsible for Hatchepsut's unprecedented decision to seize power? As
Gardiner has noted: ‘It is not to be imagined… that even a woman of the
most virile character could have attained such a pinnacle of power
without masculine support.’19 Senenmut was one of Hatchepsut's most
loyal servants at this time, and it is clear that he must have approved of
her claim to the throne since he continued to work for the new regime.
The suggestion that he masterminded the accession is far less feasible; it
is an idea based less on the available archaeo-historical evidence (nil)
than on the twin assumptions that Senenmut was a manipulative person
and that Hatchepsut, possibly due to her femininity, was incapable of
controlling her own destiny. It is certainly difficult to equate the strong
and mature Hatchepsut of the Deir el-Bahri temple with the timid and
passive Trilby or the childish Lady Jane Grey, and it seems impossible
that any intelligent woman could have been persuaded to take such a
momentous step against her will. Winlock, believing Senenmut and
Hatchepsut to have been kindred souls and acknowledging that
Hatchepsut's gender did not necessarily preclude intelligence, has
summarized the situation:

… the only question is whether it was through infatuation for her [Hatchepsut] that Sen-Mut
followed her in a course of her own designing, or whether through ambition for himself he was
encouraging her to break with the customs of her people.20

It is clear that Senenmut's main strengths lay in his abilities as an

organizer, administrator and accountant. In modern times there is a
tendency to laugh at desk-bound civil servants; their work is seen as
dull, repetitive and unnecessary, and those unfortunate enough to be
employed as clerks or accountants are often perceived as boring, faceless
nonentities. In ancient Egypt nothing could be further from the truth.
The scribe enjoyed the most enviable of employments as, exempt from
the need to perform degrading manual labour in the hot sun, he revelled
in his exalted position. The importance of the efficient civil servant in a
developing state should never be underestimated. Construction work in
Egypt, without the benefits of modern machinery, was a lengthy and
labour-intensive business requiring the coordination of vast numbers of
workmen and their associated back-up facilities such as food, water,
accommodation and equipment, and a tried and tested administrator
would have been of great value to the queen.
The extent of his creative talents is perhaps more open to question.
Senenmut is often credited with building all of Hatchepsut's monuments,
although there is no evidence that he was actually an architect, and he
himself is often rather vague when referring to his precise role in these
operations. Nevertheless, he appears to have had a hand in various
construction projects in and around Thebes. His main architectural
achievements must remain the overseeing of Djeser-Djeseru and the
erecting of the obelisks at Karnak. However, the unique astronomical
ceiling in his Tomb 353 (discussed in further detail below), and the
eclectic variety of texts and ostraca included in Tomb 71 (ranging from
plans of the tomb itself through various calculations to the Story of
Sinuhe), certainly suggests that Senenmut was a cultured and well-
rounded man with a wide range of interests extending far beyond his
official duties.
Thanks to his role as Overseer of Works at Deir el-Bahri, Senenmut
was able to ensure that his connection with the queen and her
monument was preserved for eternity. Over sixty small representations
of Senenmut, either kneeling or standing with outstretched arms, have
been discovered concealed within the temple. These images had been
carved on walls normally covered by the wooden doors of shrines and
statue niches, so that they would have been completely hidden from
public gaze while the doors were opened for worship. The accompanying
short inscriptions make it clear that Senenmut is engaged in worshipping
both the god Amen and his mistress Hatchepsut ‘on behalf of the life,
prosperity and health of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare
living forever’.
In Egyptian art, the image could always serve as a substitute for the
person or thing being represented. Therefore, by placing his image near
the god's sanctuary, Senenmut was actually placing himself in close
proximity to the god, and was receiving unspecified benefits from this
close association. However, being near to the gods was purely a royal
prerogative, a privilege allowed only to the king who served as high
priest of every Egyptian deity. Because he appeared to be usurping royal
privileges, and because it was hitherto unheard of for a non-royal person
to be included in any royal temple, many egyptologists deduced that
Senenmut had commissioned the carving without obtaining the
permission of the queen. This theory fitted with the then-current view of
Senenmut as a devious and scheming manipulator, and has remained
surprisingly popular despite the translation of a badly damaged text, also
from the Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple, in which Senenmut states that
he had royal permission to carve his image within the sacred precincts
and indeed within every Egyptian temple. This text is worth quoting at
length:

Giving praise to Amen and smelling the ground to the Lord of the gods on behalf of the life,
prosperity and health of the King [i.e. Hatchepsut] of Upper and Lower Egypt, Maatkare, may he
live forever, by the Hereditary Prince and Count, the Steward of Amen, Senenmut, in accordance
with a favour of the King's bounty which was extended to this servant in letting his name be
established on every wall, in the following of the King, in Djeser-Djeseru [Deir el-Bahri], and
likewise in the temples of the gods of Upper and Lower Egypt. Thus spoke the King.21

This bold proclamation of royal authority was carved on the reveals of

the doorway leading into the north-west offering hall of the temple, and
was available for all who were exalted enough to enter the temple
precincts to read. It confirms what common sense suggests, that the
queen must have known about the ‘secret’ images. Senenmut would have
experienced a great deal of difficulty in keeping scores of illicit carvings
hidden and, given that a powerful man like Senenmut must have had
many enemies, it seems inconceivable that no word of this treachery
would have reached Hatchepsut's ears. An alternative theory, that
Senenmut not only carved his images in secret, but also lied about
receiving royal approval for his action, is more convoluted and perhaps
less easy to accept. We now know that Senenmut was not the only 18th
Dynasty official to include his own image within a royal monument.
Neshi, Viceroy of Kush under Tuthmosis III, had himself depicted in the
act of praying on the reveals of some of the doorways in the temples of
Hatchepsut and Tuthmosis III at Buhen. Although Buhen, lying beyond
the southern border of Egypt, was far enough away from the court to
allow a certain amount of variation from standard Egyptian practices, it
is interesting that Neshi did not suffer in any way for his impertinence.

May the king give an offering: a thousand of bread, beer, cattle and fowl… that they may grant
abundance and he may be purified, for the Ka of the Steward of Amen, Senenmut the justified.22

Senenmut was wealthy enough to provide himself with two funerary

monuments on the West Bank at Thebes; Tomb 71, the ‘first tomb’,
conspicuously sited on top of the Sheikh Abd el-Gurna hill, and Tomb
353, the ‘second tomb’, hidden beneath the precincts of Djeser-Djeseru.
Historians have consistently placed great emphasis on these two tombs,
concluding that it was his presumption in building secretly within the
precincts of the Deir el-Bahri temple which finally turned Hatchepsut
against Senenmut. It is therefore worth considering the art and
architecture of these two very different monuments in some detail.23
Senenmut selected a (then) little used area of the Theban necropolis
for his first tomb, securing a highly desirable, and highly visible,
location on the brow of the hill now known as the Sheikh Abd el-Gurna.
His choice of site was to prove well judged. He was soon joined by two
of his illustrious contemporaries, the steward Amenhotep (Tomb 73) and
the royal tutor Senimen (Tomb 252), and several lesser-ranking officials
quickly followed suit, making Gurna one of the most popular private
cemeteries on the West Bank during the reigns of Hatchepsut and
Tuthmosis III. Senenmut's own tomb ultimately served as a focal point
for a number of less important burials, and clearance of the hillside
below Tomb 71 in the 1930s revealed a scattering of subsidiary
inhumations; an unknown woman in a cheap wooden coffin wearing a
scarab inscribed for the ‘God's Wife Neferure’, an unknown male
wrapped in reed matting, a boy named Amenhotep who may have been
Senenmut's much younger brother, a male singer named Hormose who
was buried with his lute beside him, two anonymous human bodies in
anthropoid coffins and the bodies of a horse and an ape, each
mummified and in its own coffin.

Fig. 7.5 Plan and reconstruction of the façade of Tomb 71

An ostracon fortuitously recovered from the forecourt of Tomb 71
fixes the exact date that work on the site commenced to ‘Year 7 [of
Hatchepsut's reign], spring, day 2: the beginning of work in the tomb on
this day’. The steep slope at the summit of the hill presented Senenmut's
architect with an immediate technical problem. The front wall of the
tomb could be cut directly into the rock face, but in order to provide the
tomb with the traditional forecourt it was necessary to construct an
artificial terrace; this problem was solved by working on the terrace and
the tomb simultaneously, recycling the debris being excavated within
the tomb and using it to build a buttressed terrace extending eastward
over the descending slope of the hill. A long but narrow forecourt was
then sited on top of the terrace, and two deep pits of unknown purpose
were excavated, one on each edge of the forecourt. When the collapsed
terrace was investigated in 1935–6 the intact burial chamber of Ramose
and Hatnofer was discovered. Wine labels dated to Year 7 within this
tomb confirm the date that construction started on Tomb 71 as, given its
position beneath the artificial terrace, this chamber must have been
excavated before the major building work commenced.
The plan of Tomb 71 is that of a simple inverted T-shape extending
into the Sheikh Abd el-Gurna, topped by a rock-cut shrine which was
originally intended to house a statue of Senenmut holding the Princess
Neferure. The imposing façade, cut from the sloping rock and extended
by the use of stone walls so that the tomb rose above the natural slope of
the hill, has a central doorway and eight almost square windows which
admit light into the transverse entrance hall. This hall, with its eight
faceted columns, its row of statue-niches set into the western wall and its
distinctive decorated ceiling, makes a suitably impressive entrance for
visitors to the tomb.
A tall but narrow axial corridor extends at right-angles out of the hall,
running westwards into the cliff for almost 24 m (78 ft) and ending in a
wall which originally housed a red quartzite false-door stela inscribed
with sections of Chapter 148 of the Book of the Dead ‘… may you give to
the steward Senenmut life, prosperity, joy and endurance’. Above the
false door was a small stone-lined statue niche designed to hold a statue
of the deceased.
The walls and ceiling of the hall and corridor were originally coated
with fine plaster and lavishly decorated with colourful murals and
painted hieroglyphic texts. Unfortunately, very little of the original
artwork now survives, although the colourful Hathor-headed frieze in
the hall is still clearly visible. One particular scene, depicting the
presentation of a tribute by six Aegean men (now sadly reduced to three)
carrying a variety of distinctive vessels, is justly famous as a
contemporary documentation of the links between Egypt and Minoan
Crete during Hatchepsut's reign.
The clearance of the tomb in 1930 led to the discovery of Senenmut's
once magnificent red-brown quartzite sarcophagus, now smashed into
over a thousand pieces and spread all over the interior of the tomb and
the surrounding hillside. Two fragments were recovered from the tomb
of the 11th Dynasty Vizier Dagi, more than 100 m (328 ft) to the north
of Senenmut's tomb, while some of the more substantial pieces were
found to have been recycled into grinding stones and other useful
objects by enterprising locals. Larger fragments of the sarcophagus had
already been collected and sold by antiquities traders, and some had
even made their way into private European collections. It is perhaps not
surprising, given these circumstances, that less than half of the
sarcophagus and lid have yet been recovered.24
Painstaking reconstruction has shown that the sarcophagus was
originally an oblong box with rounded corners giving it a cartouche-
shaped plan-form. It measured 236 X 88 × 89 cm (7 ft 9 in x 2 ft 10 in
× 2 ft 10 in). The kneeling figures of the goddesses Isis and Nephthys
were carved on the head and foot ends, while the four sons of Horus and
two manifestations of Anubis decorated the sides. Inside the sarcophagus
was carved the standing figure of Nut, her arms stretched wide and
extending up the sides of the box. Funerary texts taken from the Book of
the Dead were inscribed on both the inside and the outside walls. The
exterior walls were originally polished and painted a dark red in an
attempt to enhance the natural colour of the stone, and touches of
yellow and blue paint were added to highlight details such as wigs,
bracelets and collars. In marked contrast, the lid was left plain and
unfinished.
The undamaged sarcophagus must have appeared highly similar to the
sarcophagus prepared for Hatchepsut in her role as king (see Chapter 4).
Many of the measurements are identical, although Senenmut's
sarcophagus is slightly shorter and has two rounded ends rather than a
rounded head end and a flat foot end. This similarity in plan-form is
perhaps not surprising, given that Senenmut was responsible for
commissioning and perhaps even designing Hatchepsut's funerary
equipment, and given that there are only a limited number of practical
variations on the basic sarcophagus theme. What is surprising is that
Senenmut was able to acquire any form of hard stone sarcophagus.
During the 18th Dynasty, burial for most wealthy private Egyptians
involved placing the mummified body inside an anthropoid wooden
coffin which was in turn placed within a large shrine-shaped wooden
coffin. Multiple coffins were occasionally used in more elaborate
interments, but even the multiple coffins of Yuya and Thuyu, the non-
royal parents of Queen Tiy, were only of gilded wood. As has already
been noted, Queens Ahhotep and Ahmose Nefertari were interred in
wooden sarcophagi, and it is possible that the body of Tuthmosis I was
also originally housed in a wooden shrine. A quartzite sarcophagus
would have been a very valuable asset and, in theory at least, must have
been the gift of the queen. It may even be that a rejected prototype royal
sarcophagus was adapted for Senenmut's private use, with or without the
permission of its official owner; this would explain why a few word-
endings in the carved text have a feminine rather than a masculine form,
suggesting that the text had originally been intended for a woman.

Quartzite, a compacted sandstone which was both far more precious and
far harder to work than granite, occurs naturally at several sites in
Egypt: at Gebel Ahmar, just outside modern Cairo, between Cairo and
Suez, in the Wadi Natrun, in Sinai, at Gebelein, Edfu and Aswan.
Unfortunately, it is not possible to pinpoint the exact source of the
quartzite used in Senenmut's sarcophagus, but it is likely to have come
from the Gebel Ahmar as this was the major quartzite quarry, and we
know that blocks from this site were transported to Thebes during the
18th Dynasty. The pharaoh had a monopoly over the quarrying of all
hard stone and, in the cashless economy of ancient Egypt, it was simply
not possible – in theory at least – for a private individual to turn up at
the quarry and purchase a block of stone for his own use. All stone was
quarried on the order of the monarch and all the quarried stone
belonged to the monarch, although Senenmut, in his role as overseer,
would have been in a better position than most to commission his own
work. However, it is hard to see how the commissioning and
transporting of such a costly, heavy and labour-intensive object could
ever have been kept secret from the queen. The sarcophagus must have
been roughed out at the quarry before being transported up river by
barge to Thebes, a far more difficult task than the transport of granite
down river from Aswan as, if the quartzite originated at Gebel Ahmar, it
had to be moved against the flow of the river. On arrival at Thebes the
sarcophagus must have been dragged overland to Sheikh Abd el-Gurna
and hoisted up the steep slope to the tomb where, the unfinished state of
the lid suggests, the final carving was performed.
Beneath the public rooms of Tomb 71, two uneven passageways run at
an oblique angle, eventually uniting to form a chamber which in turn
leads into the tomb of Anen (Tomb 120). Anen, Second Prophet of Amen
and brother of Queen Tiy, built his tomb to the north of Tomb 71
approximately one century after all work had stopped on Senenmut's
tomb. It was originally accepted that these subterranean passageways
must represent the corridors leading to Senenmut's burial chamber, an
interpretation which was based more upon the current belief that
Senenmut had fully intended to be buried within his tomb – but where?
– than on strict archaeological evidence. There is now considerable
doubt that these corridors were ever deliberately linked to Tomb 71; the
possibility that they represent tunnelling from the tomb of Anen which
has weakened the floor of the older tomb, causing it to collapse, is
worthy of serious consideration. It is certainly difficult to see how the
passageways could have been entered from Tomb 71, and there is now
no trace of an entrance or vertical pit in the surviving floor of the axial
corridor. Unfortunately, the passages cannot now be fully explored as
they have been completely blocked with debris.25
If the subterranean corridors are to be excluded from our
consideration, where then should we look for the burial chamber? The
fact that Senenmut was prepared to go to a great deal of trouble to have
his precious sarcophagus delivered to Tomb 71 indicates that he was, at
the time the sarcophagus was commissioned, fully intending to be
interred there. Therefore we may conclude that he must have planned a
burial chamber within the tomb. The two deep pits excavated into the
tomb forecourt may possibly represent unfinished burial shafts but,
given their size and position, this seems unlikely. The northern pit is
now inaccessible and the southern pit, which is 7 m (22 ft 11 in) deep,
shows no trace of a burial chamber. A pit cut into the south-east corner
of the transverse hall is, however, worthy of further consideration.26 The
pit descends for 1.9 m (6 ft 2 in) and then opens into a small room
measuring 3.5 x 1 x 1.05 m (11 ft 5 in x 3 ft 3 in x 3 ft 5 in). At first
sight it may be felt that the cramped size of this chamber makes it a very
unlikely final resting place for the great Senenmut, and more likely that
it was intended for the subsidiary burial of a member of his family.
However, it was not customary to inter 18th Dynasty private individuals
with large numbers of grave goods, and a burial chamber only needed to
be large enough to house the deceased's sarcophagus or coffin plus his
canopic jars. Traditionally it was the upper, public, part of the tomb
which needed to be both spacious and imposing; the actual burial
chamber was relatively unimportant and could be as small as was
practically possible. In the absence of any more obvious burial shafts, we
must conclude that this small chamber was Senenmut's intended final
resting place.
Senenmut's tomb was substantially complete when all building work
ceased; only the burial chamber and the rock-cut shrine above the tomb
were obviously unfinished, and the latter may well already have been
abandoned due to flaws in the natural rock. At some point following its
completion, however, Tomb 71 suffered a great deal of damage. Some of
this, such as the collapse of the ceiling in the transverse hall and the
extensive damage to the painted plaster walls, is a natural result of the
poor quality of the rock on the Sheikh Abd el-Gurna. Other damage
appears to have been entirely deliberate – a determined if somewhat
ineffective attempt to physically remove the name and image of
Senenmut from the tomb. For a long time it was accepted that this
desecration had occurred soon after Senenmut's death, instigated by
either Hatchepsut or Tuthmosis III. However, the archaeological
evidence is not entirely consistent with this theory. While it is true that a
deliberate attempt has been made to erase the names of both Senenmut
and Hatchepsut, the names ‘Amen’, ‘Mut’ and ‘gods’ have also been
excised from sections of the ceiling, implying that at least some of the
damage may have occurred during the Amarna period. Further odd spots
of random vandalism – such as attacks on the face of Hathor included in
the wall frieze – remain undated, but probably occurred during the
Christian era.

As news arrived of the end of the Great Steward, orders were given to close up his presumptuous
new tomb. The job was done as quickly as possible… Hastily gathering together bricks and
stones at the mouth of the tomb, they started to wall it up, but the work did not go fast enough,
and before they had finished their wall they gave it up and raked down dirt just enough to cover
over the doorway.27

Senenmut's second tomb, Tomb 353, was a far more secretive affair
with a concealed entrance sunk into the floor of the large quarry which
was then being used to provide material for the construction of the
Djeser-Djeseru causeway. This again proved to be a site well chosen for
its purpose. After its abandonment the tomb, its unimposing entrance
now blocked by mud-bricks and covered by layers of debris and desert
sand, vanished from the historical record, only to be rediscovered by
chance in 1927. Unfortunately, the newly discovered tomb was
completely empty.
In plan, the tomb consists of three subterranean chambers linked
together by three descending stepped passageways. The upper chamber
(Chamber A) is the most complete, with the walls smoothed and
preliminary designs sketched on the walls and ceiling. Chamber B, a
rectangular room with a flat ceiling, was left with rough walls, while
Chamber C, a vaulted chamber, has walls which have been dressed but
not decorated. The northeast corner of Chamber C contains a vertical
shaft 1.5 m (4 ft 11 in) deep, with two niches opening off the shaft. The
northern niche, which has a vaulted ceiling, measures 0.9 m (2 ft 11 in)
high, while the eastern niche had a flat ceiling and measures only 0.7 m
(2 ft 3 in) in height.
The unfinished nature of the decoration, plus the presence of builders'
rubble in Chambers A and B, implies that the architects employed at
least two major building phases, and that Chamber A had been
constructed and almost completed before it was decided to extend the
tomb by building Chambers B and C. It would otherwise be difficult to
explain why Chamber A was the more highly decorated room, as it
would surely have been more sensible for the artists to work backwards
towards the entrance; first decorating Chamber C, retreating to Chamber
B and then finally to Chamber A. We have no date for the
commencement of work at Tomb 353, but the stratigraphy of

Fig. 7.6 Plan of Tomb 353

the quarry indicates that the first building phase was well underway by
Year 16.
Unlike Tomb 71, Tomb 353 has suffered minimal disturbance over the
centuries. There has been some slight natural damage caused by the
extrusion of salt from the walls and ceilings, some ancient accidental
damage which the original workmen have repaired with plaster, and
some rather random attacks on faces on the walls of Chamber A.
However, there has been no attempt to erase either text or the names of
Senenmut or Hatchepsut, and Senenmut's image is still present in his
tomb. The walls of Chamber A are decorated with columns of incised
hieroglyphs recording a variety of spells and funeral liturgies designed to
ease Senenmut's journey to the Field of Reeds: ‘O you who are living in
the two lands, you scribes and lector priests, you who are wise and who
adore god, recite the transfiguration spells for the steward Senenmut.
There are also several representations of Senenmut, his brother
Amenemhat and King Hatchepsut, and a false-door stela facing the
entrance from the quarry. However, it is the decorated roof which has
excited the attention of scholars, as this represents the earliest known
astronomical ceiling in Egypt. It includes a calendar recording lunar
months, representations of the northern constellations and illustrations
of the planets Mars, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn.
The clearly differing nature of the two ‘tombs’ described above makes
it unlikely that they were ever intended for the same purpose. Instead, it
seems that Senenmut, although originally intending to be buried in
Tomb 71 - to the extent that he ordered his precious sarcophagus to be
delivered there – had finally elected to build himself a highly visible
funerary chapel and a separate, hidden, burial chamber. The two
monuments should therefore be properly regarded as forming the two
halves of one whole. The typical 18th Dynasty private Theban tomb
consisted of a T-shaped superstructure and a small burial chamber
reached via a shaft which could be sited anywhere within either the
funerary chapel or the chapel courtyard. The funerary chapel was the
public part of the tomb where visitors could offer to the deceased, the
burial chamber was completely private. This design had first been used
by the ubiquitous architect Ineni, who had re-developed an old Middle
Kingdom private tomb with a porticoed front, filling in the gaps between
the pillars to make the desired T-shape.
Senenmut was certainly not the only official to experiment with a
variation on Ineni's theme. The early 18th Dynasty was a period of
innovation in private tomb architecture and, for example, his
contemporary Amenemope also decided to separate the two distinct
elements of his tomb, building a funerary chapel in the Theban hills and
a separate burial chamber in the Valley of the Kings. Like Amenemope,
Senenmut would have discovered clear advantages to the bi-partite
tomb. Tomb 71 was built in a highly prestigious location with an
excellent view over the necropolis, but not founded on good rock;
tunnelling under the public rooms would have been both difficult and
dangerous, and intricate wall carving was impossible. In direct contrast,
Tomb 353 was built from firm rock, allowing safe tunnelling and
detailed carving and with the additional benefit of being comparatively
inconspicuous and therefore far more secure from the unwanted
attentions of tomb robbers.
Given that Senenmut was not the only 18th Dynasty official to build
himself an atypical tomb, it would appear unlikely that he could ever
have been criticized for usurping a royal prerogative, particularly as it is
now realized that the façade of Tomb 71 was by no means a straight
copy of the façade of the Deir el-Bahri temple. He could certainly be
criticized for tunnelling under the precincts of the Deir el-Bahri temple,
and thereby linking his tomb with that of the queen, if anyone had
realized that this was where his underground passages were tending.
However, it is by no means certain that this was Senenmut's principal
intention, as the passages follow a route which seem designed simply to
exploit the local rock to best advantage. It must therefore be questioned
whether Senenmut ever intended his plans for Tomb 353 to be kept
secret from the queen. It would certainly have been very difficult, if not
impossible, to undertake such a massive project without some word of
illicit excavations reaching the palace and it seems far more logical to
assume, in the face of any evidence to the contrary, that Hatchepsut
both knew and approved of Senenmut's funerary arrangements.

The historical record is tantalizingly silent over the matter of Senenmut's

death. All we know is that he retired abruptly from public life at some
point between Hatchepsut's regnal Years 16 and 20, and was never
interred in either of his carefully prepared tombs. What could have
happened to him? The enigma of Senenmut's sudden disappearance is
one which has teased egyptologists for decades, the lack of solid
archaeological and textual evidence allowing the vivid imaginations of
Senenmut-scholars to run wild, and resulting in a variety of fervently
held solutions, some of which would do credit to any fictional murder/
mystery plot.28
As the most simple explanation, no matter how dull, is often the
correct one, we might expect to find that Senenmut predeceased
Hatchepsut, either dying of natural causes or, in a more melodramatic
turn of plot, being killed by the agents of Tuthmosis III. If, as seems
likely, he had started his royal career during the reign of Tuthmosis I,
Senenmut would have been an elderly man of between fifty and seventy
years of age by Year 16, and his death would not have been unexpected.
Why then was he not buried in his intended tomb? Could Senenmut
really have met his death abroad, or have been drowned in the Nile, or
even been burned to death? Any of these unlikely tragedies would
explain the lack of a body for burial, but would such a catastrophe really
have passed unrecorded on any contemporary monument? Did Senenmut
die before his burial chamber was completed, and was he therefore
interred in a makeshift grave? Is it even possible that Senenmut had a
third, even more secret tomb, still waiting to be discovered?
Speculation that the unexpected death of Princess Neferure caused
Senenmut to lose all influence with the queen, leading to his gradual
retirement from public life, appears less convincing, not least because
there is no proof that Neferure predeceased her tutor. In any case, would
anything as mild as early retirement from court have prevented
Senenmut from being buried in his intended tomb?
More dramatic accounts of Senenmut's disappearance were popular
during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. These placed
great reliance upon the fact that many of Senenmut's monuments were
vandalized following his death, indicating that someone harboured a
personal grudge against the powerful steward of Amen. This, set against
the vivid background of a feuding royal court irretrievably split into
irreconcilable factions, suggested that his fall from grace may have been
the result of a major disagreement with the queen. If Senenmut was
dismissed by Hatchepsut, it was argued, it was almost certainly due to
his arrogant assumption of privileges hitherto reserved for royalty.
Certainly the queen had the power to dispose of her advisers as she
wished but, as this chapter has shown, there is far less evidence for the
usurpation of royal prerogatives than has previously been supposed.
Could they have quarrelled over something more serious? Suggestions
for such a quarrel have ranged from a lovers’ tiff to Senenmut's defection
to the rival political party of Tuthmosis III.
A variant on the vengeance theme has Senenmut surviving
Hatchepsut, only to be killed by the supporters of Tuthmosis III. Less
dramatic, and equally lacking in proof, is the suggestion that Senenmut
outlived Hatchepsut and perhaps even continued to serve under
Tuthmosis III before dying a natural death. The image of a vengeful
Tuthmosis ruthlessly hounding his former co-regent's supporters has
often featured in reconstructions of Senenmut's life. We now know that
this thirst for vengeance may have been considerably overstated. At least
some of Hatchepsut's principal advisers continued to serve under
Tuthmosis III, including the architect Puyemre, the chief treasurers Tiy
and Sennefer, and the chief steward Wadjet-Renpet. The recovery of a
headless statue of Senenmut, engraved with the cartouche of Tuthmosis
III and apparently housed for a time in Djeser-Akhet, the Deir el-Bahri
temple of Tuthmosis III, indicates that the new king may not have
wished to entirely obliterate the memory of an outstanding bureaucrat
who served his country well.
Many of Senenmut's monuments were attacked following his death,
when an attempt was made to delete his memory by erasing both his
name and his image. It was originally assumed that these defacements
were carried out soon after Senenmut's demise either by Hatchepsut –
the unbalanced and irrational actions of a woman scorned – or by
Tuthmosis III – the cool revenge of the displaced monarch. Following
this line of reasoning, the vandalism must represent a frenzied personal
attack aimed specifically against Senenmut. If this is the case, it is
reasonable to assume that those responsible for the defacements may
also have been responsible for Senenmut's sudden fall from power.
However, realization is growing that the attacks on Senenmut's
monuments may have been a minor part of a wider plan of defacement,
aimed either at the memory of Hatchepsut or at the god Amen who was
particularly linked with Senenmut. The assaults on Senenmut's name and
image may therefore not be specifically linked to Senenmut's personal
story, and may not have been perpetrated by those who schemed to
bring about his death. For this reason, it is not possible to discuss the
defacement of Senenmut's monuments without also considering the
attacks against Hatchepsut's name and monuments which occurred at
some time following the death of the queen.
 8
The End and the Aftermath

Now my heart turns this way and that, as I think what the people will say. Those who shall see my
monuments in years to come, and who shall speak of what I have done.1

After more than twenty years as ruler of Egypt Hatchepsut, by now an

‘elderly’ woman between thirty-five and fifty-five years of age, prepared
to die and live for ever in the Field of Reeds. Her funerary preparations
were well underway, her mortuary temple was already established, and
Hatchepsut was free to set her worldly affairs in order. Tuthmosis III was
her intended successor, and we start to see an obvious shift in the
balance of power as the fully mature king emerges from relative
obscurity and starts to assume a more prominent role in matters of state.
We now find Tuthmosis standing beside rather than behind his
stepmother, acting in all ways as a true king of Egypt.2 Tuthmosis, as
commander-in-chief of the army, assumed the onerous responsibility of
defending Egypt's borders. Egypt was already being troubled by sporadic
outbreaks of unrest amongst her client states to the east; these minor
insurrections were to culminate in the open rebellions which dominated
much of Tuthmosis' subsequent reign. Tuthmosis now found himself
forced to commit his troops to the first of the series of military
campaigns which would prove necessary to re-impose firm control on
both Nubia and the Levant.
Unfortunately, we have no Ineni to preserve a detailed record of the
passing of the female pharaoh but, in the absence of any evidence to the
contrary, we must assume that Hatchepsut died a natural death, flying to
heaven on the 10th day of the 6th month of Year 22 (early February
1482 BC). The once popular idea that Tuthmosis, after more than twenty
years of joint rule, might finally have snapped and either killed or
otherwise ousted his ageing co-ruler seems unnecessarily melodramatic;
Tuthmosis must have realized that he had only to wait and allow nature
to take her course. Hatchepsut had already lived far longer than might
have been expected, and time was on the young king's side.
To Tuthmosis, as successor, fell the duty of burying the old king in
order to reinforce his own claim to rule as the living Horus. We may
therefore assume that Hatchepsut was properly mummified and allowed
to rest with dignity, lying alongside her father in Tomb KV20.
Suggestions that Tuthmosis might have been vindictive enough to deny
Hatchepsut her kingly burial have often been made, but again these
theories have generally been based on the assumption of Tuthmosis'
hatred for his co-ruler which, as we shall see below, has been shown to
be an oversimplification of events following Hatchepsut's death.3 Only
one piece of material evidence has been put forward to suggest that
Hatchepsut's sarcophagus may never have been occupied. When, in
1904, Howard Carter managed to force his way past the rubble which
blocked the entrance to the burial chamber of KV20, he found that the
tomb had already been ransacked. The two sarcophagi and the matching
canopic chest were lying empty and the remaining grave goods had been
reduced to worthless piles of smashed sherds and partially burned
fragments of wood. The body of Tuthmosis I had, in fact, been removed
prior to the robbery by workmen acting on the orders of Tuthmosis III,
and had been trans-ferred to the new tomb, KV38, which was itself in
turn to be robbed in antiquity. Inside KV20 the lid of Tuthmosis'
sarcophagus was left propped against the wall where the necropolis
officials had placed it in order to allow them sufficient room to
manoeuvre the body from the tomb. The lid of Hatchepsut's
sarcophagus, supposedly dislodged by the tomb robbers, was reportedly
found lying intact and face upwards over 5 m (16 ft 5 in) away from its
base. This position is
 Fig. 8.1 The cartouche of King Tuthmosis III

somewhat unexpected; too heavy to simply lift, we might have expected

to find evidence that the thieves used bars and wedges to prise up the
lid, allowing it to fall face downwards immediately by the side of the
sarcophagus.4
Could it be that the lid had never been placed on the sarcophagus, and
that Carter had in fact found it lying where the original 18th Dynasty
craftsmen had abandoned it? By extension, this would indicate that
Hatchepsut's body was never interred within KV 20. However, this is a
very slight and dubious piece of evidence on which to base a
reconstruction of events at Hatchepsut's death. We have no photograph
or plan of the tomb at the moment of re-entry, but examination of
Carter's painting of the interior of the burial chamber plainly shows both
the sarcophagus and its lid, which is not lying neatly on the floor but is
roughly displaced on top of what seem to be heaps of debris and
smashed grave goods.5 Carter himself tells us that when he entered the
tomb ‘the sarcophagus of the queen was open, with the lid lying at the
head on the floor… neither of the sarcophagi appeared to be in situ, but
showed signs of handling’. It would therefore appear most likely that it
was Carter or his workmen who moved the lid to its final resting place
while clearing out the chamber.
Fragments of Hatchepsut's anthropoid wooden coffin – a sure
indication that she had indeed been accorded a decent burial – were
eventually recovered from KV4, the tomb of Ramesses XI, which had
yielded broken artifacts from the burials of several earlier pharaohs
including, as the excavators noted, ‘numerous pieces of wood from the
funeral furniture of some of the kings of the Eighteenth Dynasty…
rendered into small slivers that resembled kindling’.6 It would appear
that, during the Third Intermediate Period, the tomb of Ramesses XI had
been used as a temporary workshop where the necropolis officials could
restore or re-wrap damaged mummies and process the artifacts
recovered from earlier burials, in particular those of Hatchepsut and
Tuthmosis III. Stripped of their most valuable recyclable aspects (for
example, the gilded-gesso surface of the coffin of Tuthmosis III was
adzed clean; the gold was presumably melted down and re-used, the
coffin was still functional although less decorative and was certainly less
likely to attract the attention of tomb robbers) the grave goods were sent
together with the bodies of their owners to the cache at Deir el-Bahri for
permanent storage.7
The remainder of Hatchepsut's funerary equipment is now lost,
although a draughts-board and a ‘throne’ (actually the base and legs of a
couch or bed), said to have been recovered from the Deir el-Bahri cache
and presented to the British Museum by the Mancunian egypto-logical
benefactor Jesse Howarth in 1887, have been identified as belonging to
Hatchepsut on the basis of a wooden cartouche-shaped lid said to have
been found with them. However, this identification is by no means
certain; the Reverend Greville Chester, who obtained the artifacts on
behalf of Mr Howarth, had himself acquired them from an Arab who had
supposedly recovered them ‘… hidden away in one of the side chambers
of the tomb of Ramesses IX [KV6], under the loose stones which
encumber the place’.8
Hatchepsut's body has never been identified. However, the Deir el-
Bahri cache which protected most of the 18th Dynasty royal mummies
including Tuthmosis I(?), II and III, also included an anonymous and
coffin-less New Kingdom female body together with at least one empty
female coffin and a decorated wooden box bearing the name and titles of
Hatchepsut and containing a mummified liver or spleen. We are
therefore faced with the possibility that these female remains may
include either all or part of the missing king. Further anonymous 18th
Dynasty female remains have been recovered from the tomb of
Amenhotep II (KV 35), which was used as a storage depot for a
collection of dispossessed New Kingdom mummies. This tomb yielded
sixteen bodies including two unidentified women, either of them
potential Hatchepsuts, who are now known as the ‘Elder Lady’ and the
‘Younger Lady’. The Younger Lady is almost certainly too young to be
Hatchepsut while the Elder Lady, thought to be a woman in her forties,
was for a long time identified as the later 18th Dynasty Queen Tiy.
However, recent X-ray analysis suggests that this lady may in fact have
been less elderly than had been supposed; she appears to have died
when somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five years of age. It
must be stressed that mummy-ages obtained by X-ray analysis do need to
be treated with a degree of caution. The suggested X-ray age of thirty-
five to forty years for the body of Tuthmosis III is, for example, plainly
incompatible with the historical records which indicate that he reigned
as king for over fifty years. However, if the analysis of the ‘Elder Lady’ is
correct, it would appear that she too may have died too young to be
Hatchepsut.
More intriguing is the suggestion that Hatchepsut may be identified
with the body of the anonymous lady discovered in KV60, the tomb of
the royal nurse Sitre. When it was discovered by Carter in 1903, this
tomb still housed its two badly damaged female mummies, that of Sitre
herself, and that of a partially unwrapped, obese middle-aged woman
with worn teeth and red-gold hair. This lady had been approximately
1.55 m (5 ft 1 in) tall and had been mummified with her left arm across
her chest in the typical 18th Dynasty royal burial position. Her obesity
had apparently made it impossible for the embalmers to follow the usual
custom of removing the entrails via a cut in the side, and she had instead
been eviscerated through the pelvic floor. Carter had not been
particularly interested in the tomb – he was looking for an intact royal
burial which would please his sponsor, Lord Carnarvon – and, leaving
things pretty much as he had found them, sealed it up again and
departed. The English archaeologist Edward Ayrton had re-entered the
tomb in 1906 and removed the lady Sitre and her wooden coffin to Cairo
Museum, but the unknown lady had been left lying in a rather
undignified position flat on her back in the middle of the burial
chamber. The tomb entrance was subsequently resealed, and forgotten.
When the American egyptologist Donald P. Ryan re-discovered the tomb
in 1989, he provided the lady with a wooden coffin, and subsequently
the burial was protected by fitting a door to the tomb. Several
authorities have tentatively suggested that this unidentified lady might
be none other than Hatchepsut who might have been removed from the
nearby KV 20 following a robbery and hidden for safety in KV 60. Less
likely is the theory that Tuthmosis III denied his stepmother an official
burial and instead interred her alongside her old nurse.9

The funeral over, Tuthmosis III embarked upon thirty-three years of solo
rule. He was immediately faced with revolt amongst a coalition of his
Palestinian and Syrian vassals united under the banner of the Prince of
Kadesh (a powerful city state on the River Orontes) and backed by the
King of Mitanni, and he started a lengthy series of military campaigns
designed to strengthen Egypt's position in the Near East. His aim, as he
tells us, was to ‘overthrow that vile enemy and to extend the boundaries
of Egypt in accordance with the command of his father Amen-Re’. By
Year 33 the weaker client states had all been subdued, and Tuthmosis
was able to emulate his esteemed grandfather by crossing the River
Euphrates, defeating the army of the King of Mitanni and then returning
to Egypt via Syria where, in established Tuthmoside tradition, he
enjoyed a magnificent elephant hunt. By Year 42, after twenty-one years
of intermittent fighting, the boundaries of the empire were at last secure
and Tuthmosis was able to relax into old age. His triumphs, however,
were not to be forgotten. Tuthmosis shared Hatchepsut's love of self-
promotion, and his campaigns were recorded for posterity and for the
glory of Amen on the walls of the newly-built ‘Hall of Annals’ at Karnak,
where:

His majesty commanded to record the [victories his father Amen had given him] by an
inscription in the temple which his majesty had made for [his father Amen so as to record] each
campaign, together with the booty which [his majesty] had brought [from it and the tribute of
every foreign land] that his father Re had given him.10

Towards the end of his reign, his foreign problems now settled,
Tuthmosis followed Hatchepsut in instigating an impressive construction
programme; there was yet another phase of building at the Karnak
temple complex while all the major Egyptian towns from Kom Ombo to
Heliopolis plus several sites in the Nile Delta and Nubia benefited from
his attentions. In private, Tuthmosis appears to have been a well-
educated man of great energy – a real credit to his stepmother's
upbringing. Not only was he an action man, a fearless warrior, skilled
horseman and superb athlete, he was also a family man blessed with at
least two principal wives, several secondary wives and a brood of
children. In his spare time he composed literary works and his interests
ranged from botany to reading, history, religion and even interior
design.11 Tuthmosis eventually appointed his son as co-regent, and some
two years later it was it Amenhotep II, son of Meritre-Hatchepsut, who
buried Egypt's greatest warrior king in Tomb KV34 in the Valley of the
Kings. Tuthmosis III had reigned for 53 years, 10 months and 26 days.
The mummy of Tuthmosis III, superficially intact and lying in its
original inner coffin, was recovered from the Deir el-Bahri cache. The
mummy was unwrapped and examined by Emile Brugsch in 1881,
subsequently re-bandaged, and reopened by Maspero in 1886, who
found that the body was covered in an unpleasant ‘layer of whitish
natron charged with human fat, greasy to the touch, foetid and strongly
caustic’.12 The mummy had, in fact, been badly damaged by tomb
robbers, the head, feet and all four limbs had become detached and
Maspero found that the body was actually held together by four wooden
oars concealed beneath the linen bandages. The face was, however,
undamaged, and Tuthmosis was revealed to have died in his fifties,
almost completely bald, with a low forehead, narrow face, delicate ears
and the buck teeth so often found in Tuthmoside family members.

At some point following Hatchepsut's death a serious attempt was made

to deny her existence by physically removing her presence from the
historical record. Gangs of workmen were set to work at the various
monuments, and soon the name and figures of Hatchepsut had vani-
ished; they had been completely hacked out – often leaving a very
obvious Hatchepsut-shaped gap in the middle of a scene – as a
preliminary to replacement by a different image or a new royal
cartouche. At Karnak her obelisks were walled up and incorporated into
the vestibule in front of pylon V, while at Djeser-Djeseru her statues and
sphinxes were torn down, smashed and flung into rubbish pits. This was
not merely a symbolic gesture of hatred; by removing every trace of the
female king it was actually possible to rewrite Egyptian history, this time
without Hatchepsut. If Hatchepsut's name was completely erased she
would never have been, and the succession could now run from
Tuthmosis I to Tuthmosis III without any female interference.
The removal of the name and image of a dead person, occasionally
called a damnatio memoriae, served a dual purpose. Not only did it allow
the rewriting of history, it was also a direct assault upon the spirit of the
deceased. Theology dictated that, in order for the spirit or soul to live
forever in the Field of Reeds, the body, the image or at least the name of
the deceased must survive on Earth. If all memory of a dead person was
lost or destroyed, the spirit too would perish, and there would come the
much dreaded ‘Second Death’; total obliteration from which there could
be no return. The effects of the proscription on the dead Hatchepsut
herself would therefore have been drastic. Every image and cartouche
served as a re-affirmation of her reign, not merely a means of preserving
her memory amongst her contemporaries and her future subjects, but a
guarantee that she would live for ever in the Afterlife.
Until relatively recently the author of this proscription, and his
motives, seemed obvious. Tuthmosis III had spent over twenty years
seething with hatred and resentment against his co-ruler; what could be
more natural than to indulge in one vindictive but eminently satisfying
act of defiance against both Hatchepsut and those who had supported
her in her work? However juvenile, his actions were entirely
understandable:

Two more facts of which we may be perfectly certain are: 1) that Tuthmosis III obtained supreme
control over Egypt only after many years of humiliating subordination to Hatchepsut and only as
the result of a long and bitter struggle against his aunt and against the capable members of her
party, and 2) that, as a result of this, he came to independent power with a loathing for
Hatchepsut, her partisans, her monuments, her name and her very memory which practically
beggars description.13

The shattering of Hatchepsut's monuments would presumably have

brought about a cathartic release, and would have made Tuthmosis feel
much, much better. Even to those who championed Hatchepsut and her
actions, Tuthmosis' vandalism could not be condemned:

He had grown up a short, stocky young man full of a fiery Napoleonic energy, suppressed up to
now but soon to cause the whole known world to smart. Long since he should have been sole
ruler of Egypt but for Hatchepsut and we hardly have to stretch our imaginations unduly to
picture the bitterness of such a man against those who had deprived him of his rights…14

Nor is this action entirely foreign to modern ways of thinking. Indeed

Winlock (writing in the 1920s) has compared the seemingly pointless
destruction of Hatchepsut's monuments to the intensely patriotic period
during the First World War when:
… the names of everything from Hamburger steaks to royal families were altered in a fervent
desire to suppress memories of the enemy… Perhaps we are getting a little tamer than Tuthmosis
III – but we can hardly pretend yet that his actions are entirely incomprehensible to us, when we
find him destroying the statues of his mother-in-law.15

A more modern parallel may be drawn with the destruction of the

statues of Lenin and other national leaders witnessed on the world's
television following the collapse of the Communist regimes in the old
Eastern-bloc countries.
But, however plausible, this theory of the brooding, vengeful

Fig. 8.2 Tuthmosis III being suckled by the tree-goddess Isis

Tuthmosis III is not entirely consistent with the image of the noble
scholar, historian and soldier suggested by the king's other monuments.
Naville, writing at the turn of the century, had already suggested that
Tuthmosis may not have started his reign with an immediate persecution
of Hatchepsut's memory:

… all the recently discovered documents tend to prove that if Tuthmosis III was the author of a
few of these erasures, he did not begin by making them, and they do not belong to the early
years of his reign. The relations between aunt and nephew were better than might be believed,
and that excludes the idea that Tuthmosis III was guilty of the death of Hatchepsut… the era of
what has been called the persecution, made not against the person of his aunt, but against her
memory, must be placed at the end of her reign.16

Naville based this suggestion on his own interpretation of a scene

discovered on the remains of the dismantled Chapelle Rouge. Here a
king, identified by Naville as Tuthmosis III, is shown offering incense
before two (originally three) pavilions, each of which holds a sacred
barque and shrine. Hatchepsut herself appears in the form of two
(originally six) Osiride statues standing one on each side of the three
shrines; an unmistakable indication to Naville that she is now dead. The
living Tuthmosis III then steers his own barque, possibly containing the
sacred emblems of Hatchepsut, towards Deir el-Bahri. Naville believed
that these tableaux were intended to represent Tuthmosis III officiating
at Hatchepsut's apotheosis as she became united with the god Amen. He
used this interpretation to argue that, if Tuthmosis was prepared to
complete the unfinished Chapelle Rouge with a scene showing the new
king effectively worshipping the old – for by its nature this scene could
only have been carved after Hatchepsut's death – it is unlikely that he
was simultaneously erasing her name from other monuments.
Unfortunately, Naville's ingenious interpretation is now known to be
incorrect. The Chapelle Rouge scene does indeed show a king offering
incense before the barque of Amen, but that king is intended to be
Hatchepsut. Although entirely male in appearance she is clearly named
as ‘The Good God, Lady of the Two Lands, Daughter of Re, Hatchepsut’
and the text makes it clear that the offering is being made to Amen and
not Hatchepsut. The whole scene is, in fact, a representation of
Hatchepsut offering incense before the Chapelle Rouge itself, and we
must assume that before this building was dismantled there were indeed
two colossal mummiform statues standing one on either side of the
shrine. These would certainly not be the only Osiride statues of
Hatchepsut to be carved during her lifetime and indeed, as we have
already seen, Djeser-Djeseru was originally decorated with over forty
similar statues.
However, it appears that Naville may have been close to the truth
when he suggested that the Chapelle Rouge might hold the key to the
date of Hatchepsut's proscription. More recent analysis of the 18th
Dynasty architecture of the Karnak temple, the so-called ‘Hatchepsut
suite’ in particular, has shown that while the effacement of Hatchepsut's
name did indeed occur during the reign of Tuthmosis III, it could not
have occurred until relatively late in that reign, possibly not before Year
42.17 Naville was correct in his assumption that the Chapelle Rouge, far
from being immediately defaced, was completed by Tuthmosis III, who
added the topmost register of decorations in his own name and who then
claimed the shrine as his own; an unlikely action for one who
supposedly hated Hatchepsut's memory.
At about this time Tuthmosis was planning the construction of his own
temple of Amen, Djeser-Akhet, which was to be built at Deir el-Bahri
directly to the south of Djeser-Djeseru; at first sight, a rather perverse
choice of site for one who could hardly bear the sight of Hatchepsut's
name, although it is possible that the temple was built with the specific
intention of reducing the importance of Djeser-Djeseru.18 If so, the plan
was successful, because once Djeser-Akhet was complete it took over as
the focus for the celebration of the annual Feast of the Valley. Djeser-
Akhet is now in a much damaged state, but it would appear that it was
originally similar in design to Djeser-Djeseru. It too was built on a raised
terrace and was approached by a broad causeway and ramp, although its
geography dictated that it could have no rock-cut sanctuary. As it was
built on higher ground, Djeser-Akhet must have dominated Djeser-Djeseru
as its architects intended.
Some years later, Tuthmosis' own building projects at Karnak,
including the construction of the Hall of Annals which from its texts can
have occurred no earlier than Year 42, inadvertently concealed a few
inscriptions and illustrations relating to Hatchepsut which should, had
the proscription been in force by that time, already have been erased.
Those parts of the scenes which were not protected by Tuthmosis'
buildings were subsequently attacked, while the Chapelle Rouge was
completely dismantled, its blocks put in storage for subsequent re-use
and its granite doorways re-used in the Hall of Annals. The blocks of the
Chapelle Rouge do show some rather random and incomplete erasures;
either this destructive work was halted before it was fully underway or,
more realistically, the attacks against the still-visible images of
Hatchepsut occurred after the Chapelle had been dismantled and its
blocks had been stacked19 – it seems that the rather slapdash workmen
did not take the trouble to examine every surface of every block, but
simply erased all visible references to Hatchepsut. It is therefore a moot
point whether the destruction of the Chapelle Rouge should actually be
seen as a part of the persecution of Hatchepsut's memory; common sense
would suggest that the building was simply demolished to make room
for the even more magnificent granite shrine which Tuthmosis III
intended to build in its place. As we have already seen, this rather
drastic type of ‘restoration’ occurred with relative frequency at Karnak;
the barque shrine of Tuthmosis III was itself later to be replaced by the
barque shrine of Philip Arrhidaeus, the half-brother of Alexander the
Great, who ruled Egypt as king but who never visited his adopted
country.
Similarly, it is extremely doubtful whether the walling up of
Hatchepsut's obelisks can be considered a serious attempt at concealing
them from view. It is, after all, a very difficult task to hide successfully a
29.5 m (97 ft) tall pair of obelisks without lowering them to the ground.
The bases of the obelisks, now shrouded in their masonry boxes, were
destined to be incorporated in the new vestibule that Tuthmosis was
already constructing in front of pylon V, and it seems that they, like the
Chapelle Rouge, were simply being adapted to fit in with Tuthmosis'
building plans. However, if some of the Hatchepsut ‘desecrations’ are
now open to question, there can be no doubt about the thoroughness of
others. Throughout his seasons of work at Deir el-Bahri, H. E. Winlock
was fortunate enough to find the remains of scores of statue fragments,
all of which had been torn from their sites in and around the temple and
dumped in the convenient pits and hollows left by the contemporary
building works at the site. Winlock was later to calculate that the temple
and its processional way must originally have been home to some two
hundred brightly coloured statues and sphinxes, each one a likeness of
Hatchepsut herself. The ‘Hatchepsut Hole’ discovered by accident during
the 1922–3 season beneath the dump of a late nineteenth-century
excavation yielded dozens of limestone and granite statues and occupied
the workforce of 450 workmen for half the season. Later, during the
1926–7 and 1927–8 seasons, more statue fragments turned up in the
nearby ‘Senenmut Quarry’ where, as their excavator reported:

… we found a jumble of pieces of sculpture from the size of a finger-tip to others weighing a ton
or more. There were large sections of the limestone colossi from the upper porch; brilliantly
coloured pieces from the ranks of sandstone sphinxes which had lined the avenue… and
fragments of at least four or five kneeling statues of the queen in red and black granite, over six
feet high.20

Had these statues been merely thrown out of the temple, it would seem
possible that they had been removed during a form of ancient spring
clean so that Tuthmosis III, replacing them with statues of himself, could
claim Djeser-Djeseru as his own. The erasure of the carved wall-images of
Hatchepsut might then also be interpreted as a preliminary stage in
Tuthmosis' plan to usurp Hatchepsut's role as founder and patron of the
temple. However, as Winlock noted, the statues showed all the signs of a
vicious personal attack:

They could only have been dragged out to their burial place slowly and laboriously and the
workmen had plenty of opportunity to vent their spite on the brilliantly chiselled, smiling
features. On the face of an exquisitely carved red granite statue a fire had been kindled to
disintegrate the stone, and the features of the statue brought to the museum have been battered
entirely away and the uraeus on the forehead, the symbol of royalty, completely obliterated.
Tuthmosis III could have had no complaint to make on the execution of his orders, for every
conceivable indignity had been heaped on the likenesses of the fallen queen.21

Other statues had undergone at least two distinct stages of vandalism.

First the uraeus, symbol of kingship, had been knocked off the royal
headdress, and then the face had been disfigured, the nose being broken
and the eyes being carefully picked out with a chisel, before the statue
was finally dragged from its base and smashed. Some of the larger
fragments had later been converted by enterprising locals into querns
and pestles.

The attempted obliteration of Hatchepsut's memory has invariably been

linked with the attacks against Senenmut's name and monuments. Under
the old theory, that of instant revenge against Hatchepsut and her
acolytes, this was inevitable. The actual damage caused to the
monuments of Senenmut is not, however, entirely consistent with this
argument. Indeed, Senenmut's name and image seem to have suffered
from several different types of damage without appearing to fit into any
pre-organized plan. Occasionally it was only his name that was attacked
while his image remained intact. At the other extreme some of his
statues were smashed and physically thrown out of the temples. He
seems, in fact, to have been unfortunate enough to attract the attentions
of several diverse groups of campaigners: those who objected to him
personally, perhaps because of his relationship with Hatchepsut, and
who therefore disfigured both his entire name and his image; those who
were devoted to the worship of the Aten and who took exception to
certain elements of his name (which contains the name of the goddess
Mut, wife of Amen); those early Christian and Islamic iconoclasts who
routinely objected to all pagan images. Others of his monuments have
merely suffered the unavoidable ravages of time and have, for example,
been reused during later periods. There was, as far as we can tell, no
intense, systematic campaign against the monuments of Senenmut as
there was against the monuments of Hatchepsut. Therefore, although a
study of the defacement of the monuments of Senenmut may tell us a
great deal about the attitude of later generations to their heritage, it tells
us less than we might hope about the persecution of Hatchepsut's
memory.
One striking aspect of the campaign against Hatchepsut's memory, and
one which will probably have already become apparent, is the fact that
it was both relatively short-lived and somewhat erratic in execution.
Throughout the 18th Dynasty, the removal of an old name or image and
the renewal of a wall in preparation for the carving of the new scene
followed three well-established stages. First, the old scene was hacked
out with a broad chisel. Next, a fine implement was used to smooth the
rough surface and remove the raised ridges and, finally, the wall was
polished and re-carved.22 In many cases, however, we find that
Hatchepsut's cartouche and figure were merely removed and not
replaced, while her name was sporadically preserved at Armant, on the
blocks of the Chapelle Rouge, at the Speos Artemidos where there is no
sign of Tuthmoside erasures although there is some damage caused by
the ‘restorations’ of Seti I, and in Tomb KV20 where the workmen who
removed the body of Tuthmosis I seem to have made no attempt to
deface Hatchepsut's own inscribed sarcophagus, although it is, of course,
possible that the body of Tuthmosis I was removed before the
proscription took effect. At Djeser-Djeseru it was even possible to read
some of the ‘erased’ inscriptions which had supposedly been hacked off
the temple walls.
All this evidence leaves the very strong impression that the vindictive
campaign, whatever its original purpose, was never carried out to its
logical conclusion. Either the desired results had been achieved before
the obliteration had been completed, or the impetus behind the
campaign had been removed. It is perhaps not too fanciful a leap of the
imagination to suggest that Tuthmosis III, having started the persecution
relatively late in his reign, may have died before it was concluded. His
son and successor Amenhotep II, with no personal involvement in the
campaign, may have been content to allow the vendetta to lapse. It may
therefore be that Hatchepsut's subsequent omission from the 19th
Dynasty king lists of Seti I and Ramesses II does not necessarily have a
sinister motive; perhaps those who compiled the lists genuinely believed
her to have been a queen-consort or queen-regent rather than a full king.
Ironically, it is ultimately that fact that Hatchepsut had been content to
share her reign with Tuthmosis III which allowed future generations to
forget her name. Had she ruled alone – having discreetly removed her
young co-regent – her name must have been preserved or else there
would have been an unaccountable gap in the king lists. As she always,
in theory, ruled alongside Tuthmosis III it was a simple matter to drop
her name from the historical record.
This casts a whole new light on the reasons underlying the
proscription of Hatchepsut; while it is possible to imagine and even
empathize with Tuthmosis indulging in a sudden whim of hatred against
his

Fig. 8.3 Tuthmosis III and his mother Isis, boating through the Underworld
stepmother immediately after her death, it is far harder to imagine him
overcome by such a whim some twenty years later. Indeed, if we can no
longer be certain that Tuthmosis hated his stepmother as she lay on her
deathbed, can we be certain that he ever hated her during her lifetime?
There is certainly no other evidence to support the assumption that he
did. Similarly, we must question whether Tuthmosis' primary motive in
erasing the name of Hatchepsut was the persecution of her memory
leading to the death of her soul, or whether this was merely an
unfortunate side-effect of his wish to rewrite history by making himself
sole ruler. In order to be fully effective, a damnatio memoriae required
the complete obliteration of all cartouches and all images intended to
represent the deceased. The spirit of the dead person could linger on if
even one name was left intact, and Tuthmosis would have been well
aware of this. Yet, as we have seen, the attacks against Hatchepsut's
name and images were lackadaisical, to say the least. Of course, this
begs the obvious question – if hatred was not the prime motivation
behind the attacks on Hatchepsut's monuments, what was? What had
Hatchepsut done to deserve this intensive persecution?
Tuthmosis III was clearly an intelligent and rational monarch. All that
we know of his character suggests that he was not given to rash,
impetuous acts and it seems logical to assume that throughout his life
Tuthmosis was motivated less by uncontrollable urges than by calculated
political expediency. We must therefore divorce his private emotions
from his political actions, just as we must separate the person of
Hatchepsut the woman from her role as Egypt's female pharaoh.
Whatever his personal feelings towards his stepmother, Tuthmosis may
well have found it advisable to remove all traces of the unconventional
female king whose reign might possibly be interpreted by future
generations as a grave offence against maat, and whose unorthodox co-
regency might well cast serious doubt upon the legitimacy of his own
right to rule. Hatchepsut's crime need be nothing more than the fact that
she was a woman. Wounded male pride may also have played a part in
his decision to act; the mighty warrior king may have balked at being
recorded for posterity as the man who ruled for twenty years under the
thumb of a mere woman.
Furthermore, Tuthmosis had always to consider the possibility that the
first successful female king might establish a dangerous precedent. Until
now this had not been a danger. Admittedly there had already been one
dynastic queen-regnant, but her reign was generally acknowledged to be
a brave failure; a failure which had served to underline the traditional
view that a woman was basically incapable of holding the throne in her
own right. Queen Sobeknofru had ruled at the very end of a fading
Dynasty, and from the very start of her reign the odds had been stacked
against her. She was therefore acceptable to the conservative Egyptians
as a patriotic ‘Warrior Queen’ who had failed, and few would have seen
reason to repeat the experiment of a female monarch.
Hatchepsut, however, was a very different case. By establishing a
lengthy and successful reign in the middle of a flourishing dynasty she
had managed to demonstrate that a woman could indeed become a
successful king, and therefore she posed more than a temporary threat to
both established custom and to the conservative interpretation of maat.
It should not be assumed that Hatchepsut was the only strong-willed
lady at the Tuthmoside court – indeed, Tuthmosis' refusal to reinstate
the position of ‘God's Wife of Amen’ suggests that he may have been
wary of granting his womenfolk additional power – and with the end of
his life rapidly approaching Tuthmosis may have felt it necessary to
reinforce the tradition of male succession before he died. By removing
the most obvious signs of Hatchepsut's reign he could effectively delete
the memory of the co-regency, and Tuthmosis himself would emerge as
sole successor to Tuthmosis II. Without an obvious role-model, future
generations of potentially strong female kings might remain content with
their traditional lot as wife, sister and eventual mother of a king. It
therefore becomes highly significant that it is only the images of
Hatchepsut as king which have been defaced. Hatchepsut as queen
consort – the correct place for a female royal – is still present for all the
world to see. Whether Tuthmosis deliberately left a few hidden and
undamaged images of his stepmother and mentor, granting her the
priceless gift of eternal life, we will never know.23

But, in spite of all Tuthmosis' efforts, Hatchepsut was not destined to be

Egypt's final female king, nor indeed her only conspicuous queen.
Although his own queen, Meritre-Hatchepsut, was nowhere near as
prominent as her illustrious predecessors, the subsequent queens of the
18th Dynasty continued to play an important and highly visible role in
public life. Queen Tiy, the commoner wife of Amenhotep III, was
politically active during the reign of both her husband and her son,
Akhenaten, while Queen Nefertiti, Akhenaten's consort, appeared for a
time to be almost as powerful as the king himself. Their daughter
Ankhesenamen, widow of Tutankhamen, was independent enough to
attempt to arrange her own marriage with the son of a foreign ruler.
With the end of the 18th Dynasty the importance of the queens
diminished slightly although Nefertari, chief wife of Ramesses II, appears
in a prominent role on many monuments. Two hundred and fifty years
after the death of Hatchepsut, at a time of widespread civil unrest when
Egypt was moving perilously close to a total breakdown of law and
order, the final Egyptian queen-regnant, Twosret, came to power.
Unfortunately, such disturbed and maat-less periods tend to be very
badly documented, and we have little archaeological or historical
evidence with which to flesh out the bare bones of Twosret's reign.
 Fig. 8.4 The High Priestess of Amen-Re, Hatchepsut
Twosret had been the principal wife of the 19th Dynasty King Seti II
and, while not a member of the immediate royal family, is likely to have
been of royal blood. She bore her husband no living son and, after a
brief reign of no more than six years, Seti died and was succeeded on the
throne by Ramesses Siptah (later known as Merenptah Siptah), his
natural son by a Syrian secondary wife named Sutailja. History was
starting to repeat itself as Twosret found herself required to act as regent
to a young king who was not her own flesh and blood and whose
physical weakness, the legacy of the childhood polio which had withered
one of his legs, made him an ineffectual ruler. Once again the inevitable
happened. Gradually the already powerful dowager queen started to take
control, easing herself into the position of consort and co-ruler. Whether
or not she actually married her ward in order to consolidate her position
is unclear; on the wall of her tomb she is depicted standing behind
Siptah in a typical wifely pose, but the young king's name has been
erased and that of her actual husband Seti II has been substituted.
Following Siptah's early death a wave of discontent spread over the
country and Twosret saw her opportunity. With no obvious successor to
challenge her authority she clung on to her role as co-regent, reinforcing
her position by adopting the full titulary of a male king of Egypt. She
undertook the now traditional expeditions to Sinai and Palestine and
commenced building works at Heliopolis and Thebes, but her solo rule
was destined to be brief, possibly less than two years. She disappeared
into obscurity, to be replaced by the rather nondescript pharaoh
Sethnakht, founder of the 20th Dynasty, who later claimed to have
‘driven out the usurper’. Manetho preserved the name of a King Thuoris
as the final king of the 19th Dynasty.

At first sight there are many obvious points of similarity between the
stories of these two female kings. Both were married to relatively short-
lived and somewhat ineffectual kings, both failed to produce a male heir
to the throne, both were required to act as regent to an unrelated minor
and, while neither had a living husband, both came under the influence
of a dominant court official (Hatchepsut was supported by Senenmut;
Twosret had a less certain relationship with a mysterious individual
known as the Great Chancellor Bay). Both must also have been strong-
minded and forceful women capable of fighting against well-established
traditions and holding their own against the male-dominated
establishment. However, there are also some important dissimilarities
between the two reigns. Twosret, like Sobeknofru before her, came to
power as the last resort of a decaying dynasty lacking any more suitable
(that is, male) monarch. In spite of Sethnakht's claim she was never, as
far as we know, widely perceived as a usurper, and could even be
congratulated on her valiant attempt to prolong a dying line.
Furthermore, Twosret's reign was not a spectacular success. It was brief,
undistinguished, and left Egypt in a worse political state than it had
been before she came to power. It therefore posed no threat to
subsequent male rulers. This seems to have made her in many ways far
more acceptable as a monarch and, although Sethnakht usurped her
tomb and attempted to remove her name and image from its walls, it
seems that Twosret was never subjected to the persecution inflicted on
Hatchepsut's memory.24
Queen, or King, Twosret was the last native-born Egyptian queen
regnant. However, over one thousand years later Egypt was again to be
ruled by a handful of dominant and short-lived women, this time the
Greek queens of the Ptolemaic royal family. The last of these, Cleopatra
VII, has entered the public imagination not only as the archetypal
Egyptian queen but as one of the most widely recognized women of all
times. Her story, an intriguing cocktail of incest, passion, and tragedy
played out against a louche oriental setting, was fascinating to her more
strait-laced Roman contemporaries, while the fact that her actions had a
direct effect on the development of the Roman Empire ensured that her
history would be recorded for posterity. Plutarch, writing a good many
years after her death, was clearly intrigued by reports of the queen's
physical charms:

The contact of her presence, if you lived with her, was irresistible; the attraction of her person,
joining with the charm of her conversation, and the character that attended all she said or did,
was something bewitching. It was a pleasure merely to hear the sound of her voice, with which,
like an instrument of many strings, she could pass from one language to another.25

The story of Hatchepsut, a far more successful ruler but one who was
less well documented, who was less interestingly ‘wanton’ in her
behaviour, and who played little or no part in the development of
western society, has never had the power to compete with the myths and
legends which have grown up around Cleopatra, beautiful ‘Serpent of
the Nile’.
Cleopatra was, in spite of the legend, a rather plain woman, a direct
descendant of Ptolemy I, the Macedonian general who had been made
King of Egypt following the death of Alexander the Great. She ruled over
one of the most fertile countries in the Mediterranean world, but it was a
dissatisfied Egypt once again torn by civil unrest, chafing under Greek
rule and directly influenced by the political infighting endemic in Roman
politics. The royal family, heavily in debt, was in a constant state of
violent feud, and Cleopatra only became queen following the untimely
deaths of her father Ptolemy XII, her sister Cleopatra VI and a second
sister Berenike. Her third sister Arsinoe rebelled against her rule and was
eventually killed, her brother and co-regent Ptolemy XIII drowned, and
her second brother–husband died in mysterious circumstances soon after
their marriage. Cleopatra, the family survivor, proclaimed her infant son
Caesarion (allegedly the child of Julius Caesar) co-regent, effectively
making herself sole ruler of Egypt. Her reign brought a brief period of
internal peace and economic stability. However, her decision to support
Mark Anthony, the father of three of her children, in his power struggle
with Octavian spelt disaster for Egypt. When Octavian's troops reached
Alexandria in 30 BC Cleopatra and Anthony committed suicide, and
Egypt was absorbed into the Roman Empire.

Long before Cleopatra's ill-fated reign, Hatchepsut had been all but
forgotten by her people. Although Djeser-Djeseru continued to be
recognized as a potent religious centre the name of its founder was now
a distant memory, and Hatchepsut had been omitted from the king lists
of Abydos and Sakkara where the succession was recorded as passing
from Tuthmosis I to Tuthmosis II and then directly to Tuthmosis III.
Similarly, she was excluded from the celebration of the festival of Min
depicted on the wall of the Ramesseum, where again the procession of
royal ancestors shows Tuthmosis I, II and III in sequence. This was not
solely a royal vendetta; Hatchepsut was also missing from the non-royal
tombs dating to the time of Tuthmosis III which might reasonably have
been expected to include her name, and she is not even to be found
amongst the 19th and 20th Dynasty private monuments of Deir el-
Medina which recorded a host of far more ephemeral Tuthmoside
princes and princesses. However, her memory must have lingered
somewhere – possibly included on king lists which have not survived –
as Manetho, writing his history of the kings of Egypt in approximately
300 BC, was able to include a female ruler named Amense or Amensis,
sister of Hebron and mother of Mishragmouthosis (Tuthmosis III) as the
fifth ruler of the 18th Dynasty. He accorded this female ruler a reign of
either 21 years 9 months (Josephus version) or 22 years (Africanus).
As the centuries passed and all knowledge of hieroglyphic writing
faded, Hatchepsut sank even deeper into obscurity. Her name was to be
lost for almost two thousand years, during which time her monuments
with their unreadable cartouches stood in mute testimony to their
founder. Eventually, however, Djeser-Djeseru, now ruined and to a large
extent buried under dunes of wind-blown sand and piles of rocks fallen
from the cliff above, started to attract the attention of the western
tourists who were becoming increasingly fascinated by Egypt's ancient
past.26 By the middle of the eighteenth century, Deir el-Bahri had been
proved to be a prolific source of mummies, papyri and other exotic
oriental desirables, and trade in the stolen antiquities was both brisk and
lucrative. A steady trickle of distinguished visitors now started to arrive
at the site, and Djeser-Djeseru was recorded by the British cleric Richard
Pococke (1737), by the Napoleonic Expedition (1798–1802) and by
William Beechey and the ex-circus strongman turned antiquarian
Giovanni Battista Belzoni (1817). With the decipherment of
hieroglyphics in 1822 came the first breakthrough in attempts to
reconstruct the history of the temple. In 1828, the distinguished
philologist and principal decoder of hieroglyphics, Jean François
Champollion, paid a visit to Deir el-Bahri. Champollion was able to
recognize the cartouche of Tuthmosis III, whom he called Moeris, and he
realized that this king's cartouche usurped that of an earlier king whose
partially erased name he misread as Amenenthe or Amonemhe.
 Champollion firmly believed that his Amenenthe was a man. This
caused him endless puzzlement as he noted that the name of the
supposedly male king was consistently accompanied by feminine titles
and forms. His words on this subject – fascinating to those of us blessed
with hindsight – are worth quoting at length as they provide a good
illustration of how a subconscious assumption or prejudice on the part of
the excavator or translator may have a drastic effect on the
interpretation of archaeological evidence:

If I felt somewhat surprised at seeing here, as elsewhere throughout the temple, the renowned
Moeris, adorned with all the insignia of royalty, giving place to this Amenenthe, for whose name
we may search the royal lists in vain, still more astonished was I to find on reading the
inscriptions that wherever they referred to this bearded king in the usual dress of the Pharaohs,
nouns and verbs were in the feminine, as though a queen were in question. I found the same
peculiarity everywhere. Not only was there the prenomen of Amenenthe preceded by the title of
sovereign ruler of the world, with the feminine affix, but also his own name immediately following
on the title of ‘Daughter of the Sun’. Finally, in all the bas-reliefs representing the gods speaking
to this king, he is addressed as a queen, as in the following formula: ‘Behold, thus saith Amen-Re,
Lord of the Thrones of the World, to his daughter whom he loves, sun devoted to the truth: the
building which thou hast made is like to the divine dwelling.’27

In order to explain this extraordinary situation, Champollion proposed

the existence of an 18th Dynasty heiress-queen Amense, a sister of
Tuthmosis II, who had first married a man named Tuthmosis and then,
after his death, married the mysterious Amenenthe. Both these men
ruled Egypt in Queen Amense's name. Following the death of Amense,
Amenenthe retained his crown, becoming co-regent with the young
Tuthmosis III, who turned out to be a somewhat ungrateful ward who
was to spend much of his subsequent solo reign attempting to efface the
name of his co-ruler from the walls of the Deir el-Bahri temple.
Niccolo Rosellini, Professor of Oriental Languages at the University of
Pisa and a close personal friend of Champollion, published a description
of Djeser-Djeseru in 1844. Rosellini put forward a variant on
Champollion's theme; his succession passed from Tuthmosis I to
Tuthmosis II, then to his wife Queen Amoutmai, her sister Queen
Amense, and finally to Tuthmosis III. At the same time John Gardiner
Wilkinson, another distinguished linguist and the first to classify and
number the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, took up residence on the
West Bank of Thebes where he had plenty of time to read the
hieroglyphs for himself. Wilkinson tentatively suggested that the
mysterious king should be re-named Amenneitgori or Amun-Noo-Het
and should be re-classified not as a man but as a woman ‘not in the list;
a queen?’28 It was left to Karl Richard Lepsius, leader of the Prussian
expedition of 1842–5, to make some sense of the muddle by confirming
that the clue to the king's identity was not to be found in her
appearance, which as all agreed was entirely masculine, but in her
inscriptions:

In the outermost angle of this rock-cove [Deir el-Bahri, called el-Asasif by Lepsius] is situated the
most ancient temple-building of Western Thebes, which belongs to the period of the New
Egyptian Monarchy, at the commencement of its glory… It was queen Numt-Amen, the elder
sister of Tuthmosis III, who accomplished this bold plan… She never appears on her monuments
as a woman, but in male attire; we only find out her sex by the inscriptions. No doubt at that
period it was illegal for a woman to govern; for that reason, also, her brother, probably still a
minor, appears at a later period as ruler along with her. After her death her Shields [cartouches]
were everywhere converted into Tuthmosis Shields, the feminine forms of speech in the
inscription were changed, and her names were never adopted in the later lists along with the
legitimate kings.29

Lepsius was the first to publish the name of ‘Hat… u Numt-Amen’

although he assigned her to the 17th Dynasty.
However, the situation was still far from clear, and Samuel Sharpe,
writing in 1859 and relying on secondary sources including Manetho,
Herodotus and Eratosthenes for his information, was fairly typical of
many of his fellow authors in his confusion. He knew of the existence of
the female Egyptian king, and he even knew many of the salient facts of
her reign, but he had her dates and even her name hopelessly jumbled:
… Tuthmosis II followed the first of that name on the throne of Thebes; but he is very much
thrown into the shade by Amun-Nitocris, his strong-minded and ambitious wife. She was the last
of the race of Memphite sovereigns, the twelfth or eleventh in succession from the builders of the
great pyramids; and by her marriage with Tuthmosis, Upper and Lower Egypt were brought
under one sceptre. She was handsome among women, and brave among men, and she governed
the kingdom for her brother with great splendour… Tuthmosis III, on coming to the throne was a
minor: queen Nitocris, who had before governed for her husband, now governed for his
successor, and even when the young Tuthmosis came of age, he was hardly king of the whole
country till after the death of Nitocris… in her sculptures she is always dressed in men's clothes
to indicate that she was a queen in her own right, and not a queen consort…30

Sharpe correctly credits Hatchepsut with building works at Karnak, the

erection of a pair of obelisks and the construction of the Deir el-Bahri
temple, but he also believed that she had built the third pyramid at Giza,
misreading her name Maatkare and confusing her with both King
Menkaure of the 4th Dynasty and Queen Menkare-Nitocris, the 6th
Dynasty female ruler of Egypt whose story has become entangled with a
host of myths and legends and whose beautiful naked ghost – this time
confused with the fictional courtesan and queen, Rhodolphis – is said to
haunt the pyramids.

A mere twenty-five years later, with a greater understanding of the

hieroglyphic language, much of the confusion had been cleared away.
Hatchepsut's name, titles and principal monuments were now known,
and she even had her own entry in a dictionary of Egyptian archaeology
published in 1875:

Hatsou… queen of the 18th Dynasty. Her prenomen is Ra-ma-ka [Maatkare read backwards]. Her
father, Thouthmes I, proclaimed her queen in preference to her two brothers, who reigned later
under the names of Thouthmes II and Thouthmes III. However she shared power with Thouthmes
II, who died a short time after. Again Hatchepsut reigned alone… Next she associated herself
with her second brother Thouthmes III, and it was not until the fifteenth year of his reign that
she eventually decided to give up the throne. She is represented on the monuments as a king,
with a bearded face.31
From this time on it was the work of the archaeologists patiently
excavating in and around Luxor and on the West Bank at Thebes which
was to add factual flesh to the bare bones of Hatchepsut's history.
Mariette, Naville, Carter, Winlock, Lancing, Hayes and the Polish
Mission, to name but a few, have all made substantial contributions to
our increasing understanding of her unusual reign, an understanding
which is, through necessity, based almost entirely on Hatchepsut's own
surviving monuments and monumental inscriptions – her own
propaganda in stone. Hatchepsut had always intended that her
monuments should be read as eternal testimonies to her own grandeur.
It is perhaps only fitting that they should now, some three thousand
years after their conception, start to slowly reveal the story of her rule as
the king herself wished it to be told. Hatchepsut's mummified body may
be lost to us but her name, temporarily forgotten but now forever linked
with the beautiful Djeser-Djeseru, is once again spoken in Egypt.

Historical Events

Years Before
Christ LOCAL CHRONOLOGY EGYPT

3000 Archaic Period (Dynasties 1–2) Unification of Egypt

Old Kingdom (Dynasties 3–6) Djoser step-pyramid at

Sakkara
2500
Great Pyramid of
Khufu at Giza

First Intermediate Period

2000 (Dynasties 7–11)
Middle Kingdom (Dynasties 11– Theban kings re-unify
13) Egypt
 Queen Sobeknofru

Second Intermediate Period Hyksos kings in

1500 (Dynasties 14–17) Northern Egypt

New Kingdom (Dynasties 18–20) Hatchepsut

Tutankhamen
Ramesses II
Queen Twosret
1000 Third Intermediate Period Kings at Tanis
(Dynasties 21–25)
Nubian kings

500 Late Period (Dynasties 26–31)

Ptolemaic Period Egypt part of Roman
Empire
1. The Temple of Amen at Karnak.
2. The Valley of the Kings.
3. Hatchepsut as king offering before the barque of Amen.
4. The God Amen.
5. Seated statue of Hatchepsut from Djeser-Djeseru showing the king with
a female body and male accessories.
6. The near-identical figures for King Hatchepsut and King Tuthmosis III,
Hatchepsut in front.
7. Scene showing the gods crowning King Hatchepsut, which had been
attacked in antiquity.
8. Head of Hatchepsut.
9. Granite statue of Hatchepsut.
10. Red granite sphinx of Hatchepsut.
11. The standing obelisk of Hatchepsut at the heart of the Temple of
Amen, Karnak.
12. a and b. (above and below) Djeser-Djeseru.
13. Senenmut and the Princess Neferure.
14. Senenmut and Neferure.
15. Osiride head of Hatchepsut.
16. The carefully erased image of Hatchepsut.
17. Tuthmosis III.
 Notes

Introduction

1 Extract from the Speos Artemidos inscription of King Hatchepsut,

translation given by Gardiner, A. (1946), The Great Speos Artemidos
Inscription, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 32: 43–56.
2 Budge, E. A. W. (1902), Egypt and Her Asiatic Empire, London: 1.
3 Naville, E. (1894), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari: its plan, its founders
and its first explorers: Introductory Memoir, 12th Memoir of the Egypt
Exploration Fund, London: 15.
4 Budge, E. A. W. (1902), Egypt and Her Asiatic Empire, London: 4.
5 Naville, E. (1906), Queen Hatshopsitu, her life and Monuments, in T.
M. Davis (ed.), The Tomb of Hatshopsitu, London: 1.
6 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 184.
7 Hayes, W. C. (1973), Egypt: Internal Affairs from Tuthmosis I to the
Death of Amenophis III, in I. E. S. Edwards et al., (eds), Cambridge
Ancient History, 3rd edition, Cambridge, 2.1: 317.
8 Drioton, E. and Vandier, J. (1938), L'Egypte: Les Peuples de l'orient
méditer-ranéen II, Paris: 398.
9 O'Connor, D. (1983), in Trigger, B. G. et al., (eds), Ancient Egypt: a
social history, Cambridge: 196. The abstract concept of maat was
personified in the form of an anthropoid goddess, the daughter of the
sun god, Re. This lady was always depicted as a slender young
woman wearing a single tall ostrich feather tied on her head by a
hair-band.
10 Consult Lichtheim, M. (1973), Ancient Egyptian Literature I: the Old
and Middle Kingdoms, Los Angeles: 149–63, for a full translation and
discussion of this text.
11 Naville, E. (1894), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari: its plan, its founders
and its first explorers: Introductory Memoir, 12th Memoir of the Egypt
Exploration Fund, London: 9.
 Chapter 1 Egypt in the Early Eighteenth Dynasty

1 Extract from the Speos Artemidos inscription of King Hatchepsut,

translation given by Gardiner, A. (1946), The Great Speos Artemidos
Inscription, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 32:47–8.
2 In a tradition which started during the Old Kingdom, many Egyptian
men of rank made permanent records of their achievements in the
form of stylized autobiographies which were preserved on the walls
of their tombs.
3 For these, and many other Middle Kingdom texts in translation, plus a
discussion of the development of Old and Middle Kingdom literature,
consult Lichtheim, M. (1973), Ancient Egyptian Literature I: the Old and
Middle Kingdoms, Los Angeles. See also Parkinson, R. B. (1991), Voices
from Ancient Egypt: an anthology of Middle Kingdom writings, London.
4 Quoted in Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 155.
Josephus claims to be quoting directly from Manetho himself. His
explanation of the name ‘Hyksos’ is now known to be incorrect;
Hyksos is actually the corrupted Greek version of an Egyptian phrase
meaning ‘The Chiefs of Foreign Lands’. We have no knowledge of the
precise origins of the Hyksos peoples.
5 The 13th Dynasty Brooklyn Papyrus 35.1446 gives some indication of
the numbers of these migrants when it records that 45 out of a total
of 79 recorded domestic servants were ‘Asiatic’ in origin.
6 As the dynasties represent lines of ruling families or related
individuals rather than successive chronological periods it was
possible for Egypt, at times of disunity, to be ruled by two or more
dynasties at the same time. Thus, the 14th Dynasty appears to have
been contemporary with the 13th Dynasty, and Dynasties 15, 16 and
17 were also contemporary, each dynasty ruling over its own,
exclusive, territory.
7 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 167–8.
8 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 155–6.
9 Extract from The Quarrel of Apophis and Seknenre, translated in
Simpson, W. K., ed. (1973), The Literature of Ancient Egypt: an
anthology of stories, instructions and poetry, New Haven: 77–80.
10 Smith, G. E. (1912), The Royal Mummies, Cairo.
11 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 167.
12 For a full discussion of this stela, see Habachi, L. (1972), The Second
Stela of Kamose and his Struggle against the Hyksos Ruler and his Capital,
Gluckstadt.
13 All extracts from the autobiography of Ahmose, son of Ibana, are
translated by S. R. Snape. For a published translation of this work,
consult Lichtheim, M. (1976), Ancient Egyptian Literature II: the New
Kingdom, Los Angeles: 12–15.
14 For a basic description of Egyptian army life, consult Shaw, I. (1991),
Egyptian Warfare and Weapons, Risborough. Shaw provides a more
specialized reading list.
15 Extract from the obelisk inscription of King Hatchepsut, Karnak.
16 Wosret was a relatively obscure Upper Egyptian goddess.
17 Homer, Iliad, Book IX. Homer refers to the Egyptian Thebes as
‘hundred-gated’ to distinguish it from the Greek ‘seven-gated’ city of
Thebes.
18 Keen, M. (1990), English Society in the Middle Ages 1348–1500,
London: 161. Keen cites as an example the household of Earl Gilbert of
Clare who moved on average every two to three weeks.
19 The English Queen Elizabeth I undertook similar tours of her country
as a deliberate cost-cutting exercise, staying with local dignitaries in
order to save the expense of maintaining a permanent court in
London. A visit from the queen and her entourage could prove to be a
ruinously expensive honour for a loyal subject.
20 Quoted in Kitchen, K. (1982), Pharaoh Triumphant: the life and times of
Ramesses II, Warminster: 122.
21 Herodotus, Histories, II: 14.
22 Breasted, J. H. (1905), A History of Egypt, New York: 334
23 For a full translation, consult Lichtheim, M. (1976), Ancient Egyptian
Literature II: the New Kingdom, Los Angeles: 168.
24 Stevenson Smith, W., The Art and Architecture of Ancient Egypt, revised
and edited by W. K. Simpson (1981), New Haven: 225.
25 Herodotus, Histories, II: 164.
 Chapter 2 A Strong Family

1 Extract from the stela of King Ahmose, translated by S. R. Snape.

2 Some slight doubt has been cast over the royal parentage of Queen
Ahmose Nefertari by an inscription recovered from Karnak which
appears to read, ‘He [the king] clothed me [Ahmose Nefertari] when I
was a nobody.’ However, the precise translation, and exact meaning
of the translation, is by no means certain, and it is entirely possible
that ‘nobody’ should be read as ‘orphan’. This matter is discussed in
further detail in Redford, D. B. (1967), History and Chronology of the
Eighteenth Dynasty of Egypt: seven studies, Toronto: 30–31.
3 There is no direct proof that Meryt-Neith ever ruled Egypt as an
independent king, but there is a strong body of circumstantial
evidence which certainly points that way. This evidence is reviewed
in detail in Tyldesley, J. A. (1994), Daughters of Isis: Women of Ancient
Egypt, London: Chapters 6 and 7.
4 A division of labour which became formalized in the artistic
convention which, despite the fact that Egypt was a racially well-
mixed African country, decreed that men should always be depicted
with a tanned brown skin, women with an indoor pallor.
5 Ever since the nineteenth-century Scottish lawyer McLennan
published his Primitive Societies, in which he outlined a theory that all
kinship and marriage patterns passed through the same four
evolutionary stages – omiscuity, matriarchy, patriarchy and cognatic
monogamy. The publication of J. G. Frazer's The Golden Bough (1914),
London, also had a deep influence on his contemporaries working in
the fields of archaeology and egyptology.
6 For a full explanation of all these terms, consult Fox, R. (1967),
Kinship and Marriage, London.
7 Extract from the Instructions of King Amenemhat I; for a full translation
of this text, see Lichtheim, M. (1973), Ancient Egyptian Literature I: the
Old and Middle Kingdoms, Los Angeles: 135–9.
8 Extract from the New Kingdom Inscription of Scribe Any. For a full
translation of this text, consult Lichtheim, M. (1976), Ancient Egyptian
Literature II: the New Kingdom, Los Angeles: 135–46.
 9 Tylor, J. J. and Griffith, F. L. (1894), The Tomb of Paheri at el-Kab,
11th Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Society, London: 25.
10 Redford, D. B. (1967), History and Chronology of the Eighteenth Dynasty
of Egypt: seven studies, Toronto: 65.
11 Consult Lerner, G. (1986), The Creation of Patriarchy, Oxford: 93. The
same parallel is cited in Robins, G. (1993), Women in Ancient Egypt,
London: 28.
12 From the marriage scarab of Amenhotep III.
13 Quoted in Robins, G. (1993), Women in Ancient Egypt, London: 30.
14 Lane, E. B. (1836), Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians,
London.
15 This image certainly affected those late nineteenth-century
egyptologists who went to Egypt determined to uncover a multitude of
concubines and Ottoman-style harems; find them they did, mistakenly
classifying many innocent servant girls, housekeepers and secondary
queens in their quest for the elusive, erotic, ancient Egyptian whore of
their dreams.
16 Blanch, L. (1959), The Wilder Shores of Love, London: 220.
17 See, for example, Shaarawi, H., translated by M. Badran (1986),
Harem Years: the memoirs of an Egyptian feminist (1879–1924), London.
For an account of a happy childhood spent in a traditional Islamic
harem in Morocco, read Mernissi, F. (1994), The Harem Within,
London.
18 This point is discussed in further detail in Dodson, A. (1990), Crown
Prince Djhutmose and the royal sons of the Eighteenth Dynasty,
Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 76: 87–96. An appendix lists the few
known royal princes of the 18th Dynasty.
19 James, T. G. H. (1973), Egypt: from the expulsion of the Hyksos to
Amenophis I, in I. E. S. Edwards et al. (eds), The Cambridge Ancient
History, 3rd edition, Cambridge, 2.1: 305.
20 James, T. G. H. (1973), Egypt: from the expulsion of the Hyksos to
Amenophis I, in I. E. S. Edwards et al. (eds), The Cambridge Ancient
History, 3rd edition, Cambridge, 2.1: 306.
21 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 130.
22 Extract from the autobiography of Ahmose, son of Ibana, translated
by S. R. Snape. For a published translation of this work, consult
Lichtheim, M. (1976), Ancient Egyptian Literature II: the New Kingdom,
Los Angeles: 12–15.
23 Several historians claim, without citing any concrete evidence, that
Tuthmosis I belonged to a collateral branch of the royal family; see for
example Grimal, N. (1992), translated by I. Shaw, A History of Ancient
Egypt, Oxford: 207.
24 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 130.
25 For a detailed study of this subject, consult Murnane, W.J. (1977),
Ancient Egyptian Coregencies, Chicago.
26 Translation taken from Watterson, B. (1991), Women in Ancient Egypt,
Stroud: 56 and 60. For a full translation of this story, consult
Lichtheim, M. (1980), Ancient Egyptian Literature III: the Late Period,
Los Angeles: 127–8.
27 Translation taken from Watterson, B. (1991), Women in Ancient Egypt,
Stroud: 56 and 60. For a full translation of this story, consult
Lichtheim, M. (1980), Ancient Egyptian Literature III: the Late Period,
Los Angeles: 127–8.
28 Wilkinson, J. G. (1837), The Ancient Egyptians: their life and customs 2,
London: 224.

Chapter 3 Queen of Egypt

1 Extracts from the biography of Ineni, translated in Breasted, J. H.

(1906), Ancient Records of Egypt, vol. 2, Chicago: 108, 116.
2 Extract from the autobiography of Ahmose, son of Ibana, translated
by S. R. Snape. For a published translation of this work, consult
Lichtheim, M. (1976), Ancient Egyptian Literature II: the New Kingdom,
Los Angeles: 12–15.
3 Breasted, J. H., Ancient Records of Egypt, vol. 2, Chicago: 106.
4 Figures suggested by Hopkins, K. B. (1983), Death and Renewal:
sociological studies in Roman History, 2, Cambridge.
5 See Baines, J. and Eyre, C. J. (1983), Four Notes on Literacy,
 Goettinger Miszellen 61: 65–96.
6 For a discussion of Prince Ramose, see Snape, S. R. (1985), Ramose
Restored: a royal prince and his mortuary cult, Journal of Egyptian
Archaeology 71: 180–83. There is virtually no evidence to support the
existence of a further three sons (named Binpu, Nekenkhal and
Ahmose) who are occasionally cited as royal princes but who, were
they truly the sons of Tuthmosis and Ahmose, must have died in early
childhood before they could make any impact on the historical
record.
7 Egyptology is by no means an exact science, and it remains a
possibility that we may be muddling up two Mutnofrets, one the
concubine of Tuthmosis I and mother of Tuthmosis II, and one a royal
princess, the daughter of Tuthmosis I and sister of Tuthmosis II and
Hatchepsut.
8 Cartouche is the name given to the rectangular enclosure, intended to
represent a tied loop of rope, always drawn around the two principal
names of the kings of Egypt.
9 Sethe, K. (1896), Die Thronwirren unter den Nachfolgern Königs
Tuthmosis I, ihr Verlauf und ihre Bedeutung, Leipzig.
10 This story is told more fully in Davies, W V. (1982), Thebes, in T. G.
H. James (ed.), Excavating in Egypt: the Egypt Exploration Society 1882–
1992, London: 6. It was evidently Mme Naville who posed the threat
to the continuation of the archaeological work; bereft of her kitchen,
she demanded that she and her husband return immediately to
Switzerland. It is tempting to speculate that it was Naville's
relationship with his forceful wife which stimulated his interest in
Hatchepsut, another forceful woman.
11 Edgerton, W. F. (1933), The Tuthmoside Succession, Chicago.
12 Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton.
13 Winlock, H. E. (1932), The Egyptian Expedition 1930–31, Bulletin of
the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 32.2: 5–10.
14 Carter himself initially believed that the two women might be the
nurses of Tuthmosis IV.
15 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 180.
16 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
 of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2:47.
17 Hayes, W. C. (1973), Egypt: Internal Affairs from Tuthmosis I to the
death of Amenophis III, in I.E. S. Edwards et al. (eds), Cambridge
Ancient History, 3rd edition, Cambridge, 2.1: 316.
18 Budge, E. A. W. (1902), Egypt and her Asiatic Empire, London: 4.
Budge is by no means the only author to assume that Hatchepsut ruled
on behalf of her weaker brother; see, for example, Hayes, W. C.
(1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton: 145. Hayes
cites several earlier references.
19 Carter, H. (1917), A Tomb Prepared for Queen Hatshepsuit and other
recent discoveries at Thebes, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 4: 114.
20 Carter, H. (1917), A Tomb Prepared for Queen Hatshepsuit and other
recent discoveries at Thebes, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 4:118.
21 Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
67.
22 Sethe, K., Helck W et al. (1906–58), Urkunden der 18. Dynastie,
Leipzig and Berlin: 34.
23 Discussed in Robins, G. (1993), Women in Ancient Egypt, London: 49.
24 Hayes, W. C. (1973), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
316.
25 Maspero, G. (1896), The Struggle of the Nations, London: 242–3.
26 Smith, G.E. (1912), The Royal Mummies, Cairo: 29.
27 Carter, H. and Newberry, P. E. (1904), The Tomb of Thoutmosis IV,
London.
28 For a review of the various caches, consult Reeves, C. N. (1990),
Valley of the Kings: the decline of a royal necropolis, London: Chapter 10.
29 Brugsch's words quoted in Wilson, E. (1887), Finding Pharaoh, The
Century Magazine. Brugsch was apparently concerned that his candle
might cause a conflagration in the dry and dusty chamber. John
Romer, who also quotes from Brugsch, devotes a chapter to the
circumstances surrounding the finding of the Deir el-Bahri cache in
Romer, J. (1981), Valley of the Kings, London.
30 Dawson, W. R. (1947), Letters from Maspero to Amelia Edwards,
Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 33:70.
31 See, however, Reeves, C. N. (1990), Valley of the Kings: the decline of a
royal necropolis, London, Chapter 10: 18–19. Reeves believes that
Tuthmosis II was not interred in the Valley of the Kings, but in a lesser
tomb at Deir el-Bahri.
32 See, for example, Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford:
181 ‘… from its neglect one might conjecture that no one cared very
much what was his fate’; Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the
XVIII Dynasty, Princeton: 144 ‘…one could hardly have expected her
to have had either the inclination or the opportunity to make
elaborate preparations for Tuthmosis II's burial.’
33 Sethe, K., Helck, W. et al. (1906–58), Urkunden der 18. Dynastie,
Leipzig and Berlin: 180, 8–12.
34 This is discussed further in Redford, D. B. (1967), History and
Chronology of the Eighteenth Dynasty of Egypt: seven studies, Toronto:
74–6.
35 Consult Gabolde, L. (1987), La chronologie du règne de Thoutmosis
II, ses conséquences sur la datation des momies royales et leurs
répercussions sur l'histoire du développement de la Vallée des Rois,
Studien zur Altägyp-tischen Kultur 14: 61–81. The problem of
Hatchepsut's age is discussed in Bierbrier, M. L. (1995), How old was
Hatchepsut?, Goettinger Miszellen 144: 15–19.
36 Naville, E. (1894), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari: its plan, its founders
and its first explorers: Introductory Memoir, 12th Memoir of the Egypt
Exploration Fund, London: 14.

Chapter 4 King of Egypt

1 Extract from the biography of Ineni, translated in Breasted, J. H.

(1906), Ancient Records of Egypt: historical documents, vol. 2, Chicago:
341.
2 Lichtheim, M. (1973), Ancient Egyptian Literature I: the Old and Middle
Kingdoms, Los Angeles: 220.
3 Sethe, K and Helck, W. (1906–58) Urkunden der 18. Dynastie, Leipzig
and Berlin, 4.219, 13–220, 6. Breasted, J. H. (1988), Ancient Records
of Egypt, 2nd edition, 2, Chicago: 187–212.
 4 Naville, E. (1896), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 2, 14th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 15.
5 Naville, E. (1896), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 2, 14th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 17.
6 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 5–6.
7 The partially erased inscription with a similar theme carved on the
upper northern colonnade at the Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple and
already discussed in Chapter 3 is also best disregarded as pure fiction,
and contributes little to our search for the date of Hatchepsut's
accession.
8 A donation stela recovered from North Karnak, apparently erected by
Senenmut in Year 4, seems at first sight to offer proof of a co-regency
by Year 4 as it refers to Tuthmosis III as king, describes Hatchepsut as
‘Maatkare’, and mentions the mortuary temple of Deir el-Bahri which
can only have been built following Hatchepsut's accession. However,
this stela was badly damaged soon after it was carved and, although
it has undergone extensive restoration during the 19th Dynasty, we
cannot now be certain that our reading of the year date is accurate.
References to Senenmut's tomb suggest that the stela was carved
some time after Year 7.
9 For further details concerning this cult, consult Bell, L. (1985), Luxor
Temple and the Cult of the Royal Ka, Journal of Near Eastern Studies
44: 251–94.
10 Translation given by Dorman, who examines the evidence for the
accession date of Hatchepsut in minute detail, giving valuable
references to earlier and more specialized publications. Consult
Dorman, P. F. (1988), The Monuments of Senenmut: problems in
historical methodology, London, Chapter 2: 22.
11 As McDowell has pointed out: ‘It is at any rate suspicious that the god
Amen's wishes so often coincided with the manifest desire of the King
or the High Priest… although this may have been the result of some
subconscious influence on those who interpreted the god's will rather
than the more crass manipulation of the proceedings.’ McDowell, A.
(1990), Jurisdiction in the Workmen's Community of Deir el-Medina,
 Leiden: 107.
12 The celebration of the heb-sed forms the basis of William Golding's
ancient Egyptian novella The Scorpion God (1971), London.
13 See Uphill, E. P. (1961), A joint sed-festival of Thutmose III and
Queen Hatchepsut, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 20: 248–51.
14 Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
144.
15 Hayes, W C. (193 5), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
146.
16 Harem plots and palace intrigues were rarely included in the official
Egyptian records as they were classed as grievous offences against
maat and as such were considered best ignored, but they did exist.
17 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1927–1928, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2: 8.
18 From the statue-base of Inebny, now housed in the British Museum,
quoted and discussed in Murnane, W.J. (1977), Ancient Egyptian
Coregencies, Chicago: 41.
19 It is, of course, always possible that he did indeed do so, but this begs
the question why wait until Hatchepsut was a relatively old woman
(aged between thirty-five and fifty-five) before having her killed?
20 The whole question of the proscription of Hatchepsut's memory is
considered in detail in Chapter 8.
21 Gibbon, E. (1896), J. B. Bury (ed.), The History of the Decline and Fall
of the Roman Empire, London, 1: 149.
22 Breasted, J. (1906), Ancient Records of Egypt: historical documents, vol.
2, Chicago: 342, 343.
23 Ray, J. (1994), Hatchepsut the female pharaoh, History Today 44.5:
28.
24 The Deir el-Bahri mortuary temple, Djeser-Djeseru, is considered in
more detail in Chapter 6.
25 Christie, A. (1945), Death Comes as the End, Glasgow. The
identification of the path is made in Romer, J. (1981), Valley of the
Kings, London: 135.
26 Romer, J. (1974), Tuthmosis I and the Biban el-Moluk, Journal of
 Egyptian Archaeology 60: 119–33.
27 Winlock, H. E. (1929), Notes on the reburial of Tuthmosis I, Journal
of Egyptian Archaeology 15: 64.
28 Davis, T. M. (ed.) (1906), The tomb of Hatshopsitu, London: xiii.
29 Carter, H., (1906), Description of the finding and excavation of the
tomb, in Davis, T. M. (ed.) (1906), The tomb of Hatshopsitu, London:
80.
30 Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
98.
31 See, for example, Robins, G. (1983), Natural and canonical
proportions in ancient Egyptians, Goettinger Miszellen 61:17–25.
Robins's figures are based on pre-New Kingdom skeletal remains.
32 Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
139–140. Hayes believed that Tuthmosis I had originally been buried
in KV 38, and that Tuthmosis III was merely restoring his grandfather
to his rightful tomb. It is perhaps somewhat unfair to criticize
Hatchepsut's meanness in providing her father with a second-hand
sarcophagus, as such rare a piece of craftsmanship, even second-hand,
would have been immensely valuable.
33 Winlock, H. E. (1929), Notes on the reburial of Tuthmosis I, Journal
of Egyptian Archaeology 59.
34 Maspero, G. (1896), The Struggle of the Nations, London: 582.
35 While it is not entirely impossible that Tuthmosis I died young, and
indeed his highest recorded regnal year is only Year 4, the historical
evidence would suggest that he enjoyed a longer life. For a discussion
of the reign lengths of Tuthmosis I and Tuthmosis II, consult Wente, E.
F. and Van Siclen, C. C. (1977), A Chronology of the New Kingdom,
Studies in Honor of George R. Hughes, Chicago: 217–61. The problem of
using X-ray analysis to age mummies is discussed in more detail in
Robins, G. (1981), The value of the estimated ages of the royal
mummies at death as historical evidence, Goettinger Miszellen 45: 63–8.
36 The first mortuary chapel of Tuthmosis I is considered in further
detail in Quirke, S. (1990), Kerem in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Journal
of Egyptian Archaeology 76: 170–74.
 Chapter 5 War and Peace

1 Winlock, H. E (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin of

the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2: 47. Winlock is quoting
from Hatchepsut's own less than modest description of herself.
2 Buttles, J. R. (1908), The Queens of Egypt, London: 90. Buttles is again
quoting directly from Hatchepsut's monuments.
3 Benson, M. and Gourlay, J. (1899), The Temple of Mut in Asher,
London: 160.
4 Hayes, W. C. (1959), The Scepter of Egypt, 2, New York: 100.
5 For a full discussion of Hatchepsut's statuary and its significance
consult Tefnin, R. (1979), La Statuaire d'Hatshepsout: portrait royal et
politique sous la 18e dynastie, Brussels.
6 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 5.
7 See, for example, Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford:
183: ‘Twice before in Egypt's earlier history a queen had usurped the
kingship, but it was a wholly new departure for a female to pose and
dress as a man.’
8 Margetts, E. L. (1951), The masculine character of Hatchepsut, Queen
of Egypt, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 25: 559.
9 Margetts, E. L. (1951), The masculine character of Hatchepsut, Queen
of Egypt, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 25: 561.
10 Warner, M. (1981), Joan of Arc: the image of female heroism, London,
145–6.
11 Deuteronomy 22: 5. It is interesting that by the late twentieth
century, most societies will accept a woman wearing traditional men's
clothing, but the sight of a man in a dress is still perceived as deviant
sexual behaviour.
12 This is discussed further in Tefnin, R. (1979), La Statuaire
d'Hatshepsout: portrait royal et politique sous la 18e dynastie, Brussels.
13 For this, and other examples of imagery in Elizabethan art, consult
Strong, R. (1977), The Cult of Elizabeth, London.
14 Extract from the obelisk inscription of Hatchepsut, translated by S. R.
 Snape.
15 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 189. Gardiner is
by no means the only egyptologist to have represented Hatchepsut's
reign as an entirely peaceful one without offering much evidence in
support of his assumption. Donald Redford has given a detailed
examination of all the available evidence for Hatchepsut's wars in
Redford, D. B. (1967), History and Chronology of the Eighteenth Dynasty:
seven studies, Toronto: Chapter 4. Redford concludes that Hatchepsut's
military campaigns have in fact been significantly understated.
16 Budge, E. A. W. (1902), Egypt and her Asiatic Empire, London: x.
17 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2: 52.
18 Murray, M. (1926), Queen Hatchepsut, in W. Brunton, Kings and
Queens of Ancient Egypt, London: 63.
19 Wilson, J. (1951), The Burden of Egypt, Chicago.
20 Wolf, N. (1990), The Beauty Myth, London: 207.
21 Dio Cassius, translated by E. Carey, Dio's Roman History Book L,
London, 33.
22 Fraser, A. (1988), The Warrior Queens: Boadicea's Chariot, London: 9.
23 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 11.
24 Naville quoted and discussed in Redford, D. B. (1967), History and
Chronology of the Eighteenth Dynasty: seven studies, Toronto: 59.
25 Translation given in Habachi, L. (1957), Two graffiti at Sehel from
the reign of Queen Hatchepsut, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 16: 99.
26 Naville, a fervent supporter of Hatchepsut, first posed this question in
1906 (see Davis, T. M. (ed.), The tomb of Hatshopsitu, London: 74).
However, those more critical of Hatchepsut have often taken the
opposite view, seeing her reign as a backwards step in the expansion
of the empire, and occasionally being highly critical of Hatchepsut
herself for denying Tuthmosis III an even longer and more glorious
reign.
27 Gardiner, A. (1946), The Great Speos Artemidos Inscription, Journal
of Egyptian Archaeology 32: 46.
28 Tomb inscription of the Old Kingdom Overseer Harkhuf, who is
himself quoting from a letter written by the child-king Pepi II.
Translation based on that given by James, T. G. H. (1984), Pharaoh's
People: scenes from life in imperial Egypt, Oxford: 29.
29 Naville E. (1906), The Life and Monuments of the Queen, in T. M.
Davis (ed.), The tomb of Hatshopsitu, London: 28–9.
30 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 14.
31 Naville, E. (1906), in Davis, T. M. (ed.) The tomb of Hatshopsitu,
London: 73–4.
32 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 13.
33 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 14.
34 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 14.
35 Quoted in Kitchen, K. A. (1971), Punt and how to get there, Orientalia
40, 184–207:190.
36 Naville, E. (1898), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari Part 3, 16th Memoir of
the Egypt Exploration Fund, London: 16–17.

Chapter 6 Propaganda in Stone

1 Extract from the obelisk inscription of Hatchepsut, translated by S. R.

Snape.
2 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23: 53.
3 For a full translation of the interior texts of the Speos Artemidos, from
which these three extracts are taken, see Fairman, H. W. and
Grdseloff, B. (1947), Texts of Hatchepsut and Sethos I inside Speos
Artemidos, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 33:15.
4 Gardiner, A. (1946), The Great Speos Artemidos Inscription, Journal of
Egyptian Archaeology 32: 47–8.
5 Discussed in detail in Bjorkman, G. (1971), Kings at Karnak: a study of
 the treatment of the monuments of royal predecessors in the Early New
Kingdom, Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Uppsala.
6 Extract from the obelisk inscription of Hatchepsut, translated by S. R.
Snape.
7 Translation after James, T. G. H. (1984), Pharaoh's People: scenes from
life in imperial Egypt, Oxford: 34.
8 This obelisk is uninscribed and therefore cannot be definitely
attributed to Hatchepsut. However, it is known to date to the
Tuthmoside period, and Hatchepsut seems to be the most likely
owner.
9 Pliny, Natural History, Book 36:14.
10 Habachi, L. (1957), Two Graffiti at Schel from the reign of Queen
Hatshepsut, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 16:90.
11 Extract from the obelisk inscription of Hatchepsut, translated by S. R.
Snape.
12 Habachi, L. (1957), Two Graffiti at Schel from the reign of Queen
Hatshepsut, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 16: 99.
13 Naville, E. (1894), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari: its plan, its founders
and its first explorers: Introductory Memoir, 12th Memoir of the Egypt
Exploration Fund, London: 1.
14 See Dodson, A. (1989), Hatshepsut and her ‘father’ Mentuhotpe II,
Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 75: 224–6.
15 Buttles, J. R. (1908), The Queens of Egypt, London: 85.
16 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23: 55–6.
17 The foundation deposits were intended to ensure that all would go
well with the building; a parallel may be drawn with the modern
practice of formally laying foundation stones.
18 Over three hundred engraved seals have been recovered from the
foundation deposits of Djeser-Djeseru; these are mostly inscribed with
the regal name of Hatchepsut but they also give the names of
Hatchepsut the queen (35), Tuthmosis II (31), Princess Neferure,
‘King's Daughter, King's Sister and God's Wife’ (18), Tuthmosis 1 (2)
and Amen (18). Most of these scarabs can now be found in the
 collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
19 Text is quoted in Brovarski, E. (1976), Senenu, High Priest of Amun,
Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 62: 70.
20 See, for example, Donohue, V. A. (1992), The goddess of the Theban
Mountain, Antiquity 66: 881: ‘… the maternally generative emphasis in
her own [i.e. Hatchepsut's] mythic personality that so intense a
celebration of this goddess confirms goes far to modify the prevailing
view that it was in masculine terms alone that Hatchepsut sought to
authenticate her supremacy.’ See also Roberts, A. (1995), Hathor
Rising: the serpent power of Ancient Egypt, Totnes. Roberts also stresses
what she sees as the important link between Hathor and Hatchepsut.
21 To some observers, however, the tripartite nature of the temple is of
great importance. See, for example, Roberts, A. (1995), Hathor Rising:
the serpent power of Ancient Egypt, Totnes: Chapter 116.

Chapter 7 Senenmut: Greatest of the Great

1 An extract from Senenmut's fictional curriculum vitae, composed by

Winlock and based on various original sources. See Winlock, H. E.
(1942), Excavations at Deir el-Bahri, 1911–1934, New York: 16.
2 Peter Dorman discusses early approaches to Senenmut in some detail
before taking a fresh look at the archaeological and historical
evidence for his life and achievements. Consult Dorman, P. F. (1988),
The Monuments of Senenmut: problems in historical methodology, London
and New York. For an earlier study of Senenmut, see Meyer, C.
(1982), Senenmut: eine prosopogra-phische Untersuchung, Hamburg.
3 For a fictionalized account of the life of Senenmut, read Gedge, P.
(1977), Child of the Morning, New York. This historical romance tells
how the teenage priest Senmut rescues the Princess Hatchepsut from
an untimely death by drowning in the Sacred Lake of the Karnak
temple. This leads to a lifelong bond between the pair, which is only
broken when the now powerful Senmut is assassinated by the agents
of the displaced King Thothmes. The grieving Hatchepsut, setting a
precedent for Egyptian queens, chooses to commit suicide rather than
face life without her lover.
 4 This matter is discussed further in Roehrig, C. H. and Dorman, P. F.
(1987), Senimen and Senenmut: a question of brothers, Varia
Aegyptiaca, 3: 127–34.
5 Lansing, A. and Hayes, W. (1937), The Egyptian Expedition 1935–36,
Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 32.2: 31–21.
6 Caminos, R. and James, T. G. H. (1963), Gebel Es-Silsilah 1: The
Shrines, London: 5.
7 Extract from the text carved on the base of a block statue of Senenmut
now housed in the British Museum. After James, T. G. H. (1984),
Pharaoh's People: scenes from life in imperial Egypt, Oxford: 32.
8 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2: 36.
9 Extract from the autobiography of Ineni, Breasted, J. H. (1906),
Ancient Records of Egypt: historical documents, vol. 2, Chicago: 43.
10 Forbes, D. (1990), Queen's Minion Senenmut, KMT 1: 1, 16. This
article gives a brief but highly readable review of the life and major
works of Senenmut.
11 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2:36.
12 Stevenson Smith, W, The Art and Architecture of Ancient Egypt, revised
and edited by W. K. Simpson (1981), New Haven: 226.
13 Part of an inscription recording Senenmut's appeal to Hatchepsut for
permission to have his statue placed within the Karnak temple, after
Dorman, P. F. (1988), The Monuments of Senenmut: problems in
historical methodology, London and New York: 125.
14 For a full translation of the story consult Lichtheim, M. (1976),
Ancient Egyptian Literature II: the New Kingdom, Los Angeles: 214–23.
15 Wente, E. R. (1984), Some Graffiti from the Reign of Hatchepsut,
Journal of Near Eastern Studies 43:47–54.
16 Manniche, L. (1977), Some Aspects of Ancient Egyptian Sexual Life,
Acta Orientalia 38:22.
17 The ancient Romans took the view that man's desire for sexual
intercourse made him weak and effeminate; sex therefore gave women
power over men. The ancient Egyptians took entirely the opposite
 view.
18 Simpson, W. K. (1984), Senenmut, Lexikon der Ägyptologie,
Wiesbaden, 5:850.
19 Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford: 184.
20 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York 23.2: 36.
21 Hayes, W. C. (1957), Varia from the Time of Hatchepsut, Mitteilungen
des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 15: 84.
22 Extract from the list of funerary offerings recorded in Tomb 353, after
Dorman, P. F. (1991), The Tombs of Senenmut, New York: 138.
23 Both Senenmut tombs were investigated in the first half of this
century by H. E. Winlock, working on behalf of the Metropolitan
Museum of Art, New York. The previously unknown Tomb 353 was
discovered in 1927, and this led to renewed interest in Tomb 71,
which was cleared during the 1930–31 season.
24 The reconstructed sarcophagus has been published in Hayes, W C.
(1950), The Sarcophagus of Sennemut, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology
36: 19–23.
25 Dorman, P. F. (1991), The Tombs of Senenmut, New York: 29, notes
that: ‘Today these corridors have been refilled with debris up to the
level of the floor of Tomb 71 and cannot be reinvestigated without
considerable clearance. The present writer was unable to enter the
tomb of Aanen to investigate the passage from the other end.’
26 Although there is always the possibility that this pit represents an
unrelated secondary burial cut into the floor of the hall some time
after the tomb had fallen into disuse.
27 Winlock's interpretation of the sealing of Tomb 353 following the
unexpected death of Senenmut. See Winlock, H. E. (1928), The
Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin of the Metropolitan Museum of
Art New York 23.2:58.
28 For a detailed discussion of Senenmut's mysterious disappearance,
plus a useful list of other publications on this subject, consult
Schulman, A. R. (1969–70), Some Remarks on the Alleged ‘Fall’ of
Senmut, Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 8: 29–48.
 Chapter 8 The End and the Aftermath

1 Extract from the obelisk inscription of King Hatchepsut, translated by

S. R. Snape.
2 The stela of Nakht from Sinai, for example, dated to Year 20 of the
joint reign, shows the two kings as equals, Hatchepsut on the right
and Tuthmosis on the left, making parallel offerings to local deities.
3 See, for example, Edgerton, W. F. (1933), The Tuthmoside Succession,
Chicago: 34: ‘If I were to hazard my personal guess, I should say that
Hatchepsut's body was probably disposed of in the same manner as
the bodies of Senta's children in the demotic tale – that the dogs and
cats ate her.’
4 See, for example, Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII
Dynasty, Princeton: 151.
5 Published in Davis, T. M. (ed.) (1906), The tomb of Hatshopsitu,
London: un-numbered plate opposite page 78.
6 Ciccarello, M. and Romer, J. (1979), A Preliminary Report of the Recent
Work in the Tombs of Ramesses X and XI in the Valley of the Kings, San
Fransisco: 3.
7 For a discussion of the tomb of Ramesses XI and its contents see
Reeves, N. (1990), Valley of the Kings: the decline of a Royal Necropolis,
London: 121–3.
8 Petrie, W. M. F. (1924), A History of Egypt during the XVIIth and XVIIIth
Dynasties, 2, London: 92.
9 Donald P. Ryan describes the circumstances behind the rediscovery of
this tomb, and discusses the Hatchepsut hypothesis, in Ryan, D. P.
(1990), Who is buried in KV60?, KMT, 1:34–63.
10 Extract from the Annals of Tuthmosis III. Lichtheim, M. (1976),
Ancient Egyptian Literature II: the New Kingdom, Los Angeles: 30.
11 Tuthmosis III – a Leonardo-like ‘Renaissance Man’ ahead of his time –
is supposed to have designed the furnishings intended for the temple
of Amen.
12 Maspero, G. (1889), Les Momies Royales de Deir el-Bahari, Paris: 547–
8.
13 Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton:
 138.
14 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York, 23.1: 58.
15 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1927–28, Bulletin of
the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York, 23.2:9.
16 Naville, E. in T. M. Davis (ed.) (1906), The tomb of Hatshopsitu,
London: 71, 72.
17 Nims, C. F. (1966), The Date of the Dishonouring of Hatchepsut,
Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde, Leipzig: 97–100.
The whole question of the defacement of Hatchepsut's monuments is
discussed in great detail, with all relevant references, in Dorman, P. F.
(1988), The Monuments of Senenmut: problems in historical methodology,
London: Chapter 3.
18 See Lipinska, J. (1967), Names and History of the Sanctuaries built
by Tuthmosis III at Deir el-Bahri, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 35:
25–33.
19 See Van Siclen, C. (1989), New data on the date of the defacement of
Hatchepsut's name and image on the Chapelle Rouge, Goettinger
Miszellen 107: 85–6.
20 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York, 23.1: 46. Further details of
the finding of statue-fragments at Deir el-Bahri are included in the
Bulletin Volumes 18,23 and 24.
21 Winlock, H. E. (1928), The Egyptian Expedition 1925–1927, Bulletin
of the Metropolitan Museum of Art New York, 23.1: 46.
22 Unpublished work by the late Ramadan Saad, quoted in Dorman, P.
F. (1988), Monuments of Senenmut: problems in historical methodology,
London: Chapter 3.
23 A question already posed by Redford, D. B. (1967), History and
Chronology of the 18th Dynasty: seven studies, Toronto: 87: ‘Standing
alone before the image of the queen, Tuthmosis relented. She was,
after all, his own flesh… In the darkness of the crypt, in the stillness of
the cella, her cold statues, which never vulgar eye would again
behold, still conveyed for the king the warmth and awe of a divine
presence.’
24 It could, however, be argued that, because of the brief and disturbed
nature of Twosret's reign, she was unable to build the inscribed
monuments which would have preserved the evidence of such a
persecution. Twosret's monuments may not have been defaced simply
because they did not exist.
25 Plutarch, The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans, translated by Sir
Thomas North (1927), Oxford.
26 The history of the temple, which is inextricably bound up with
Hatchepsut's own history, has been recorded by several authors; see
for example Naville, E. (1894), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari: its plan, its
founders and its first explorers: Introductory Memoir, 12th Memoir of the
Egypt Exploration Fund, London; Wysocki, Z. (1979), The Temple of
Queen Hatchepsut: Results of the investigations and conservation works of
the Polish-Egyptian archaeological Mission 1968–72, Warsaw.
27 Naville, E. (1894), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari: its plan, its founders
and its first explorers: Introductory Memoir, 12th Memoir of the Egypt
Exploration Fund, London: 3.
28 Wilkinson, J. G. (1835), Topography of Thebes and General View of
Egypt, London.
29 Lepsius, K. R., translated by L. and J. R. Horner (1853), Letters from
Egypt, Ethiopia, and the Peninsula of Sinai, London: 255–6.
30 Sharpe, S. (1859), The History of Egypt: from the earliest times till the
conquest by the Arabs AD 640, London.
31 Pierret, P. (1875), Dictionnaire d'Archéologie Égyptienne, Paris: 248.
Translation, author's own.
 Further Reading

The references listed below include the more basic and accessible
publications with preference given to those written in English; all these
works include bibliographies which will be of interest to those seeking
detailed references on specific subjects. More specialized references to
points raised in the text have been included in the notes.

Aldred, C. (1980), Egyptian Art, London.

Baines, J. and Malek, J. (1980), Atlas of Ancient Egypt, Oxford.
Breasted, J. H. (1906), Ancient Records of Egypt: historical documents, 5
volumes, Chicago.
Dorman, P. F. (1988), The Monuments of Senenmut: problems in historical
methodology, London.
Dorman, P. F. (1991), The Tombs of Senenmut, New York.
Gardiner, A. (1961), Egypt of the Pharaohs, Oxford.
Grimal, N., A History of Ancient Egypt, translated by I. Shaw (1992),
Oxford.
Harris, J. E. and Wente, E. F. (1980), An X-Ray Analysis of the Royal
Mummies, Chicago and London.
Hayes, W. C. (1935), Royal Sarcophagi of the XVIII Dynasty, Princeton.
Hayes, W. C. (1959), The Scepter of Egypt Vol II, Cambridge, Mass.
Hayes, W. C. (1973), Egypt: internal affairs from Tuthmosis I to the
death of Amenophis III, in I. E. S. Edwards et al. (eds), The Cambridge
Ancient History, 3rd edition, Cambridge, 2.1: 313–416.
James, T. G. H. (1973), Egypt: from the expulsion of the Hyksos to
Amenophis I, in I. E. S. Edwards et al. (eds), The Cambridge Ancient
History, 3rd edition, Cambridge, 2.1:289–312.
Kemp, B.J. (1989), Ancient Egypt: anatomy of a civilization, London.
Lichtheim, M. (1976), Ancient Egyptian Literature II: the New Kingdom, Los
Angeles.
Manetho, translated by W. G. Waddell (1956), Cambridge, Mass. and
London.
Naville, E. (1895–1908), The Temple of Deir el-Bahari, 7 volumes,
London.
Ratie, S. (1979), La Reine Hatchepsout; sources et problèmes, Leyden.
Redford, D. B. (1967), History and Chronology of the Eighteenth Dynasty:
seven studies, Toronto.
Reeves, C. N. (1990), Valley of the Kings: the decline of a royal necropolis,
London.
Robins, G. (1993), Women in Ancient Egypt, London.
Shafer, B. E., ed. (1991), Religion in Ancient Egypt: gods, myths and
personal practices, London.
Smith, G. E. (1912), The Royal Mummies, Cairo.
Stevenson Smith, W, The Art and Architecture of Ancient Egypt, revised
and edited by W. K. Simson (1981) New Haven.
Trigger, B. G., Kemp, B. J., O'Connor, D. and Lloyd, A. B., eds (1983),
Ancient Egypt: a social history, Cambridge.
Troy, L. (1986), Patterns of Queenship in Ancient Egyptian Myth and
History, Boreas.
Tyldesley, J. A. (1994), Daughters of Isis: women of ancient Egypt, London.
Watterson, B. (1991), Women in Ancient Egypt, Stroud.
 Index

Figures in italic refer to a picture caption on that page.

Abd el-Rassul family of Gurna 92–3

Abu Simbel 172–3
Abydos 27,230
Africa, royal women of 48
Africanus 13, 230
Afterlife 35, 72, 169, 210, 216
Ahhotep I, queen 47, 57–8, 92, 97–8, 200
Ahhotep II, queen 127
Ahmose, pharaoh 24–7, 34;
accession 24, 55;
and Ahhotep I 57–8, 97–8;
building projects 61;
cult and oracle of 108;
honours grandmother, Tetisheri 43,44, 61;
and Hyksos 24–5,26, 141;
military campaigns 24–7, 141;
mummy 93
Ahmose, queen 65, 75–7, 83,104, 175
Ahmose, son of Ibana 24–6, 61–2, 70–71, 83, 141
Ahmose Nefertari, queen 123, 133;
burial 92,93,200;
cult 57, 62;
political role 57, 58–62, 97–8;
religious patronage 61, 159
Ahmose-Pennekheb (soldier) 26, 82, 83, 88, 116
Ahwere, Princess 66
Akhbetneferu, Princess 75
Akhenaten (Amenhotep IV), pharaoh 33, 66, 110, 136, 144, 226–7
Akhenkheres, daughter of Oros 136
Akhmim 181
Amarna, tombs at 53
Amarna period 202, 223
Amazons 140
Amduat (funerary literature) 123
Amen (god) 13,30, 169;
barque of 106–7, 108, 152, 153, 170;
defacing of monuments 208, 223;
Djeser-Djeseru shrine 169;
and Feast of the Valley 169–71;
God's Wife of 59–60, 62, 83, 89,226;
Hatchepsut's devotion to 9, 33, 102, 103, 105, 107, 146, 154, 156,
161, 174;
and Horemheb 107;
Karnak temple 23–4, 30, 32,162, 163, 174, 188;
kings and cult of 5, 30–31, 32–3,
(endorses kingship) 95, 96, 107, 114;
and Min 162;
and mortuary temples 72, 169;
patronage of army 29;
queens' connection 46, 59–60, 62, 83, 89, 226;
and Re 30;
Senenmut as Steward of 153, 178, 185
Amenemhat I, pharaoh 15, 30, 47
Amenemhat II, pharaoh 145
Amenemhat III, pharaoh 17
Amenemhat IV, pharaoh 18
Amenemhat, brother of Senenmut 205
Amenemope, vizier 55, 206
Amenenthe (supposed pharaoh) 231–2
Amenhotep I, pharaoh 61–2;
accession 26;
Ahmose Nefertari as regent 61, 97–8;
building projects 62, 71, 159, 162, 164;
 burial 72,93;
cartouche 61;
cult and oracle of 57, 62, 108;
and Deir el-Medina 35, 57, 62;
foreign policy 26, 61–2;
marriage 67;
succession of Tuthmosis I 63,119
Amenhotep II, pharaoh 33, 91, 215, 224
Amenhotep III, pharaoh: building projects 17, 102;
foreign relations 68, 144, 145;
marriages 66, 67, 226, (see also Tiy, queen);
and religion 33;
tomb 92, 213
Amenhotep IV, pharaoh see Akhenaten
Amenhotep (boy buried at Gurna) 196
Amenhotep, Chief Steward 117, 161, 196
Amenhotep, son of Hapu (architect) 176
Amenmose, Prince 75–6,77
amphora seals 99
Anath, Astarte (goddess) 20
Anen (brother of Queen Tiy) 51, 201
ankh 103, 111
Ankhesenamen, queen 66, 68, 227
Ankhes–Merire, queen 58
Anubis (god) 169, 174, 175, 199
ape, cynocephalous 151, 153
Apophis, pharaoh 19–20, 22–3
archaeology; bias 10–11,35,141
Archaic Period 43, 44, 235
Argo, island of 70
Armant 180, 223
army 27–9;
booty 24–5;
 career in 29, 41, 56, 183;
command structure 29;
equipment 21,28;
gods and victory 29;
Hyksos improve 21;
king as head 7,29;
Memphis headquarters 36, 70;
support for Hatchepsut's kingship 115;
Tuthmosis III trains in 113, 114;
woman as commander 47, 57–8; see also warfare
art, pictorial 17, 40, 146;
depiction of sexes 133, 240; see also image, power of
arts 16–17, 21, 40, 62; see also art, pictorial; image, power of; literature;
sculpture
Assyria 39
Astarte (goddess) 20
astronomy 194, 205
Aswan 142–3, 159–61, 200
Aten (sun disc), cult of 33, 223
Augustus, Roman Emperor 230
autobiographies 16, 24–6
Avaris (Hyksos capital) 19,25
Ay, pharaoh 53, 181
Ayrton, Edward 214

Babylon 39,68
barque, sacred see under Amen
Bay, Great Chancellor 228
Beechey, William 231
Belzoni, Giovanni Battista 122, 231
Beni Hassan 17, 155
Bhutto, Benazir 118
Binothris, pharaoh 133
Boadicea, queen of Iceni 140
bodyguards, royal 27
Book of the Dead 198, 199
booty 24–5
bow, composite 76
Britain 47, 48, 140; see also Elizabeth I
bronze working 21
Brugsch, Emile 93, 215
Buhen 195–6
building: brick 10, 37;
destruction of earlier buildings 158–9, 221;
kings’ role 7, 40;
organization 7,154, 177, 194;
palaces 37;
propaganda value 9, 154, 155, 158, 174,234;
stone 10, 31,35, 38–9;
12th Dynasty 17;
workforce 7, 38; see also the individual places; obelisks; pyramids;
temples; and under the individual pharaohs
Burton, James 122

calendar 12–13
Carter, Howard 84, 122–4,211–12, 214, 234
cartouches 22, 24, 61, 63, 78, 211;
Hatchepsut 100, 230,231,233
Catherine the Great, Tsarina 191
Champollion, Jean François 231–2
Chapelle Rouge, Karnak 106–8, 164, 219–21;
carvings 89, 107–8, 109, 160, 161;
dismantled 107, 220–21, 223
chariots, horse-drawn 21, 76
Chester, Revd Greville 213
children: mortality 73;
royal 54–8,75–7
China: Han Dynasty 51
Christie, Agatha 121
chronology, table of 235
civil service: building supervision 154;
careers in 56, 80, 183;
continuity 117,208;
development 15,21, 39, 41;
shrines at Gebel Silsila 184;
support for Hatchepsut's kingship 115, 138;
titles 185–6; see also Senenmut
Cleopatra VII, queen 4, 140, 191, 229–30
coffins 126–7, 212
concubines, kings' 50–54
conscription, labour 7
continuity 5–6, 8–10, 42, 50, 117, 208
copper 16, 39, 144
Coptos 30, 145, 152
co-regency 63–5, 95–6, 101, 105–6, 110, 114, 215
cosmetic container 129
Crete, Minoan 190
Cusae: temple of Hathor 158

Dagi, vizier 199

dating system 12–13; see also regnal years
Davis, Theodore M. 123, 124
death 10;
Second, of soul 72, 216; see also Afterlife; mummies; tombs
defacement of monuments 208, 228–9; see also under Hatchepsut;
Senenmut
Deir el-Bahri: cache of mummies 91–4, 126–7, 212, 213;
Djeser-Akhet 165, 175, 208, 220;
excavations 79;
fragmentary statues of Hatchepsut 221–2;
 graffiti, workmen's 188,189, 190–91;
‘Hatchepsut Hole 221;
Hathor cult 165;
Mentuhotep II's mortuary temple 165, 167, 175;
monastery 165, 176;
processional way 159, 170;
Senenmut Quarry 221;
tombs (Inhapi) 92–4,
( Senenmut, see under Djeser-Djeseru);
tunnels to Valley of the Kings 119, 121; see also Djeser-Djeseru
Deir el-Medina 35–6, 56–7, 62, 108, 230
desecration of monuments see defacement
Djehuty, Chief Treasurer 143, 168
Djeser-Akhet 165, 175, 208, 220
Djeser-Djeseru, Deir el-Bahri 1, 165, 166, 167–71, 173–6;
after Hatchepsut's death 230, 231;
Amen cult 169;
Anubis, chapel of 169, 174, 175;
carvings of Hatchepsut's life 101–6, 109, 111, 131,141–2, 143, 160–
61, 174,
(of mission to Punt) 146–7, 148, 150–51, 152–3, 174;
defacement 216, 221–2, 223;
excavation 11;
Feast of the Valley 169–71, 175, 220;
foundation deposits 168–9;
Hathor, chapel of 169, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175;
Hatchepsut's mortuary temple 84, 119, 169, 175;
Senenmut and 168, 177, 178, 194–6,
(tomb) 196, 203, 204, 205–6;
solar temple 169, 175;
statues 80–81, 130, 221–2;
Tuthmosis I commemorated 168, 175,
(mortuary temple) 119, 127–8, 169, 175;
Tuthmosis II's building work 167;
Tuthmosis III inscription 95
Djoser, pharaoh 58, 235
draughts-board 213
dress, Hatchepsut's 130–34
dynasties 12;
1st-2nd 44;
12th 5, 15–18, 40;
13th 18;
15th-16th 19, (see also Hyksos);
17th 5, 19, 21–4, 45–50;
18th 5,
(historical background) 24–42,
(queens) 45–50;
19th 37; see also the individual rulers

Eastern Desert: gold 16, 39

economy 21, 32, 38–9, 112, 154
Edfu: quarries 200
Edgerton, William 79
education 39–40, 88, 180
egyptologists 2–3, 4, 66–7, 77–80, 138–9, 231–4; see also the individual
names
Elizabeth I, Queen of England 118, 137, 139, 140, 182, 191
Eloquent Peasant, Story of the 16
Essex, Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of 182
eunuchs 53
Euphrates, river 26, 70–71, 214–15
Eusebius 13

Faiyum 16
famine 38
Feast of the Valley 169–71, 175, 220
feminist theorists 139
festivals 102, 106, 107; see also Feast of the Valley
Field of Reeds 35, 169, 210, 216
foreign policy: dynastic marriages 50, 51–2, 68–9;
12th Dynasty 15–16; see also under the individual pharaohs
Freud, Anna 118
Freud, Sigmund 118, 139
funerary cults 27, 57, 62

Gandhi, Indira 139

Gaza Palestine 143
Geb (god) 69
Gebel Ahmar quarries 38, 200
Gebel Silsila shrines 183–4, 186
Gebelein quarries 200
Gibbon, Edward 115–16
Giza desert 76, 233, 235
gods 29–33;
oracles 108–9;
see also religion and under the individual names
gold 16, 39, 145, 147, 151, 153
Gordon, Ch. H. 122
graffiti 122, 188, 189, 190–91
Greek Islands 39, 190
Gurna: Abd el-Rassul family 92–3;
cemetery 196, 197, 198–203,206

Han Dynasty, China 51

Hapuseneb, High Priest of Amen 55, 116, 119, 168, 184
harems, royal 36–7, 50–54
Hatchepsut, pharaoh: advisers 116–17, (see also Senenmut);
age at marriage 65;
age when widowed 96–7;
and Amen 29, 33, 102,107, 146,154,156, 161, 174;
appearance 126, 129–37;
birth 65;
birth story 101–6, 131, 174;
building projects 1,4, 9, 112, 154,177, (see also Djeser-Djeseru and
under Karnak);
cartouches 100, 230,231,233;
character 2–4;
competence 112;
coronation 106–9;
death and burial 179, 210–14;
defacement of monuments 77–8, 114–15, 141, 155, 208,216–26;
divinity 101,192;
economy under 112, 154;
foreign policy 112,
(defence and warfare) 137–44,210,
(trade and exploration) 144–53, (see also Punt);
gender 1–2, 5,
(as man) 1, 105, 130–37, 231–3,
(as woman) 1,130,135–6,227;
and Hathor 76, 105, 171–3, 172, 174, 175;
justification of rule 101,146,154;
and Ka 103–4, 131;
as king 87–90, 98, 99–119, 133,
(date of becoming) 99–100, 101, 106–9, 111–13;
and maat 9–10, 89, 136, 146, 157, 158, 226;
memory see proscription below;
mummy 213–14;
names 13,99, 104,117,154;
and Neferure 4, 86, 87–90;
propaganda 2, 4, 6, 101–6, 146,
(monuments as) 9, 154, 155, 158,174, 234;
proscription of memory 1,4, 77–8, 80, 141, 155, 216–26,233,
(date) 114–15, 218–19,
(omitted from king lists) 1, 224, 230, 233, (see also defacement above);
Punt expedition see under Punt;
as queen consort 80, 81, 83–6, 100, 106, 112;
as regent 1, 97–8, 113–14;
regnal years 100, 106, 224;
sarcophagi 124, 126, 211–12,223;
 sed-festival 109–11, 161;
self-presentation 101, 118–19, 130–37, 231–3;
and Senenmut 178, 179, 184, 189, 190–93,205, 207–8;
sexual behaviour 189, 190–93;
statuary 11, 130, 174–5, 184, 219;
titles 60, 83, 97–8, 117;
tombs, (king's) 119, 120, 121–8, 211–12, 223,
(queen's) 84, 85, 86, 119, 126;
trade missions 1, 9, 144–5, (see also Punt);
and Tuthmosis I 4, 117–19, 122, 132, 161,
(alleged co-regency) 101, 105–6, 110,
(builds mortuary temple for) 119, 127–8,169, 175;
and Tuthmosis II 1, 65, 66, 80, 81, 83–6,96–7,
(and memory) 94, 117, 118–19;
and Tuthmosis III 113–15, 224,
(alleged feud) 80, 138, 216–27,
(regency) 1, 97–8, 113–14,
(shared reign) 114, 136, 210,224,
(Tuthmosis buries) 211,214,
(Tuthmosis’ proscription of memory) 216–26;
and warfare 29, 137–44,174
‘Hatchepsut Hole’, Deir el-Bahri 221
‘Hatchepsut Problem’ 77–80
Hathor (goddess) 172,173;
Cusae temple 158;
cult at Djeser-Djeseru 165, 169, 171,172, 173, 174, 175;
Hatchepsut and cult of 76, 105, 171–3, 174, 175;
queens' association with 46, 172–3;
worship in Deir el-Medina 57
Hatnofer (Senenmut's mother) 99, 180, 182–3, 198
Hatnub quarries 39
Hayes, William C. 79, 99, 130,234
height, average 125
Heket (goddess) 101, 104
Heliopolis 29,215,228
Henketankh (temple) 127
Herit, princess 19
Her-Neith, queen 44
hieroglyphic writing 230, 231, 234
Hippolyta (Amazon) 140
historical background 15–42
Hittites 27, 36, 39, 68, 227
homosexuality 189–90
Horemheb, pharaoh 92, 107
Hormose (singer) 196
horses 21
Horus (god) 8, 58, 60, 136, 190;
sons of 199
Howarth, Jesse 213
hunting 76, 77, 215
Hyksos 15, 18–21, 22–5, 135,235;
Ahmose expels 24–5, 26, 141;
Hatchepsut and memory of 9, 157

image, power of; as substitute for person or thing represented 137, 142,
188, 194–5
Imhotep, vizier 116, 175–6
incense 145, 146, 147–8, 151;
trees 148, 148, 152, 170–71
Ineni (court official) 71–2, 83, 116, 117, 119, 185–6;
architect 71–2, 121, 159, 205
Inet see Sitre
Inhapi, tomb of 92–4
inheritance law 68
inscriptions, monumental 11, 12; see also defacement of monuments
Instructions in Wisdom 16
Intermediate Periods 6, 8, 235;
First 34, 235;
 Second 9, 15, 18–21, 58, 235;
Third 60, 212, 235
Ipuwer, Admonitions of 9
irrigation 7, 16
Isabella, queen of Spain 140
Isis (goddess) 46, 58, 69, 101, 199
Isis, queen 94, 224
Islam 223
isolation policy 21,27
Istabl Antar see Speos Artemidos
Itj–Tawy 15
Itruri 75
ivory 145, 147, 151

jewellery, Hatchepsut's 129

Joan of Arc 133–4, 140, 191
Josephus 13,230
jubilees 109–11, 161

Ka, royal 102, 103–4, 131

el-Kab 24–6, 49
Kadesh 36, 214–15
Kamose, pharaoh 20, 23–4, 55
Karnak temple complex 32, 34;
Ahmose Nefertari and 61, 159;
Amen, great temple of 23–4, 30, 32, 162,163, 174, 188;
Amenhotep I's embellishment 71, 159, 162, 164;
Amenhotep III's building at 17;
demolition of earlier buildings 158–9, 221;
Chapelle Rouge see under its separate entry;
Hall of Annals 215, 220;
Hatchepsut's building 158–9, 162–4,219,233, (see also obelisks below,
and Chapelle Rouge);
Hatchepsut's coronation 109;
 Hatchepsut Suite 164, 219;
inscription on Mutnofret 77;
Mut, temple of 164, 188;
obelisks 158–9, 159–62, 164, 174, 194, 216, 221, 233;
processional ways 107, 159, 162, 164, 170;
pylons 71, 164;
Senenmut and 178, 188, 194;
stela of Kamose 23–4;
Tuthmosis I's works 71, 158–9,161, 164;
Tuthmosis II's works 81, 158, 164;
Tuthmosis III's works 164, 215, 220–21;
see also Chapelle Rouge
Kennedy family 48
Kerma, kingdom of 19–20
Khabekhnet, tomb of, Deir el-Medina 57
Khaemwaset, Prince 76
Khenmetankh (mortuary chapel) 72–3, 75, 76, 77, 128
Khnum (god) 101, 103, 104
Khonsu (god) 31, 162, 170
king lists 1, 12, 18, 224, 230, 233
kings and kingship 6–10, 41;
and Amen 3, 30–31, 32–3;
building works 7, 40;
children 54–8;
continuity 6;
coronation 106–9, 135, 174;
display 41;
divinity 7–10, 20, 33, 47, 64, 101–6, 134–5, 192;
foreign, adopt traditional regalia 135;
harems 36–7, 50–54;
marriages 50–54, 65–9, 75;
military leadership 27, 29;
office/person distinction 6, 135;
presentation and appearance 135–7;
progresses 36–8;
 quarrying monopoly 200–201;
and religion 7–10, 17, 30, 33, 101–6, 169;
succession from outside immediate family 62, 135;
tombs 37;
women 6, 18, (see also Hatchepsut; Sobeknofru; Twosret); see also co-
regency; Ka; regalia; regencies
Kom Ombo 215
Kush 19–20, 61, 117, 142

labour force 7, 38
land ownership 39, 45, 52, 54
Lansing, Ambrose 99, 234
law: inheritance 68;
sexual relations 67
Leicester, Robert Dudley, Earl of 182
Lepsius, Karl Richard 122,232–3
Levant 24, 26, 27, 36, 144, 210, 214–15; see also Palestine
life expectancy 73
literacy 88, 180
literature 16, 39–40, 66, 123, 215
Livia, Roman Empress 191
living conditions 34–5
lower classes 41, 42, 132
Luxor 34, 102, 107, 162
luxury goods 39, 144–5

maat (continuity) 8–10, 88, 162;

Hatchepsut as preserver 9–10, 89, 136, 146, 157, 158;
Hatchepsut as threat to 226
Maatkare (Hatchepsut's throne name) 13, 99, 104
Manetho (scribe) 1, 12–13, 20, 133, 230
Marianne of France 140
Mariette, Auguste 11, 234
Mark Anthony 230
marriage: to close relations 50, 65–9, 181;
dynastic 50, 51–2, 68–9;
polygamous 50–54, 75
Maspero, Gaston 23, 90, 127, 215–16
matriarchy 46, 49, 67
medicine 73, 148
Medinet Habu 94
Meir, Golda 139
memory, proscription of: and Second Death 216; see also under
Hatchepsut; Senenmut
Memphis 29, 31, 36, 37, 70
Menkare-Nitocris, queen 233
Mentuhotep II, pharaoh 165, 167, 175
Mentuhotep III, pharaoh 145
Merenptah, pharaoh 53, 75
Merenptah Siptah, pharaoh 227
Meritamen, queen 60,62
Meritre-Hatchepsut, queen 86, 89, 215,226
Mer-Wer (harem palace) 54
Merykare, The Instruction for 158
Meryt-Neith, queen 44
Meskhenet (goddess) 101, 104–5
metallurgy 21
Meyer, Eduard 79
middle classes 39, 41, 42, 80, 181
Middle Kingdom: chronology 235;
images of pharaohs 133;
migrations 18;
queens 44–5; see also under the individual pharaohs
migrations 18
Min (god) 30, 46,107,230;
Amen-Min 162
mining 16, 39, 144, 200
Mitanni 36, 39, 70–71, 214–15
mobility, social 182–3
Moeris (Tuthmosis III) 231
Montu (od) 162
Mooring Places of Pharaoh (palaces) 36,37
mortality, infant and child 73
mortuary temples 32; see also under Djeser-Djeseru; Khenmetankh; and the
individual Tuthmoside pharaohs
mummies and mummification 72, 148;
Deir el-Bahri cache 91–4, 126–7, 212, 213;
Hatchepsut 213–14;
pathology 23, 53;
X-ray ageing 213; see also Tuthmosis I, II and III
Mut (goddess) 31, 162, 164, 170, 188
Mutnofret, queen 75, 76–7
myrrh 145, 147–8, 151

Naharin 70
names, personal 13, 154
Napoleonic Expedition 122, 231
Narmer, pharaoh 27, 65
Naville, Edouard 11,79, 97–8,141, 234;
on Hatchepsut's memory 218–19, 220;
on Punt 147,150
Neferirkare, pharaoh 101
Nefertari, queen 172–3,227
Nefertiti, queen 5, 227
Neferubity (Hatchepsut's sister) 175
Neferure, princess 4, 60, 66, 86–90, 171, 175;
tutors 88, 181,
(Senenmut) 88, 177, 178, 183, 188, 207
Neith-Hotep, queen 44, 65, 235
Nekhbet (goddess) 46
Nemaathep, queen 44, 58
Neneferkaptah, Prince (fictional character) 66
Nephthys (goddess) 69, 101, 199
Neshi, Chancellor 116, 184, 195–6;
expedition to Punt 147, 149, 150, 153
Neskhons, Lady 92
New Kingdom: chronology 235
New Year's days 64, 106
Nile, river: Cataracts, (First) 38,
(Third) 70;
inundations 18, 38;
Mooring Places of Pharaoh 36, 37
Nitocris, queen 233
nobility 41, 54–8
Nubia: campaigns 16, 23, 25–6, 27, 61,
(Tuthmosis I) 26, 36, 70,
(Tuthmosis II) 82,
(Hatchepsut) 141–3,210,
(Tuthmosis III) 210;
Egyptian fortresses 70;
gold 39;
and Hittites 19–20;
royal women 48;
Semna temple 97–8;
Tuthmosis III's monuments 113, 215
nurses, royal 80–81, 214
Nut (goddess) 69, 86, 199

obelisks: Hatchepsut's 101, 119, 158–9, 159–62, 174, 194, 233,

(walled up after death) 216, 221;
Tuthmosis I 110, 119, 159, 164
occupations 181, 183; see also army; civil service; workforce
Octavian 230
oil 39, 129–30
Old Kingdom: chronology 235;
images of pharaohs 133;
 queens 44–5, 172; see also the individual pharaohs
Old Testament 134
Opet (god) 107, 162
oracles of gods 108–9
Osiris (god) 8, 58, 59, 69, 162, 169;
Hatchepsut's Osiride statues 174–5, 219
ostraca 11–12, 108, 186–7, 198
Ottoman sultans' harem 52, 53–4

Paheri (bureaucrat, of el-Kab) 49, 75

painting see art, pictorial
Pakhet (goddess) 155–8, 173
palaces 36–8, 52
Palestine 24, 26, 82, 143, 214–15,228
papyri 11;
Harris I 152;
Lansing 39–40;
Westcar 101
Pa-Ramesses 37
Paul, St 181
Penelope (wife of Odysseus) 191
Penthesilea (Amazon) 140
Pepi II, pharaoh 58
perfumes 129–30, 147, 153
Petrie, Flinders 79
pharaoh: derivation of word 6
Philip Arrhidaeus 221
Phoenicia 144
Pinedjem I, pharaoh 92, 126–7
Pliny the Elder 160
Plutarch 229
Pococke, Revd Richard 231
Polish Mission 234
pottery 20, 21
priesthood 33, 41, 56, 115, 138, 183
princes 55–7, 58
princesses, foreign 50, 51–2
propaganda 41;
expedition to Punt as 146;
Hatchepsut's 2, 4, 6, 101–6, 146;
inscriptions 12;
military 28, 157–8;
monuments as 9, 154, 155, 158, 174, 234; see also under religion
proscription see under memory
provinces: middle classes 181
Ptah (god) 162
Ptolemaic Period 135, 175–6, 229–30, 235
Punt 13, 16, 145;
Hatchepsut's expedition 116, 144, 145–53, 170–71, 173, 174
Puyemre, Second Prophet of Amen 168, 208
pygmies, dancing 145
Pyramid Texts 86
pyramids: and cult of Re 29, 30, 72;
Giza 233, 235;
Sakkara 96, 235;
12th Dynasty 17, 30;
17th Dynasty 21–2

quarries, stone 160, 200–201

queens 43–50, 57–62, 135;
Archaic Period 43, 44;
Old Kingdom 44–5, 172;
Middle Kingdom 44–5;
17th and 18th Dynasties 45–50, 57–62;
in crisis 47–8;
divinity 45–6;
 as ‘God's Wife of Amen’ 59–60, 62, 83, 89, 226;
Hatchepsut as conventional queen consort 80, 81, 83–6, 100, 106,
112;
and Hathor 172–3;
land ownership 45, 52, 54;
regalia 45–6;
regencies 57–8, 61;
titles 45, 59–60
Quseir 145, 151, 152

Ramesses II, pharaoh 181, 224, 235;

children 50, 75, 76;
mortuary temple 73,230
Ramesses III, pharaoh 92, 152
Ramesses IX, pharaoh 92,213
Ramesses XI, pharaoh: tomb 212
Ramesses Siptah, pharaoh 227
Ramesseum 73,230
Ramose (Senenmut's father) 99, 180, 182–3, 198
Ramose, Prince 75, 76, 77
Ramose, vizier 55
Re (god) 13, 29–30, 33;
Amen-Re 30;
and pyramids 29, 30, 72;
and royalty 8, 17, 46, 101, 169
Red Sea 145, 151
Reddjedet, Lady 101
regalia: kings' 130, 135;
queens' 45–6
regencies 57–8, 61
regnal years 12, 64, 100, 106, 224
Re-Harakte, temple of 169, 175
Rekhmire, vizier 55
religion 29–33;
 Aten, cult of 33;
folk-religion 31–2;
funerary cults 27, 57, 62;
kings and 7–10, 17,20, 33, 101–6;
propaganda use by Hatchepsut 6, 9, 101–6, (see also Amen
(Hatchepsut's devotion to));
queens' offerings 61;
sources 10;
state and local gods distinct 31–2; see also the individual gods, notably
Amen; Hathor; Isis; Osiris; Re
Rhodolphis (fictional character) 233
Roman Period 68, 73, 160, 230, 235
Rosellini, Niccolo 232
Ryan, Donald P. 214

Sahure, pharaoh 101

Sakkara: king list 18, 230;
pyramids 96, 235
sarcophagi see under Hatchepsut; Senenmut; Tuthmosis I
Satioh, queen 90
Satire of the Trades, The 16
scribes 39, 180; see also civil service
sculpture 16–17, 40;
of Hatchepsut 130, 184, 221–2,
(Osiride) 174–5, 219;
as propaganda 155;
of Senenmut 187–8
sea travel 145, 150–52
seals, amphora 99
sed-festivals 109–11, 161
Sehel, island of 142–3, 161
Sekenenre Tao II, pharaoh 22–3, 22, 55,93
Sekhmet (god) 162
Semiramis of Assyria 191
Semitic migrants 18
Semna temple, Nubia 97–8, 100
Senenmut (Steward of the Estates of Amen) 177–209;
appearance 186–8,187;
army career 143, 177–8, 183;
and building programme 159, 160, 161, 177, 194, (see also Djeser-
Djeseru below);
career and titles 180–86;
character 177;
cultural interests 194;
death 206–8;
defacement of monuments 179, 188, 202, 207, 208–9, 222–3;
depictions 179, 187, 192;
disappearance from public life 179, 206–8;
and Djeser-Djeseru 119, 168, 177, 178, 194–6, (see also tombs (353)
below);
family and early career 116, 180–83;
Gebel Silsila shrine 183–4, 186;
and Hatchepsut 178, 179, 184, 189, 190–93, 205, 207–8;
Neferure's tutor 88, 177, 178, 183, 188, 207;
no evidence of marriage 181–2;
and parents' tomb 99, 182–3, 186;
popularly accepted biography 177–9;
proscription of memory 179, 202, 222–3;
sarcophagus 186, 199–201;
as Steward of Estates of Amen 153, 178, 185;
tombs, (71) 89, 90, 99, 143, 178, 181, 183, 186, 196,197, 198–
203,206, (353) 90, 178,179, 181, 186,187, 192, 194, 196, 203, 204,
205–6;
Tuthmosis III and memory of 208;
wealth 182–3, 186
Senenmut Quarry, Deir el-Bahri 221
Senenu, High Priest of Amen and Hathor 175
Seni, Viceroy of Kush 117
Senimen (tutor to Neferure) 88, 181, 196
Seniseb (mother of Tuthmosis I) 62–3, 175
Sennefer, Mayor of Thebes 55, 208
Senwosret I, pharaoh 17, 30, 145
Senwosret III, pharaoh 17, 30
Serabit el-Khadim 61, 89, 144
Seraglio, Grand 52, 53–4
Seth (god) 20, 22, 58, 69, 190
Sethe, Kurt 78–80
Sethnakht, pharaoh 228
Seti I, pharaoh 223,224
Seti II, pharaoh 227
sexual behaviour 67, 189, 190–93
Sharpe, Samuel 233
Sharuhen 24, 25
Sheikh Abd el-Gurna hill 196, 197, 198–203, 206
Shipwrecked Sailor, Tale of the 16
Shu (god) 60
silver imports 39
Sinai: campaigns 24, 113, 228;
mineral resources 16, 39, 144, 200
Sinuhe, Story of 16
Siptah, pharaoh 133
Sitamen, queen 66
Sitre, known as Inet (Hatchepsut's wet-nurse) 80–81, 214
Smith, G. Elliot 23, 90–91
Sobeknofru, queen 18, 87, 136, 137, 226, 228, 235
social order 41, 180–81, 182–3; see also lower classes; middle classes
Solomon, king of Israel 68–9
soul, survival of 72, 216
sources 4–5, 10–12
Speos Artemidos temple 144–5, 155–8, 156, 173, 223
Speos Batn el-Bakarah temple 155
stelae: Berlin 83, 100;
of Djehuty 143;
of Kamose 23–4;
at Serabit el-Khadim 89;
of Tuthmosis I 70, 71;
of Tuthmosis II 82
stone, building 10, 31, 35, 38–9; see also quarries
succession 62, 64, 77–80,95, 135
Sudan 70
sun, worship of: solar temple at Djeser-Djeseru 169, 175; see also Aten; Re
Suppiluliuma, King of Hittites 68
Syncellus 13
Syria 26, 143, 214–15

Tamara, queen of Georgia 140

taxation 7, 38
Tefnut (god) 60
Tell el-Daba see Avaris
temples 31;
economic importance 32, 39;
foundation deposits 168–9;
mortuary 32, 72;
as offering to gods 155;
public excluded from 31, 102;
restoration, Hatchepsut's 157, 158; see also under the individual places
and gods
Tetisheri, Queen 43,44, 57, 61, 133
textile production 39, 54
Thatcher, Margaret 118, 139
Thebes: as capital 19, 34–6;
Deir el-Medina, workmen's village 35–6, 56–7,62, 108, 230;
18th Dynasty rebuilding 31, 32, 34;
royal family see Tuthmoside family;
royal tombs 32, 34, 37, (see also Valley of the Kings);
 temples 31, 32, (see also Deir el-Bakhri; Karnak; Luxor);
Twosret's building 228
theogamy 102–3
Thoth (god) 104
Thuyu (parent of Queen Tiy) 200
Ti (official) 142–3
titles, official 185–6
Tiy, queen 51, 66, 213, 226–7
Tiy, Treasurer 208
tombs: Amarna 53;
autobiographies 16, 24–6;
Beni Hassan 17;
bi-partite 205–6;
caches of mummies in 91–4, 126–7, 212, 213;
Ineni designs T-shaped 205;
el-Kab 24–6, 49;
paintings 17, 40;
princes' 56;
reburial in grander 121, 182–3;
robbers 72, 90, 91–2, 126, 206, 211, 216;
separation of burial chamber from mortuary temple 72;
and survival of soul 72;
Tuthmoside family 119–28; see also under the individual names
trade 16, 21, 36, 39;
Hatchepsut's missions 1, 9, 144–5, (see also Punt)
transport of obelisks 160–61
tribute 39
Tura limestone quarry 61
turquoise mining 16, 144
Tushrata, king of Mitanni 39
Tutankhamen, pharaoh 33, 66, 94, 235
Tuthmoside family 5,21–4;
appearance 130;
dearth of children 75;
 feud, tradition of 2, 3, 78, 79, 80, 112, 138, 207, 216–17;
matriarchy theory 46, 49, 67;
tombs 119–28; see also the individual members of family
Tuthmosis I, pharaoh 70–73;
accession 62,63;
building works 35, 71–3, 11, 119,
(at Karnak) 158–9, 161, 164;
cartouche 63;
children 75–7;
death 70;
and Djeser-Djeseru 168, 175;
domestic policy 71;
foreign policy 26, 36, 70–71;
marriage to Ahmose 65, 67,75–7;
mortuary chapels 127–8,
(first, Khenmetankh) 72–3,75, 76,77, 128,
(Hatchepsut's, at Djeser-Djeseru) 119, 127–8, 169, 175,
(Tuthmosis III's) 127;
mother not royal 67;
mummy 93, 127;
sarcophagus 124–6;
stelae 71;
succession to 77–80;
tombs 71–3, 119, 120, 121–6, 200, 211; see also under Hatchepsut;
Tuthmosis III
Tuthmosis II, pharaoh 83;
accession 70, 106;
building works 81, 158, 164, 167;
and burial of Tuthmosis I 123–4;
cartouche 78;
death 94, 99;
domestic policies 81;
foreign policy 81–3;
health 90;
height 125;
mortuary temple 94, 175;
 mother 67, 77;
mummy 90–91, 93;
stelae 82;
tomb 94; see also under Hatchepsut; Tuthmosis III
Tuthmosis III, pharaoh: accession 94–5,96,99;
Amenhotep II's co-regency with 215;
appearance 125–6, 130,216;
building works 128, 215, 220–22,
(Djeser-Akhet) 165, 175, 220;
cartouche 211;
character 113–14, 215, 217–18, 225;
depiction 224;
descent 67, 94–5;
and Festival of the Valley 171;
foreign policy 143, 144, 210, 214–5;
and God's Wife of Amen 60, 226;
harem-palace 54;
jubilees 111;
literary composition 215;
marriages 54, 67;
military leadership 113, 114, 143, 144, 210, 214–15;
mummy 53, 91, 93, 212, 215–16;
and Neferure 66, 89;
officials 117, 208;
oracle of Amen cited to support kingship 95, 96, 114;
and Punt expeditions 145, 152, 153;
reign 214–15;
self-promotion 215;
and Senenmut 208;
titles 117;
tomb 215;
and Tuthmosis I 119, 128,
(provides new tomb and mortuary chapel) 121, 126, 127, 211;
and Tuthmosis II: alleged co-regency 95–6; see also under Hatchepsut
Tuthmosis IV, pharaoh 33, 51, 60, 91
Tuthmosis, Treasurer 117
Tutu, tomb of, at Amarna 53
Twosret, queen 92, 227–9, 235

uraeus 46, 77, 83, 222

Useramen, vizier 117
Userhat-Amen see Amen (barque of)
Userkaf, pharaoh 101

Valley of the Kings 32, 35, 56, 71–3;

mummies moved away for preservation 91–4;
tombs (of Sitre) 80–81, 214, (see also under the individual rulers);
tunnels from Deir el-Bahri 119, 121
Valley of the Queens 35
virginity 191

Wadi Hammamat quarries 39

Wadi Maghara 144
Wadi Natrun quarries 200
Wadi Sikkat Taka ez-Zeida:
Hatchepsut's tomb 84, 85, 86, 119, 126;
Neferure's tomb 90
Wadjet-Renpet, chief steward 208
Wadjmose, Prince 72–3, 75, 76, 77, 128
Wadjyt (goddess) 46
warfare: invention or borrowing of victory 142, 157–8;
Hatchepsut as warrior king 137–44, 174;
women and 47, 57–8, 138–41; see also army and under the individual
rulers
Warner, Marina 133–4
Westcar Papyrus 101
wet-nurses, royal 80–81
White Chapel of Senwosret I 17
Wilkinson, John Gardner 232
Winlock, Herbert E. 80–81, 82, 154, 234;
and defaced statues of Hatchepsut 11, 79, 217, 221–2;
on quality of Djeser-Djeseru 167–8;
on Senenmut 185, 193
Wolf, Naomi 139
women: conventional depiction 133, 240;
in crisis 47–8;
legal status 45;
and militarism 138–41;
pharaohs 6, 18, (see also Hatchepsut; Sobeknofru; Twosret); see also
harems; queens
workforce 7,38
World Wars 47,217
writing 11–12, 230, 231, 234;
confers reality 9,142

Yuya (parent of Queen Tiy) 200

Zenobia of Palmyra 140