Hatshepsut

Thebes, Royal Palace, Hatshepsut’s chamber, a week later

Thebes, Royal Palace, Hatshepsut’s chamber,

a week later

“Human life is like the waters of the eternal Nile,” said the master Senimen. “The source is always god's gift. We don't know the reason why it has given us life, and we don't know how it will be. Our time here is as the current of the river. Sometimes, it flows peacefully into the ageless riverbed, and sometimes it overflows violently. There are years of drought that thankfully are not very common, when the river almost disappears, and then there are yearswhen the Nile covers area which have not experienced a single drop of water in years. Other tributaries feed the mainstream, some smaller while others are larger. Each of them is a separate river but combined make up the Nile. On the one hand, that's good, but it can also happen that the tributary can bring illness or other divine curses.”

Hatshepsut listened attentively. She liked her talks with the teacher. Senimen became her teacher as soon as Sitre ceased to be her mother. He revealed to her new worlds, showed her other perspectives, transmitted the wisdom contained in ancient books, and stimulated her mind to find new and better ways. He let her ask questions and together sought the answers. He looked for books for her, talked about old thinkers, and the difficulties of Heliopolis. He was her teacher, and she thought he would continue to be in the future.

“The Nile is as eternal as life,” he continued. “We receive our time from the hands of the gods, and they take it away. People sometimes think that death is the end of everything. However, life has no beginning and no end.

“We are here just for a moment.”, said Hatshepsut as she straightened in her chair. She raised her head as if he wanted to look into the sky, but it was evident that he was looking somewhere beyond the human world. She closed her eyes.

“We are here as a manifestation of divine power.” He recited one of his favorite thoughts engraved on the stones of Heliopolis. “We are your element and expression. Emanation of eternal cosmic energy. A spark that shines in a blink. The light is given to all when we come here, but its intensity and color rely almost solely on ourselves. Our inner light illuminates our earthly road, but its quality also depends on many other factors.”

Often, Senimen told her a parable or a sentence that would put her in a reflective mood and open her mind, then Hatshepsut would discover what he wanted to convey. She felt that this time was the same. That soon, he would find something that would explain the significant change coming in her life. She had a fear of new things and knew that they were part of human life. She liked challenges, but always wanted to be well prepared for them.

“Until the river reaches the sea water, it flows across our country. Sometimes full of fury, sometimes calm,” continued Senimen with a quiet voice. “It collects its tributaries on way, from which takes its force. We, the people, need to supplement our strengths, knowledge, and skills. We draw on the experience of those who preceded us, we study wise papyri, and we read ancient stories.”

“We learn from teachers like you.” Hatshepsut wanted to please the master and pay tribute to him.

“Responsive students,” he nodded towards her and added, “generously gifted by the gods, often outgrow their teachers, My Lady. When this happens, we know that time has come to open the mainstream fornew tributaries.”

“Senimen, you have always been my teacher. For years, I have also took lessons from the High Priest Hapuseneb, I also enjoy the advices of general Pen-Nekhbet. Also, my mother, the wisest of all women, teaches me everything I need to know about the service to Amun. However, above all, I am learning from my father... It's hard to imagine better teachers. Don't you think so?”

“This is true, Princess. His words are the truth. However, as we know, a true sage is not one who can predict the arrival of something new, but one who, knowing the coming changes, prepares for them. After the death of Prince Amenmose, we expect major changes. Amun has still not told us who will be the heir to the throne. Walking through these uncertain times is difficult for all of us. Prepare yourself to make the best of every situation.”

“Your words, Master, should be engraved in stone!”

“I bow to you, My Lady, and your intellect.”

“If ever I become Queen by the will of the gods, I will order them to keep your words for eternity so that posterity might use them.”

Hatshepsut knew from long ago and was starting to understand, how important the correct choice of words was in the Government. How important it was to emphasize, wherever possible, that almost everything in life was due to the grace of the gods and the most important people from the outside. She was taking care with whom she spoke, and trying to retain the words she heard intentionally and habitually. These words flowed from her lips excessively. Using the teachings of her master, she praised Amun at every opportunity. It was easy because she firmly believed that as his daughter a tender and divine protection surrounded her. She also praised those who could become their allies, even though it was going to happen soon.

“Senimen told me when we were over the river. I tried to understand your message and to remember it. Now, please speak directly to me, as this is rather confusing! What's going on?”

Senimen knew his pupil almost as well as Sitre. He knew Hatshepsut was similar to her father, who valued simple, clear, and concise statements. And, the more the Princess matured, the more she became like him.

“Madam, do you remember the young Prince called for help when his sister Neferubiti fell into the water?”

Senimen recalled an incident that had taken place a few years before when the royal boat sailed from Thebes to Memphis. Neferubiti, the younger sister of Hatshepsut, stood on the bow. A massive wave hit the boat, and the Princess lost her balance and fell into the water. Even though she knew how to swim, when she fell into the river she swallowed water and began to drown. A young soldier saved her.

“Did we show appreciation to this brave soldier properly?” Asked Hatshepsut, knowing that this had just happened.

“Of course, he received a proper reward,” said Senimen, noting that the eyes of the Princess slightly glistened from the memory of her beloved little sister and this event. “I admit that I already had an eye on the young man, who saved the Princess, Madam. He served in the army of your father, and he took part in the expedition of Kush. The same one in which you also participated.”

“I was five years old,” said Hatshepsut quietly.

“Yes, it was a long time ago.”

“I perfectly remember everything from that war. It seems to me I remember even more than is possible: every detail, every Egyptian soldier,” Hatshepsut reflected quietly.

“Really?” Asked Senimen.

“I think so.”

“Madam, remember a soldier who fought so boldly that he received the honor of handing your father the blade with which we cut off the hands of the defeated ruler?”

“I remember a tall, slender man who was kneeling and handing the Pharaoh the insignia of power on a blue pillow. The blade was given to my father gave by the High Priest Hapuseneb. I was there, I saw it closely.”

“Your memory, My Lady, is incredible,” Senimen said with admiration.

“The hands of the enemy soldiers who had been in battle were tied with ropes, and there were so many that they all only just fitted into a wagon. Yes, of course, I remember that brave young soldier. HeI didn't have the constitution of a strong man then, but I've been taught for years that appearances are often deceiving. That day, during the ceremony, he was kneeling near the throne, very close to me. Like myself and everyone else, he was proud of my father,” Hatshepsut remembered.

“This is the same man who jumped into the water behind Neferubiti.”

“Really?” Hatshepsut was sincerely surprised.

“It's been almost ten years since then. Many things have changed. At that time, the young man was a soldier, and now he's an extremely talented teacher,” said Senimen.

“Like you are a teacher?” asked Hatshepsut. Oh, how her memory was different. She remembered his cheeks and his torso covered with the red paint of victory, a tiger skin covered his back and an arm, and he had a javelin with a loop glued to it.

“War and military crafts have their place. That time was different because he was a soldier. As a teacher, he resides in the shady gardens, the mighty palaces, and the Houses of Life. Thanks to this, he too grew more refined.”

Senimen was silent, waiting for the Princess to ask a question, expressing the desire for further conversation on the subject. However, she said nothing. Hatshepsut knew that the master intentionally guided her thoughts. She knew his methods and so didn't reveal an interest in the men who they were talking about. Senimen taught her that the thoughts of someone who exercised power must remain incomprehensible to ordinary mortals, and her master was a mere mortal. She was convinced that he had not guessed how interested she was in the savior of her sister, nor did he know the reason for her interest.

It seemed that something drew her to this man: a force that she could not decipher. She did not know him well, had only seen him once in her life so long ago that she almost could not remember the occasion, but something disturbed her when she heard stories about him. Something made her heart vibrate and filled her with excitement, similar to that which she felt when anticipating her next trip when she was a child. She drove these thoughts from her mind, but at the same time, she felt a strange and previously unknown pleasure.

The master deciphered her feelings almost immediately. Hatshepsut’s reactions indicated that she was interested in his protégé. However, he had always recognized that it was better the Princess did not know when he acknowledged her emotions. In addition, the task of bringing the Egyptian soldier to Hatshepsut’s attention had been undertaken at the request of his friends, Hapuseneb and Pen-Nekhbet, who wanted Hatshepsut to focus her interest on this young man. The soldier had won Hatshepsut’s trust; he had protected her and supported her. The friends wanted Hatshepsut to like and trust him. Thanks to this, they knew that she was safe, having someone who would protect her and oversee her on their behalf. Senimen felt that he had achieved the goal, and it was unexpectedly easy. The gods were kind to him.

“He has been gifted with intelligence, and is healthy and kind. Moreover, he is remarkably fit, and has learned different methods of fighting. He is brave and wise: in a word, a man for all,” stated Senimen.

Hatshepsut gave a permissive gesture with her hand, a signal that encouraged him to continue. At the same time, she nodded to the servant who, in a blink of an eye, offered the Princess a goblet of fig wine diluted with water.

“Master, would you like a goblet of wine?” she asked.

Even if Senimen had any doubt whether the indifference of the Princess to his story made him consider that he had not succeeded, he was now convinced that it was the opposite. She was interested in this man but didn't want to show it.

She thought that she was going to deceive him by hiding her thoughts. Oh, how wrong she was. He knew Hatshepsut well and had no difficulty reading her. From the earliest age, he had been able to tell when Hatshepsut was excited and wanted to hide it when her mouth became dry and she was asking for drinks. That was the only sign he needed. It meant that Hatshepsut was very interested, but also a little nervous, about what Senimen had to say. He shook his head and thanked the servant, then waited for the Princess to drink a few sips.

“Having an unusual career for a man may be surprising. But I assure you, Madam, and I swear by my experience: if a person is equipped with so many talents, is it not a sin for them not to use them for the glory of Eternal Egypt by the gods?”

“Continue,” she said, finally recognizing that there was nothing improper in being interested in the fate of a brave warrior. “You've captured my curiosity.”

“He comes from Iuna5. His parents are Ramose and Hat-Nefer. Ramose is a writer in a poor district. Both parents are alive. He has brothers and sisters, but they do not have as many talents as he does. He learned to write and read at the age of three. He speaks five languages. He knows geometry, mathematics, and astrology, and learns quickly.

“Good. Enough!” Hatshepsut interrupted him. “What family does he come from?”

“He does not come from a noble family. Knowing how smart he is, we think that maybe someone else could be his father, but his mother swears to Hathor that, apart from her husband, she has not been with another man in her life. I think she is a simple and sincere woman and has been honest with the goddess.”

“I see that you have made a complete diagnosis,” stated Hatshepsut.

"Madam, with Pharaoh's permission after the war in Kush, your hero, the man we talk about, was sent to Heliopolis. He was there for years. He has returned full of knowledge. He is under my protection. He comes from a simple family, but as I said, the gods, for reasons that only they know, have endowed him with deep understanding. We are going to use it. Use him, Lady. You will need him. He is not only strong, he is fit and brave, but he also has a malleable mind. In the coming times, you will need someone like him, a man you can trust for everything and be at your disposal. He can be your teacher, helper, counselor and everything you need. I will watch over him.

“What is his name?” Hatshepsut asked, no longer hiding her interest in the man whom the gods, from time to time, ensured their destinies crossed, as if to prepare her for something that would be extremely important to her future.

“Senenmut,” replied Senimen.

"Senenmut," she echoed. “I want to meet him.”

Senimen smiled to himself. He was pleased to have achieved the goal.