Note- In Mara: Daughter of the Nile it is mentioned several times that Thutmose is Hatshepsut's half-brother, but, while Hatshepsut did have a half-brother named Thutmose (who was also her husband), the Thutmose that succeeded her was Thutmose III, her step-son and nephew, the son of her husband's lesser wife.
Chapter I.
The sun in Cairo was harsh to my fair skin. I wore a light-weight, long-sleeved button shirt and broad-brimmed straw hat every time I went outside, even if it was only for a few minutes. I also wore sunblock- lots of sunblock. On days like today, when at eight in the morning the sun was already threatening to burn me to a crisp, the blistering heat was almost enough to make me long for the cool, lush, rain-soaked green of the Northwest United States, where I had spent the first 21 years of my life.
Almost.
For though Egypt's climate is not particularly kind to pale-skinned, blue-eyed red-heads who are used to clouds and rain and lots of shade, it is heaven for history nerds like me. Ever since I was a little girl, I had been fascinated by ancient history, and ancient Egypt in particular. When I was given the opportunity to study archeology and anthropology in the Land of the Pharaohs, how could I pass it up?
So that was where I found myself now, in Cairo, on my way to class at the American University in the city, with the sun beating down on my feet, the only part of my body that was even partially exposed, in their flip-flops. The swaying of my long cream-colored peasant skirt mostly covered them, but I was sure I would have burn lines on them despite the gallon of sunscreen I had applied.
It wasn't a long walk from my tiny apartment to the University campus, only about ten minutes, and I was soon inside the- thank heaven!- air-conditioned building. I pulled off my hat and over-sized button shirt, revealing the more closely-fitted purple t-shirt underneath, and stuffed them into my book bag as I walked down the familiar hall to my classroom.
In the three-and-half months since I had come to Cairo I had adapted surprisingly- to myself, at least- well. I've never been a very outgoing person, but at the University, where everyone I met shared my passion for all things Egypt, it had been fairly easy to make friends. I saw one of those friends now as I stepped into the room where my first class of the day met. Most of the other twenty or so students in the class were already in their seats, and my friend looked up and waved at me.
Abigail was born in Kenya, but grew up in Ireland. The soft brogue in her speech was slightly surprising when contrasted with her espresso-colored skin and her night-black eyes and hair, which she kept natural, in tight curls cropped close to her head.
"Hello, Marianne," she called to me.
"Hey, Abby!" I grinned and took the desk next to hers. "How is Gatsby treating you?"
Soon after we had met, Abigail and I had discovered our mutual love of classic novels, though there were several she had read that I hadn't, and vice versa. We had given each other lists of books to read and were working our way through them. She was currently on The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, while I had been assigned Joyce's Ulysses, which I was not particularly enjoying.
"I like it," she said. "It's a bit romantic. And how are you getting on with Mr. Joyce?"
"Not at all," I said, mock-disgustedly. "I don't even know what the heck he's saying half the time!"
"Yes, he can be a little cryptic," Abby said laughingly. "But I suppose no one could ever woo you away from Miss Austen?"
"True, but you're one to talk!" I knew that she loved Jane Austen just as much as I did.
As we laughed together, I was vaguely aware that the door had opened and someone had entered who was now taking the desk at the front of the room- the instructor's desk. This wasn't out of the ordinary at all, but the other students in the class were murmuring to each other a bit excitedly as if something unusual had happened. What was going on? I glanced toward the front of the room to see what the fuss was about, and my eyes popped wide in surprise.
The person looking back at me was not the one I was used to seeing at that desk. This was not the grizzled, bald-pated, pot-bellied, grandfatherly Dr. Ashraf, professor of Egyptology. This was someone else entirely.
"Good morning everyone," he said. His voice puzzled me. Like Abigail, he didn't look as though he should have the accent he had. His swarthy skin, crop of wavy black hair and the slightly Middle-Eastern set of his features were at odds with his speech, which had the lilting cadences of the British Isles- somewhere in southern England, if I wasn't mistaken.
"Dr. Ashraf will not be coming in and he has asked me to take over for today. I'm James, one of his graduate students." The class was perfectly silent. I was positive that our regular teacher had never received such undivided attention from us.
"Well," James continued, "today I feel extremely lucky because I get to teach a three-hundred class instead of the freshman level courses we TA's usually get stuck with." There were smiles and chuckles in response, and he rewarded us with a wide grin, then looked down to the open book in his hands.
Turning toward the blackboard and taking up a piece of chalk, he continued, "So... Hatshepsut..."
My ears perked up. Of all the figures in ancient Egyptian history, Hatshepsut had always intrigued me the most. A lot of girls would gravitate toward Nefertiti, since she was so beautiful and had that famous bust made of her, or even Cleopatra, who, though not really Egyptian, was still a very interesting woman and important to Egyptian history. But, in my opinion, these two paled in comparison to Hatshepsut. She was a truly innovative leader. I often thought of her (and I'm sure I wasn't the first to come up with this) as the Elizabeth I of ancient Egypt.
"Hopefully you have all done your reading so I won't have to explain who she was... Of course, the good stuff didn't happen until after she died, when Thutmose the third took the throne that was rightfully his and rescued the empire from the economic ruin Hatshepsut had left in her wake..."
My jaw dropped open in shock. What? Was he seriously going to bash possibly the most successful ruler Egypt ever had, at least in the 18th dynasty? And was he really going to glorify Thutmose, a whiny teen-aged boy who couldn't handle having a strong female in power? I thought surely he must be joking, but as he went on, I saw that that was exactly what he intended to do.
I wanted to interject so many times. Twice I even almost raised my hand to offer my opinion, but I was too chicken. And besides, aside from the very misguided bias, it was actually a very good lecture. I would have enjoyed it had not every feeling revolted to its content. As it was, I didn't want to interrupt.
At least, that's what I told myself.
When the hour was over and the class dismissed, I turned to Abigail. She wore a dazed, almost awestruck expression that I was sure must look like the opposite of my slightly suspicious confusion. She looked at me, then her brow furrowed as she caught my glance.
"What's wrong?" she wondered.
"You didn't notice?" I said. "Hatshepsut..." I trailed off.
Comprehension crossed her delicate features, then amusement as she said, "Oh, yes, I forgot she's your hero. Why didn't you say anything during the lecture?"
"I dunno," I mumbled. "I didn't think it was a discussion."
"Well, why don't you go say something now? That grad student is still here." She pointed to the front of the room, where James was shoving his notes and books into a leather satchel.
"What good would it do now?" I asked doubtfully.
Abby shrugged. "I don't know. You could at least let him know that there are other opinions than his."
"Right opinions," I grouched.
"That's the spirit. Come on, I'll go with you." She began dragging me toward the desk at the front of the room. "You really should be more outspoken with your thoughts. They're often brilliant."
Yeah, okay, I thought to myself. We reached our destination and Abby nudged me forward a little. I glanced back at her, and she gave me an encouraging look. I turned to face the front again, where I ended up looking at the top of James' head as he bent over the desk to retrieve the last of his papers.
"Um... James?" I said, like it was a question.
He straightened abruptly to look at me- I didn't realize he was so tall- and in his haste lost his grip on his bag and the strap slipped off his shoulder and dropped to the floor. Papers scattered everywhere and I heard something metal thunk against the hardwood.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. He was on his knees instantly, grabbing the sheets he had so meticulously arranged before in crumpled handfuls and shoving them back into the satchel. I knelt, too.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you." I picked up a paper that had fluttered near me and handed it to him.
"Startled me is more like it," he said, smiling and meeting my eyes.
I blushed and looked down. I noticed a small, shiny object a couple of inches from my right hand. This must be what made that thunk. I picked it up to examine it. It was a ring. I couldn't figure out what metal it was made of; it was a yellowish color, but lighter than gold, almost silvery. There were tiny red stones encrusted in the thick band and what I thought must be lapis lazuli in the shape of a flower. It looked very old.
"Here," I said as James and I stood up. "You dropped this."
"Oh, thank you," he said, an unreadable expression on his face. I dropped the ring into his palm and he shoved it into his pants pocket. Then he smiled again. "Did you have a question, Miss..."
"Marianne," I offered. "Um... no, no question, just... good lecture." I turned away from his puzzled face and stalked out the door.