Chapter 2. Hatshepsut Discovers the Goddess.

 

Imhotep stood and waited in the darkness of the doorway. The lights inside silhouetting him so that he seemed but a shadow. He knew that the princess would not be happy but he had had no choice. Her father had summoned her and that was all she needed to know. He tapped his foot impatiently. The girl was never on time, how would she ever become a great queen, he wondered. Then she appeared, suddenly. Her white dress billowing out behind her.

“You’re late.” He said with annoyance. “Your father is waiting”.

“Well I was busy,” she retorted. She hated the way Imhotep seemed to think that he could just summon her and she was expected to drop everything. Some things were just more important than this fuddy old man.

Imhotep sighed. “Well, busy or not you know what is expected of you.” He was growing more and more tired of this ritual dance and the older she got the worse it became.

She waltzed past him, leaving him standing in the doorway. He turned and followed her. It was pointless saying anything to her as she wouldn’t listen anyway. But he couldn’t imagine how this wilful girl was ever going to be ready to take over the kingdom. Her father just didn’t see it but Imhotep knew. He had watched her development over the years and had been disappointed in how she refused to bow to convention. She had her own ideas which seemed way too outlandish. The only area in which she really excelled however was in her sacred studies.  Her priests and tutors had marvelled at how easily she understood the most difficult of spiritual ideas, ideas which had taken them the best part of their lives in study to understand, and yet she was a natural at it, as if she had been studying her whole life. It was just a pity, they thought, that she could not be the temple priestess but they knew that that would not be possible. She would have to marry and carry on the sacred duties of Queen and consort.

Hatshepsut reached the throne room and entered. Fire brands along the walls lit the room, leaving black marks on the wall paintings and ceiling from years of use.

Her father was seated on a long seat made of acacia wood. He stood when he saw her arrive.

“Daughter,” he said with delight, holding out both his hands to her.

“Father,” she answered, taking his hands and then giving him a hug. He loved his daughter greatly but sometimes despaired of her behaviour.

“You summoned me,” she stated, sitting on the marble floor. He returned to his seat and poured them each a goblet of pomegranate juice. He handed one to her which she took, and taking a mouthful of the refreshing sweet liquid, she looked at him and raised her eyebrows, questioning.

“Yes,” he said, “Yes I did”. He wasn’t quite sure how to start. “As you know……..he began, “All around the country there is famine.”

“Yes father, she answered, “I am aware.”

“Do you know why there is a famine, daughter?” he asked her, running his finger around the rim of his alabaster goblet.

“No father I do not,” she answered truthfully, “But, she added, “I have been thinking about it.”

“You have?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes I have.” She placed her goblet on the floor beside her and a temple servant came running from the shadows to pick it up. Hatshepsut waved her back and the girl stood back against the wall.

Her father was curious. “And have you come to any conclusions?” he asked.

“Yes I have. I believe it is because Khemit has lost its spiritual heart.” She answered, surprising herself.

Her father, taking a mouthful of juice, spluttered into his goblet.

“What? He said incredulously, “What did you say”.

“The heart of the Great Mother is no longer venerated.” she continued, ignoring his reaction. But how did she know this? It was as if someone else was speaking, through her mouth.

“The heart of the Great Mother.” He mused. His daughter had obviously been reading some of the old stories.  Only myths, he thought with relief.

 But he decided he would humour his daughter.

“So what is the heart of the great Mother?” he asked smiling at her.

“The heart of the great Mother is that which feeds the people.” She answered, amazed at what she was saying. She took a sip from her drink. “Like this juice,” she said, swirling the liquid around in the goblet. Its rich red tones lit by the fire through the thin alabaster of the cup. She looked then at her father who obviously didn’t understand what she was talking about. So she patiently continued.

“Where does this pomegranate juice come from father?” she asked him.

“It grows on the pomegranate trees, daughter, as well you know,” he laughed.

“Yes, but how does it grow?” she pressed.

“Well, it grows out of the earth, the soil,” he said, beginning to wonder where she was going with this.

“Yes father,” she said seriously, beginning to understand herself. “It grows out of the earth, the heart of the Mother. Her life feeds the tree, which then produces the fruit which we then take and eat, or make juice from, just like this juice,” she finished and drank a small sip from her now nearly empty cup.

“Hatshepsut, do you realise that what you are saying goes against everything you have been taught? That this could be seen as seditious?

“But why father? Are we not taught that the Mother of us all is the lady Isis, to whom we give offerings. And that Hathor is the goddess who feeds the Divine kings of Khemit?” She asked, confused. “Isn’t that what we have been taught?”

“No,” he said sharply. “That is not what we are taught. The Great God Amun is Master of us all and to him we look for succour and nourishment.”

Hatshepsut stood up quickly, knocking her goblet over, the remaining juice creating a tiny red puddle on the floor.

“Well,” she retorted, “He doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it then, does he?” And she picked up the hem of her dress and stalked out of the room.

“Hatshepsut,” her father called angrily, “Come back here at once.”

But she pretended not to hear him and left the room. She was furious but she was also scared. When she was far enough away she stopped walking and leaned against the wall, breathing hard.

Amun, she thought angrily, the Great God Amun. Now how exactly was he going to feed everyone?

 

She returned to her room and dismissed her hand maidens. She needed to be on her own and to think. She removed her dress and put on a comfortable linen shift. She got into bed but couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned. She just couldn’t understand it. It is so simple, she thought, so simple. How can he not see it? She could see it as clear as day. The sacred energy rivers which ran beneath the city were not flowing. The loving energy of the Great Mother, was no longer there. That thought surprised her. No longer there.  She repeated in her head. So it must once have been there. And if that is so then it must be able to be there again. And if they are beneath Thebes then surely they must also flow beneath the other cities. Perhaps they run throughout the entire land. She sat up, excitement making her heart beat faster. But how, she thought in frustration, how can I make it flow again? She could find no answer. She turned around yet again, her feet getting tangled in the white linen sheets. She freed them with irritation and tossed them off the side of the bed. She was feeling too hot now too. She got up and filled a cup from the container of water which her handmaidens always left near her bed.. She sat back down on the edge of her bed and drank the cool water. It refreshed her and slowed down her thinking as she focussed on the feel of the liquid flowing into her stomach. She was always amazed at how this felt, it seemed to permeate every part of her chest and upper back with its coolness. When she had finished she lay back down and stared up at her mosquito net. She breathed deeply, trying to relax her body enough to sleep. Eventually she did fall asleep but slept fitfully.

 

When she awoke in the morning she felt groggy and didn’t really want to get up but then she suddenly had a thought, no, more of an inspiration, like she knew something but didn’t know quite how she knew.  She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. I need to find a teacher. She thought with excitement. That’s how I do it. Then she suddenly thought, Ah, but how do I find a teacher who knows how do this? Surely if there was such a teacher then they would already have done it?

She felt deflated. But the feeling of sureness refused to leave. Her inner knowing would lead her to the teacher, she was sure. She would just have to trust in the Divine Mother, she decided. If anyone can find me teacher then she can. If it is in Divine Order.­ She got up and walked to the door of her room. Her handmaiden, Aisha, was outside, having slept the night there. She wouldn’t leave her mistresses’ side…… even if she was dismissed. Hatshepsut smiled and extended a hand to help her stiff handmaiden get to her feet.

“Come and have breakfast with me” she said kindly, feeling responsible for her handmaidens’ discomfort. In this way too she was different. Helping the servants was not the action of a queen of Egypt. She laughed to herself. But I am no ordinary Queen, she thought , and my country is no ordinary country.  She smiled and with Aisha’s hand in hers, and before returning to her room, she ordered the guard to inform the kitchen to prepare breakfast for two……Aisha would eat well this morning, she thought……… gratefully.

Reviews

[.:Naiira Harlow:.]

Interesting new chapter to a great story! I can't wait to read more! Well done!
-Twilight