A few weeks ago we discussed how history regularly does not give equal attention to all those who lived in the ancient past. In part, this is because of the limitations of our sources. Not only were the persons who could write back then often part of merely certain societal groups, but it also matters for whom and about whom they could chose to write within the constraints of their profession and world view. In addition there are the vicissitudes of fortune when it comes to which texts were accidently preserved and subsequently discovered, as well as to which texts kept getting copied and circulated throughout the ages.¹ Due to such factors it is difficult to ascertain the lived experience of most women in many eras and areas, for example.² Especially their inner world has often not survived through the written word. Though scholars did make progress in this regard for several different time periods and societies, including the monumental Women of Babylon by the Assyriologist Zainab Bahrani.³ And there is one prominent woman from ancient Anatolia who we may come to know reasonably well. A queen whose caring attitude shines through both the public and private documents pertaining to her: Puduḫepa of Hatti.

Puduḫepa hailed from Lawazantiya in southeastern Anatolia, a territory long since incorporated in the Kingdom of the Hittie when she was born in the thirteenth century BCE. And she became the wife of the Hittite prince Ḫattušili.⁴ This was a man who would eventually take the Hittite throne from the son of his brother Muwattalli II.⁵ And it is the life of Puduḫepa which we can follow fairly well through our sources.⁶ Though it remains advisable to be careful with ancient sources that maybe grant us a view into someone’s personal life. For example, the father and predecessor of Muwattalli, Muršili II, suspected his stepmother of murdering his wife Gassulawiya – which is sadly not an outlandish suspicion to harbor within the Hittite royal family. But in the texts that have come down to us, we can discern that it was likely this stepmother who prayed to the gods for Gassulawiya’s survival when she fell ill! It can of course be argued that such prayers were solely part of the stepmother’s duties at the royal court and did not betray her true feelings towards her stepson’s wife.⁷ Nonetheless, we are reminded that even some of the seemingly personal acts of Puduḫepa that are visible through our sources, including her prayers and letters, may just be part of her courtly responsibilities or otherwise unreliable.⁸ As such, one can harbor some reservations regarding how close we can get to her actual personality, but the available sources are nonetheless uniquely interesting for a woman in Anatolian antiquity.

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The Heirs of Muwattalli II

When the brother of Ḫattušili, the aforementioned Muwatalli II, ruled the Kingdom of the Hittites – which the Hittites themselves called the Land of Hatti – it had been an empire for a while and controlled sizeable swathes of ancient Anatolia, where the modern state of Türkiye is largely situated, and parts of Syria.⁹ This enormous extent of the Hittite domain had come to pass through the policies of Muwatalli’s and Ḫattušili’s grandfather and – if one of my previous blogs was right – future protagonist of a prestige television series, Šuppiluliuma I. From Šuppiluliuma the empire also inherited a tense relationship with Egypt.¹⁰ Because both kingdoms coveted lands in Syria and the Levant and they subsequently shared a history of warfare, intrigue, and sometimes even diplomacy. These Egyptian affairs were partly handled through the Hittite viceroys in Syria, who also descended from the line of Šuppiluliuma but became more distantly related to the royal house as time went on.¹¹ As such, Urḫi-Tešub, Muwatalli’s son and designated heir, had his work for him cut out when he became king.

What we think we know about the way Urḫi-Tešub went about this task comes in large part from a source that is nowadays called the Apology of Ḫattušili III.¹² This was a text written by his uncle in which he justified his usurpation of the throne.¹³ The reign of Urḫi-Tešub until then is conveniently painted here as being in large part dependent on the help, advice, and support of Ḫattušili himself. And when the latter was pushed aside it was only justified that he would take the throne from his – frankly, very ungrateful! – nephew, wasn’t it?¹⁴ Sarcasm aside, we can establish that there was a civil war when Ḫattušili moved to seize power, so Urḫi-Tešub cannot have been as incompetent as described or entirely without allies. And the young man was apparently seen as a valuable asset by the Egyptian court, who took him in after he escaped his uncle’s clutches and the odd-jobs given to him after his defeat.¹⁵ The memory of Urḫi-Tešub would long haunt the Hittite royal house.¹⁶ But for now Ḫattušili came to the throne and Puduḫepa became his queen.

The Reign of Ḫattušili III

As ancient monarchs mostly did not style themselves with numbers, it is a modern convention that Ḫattušili was the third Hittite king of that name.¹⁷ And he already had a rather successful career behind him before he put usurper on his curriculum vitae. A career that he attributed in large measure to the favor of the goddess Ištar.¹⁸ Part of his role, when his brother Muwattalli was still king, was to administer a region of the Kingdom of the Hittites called the Upper-Land.¹⁹ And it was on the long return journey to there from one of the battles the Hittites fought in Syria with the armies of the pharaoh Ramesses II, that he met his wife Puduḫepa. She was the daughter of a local priest and herself a priestess devoted to Ištar. Considering his own connection to that goddess, Ḫattušili would later describe their love affair as a (literal!) match made in heaven.²⁰ And when Ḫattušili in time usurped his nephew, she became one of the most powerful relative outsiders at the Hittite court throughout the kingdom’s history.²¹

Though, as tends be the case with usurpers, Ḫattušili’s reign was far from stable. This may be due to his double job as king: legitimizing his young regime as well as maintaining his kingdom, instead of only the latter.²² And all this in spite of the many enemies he had made earlier in life, when his brother was still king and able to shield him from most of the worst consequences.²³ Even when Ḫattušili managed that – more or less, that is – a new challenge awaited – to hand power securely to his son Tudḫaliya. In order to achieve this, Ḫattušili had to maintain stability in foreign affairs and thus was forced into a rather congenial attitude towards Egypt. That this was in any way possible is in itself a small miracle. Because Ḫattušili had to treat with the very same pharaoh he and his brother had fought a few years earlier in the war which eventually led to him meeting and marrying Puduḫepa.²⁴ But luckily the king did not have to bear this burden alone. His wife would herself write Ramesses when she perceived him abusing his leverage over her husband. And this is only one of the ways in which Ḫattušili could always count on her.

The Person Behind the Professional

That Ḫattušili would have such a storied and varied career – whatever we may think of his moral sensibilities – was not expected at his birth. As he struggled with his health from early on and is thought to have been chronically ill for most of his life.²⁵ And it is because of these illnesses we perhaps have the clearest view into the personal attitudes of his wife. Because in Puduḫepa’s prayers, as they are written down, we see a warm, caring, and loyal life partner:

Ḫattušili, that servant of thine, who [is ill]. […] If [Ḫattušili is accur]sed, and if Ḫattušili, [my husband], has become [hateful] in the eyes of you, the gods; or if anyone of the gods above or below has taken offence at him; or if anyone has made an offering to the gods to bring evil upon Ḫattušili – accept not those evil words, O goddess, my lady! Let evil not touch Ḫattušili, thy servant! […] And if thou, Lelwanis, my lady, […] grantest life to thy servant Ḫattušili, and givest him long years, months and days, I will go and make for Lelwanis, my lady, a silver statue of Ḫattušili […].²⁶

As said, some of these solicitations of divine aid may be disregarded as just what a queen – especially one with a previous career as a priestess! – is supposed to do. But the specificity of Ḫattušili‘s ailments that she hopes can be ameliorated indicates otherwise. For example, in another document we encounter her praying for an inflammation of the feet to be taken away.

If that [disease] fire-of-the-feet of His Majesty will pass quickly, I shall make for Ningal [ten] oil flasks made of gold, set with lapis lazuli.²⁷

And this determined attitude of a women who tries to do all in her power to protect and preserve her family like a proverbial lioness, we can also observe in her correspondence with Ramesses, the belligerent Egyptian pharaoh who, for at least some time, had harbored the usurped Hittite king Urḫi-Tešub. In a subtle act of intimidation, she writes him about the many capable commanders she helped raised.

When I entered the palace, the princesses that I found gave inside birth in my hand and I raised [their children]. Those that I found already born, them I raised as well, and I made them army commanders.²⁸

One could, if I may be allowed to speculate for a while, wonder whether without the support of Puduḫepa in his professional and private life – and perhaps the self confidence that his devotion to the goddess Ištar gave him – the regime of Ḫattušili, king of the Hittites may not have been as successful as it turned out to be.²⁹ Two women, one mortal and one divine, on whom he could always count. But is that necessarily an unqualified good – didn’t Ištar and Puduḫepa ultimately help to merely maintain the rule of a usurper?³⁰ A prince, as Trevor Bryce’s magnificent recent book about the life and times of Ḫattušili III states on the cover, “stole an empire.”³¹

Conclusion: Relative Villainy

One could argue that Ḫattušili III was a historical villain. And that his wife took part in this villainy, as she represented, held up, and communicated on behalf of the regime – and kept being involved, even after her husband’s death.³² What’s more, all these efforts would eventually be in vain, as the end of the Kingdom of the Hittites drew near and this was in part due to the dynastic strife Ḫattušili had instigated.³³ But the legitimacy of ancient monarchies presents a whole can of worms and is perhaps a story for another time.³⁴ Predecessors of Ḫattušili, which we would denote as more legitimate within the existing system of succession at the time, had sometimes shed as much blood – or more – when they ascended the throne. The relative instability of the regime was, but here I am speculating again, perhaps an asset for ordinary people living in the Land of Hatti. As it forced Ḫattušili to make peace with Rameses, eschew the wars of expansion and conquest like his brother had waged, and make extraordinary efforts to prevent civil strife.³⁵ Furthermore, one could argue that the longstanding dysfunctionality of the Hittite royal family cannot be blamed on this one scion and his wife.³⁶

It is an ongoing debate whether we should judge the people of the past through our current value systems and often such discussions are hindered by our assumptions about certain time periods.³⁷ Leaving that multifaceted question aside, I personally think we are justified in evaluating the regimes of antiquity as being better or worse for ordinary persons, such as those who farmed, labored, practiced crafts, traded, were part of a family unit in a supporting role – as many women and children then were – or otherwise not seated next to the levers of power. And in that way, perhaps Ḫattušili and Puduḫepa were not only no more villainous than other similar regimes in the time and place where they lived, but the latter also showed a compassion and love for her royal husband that may still inspire romantic partners today.

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References

1. As this is specifically a blog about ancient West-Asia, I confine myself to this area and time period. For ancient Mesopotamia and the Levant, see: Alan Lenzi, An Introduction to Akkadian Literature: Contexts and Content (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2019), p. 68-71; Mario Liverani, The Ancient Near East: History, Society and Economy, Translated by Soraia Tabatabai (New York: Routledge/Taylor & Francis Group, 2014), p. 5. For ancient Egypt, see: Susan Tower Hollis, “Literature of Ancient Egypt and the Ancient Near East”, in: Daniel C. Snell (ed.), A Companion to the Ancient Near East (Second Edition) (Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons, 2020), 275-276. For texts from the ancient Aegean that were copied beyond antiquity, see: Jeffrey Michael Hunt, Riggs Alden Smith & Fabio Stok, Classics from Papyrus to the Internet: An Introduction to Transmission and Reception (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2017). For ancient Aegean texts that were found during archeological excavations, see: Silvia Ferrara, “Another Beginning’s End: Secondary Script Formation in the Aegean and the Eastern Mediterranean”, in: Philippa M. Steele (ed.), Understanding Relations Between Scripts: The Aegean Writing Systems (Haverton: Oxbow Books, 2017), p 7-32; Philippa M. Steele, “Introduction: The Aegean Writing Systems”, in: Philippa M. Steele (ed.), Understanding Relations Between Scripts: The Aegean Writing Systems (Haverton: Oxbow Books, 2017), p. 3-4.
2. For historiographical methods and their limitations throughout the ages, see in general: Ernst Breisach, Historiography: Ancient, Medieval & Modern (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994). For this example more specifically, see: Inbar Shaham, “The Wheel of Power in HBO’s Game of Thrones”, Mythlore 2022, 40 (2), p. 70-71.
3. Zainab Bahrani, Women of Babylon: Gender and Representation in Mesopotamia (London: Routledge, 2001).
4. Gary Beckman, “Foreigners in the Ancient Near East”, Journal of the American Oriental Society 2013, 133 (2), p. 209; Trevor Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire: Partner and Rival of Ramesses the Great (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2024), p. 65-66.
5. Trevor Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 250-251.
6. See in general: Heinrich Otten, Puduḫepa: Eine Hethitische Königin in ihren Textzeugnissen (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1975).
7. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 208. Though this can be disputed see: Ibidem, p. 448, note 81.
8. Theo P.J. van den Hout, “Khatushili III, King of the Hittites”, in: Jack M. Sasson (ed.), Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1995), p. 1107-1108.
9. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. xv.
10. Marc van de Mieroop, A History of Ancient Egypt (London: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), p. 191-192, 219.
11. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 179-180.
12. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 48. Though the designation of this text as an ‘Apology’ and the proposed alternative, ‘Autobiography’, have been criticized, see: Ibidem, p. 23.
13. Theo P.J. van den Hout, “Apology of Hattusili III (1.77)”, in: William W. Hallo (ed.), The Context of Scripture – Vol. I: Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World (Leiden: Brill, 2003), p. 199.
14. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 197-199.
15. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 263-265.
16. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 201.
17. And it has been questioned where there even was a Ḫattušili II, see: Michael C. Astour, Hittite History and Absolute Chronology of the Bronze Age (Partille: Paul Åström, 1989), p. 39, 41.
18. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 31-32; Van den Hout, “Khatushili III, King of the Hittites”, p. 1108-1109. We probably deal here with a specific manifestation of this Mesopotamian goddess, that being Ištar of Nineveh. This goddess was adopted by the Hittites through Hurrian intermediaries in ca. the 15^th century BCE and she was therefore also known as Šaušga, see: Volkert Haas & Heidemarie Koch, Religionen des Altes Orients: Hethiter und Iran (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), p. 231-232; Vyacheslav V. Ivanov, “Comparative Notes on Hurro-Urartian, Northern Caucasian and Indo-European”, UCLA Indo-European Studies 1999, 1 (1), p. 178. Though it has been argued that the adaptation went the other way around and that Ištar of Nineveh is a the Mesopotamian version of Šaušga, see: Joann Scurlock & Burton R. Anderson, Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian Medicine: Ancient Sources, Translations, and Modern Medical Analyses (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2005), p. 523; Spencer L. Allen, The Splintered Divine: A Study of Istar, Baal, and Yahweh Divine Names and Divine Multiplicity in the Ancient Near East (Boston: De Gruyter, 2015), p. 160-161; . Make note that in other works Scurlock does not treat Ištar of Nineveh any different from other Mesopotamian gods, see: Joann Scurlock, “Not Just Housewifes: Goddesses after the Old Babylonian Period”, in: Steven Holloway, Joann Scurlock & Richard H. Beal (eds.), In the Wake of Tikva Frymer-Kensky (Winona Lake: Gorgias Press, 2009), p. 69.
19. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 40; Van den Hout, “Khatushili III, King of the Hittites”, p. 1109; Marc van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East (Chichester: John Wiley & Sons Inc, 2016), p. 169.
20. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 250.
21. Gary Beckman, “Foreigners in the Ancient Near East”, p. 209.
22. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 266-267.
23. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 41-45.
24. Ibidem, p. 19-20. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 273-286.
25. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 5.
26. Based on: Albrecht Goetze, “Hittite Prayers”, in: James B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), p. 393-394. See also: Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 288. For the prevalence of these kinds of promises in return for divine assistance in the ancient world, see: Heath D. Dewrell, “Vows and children in the Hebrew Bible”, in: Shawn W. Flynn (ed.), Children in the Bible and the Ancient World Comparative and Historical Methods in Reading Ancient Children (Abindgon: Routledge, 2019), p. 12, note 7.
27. Based on: Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 288.
28. Based on: Van den Hout, “Khatushili III, King of the Hittites”, p. 1110.
29. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 289; Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 196-197.
30. For the role of Ištar in Ḫattušili’s attempts to justify his coup, see: Richard H. Beal, “Hittite Anatolia: A Political History”, in: Sharon R. Steadman & John G. McMahon (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Anatolia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), p. 590; Trevor Bryce, Life and Society in the Hittite World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), p. 140.
31. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire.
32. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 286; Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 207.
33. Trevor Bryce, “The Hittie Empire”, in: Daniel Potts (ed.), A Companion to the Archeology of the Ancient Near East (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2012), p. 738; Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 327.
34. Nicole Brisch, “Introduction”, in: Nicole Brisch (ed.), Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond (Chicago: University of Chicago, 2008), p. 7; Marc van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East ca. 3000 – 323 BC (Malden: Blackwell, 2024), p. 7.
35. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 266-267, 276-286.
36. Bryce, Hattusili. The Hittite Prince Who Stole an Empire, p. 31-32; Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites, p. 267.
37. Matthew Gabriele & David M. Perry, The Bright Ages: A New History of Medieval Europe (Auckland: Harper Perennial, 2022), p. xv-xvi.