Latest / Ramses the Great: Egypt's Most Powerful Pharaoh — Fexingo History / Ramses II's Forgotten Daughter Bintanath
Transcript
- Lucas: We’ve spent a lot of time lately tracing the shadow of Ramses II across the Near East, looking at his wars, his monuments, and even the labor disputes of the men who built them. But today I want to step away from the battlefield and the quarry, and look instead at the quiet, calculating power of his family tree. Luna: You mean the wives? Lucas: Not just the wives. The daughters. Specifically, a young woman named Bintanath the Elder. She’s often overshadowed by her mother Tuya or her sister Meritamen, but she was actually one of the most politically active royals of her generation. Luna: Active in what way? Did she rule? Lucas: She didn’t rule as pharaoh, but she held a title that was almost as powerful: God’s Wife of Amun. Think of it less as a religious honor and more as a sovereign position within Thebes, answerable only to the king. Luna: So she had her own kingdom inside Egypt? Lucas: Exactly. She controlled vast estates, collected taxes, and commanded a household that rivaled the size of a small city. Her authority was so significant that when Ramses needed to secure his borders, he didn’t send armies—he sent her. Luna: He sent his daughter as a diplomat? Lucas: In a sense, yes. After the Battle of Kadesh, which we touched on earlier, Ramses realized he couldn’t crush the Hittites militarily forever. He needed a permanent peace, and blood ties were the strongest currency he had. Luna: So he married her off to a Hittite prince? Lucas: To Muwatalli III, the son of the Hittite king Muwatalli II. This wasn’t just a wedding; it was a treaty written in flesh and bone. It signaled to both empires that their futures were now intertwined. Luna: Did she go willingly? Lucas: Historical records don’t tell us about her feelings, but they do tell us about her status. She took the name Maathorneferure upon marriage, adopting a royal Egyptian titulary that asserted her equality with the Hittite queen. Luna: That sounds like a huge responsibility for someone so young. Lucas: She was likely in her late teens or early twenties. Living in Hattusa, the Hittite capital, meant navigating a completely different culture, language, and court intrigue while representing the might of Kemet. Luna: And did it work? Was there peace? Lucas: For a time, yes. The alliance held, allowing Egypt to focus on its southern frontiers in Nubia. But then tragedy struck, and the political landscape shifted again. Luna: What happened to Muwatalli III? Lucas: He died suddenly, possibly assassinated by his brother Hattusili III. In the chaos that followed, Bintanath found herself unwanted in the new regime. The treaty required her to return to Egypt. Luna: A rejected princess returning home. Lucas: It could have been humiliating, but Ramses II handled it with masterful political grace. He welcomed her back not as a widow, but as a victorious diplomat who had secured the northern border. Luna: He restored her position? Lucas: He elevated it. He reappointed her as God’s Wife of Amun, effectively doubling down on her importance. Now she wasn’t just a daughter; she was the king’s primary representative in the religious heartland of Thebes. Luna: How did she manage that much power? Lucas: By being incredibly competent. Inscriptions at Karnak show her performing rituals usually reserved for the king. She dedicated statues, funded temple expansions, and managed the treasury with an iron hand. Luna: The workers at Deir el-Medina must have noticed. Lucas: They definitely did. Ostraca from that period mention her name frequently, not just in passing, but in the context of official business. She was a tangible part of their economic reality. Luna: Did she ever remarry? Lucas: No. She remained the unmarried God’s Wife of Amun for decades, a unique arrangement that allowed her to remain loyal directly to her father without dividing her allegiance through another husband. Luna: That’s unusual for a royal woman. Lucas: It was strategic. By staying single, she kept her wealth and influence entirely within the Ramesside line. She became the matriarch of the cult of Amun, answering to no one but Usermaatre Setepenre. Luna: What happened after Ramses died? Lucas: This is where it gets complicated. When Merenptah took the throne, tensions rose between the priesthood of Amun and the royal court. Bintanath’s immense power made her a target. Luna: Her own brother wanted to take her job? Lucas: Partially. Merenptah tried to replace her with his own daughter, Henuttawy. But the transition wasn’t smooth. Bintanath resisted, clinging to her position until her very last days. Luna: She fought to keep her legacy. Lucas: She did. Even in her nineties, she was still holding court, still managing her estates. She died around year 65 of Ramses’ reign, leaving a void that no one else could fill. Luna: She outlived most of her siblings. Lucas: Most of them. While her brothers vied for power and died young, Bintanath survived because she was useful. She was a stabilizing force in a volatile system. Luna: Why isn’t she more famous? Lucas: Because history loves the conqueror, not the administrator. She didn’t win battles, but she won peace. And in the long run, that might have mattered more. Luna: Peace through family ties. Lucas: Precisely. If you’ve been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you know we dig deep into these human stories. If today was actually useful to you, the way these stay ad-free is listener support — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: It really helps keep the research going. Lucas: It does. And it allows us to keep uncovering figures like Bintanath who deserve to be remembered beyond just being 'someone’s daughter.' Luna: She was her own person. Lucas: Absolutely. So, as we look back at the end of Ramses II’s long reign, we see that the stability of Kemet wasn’t just held together by stone and steel, but by the quiet, enduring strength of women like Bintanath. Luna: A different kind of monument. Lucas: Indeed. One that doesn’t crumble, but fades if we don’t remember to look for it.