Within a few generations, however, the ruler of Thebes, named Intef, emerged as the most powerful man in Upper Egypt, and the prime mover behind a strategy to reunify the whole country by military means. The adoption of a royal titulary by Intef I threw down a direct challenge to the king of the 9th/10th Dynasty based at the city of Herakleopolis (ancient Hnes) in Middle Egypt, and a full-scale civil war ensued. Major advances were made by Intef II (no. 25) while his second successor, Mentuhotep II (no. 27), achieved ultimate victory, inaugurating a new period of strong, central government known as the Middle Kingdom.
Egypt, however, was a changed country. The weakening of royal authority during the First Intermediate Period had not only been accompanied by a corresponding rise in provincial autonomy; it had also brought about a blurring of the previously sharp distinctions between royal and private in many spheres, not least religion. In the Old Kingdom, the promise of an afterlife in the company of the gods had been reserved for the king. However, once the monarch no longer held a place at the apex of society, the hope of rebirth and an eternal existence gradually filtered down to other strata of the population as well. The ‘democratization of the afterlife’ had a profound effect on Egyptian philosophy and religion, as reflected in the lives of state officials like Tjetji (no. 26) and relatively humble individuals such as the priestess Hemira (no. 24). Changes in belief also influenced mortuary practices; the tomb models characteristic of Middle Kingdom private burials – exemplified, most famously, by those of Meketra (no. 28) – were intended to ensure eternal provision of all the necessities of life. Thanks to their detailed representations, such models have yielded much evidence for the technology of the period.
Other insights into ordinary life are provided by the written word. More widespread use of documents combined with the vagaries of archaeological preservation mean that texts, on papyrus and other media, are much better attested from the Middle Kingdom than from previous periods. They range from the private correspondence of a farmer named Hekanakht (no. 30) to the legal contracts of Hapdjefa (no. 32) and literary works composed for King Amenemhat I (no. 29). Alongside a flowering of great literature, the 12th Dynasty, inaugurated by Amenemhat, witnessed a new sophistication in craft production. The royal workshops achieved a level of technical skill and artistic creativity not seen since the Old Kingdom. To provide the artisans with the finest materials, expeditions were sent to distant lands in search of precious stones; the hardships involved are eloquently conveyed by the inscription of one such expedition leader, Horwerra (no. 36).
In political terms, the Middle Kingdom is a conundrum. On the one hand, the 12th Dynasty was perhaps the most stable royal line ever to rule Egypt. By a combination of ruthlessness and guile, powerfully expressed in the statuary of Senusret III (no. 35), the kings kept a lid on internal dissent and presided over a glittering court. The traditional duties of kingship were scrupulously observed, such as the refurbishing of cult images for use in important festivals – as described in the inscription of Ikhernofret (no. 34). The institution of co-regency protected the monarchy, ensuring a smooth succession between kings; while massive defensive fortifications in the Delta and Lower Nubia protected the country against foreign aggression. On the other hand, and set against this picture of totalitarian rule, considerable authority was exercised at a regional level by the leaders of Egypt’s provinces. The 12th Dynasty was ‘the age of the nomarchs’; men like Sarenput of Elephantine (no. 31) and Khnumhotep of Beni Hasan (no. 33) ruled their local areas in the manner of princes, and built themselves decorated tombs on an equally lavish scale. The power of the nomarchs seems to have been reduced under Senusret III, but the genie was out of the bottle: having tasted a high level of autonomy, the provinces would not be so easily reabsorbed into a centralized state.
In the latter years of the Middle Kingdom, the combination of dynastic crisis and internal pressures once again led to a weakening of royal authority. A degree of stability was provided by families of high officials passing their offices down from father to son; by contrast, the throne passed from one faction to another, to the extent that one king, Sobekhotep III (no. 37), even made a virtue of his non-royal ancestry. In the end, however, it was not so much domestic divisions as external forces that brought the Middle Kingdom state to its knees. The massive fortresses built by the 12th Dynasty kings throughout Lower Nubia had been a response to a perceived threat from the Kingdom of Kush. The Walls of the Ruler, constructed along the northeastern edge of the Delta, were supposed to protect Egypt against Asiatic infiltration. But without decisive leadership from the centre, neither proved effective. Immigrants from Syria-Palestine not only settled in the Delta in increasing numbers, they even set up their own mini-states and eventually claimed the kingship of Egypt itself. From the south, the Kushites invaded the Nile Valley, laid waste to its towns and carried off its treasures. Egypt was once again a land divided; history had come full circle.
22 | Tjauti
C
ONTROLLER OF DESERT ROUTES
There is more to Egypt, ancient and modern, than the Valley and Delta of the River Nile. The broad expanses of desert to the east and west, though inhospitable and largely unknown to the modern visitor, have always been important economically and strategically. This was never more so than in the First Intermediate Period, when Egypt was racked by civil war. On one side were the kings of the 9th/10th Dynasty based at Herakleopolis (ancient Hnes), who saw themselves as the legitimate heirs of the Old Kingdom monarchs. Ranged against them were the princes of Thebes, who were seeking to expand their control ever further in pursuit of the kingship of the whole country. The front line in the conflict lay at the border between Waset and Netjerwy (the provinces of Thebes and Coptos). The latter was governed by a nomarch (provincial governor) loyal to the Herakleopolitans. His name was Tjauti and his exploits, which have recently come to light through discoveries in the western desert, illuminate the progress of the civil war and the means by which it was waged.
As well as being governor of the Coptite province, Tjauti was also God’s Father, ‘beloved of the god’, member of the elite and Overseer of Upper Egypt. The first title may indicate that he was related to the Herakleopolitan royal family; he was certainly their loyal servant. Perhaps his most important role was as ‘confidant of the king in the door of the desert of Upper Egypt’, in other words the man responsible for maintaining and patrolling the desert routes and passes that criss-crossed the arid lands either side of the Nile Valley. These routes were extensively used by trade caravans and messengers; they formed a vital communication network linking the Herakleopolitan realm with areas further south. In particular, the routes crossing the giant Qena bend in the course of the Nile reduced journey times between northern and southern Upper Egypt by several days. Keeping control of them was thus a key strategic objective, for if they fell into enemy hands, the Thebans would be able to outflank and isolate the nome (province) of Coptos and its two northern neighbours. Thebes would then have unimpeded access to the holy and symbolic site of Abydos (ancient Abdju), jewel in the Herakleopolitans’ crown.
Tjauti, like his predecessors, governed his nome from the town of Khozam which lay directly opposite the point where the desert routes met the Nile Valley – such was their importance. It was thus a severe setback to him and the entire Herakleopolitan cause when the Thebans succeeded in closing one of the desert roads. Tjauti fought back, engaging the enemy in combat and building a new road to guarantee continued Herakleopolitan control of the Qena bend. He summed up his efforts in an inscription carved on a rocky outcrop by the side of the road: ‘I have made this for crossing the mountain which the ruler of another nome had closed. I fought with his nome.’
Ironically, Tjauti’s great achievement was also his eventual downfall. His new road, one of the best in the western desert, unwittingly hastened the conquest of the Coptite nome by the Thebans, and allowed them in due course to attack Abydos, desecrating its holy places and thus fatally weakening Herakleopolitan rule. The desert routes that had kept the Theban expansion at bay ultimately secured them their prize, the reunification of Egypt and the lordship of the Two Lands.
23 | Ankhtifi
P
ROVINCIAL LEADER IN A TIME OF CIVIL WAR
While the Thebans were extending their power northwards, conquering and adding the province of Coptos (ancient Netjerwy) to their growing territory, one man was building a rival power-base in the deep south of Egypt. Ankhtifi held the usual string of honours associated with a provincial leader – member of the elite, high official, Royal Seal-Bearer, sole companion and lector priest – but combined these with military titles – General, Chief of Scouts and Chief of Desert Regions – reflecting the martial character of the age. We know relatively little of his family life, other than the name of his wife, Nebi, and the fact that they had four sons, the eldest called Idy.
Ankhtifi’s home and administrative capital was the town of Moalla (ancient Hefat), from which he governed the nome (province) of Nekhen. Through a combination of skilled political tactics and wise administration, he succeeded in bringing two further provinces under his effective control, putting him in a position to challenge Thebes for supremacy in Upper Egypt. The first, decisive move came in response to mismanagement in the neighbouring province of Edfu (ancient Khuu). As Ankhtifi himself recounted: ‘I found the domain of Khuu flooded… and neglected by the one who was in charge… and ruined.’ He lost no time in annexing the nome to his own territory, restructuring its governance and re-establishing order. With two provinces under his leadership, he next made an alliance with the Elephantine nome (ancient Ta-Sety), thus creating a political union of the three southernmost nomes of Egypt. The Theban princes to the north, fresh from their conquest of Coptos, must have looked southwards with a mixture of fear and loathing: here, on their southern doorstep, was a serious rival who could thwart their high ambitions to unify the whole country under their sway.
The inevitable conflict was not long in coming. The Thebes–Coptos alliance stormed and captured Ankhtifi’s fortresses to the west of Armant, evidently intending to use them as a bridgehead for an all-out assault on Hierakonpolis (ancient Nekhen). Ankhtifi retaliated, recapturing his bases and pressing on into enemy territory. But the Thebans had decided to save their fire for another occasion and refused to fight. Ankhtifi took this as cowardice, but it must have made him uneasy. For him, fighting the Thebans was not civil war so much as self-interest; he knew that his confederation of three nomes was a thorn in the Theban side, and in the circumstances, attack was the best form of defence. Ultimately, however, Theban expansionism proved unstoppable. Ankhtifi’s rival confederation did not survive his own passing, and his heirs were forced to submit to Theban domination.
Aside from the battlefield, Ankhtifi was particularly proud of his administrative abilities. He boasted: ‘I am the vanguard of men and the rearguard of men…, a leader of the land through active conduct, strong in speech, collected in thought.’ His leadership skills were tested to the limit when a major famine hit the whole region: ‘Upper Egypt was dying of hunger; every man was eating his children.’ Ankhtifi took immediate steps to deal with the situation, releasing emergency stockpiles of food. After checking that his own nome had sufficient – ‘nobody died of hunger in this nome’ – he sent food aid to Elephantine and other major towns, including even Nagada (ancient Nubt) and Dendera within the Theban realm: a remarkably philanthropic act in the middle of a war. Thanks to his actions, serious loss of life was averted in southern Upper Egypt.
The final act of Ankhtifi’s drama-filled career was the construction of a resting-place for eternity. Though his tomb on the outskirts of Moalla was a rock-cut structure, following the provincial tradition established in the 5th Dynasty, the particular choice of location gave it an added significance. For it was cut into a hill that closely resembled… a pyramid. A mere provincial leader in life, Ankhtifi had secured for himself a royal afterlife.
24 | Hemira
H
UMBLE PRIESTESS FROM THE
D
ELTA
We see ancient Egypt almost exclusively through men’s eyes. All the highest offices of state were reserved for men; tombs and temples were built, decorated and dedicated by men for men. Even on the rare occasions when a woman gained the throne, ideology and tradition required her to be presented, in texts and images, as male. Those women about whom something is known are mostly royal and are defined by their relationship to a man: King’s Mother, King’s Wife or King’s Daughter. A rare exception to this rule is the priestess Hemira, who affords us a fleeting glimpse into the world of the Egyptian woman.
Hemira’s sole surviving monument is the false door from her tomb. Its slightly awkward decoration betrays its provincial origins – the town of Busiris (ancient Djedu) in the central Delta – and its date. For Hemira lived in the early First Intermediate Period, when royal authority had become fractured and artists in different parts of the country, freed from the constraints of a powerful court tradition, worked in their own, distinctive local or regional styles. The texts on Hemira’s false door are sparse, and mostly concerned with the provision of supplies for the afterlife. Yet small details shine through to illuminate the woman herself.
While her birth name was Hemira, her friends knew her by her ‘good name’ (nickname), Hemi. No mention is made of any husband, children or parents. Hemira seems to have been her own woman: perhaps unmarried, certainly confident of her own place in society. Her occupation was priestess in the cult of Hathor, Lady of Djedu. The main temple at Busiris was dedicated to the god Osiris (god of the underworld), and was an important centre of pilgrimage in ancient Egypt. Hemira, however, evidently served in a smaller, subsidiary temple, dedicated to a goddess and perhaps staffed mainly by women.
Whether because of her provincial background, or by her nature, she seems to have been rather old-fashioned in her tastes. On one side of her monument, she is shown as a girl with her hair in a long pigtail ending in a disc; this style was already out of fashion by the early First Intermediate Period. Nevertheless, the inclusion of this image suggests a twinge of nostalgia on the part of the mature Hemira for the carefree days of her childhood. On the other side of the false door, she is depicted at the end of her life, as an old woman with sagging breasts. The monument thus reflects the span of her life, centred around a picture of her in middle age, seated before an offering table. As she looked forward to the next life, she appealed to those who might visit her tomb and pray for her eternal sustenance: ‘As for all people who will say “bread for Hemi in this her tomb”, I am an effective spirit and will not allow it to go ill with them.’
25 | Intef II
T
HEBAN WARRIOR
-
KING
Intef II, known by his Horus-name Wahankh, was born into a world of conflict, and the civil war of reunification between the Herakleopolitan 9th/10th Dynasty and the Theban 11th would dominate his whole life. He came to the throne as a young man and lost no time in pursuing the battles that his predecessor, Intef I, had begun. Theban authority already held sway in the seven southernmost nomes (provinces) of Upper Egypt, but this was not enough. The great prize was the sacred site of Abydos (ancient Abdju), which lay just to the north of Theban territory. Here, the kings of Egypt’s 1st Dynasty were interred, in a holy spot believed to be one of the entrances to the underworld. For a would-be king of all Egypt, control of Abydos and its surrounding province, the nome of This (ancient Tjeni), was essential. But This, like the rest of the northern Nile Valley, was still loyal to the Herakleopolitan kings. Direct confrontation between the two opposing sides was therefore inevitable. An inscription carved for one of Intef’s loyal followers, Djari, records the beginning of the conflict: the Thebans had finally broken out of their southern heartland and had begun in earnest the battle for the rest of Egypt.
The first Theban attack on This was only partially successful, and provoked a violent response from the enemy. Intef realized that the province would be difficult to capture, so decided instead to outflank his opponents. In a brilliant piece of military strategy, he used the desert routes to circumvent This and occupy the area to the north. By setting his new border at Wadi Hesy in Middle Egypt, he managed to cut This off from direct Herakleopolitan aid. Its fate was sealed. He sent a message to the Herakleopolitan king Khety, setting out the new state of affairs, but the outcome was never in doubt: ‘I landed in the sacred valley, captured Tjeni in its entirety, and laid open all her fortresses. I made it the Gate of the North.’ Intef’s first-hand account is full of passion and determination. He presented his conquest of This as a deliverance, suggesting that the Herakleopolitan rulers had previously desecrated the cemeteries of Abydos. This was probably war propaganda, showing that Intef was master of psychological as well as military tactics.
The effects of civil war were beginning to tell in the country at large, with famine stalking the land. With so many men now conscripted to fight for one side or the other, the vital work of maintaining irrigation channels and tending the crops seems to have been neglected. But Intef was not to be deflected from his ultimate goal. He boasted of having ravaged the Herakleopolitan realm as far north as the apex of the Delta. While this may have overstated the real situation, there is no doubt that he had significantly enlarged the Theban area of control.
The latter part of his reign may have been marked by a truce, allowing Thebes to trade with both north and south, and building work to be undertaken – after all, one of the key duties of kingship was to beautify the temples of the gods. Intef’s most significant project was on the east bank of Thebes, at a site called Ipet-sut, ‘the most select of places’ (Karnak). Here he inaugurated a temple to ‘his father’ Amun-Ra. Although the preeminent deity of the Theban region was the warlike god Montu (personal god of Intef’s grandfather, Mentuhotep), the priests of Karnak had begun to elevate their local god Amun to greater prominence. An ancient creator god, he was now identified with the sun, and hence given the dual name Amun-Ra. All that remains from Intef’s temple is a small octagonal pillar, inscribed down one side with rather crudely cut hieroglyphs; but his patronage of the cult of Amun-Ra began the long history of Egypt’s most splendid temple, that was eventually to become the world’s largest religious building.
Opposite Karnak, on the west bank of the Nile, and next to the tomb of his predecessor, Intef began his own funerary monument. It was fronted by a great courtyard surrounded by the tomb-chapels of his most loyal followers. In the king’s own chapel, he erected a stela inscribed with a moving hymn to Ra, the sun god, and Hathor, the protector goddess who resided in the Theban hills. The verse hints at a human frailty lying behind the visage of a great conqueror:
‘Commend me to early dawn:
