The Criminal Side of Ancient Egyptian Women by Maria Kazani

When we think of ancient Egyptian women, we might conjure up images of well-dressed ladies applying perfume, making offerings to the gods or in domestic scenes with their husband and children. These may be the major themes in the surviving iconography, but Egyptian women had a darker side to them – a side that led them to assemble murderous plots and steal property for their own benefit. But first things first. Unlike other contemporaneous societies, such as ancient Greece or Rome, women in Egypt were greatly involved in legal matters. For instance, they possessed the right to inherit and manage (e.g. sell) property and were able to accuse or be accused of criminal behaviour by other members of their community; and with legal freedoms come legal responsibilities and the consequences for breaching them. Women were tried and punished when engaging in criminal activity, and we have a wealth of textual evidence documenting the investigation process and its outcomes for various cases, particularly from Egypt’s later history in the New Kingdom. It is worth noting here that ancient Egypt did not possess a set of codified laws or a structured judicial system in the manner that numerous modern societies do. More likely, ‘crime’ to the ancient Egyptians meant any harm caused to members of society by an individual or a group with some consideration for the degree of severity of that harm (although their definition of severity may not have always matched our own perceptions!). Justice was often served unofficially on the level of the neighbourhood and family, and it is plausible that many crimes committed by women were never properly recorded as they did not reach the legal authorities. But, let us focus on two remarkable cases where formal investigation did take place and our female criminals were made to respond for their questionable decision-making!

Pharaoh Ramesses III, although infamous for his military might and success in defending Egypt against foreign invaders who were catastrophic to neighbouring civilizations, is alleged to have perished by the conspiratorial hand of a woman – and not just any woman, but one of his wives, with help from other women and officials residing in his palace. We can see in Ramesses’ mummified body that he had suffered significant injury to his throat and some of his internal organs, which more than likely led to his death. Archaeologists cannot with full confidence ascertain the timing of the injury and it remains possible that he was struck and passed away during one of his military expeditions. That being said, we have trustworthy documentary evidence that a conspiracy, or a coup d’ état, against him did materialise; whether it was successful or not is up to interpretation, or (in an ideal world) the discovery of further evidence. The Turin Judicial Papyrus is the primary document recording the proceedings of the conspirators’ trial and punishment: over 30 men and women partook in the tribulations, each with a specified role and responsibilities. The plan was principally devised and executed in one of Ramesses’ palaces while the criminals consisted of women residing in the palace (possibly the pharaoh’s extended family), men working in different administrative οr service capacities, and some of the wives of the latter. But chief among the group was Queen Tiyi, one of Ramesses’ secondary wives and the presumed ‘mastermind’. The Turin Judicial Papyrus reports that Tiyi ‘plotted’ the conspiracy and that she was in ‘discussion’ or ‘collusion’ with other male offenders although there is no mention of her actually carrying out any of the practical work - verbs related to action are reserved for men. Does this signify that her role was inconsequential? Absolutely not! She appears to have been the ‘puppet-master’: the person responsible for formulating the plan, recruiting willing participants and perhaps acting as an ‘inspirational symbol’, leveraging her intimate contact with the pharaoh to expose his vulnerable side. The same degree of agency as Tiyi seem to have assumed some women of the palace, although their precise role cannot be ascertained - possibly Ramesses’ extended family (including his other wives). The same wording about plotting and collaborating with male offenders is used and the women are not identified by name or even as acting independently – the papyrus insinuates that the conspiracy was co-organised by them and Tiyi. So, what was their punishment? Here is the interesting thing: we have no idea. There is no recorded punishment for either Tiyi or the women. Here are a few potential explanations for this anomaly: 1. There was no sentence recorded because of their gender. This is highly unlikely because, as will see below, there were other women involved in the event and the decision to execute them is included in the trial documents. 2. There was no space remaining in the papyrus or the scribe wanted to maintain a concise style. This is, again, highly improbable: Every other conspirator is dedicated a paragraph with the punishments listed individually even when they are identical for multiple people. 3. There was no punishment inflicted at all. This option can be ruled out almost definitely. The gravity of the women’s instigating involvement was acknowledged, as they are referred to as having ‘plotted’ the assassination - not just partaken in it, but plotted. There are workmen who were disciplined simply for not reporting the events or having contact with the offenders – this happened for instance with a standard-bearer, Hori, whose price to pay was a long scolding. So why would the presumed instigators of the entire conspiracy be excluded? 4. The women’s sentence is recorded in a yet undiscovered or unpreserved document. This is my personal theory, although archaeologists should not usually theorise on the basis of negative evidence. Through the years, more papyri have resurfaced (apart from the Turin one), which explore different aspects of the case such as the alleged use of magic (!). So why is it impossible that there exists one more yet to come, finally revealing the fate of the elusive murderous queen and her accomplices? Apart from Tiyi and the group of unknown palace women, there is reference to another 6 women, wives of the palace workmen who participated in the crime. The phrasing here only indicates that they joined their husbands – their actions are unspecified but we can postulate that they assisted them in their ‘duties’ or at least were informed of the proceedings but failed to report them. These women are not listed as individual offenders but as a group. Clearly, their involvement must have been significant enough because it led to their execution - talk about ‘Til death do us part!’

In the 19th Dynasty, a wealth of artisans, scribes, and other construction workers lived in the village of Deir el-Medina in southern Egypt, and were employed building royal tombs in the nearby Valley of the Kings. Due to construction being the primary profession among the community, tools such as chisels, mallets or hammers held very high value, certainly higher than they ever would today. So what happens when a woman named Heria decides to steal her neighbour’s chisel? When the workman Nebnefer realises his chisel is missing, he presumably becomes extremely stressed, and as a result goes from door to door, making residents swear their innocence. They all assure him they are not involved. After some time, the lady Nubem is recipient of a divine revelation (no, literally, the ostracon uses almost this identical wording) and informs Nebnefer that she saw Heria steal the chisel. The reason she waited such a long time to reveal this is unknown and does not appear to have been investigated – the mind can only wonder whether Nubem and Heria had a falling out… Now this crime may not sound grave, although, as previously mentioned, the chisel essentially secured the workman’s livelihood. But, when the local court requests a thorough search of Heria’s house, which she complies with, it is discovered that she has also stolen a cult vessel of the god Amun. This action is unquestionably severe, as it both disrespects and defiles one of the foundational pillars of Egyptian society: religion. Religion guided ancient Egyptian ideology and often everyday life and at its head (at least during the period that our story is taking place) was Amun. At this stage, the offence is deemed too significant for the capacities of the local court and it is relegated to the vizier, who is one of the highest administrative and legal positions in the country and who works directly under the pharaoh. As is often frustrating with ancient legal cases (and ancient history in general), we have no conclusive evidence for what happened to Heria either in the form of official court documents or otherwise – the ostracon text concludes when the case moves along the system to the vizier. One clue is provided when Heria returns to the local court after the house search and the discovery of the vessel. Multiple members of the court loudly exclaim that she is worthy of death for her crimes; note however that they still do not pass an official judgment - this is probably just an expression of their shock, albeit a good indicator of public (and legal) opinion. Given the severity of the crime, the exclamations of the court and the involvement of the highest judicial authorities, it is entirely logical to suggest that Heria was eventually executed, mutilated, or, as sometimes has been attested in Egypt, forced to commit suicide. Unlike murder, theft committed by women is more commonly attested. We have examples of female servants purloining items from the houses by which they were employed, as well as other women stealing primarily small value items. Normally, the penalty consisted of returning the items plus a fine of twice or thrice the value of each item. Depending on the social status of the offender, this fine could be debilitating, putting the woman in debt for the rest of her life. To conclude: women in ancient Egypt were not always quiet homemakers who respected the gods and applied perfume. They could kill, they could steal and they could cheat; the positive news is that their gender did not seem to influence their trial or punishment process – instead, they received the same treatment in the legal sphere as their male counterparts. Can we say the same about the modern world?