I, the Sun

by Morris, Janet

  This woman, the Egyptian queen, was twenty-one years old, twice widowed, forced into incestuous relationship with her father the product of which was a still-born child. So, since I was kindhearted, I complied with the word of the woman and concerned myself with the matter of sending Zannanza to her.

  I called Hani into my presence, and to his bewigged and bejeweled self I spoke as follows:

  “Your queen supplicated me like a temple prostitute pining to bear a son to the god. And yet, Egyptian actions do not match these friendly protestations. In former times, I myself was friendly toward Egypt, but Egypt ignored me. I went far out of my way to avoid fighting with Egyptian countries; not in any way did I open hostilities with your country. I was friendly, but you suddenly did me evil. Your country came and attacked the man of Kinza, Aitakama, whom I had taken away from the king of the Hurriland which calls itself Mitanni. I, when I heard this, became angry, and I sent forth my own troops and chariots and the lords. So they came and attacked your territory, the country of Amqa. And when they attacked Amqa, which is your country, you probably were afraid; and therefore you keep asking me for a son of mine as if it were my duty. He will in some way become a hostage, but king you will not make him.”

  Pulling on his earrings, as if by that means he could banish the red from his cheeks and the outrage from his stiffened spine, the Egyptian ambassador Hani spoke thus:

  “Oh, my Lord! This is our country’s shame! If we had a son of the king at all, would we have come to a foreign country and kept asking for a lord for ourselves? Nibhuria, who was our lord, died; a son he has not. Our lord’s wife is solitary. We are seeking a son of you our Lord, for the kingship in Egypt, and for the woman, our lady, we seek him as her husband! Furthermore, we went to no other country, only here did we come! Now, O our Lord, give us a son of thine!”

  And I was greatly mollified to hear this Hani referring to me as “our Lord,” since he was speaking for all the people of Egypt.

  So I made a show of mulling over which son I might thither send, and said that since Zannanza was of the proper age, and of kingly stuff, it was him I would give in marriage to Ankhsenamun, queen of Egypt.

  Then I asked for the tablet of a treaty we had found while searching the archives for precedents, and Hattu-ziti went to get it and to get also the Great Ones of Hattusas, whomsoever was there who might witness the reading.

  And when the Great Ones filed in, there was no Shepherd with his wisdom shining out from among them like a beacon. And so I read, myself, the treaty aloud before the gathered host, in which it was told how formerly the Storm God took the people of Kurustama, sons of Hatti, and carried them to Egypt and made them Egyptians; and how the Storm God concluded a treaty between the countries of Egypt and Hatti, and how they were continuously friendly with each other.

  And when the tablet was read before them, I then addressed the gathered greats thus: “Of old, Hattusas and Egypt were friendly with each other, and now this, too, on our behalf, has taken place between our two countries! Thus Hatti and Egypt will continuously be friendly with each other! To the end of days with each other, this agreement will endure.”

  And then I had Zannanza, who this long while had been waiting in the hall, ushered in, and a murmured approval rose up from my greats, and the Honorable looked him over in closest scrutiny, and, nodding his head so that his tasseled earrings tinkled, sat back with a huge sigh of relief.

  I leveled a stare on him, wondering what kind of son he had thought to receive: one crippled in limb? one dull in mind? Whatever he had conjectured, it was obvious that Zannanza surpassed his wildest dreams. In Egypt, among those slight folk, he would even appear tall, mighty and robust.

  So before all I told him that to the country of Egypt he would be going, to rule over it as king. And, as he had been coached, he appeared overwhelmed, surmounted by surprise, exceedingly honored in a kingly way.

  Then began a spate of feasting and revelry that lasted seven days, on the last of which my sons, all of them, of every degree, and my daughters out of whomsoever, as well as Khinti’s daughter and Malnigal’s daughter, and king Telipinus from Halap and king Piyassilis/Sarrikusuh from Carchemish, held a private festival in Zannanza’s honor.

  And on, the following dawn, I bade farewell to Zannanza, who was dressed kingly from head to toe in the finest Hattian fashion from the golden helm with its bulls’ horns and plumed crest, to his boots made from the king’s own oxhides.

  “Be you safely enthroned in Thebes. Be you under the hand of the Storm God the whole of the journey. And the shade of the Shepherd, may that one too watch over you.”

  And I kissed him, and hugged him close, and promised to send down his various concubines when he was settled, and made sure he knew just what route to take and where to meet the Honorable Lord Hani, who would accompany him across the Egyptian border but had left early to see to his affairs in Amqa.

  And then he was gone, a slight, graceful figure in the lead chariot, fading into the mists of morning with Teshub-zalma, the Shepherd’s younger son, commanding his guard.

  I stood there in the empty Hattian dawn until there was no more trace of them, and then went back within my double citadel walls and climbed up to the top of the chariot gate tower, and watched, and watched, and watched, as my son left on a journey whose undertaking had never been predicted in all of former times.

  That evening, Malnigal and I, amid the presumptive truce in force between us since Zannanza’s departure for Egypt became an imminent reality, dreamed aloud together.

  When she had first heard of the matter, she had been livid that it was not her son, Mursili, whom I had chosen. But alongside her obsessive desire to increase her children beyond my others, rode her equally obsessive love of her first-born. Out of her fear, her love and the obviously great benefits she was about to receive from her step-son’s assumption of Egyptian suzerainty, I had been able to construct the truce between us.

  After all, when Zannanza was settled on the throne of his kingship, she could have whatsoever she wanted of Egypt’s bounty and no one would even murmur, since Egypt would then be a part of Hatti and she would not be importing anything at extravagant price: all would be laid at her feet, merely hers to choose. All the elegances she craved would be spread before her, vying for her pleasure.

  I have said we dreamed aloud upon the greatness that would be Hatti when we numbered among our dependencies the Black Land and the Red Land: Upper and Lower Egypt. Ostrich plumes, elephant tusks, trained spotted wild cats, pomegranates and hearts of lotus danced in Malnigal’s thoughts; Ethiopians, Nubians, and the fierce-more-than-panthers southern Egyptian army occupied the mind and heart of the Sun. How it might be to lead the incomparable Ethiopian warriors eastward against the upstart Assur-uballit, brought a smile to my lips as I conjectured it.

  “Whose death are you planning? I know that look,” teased Malnigal, and forgetful of all our differences, I leaned close and took a kiss from her.

  “It has been a long time, my lord and husband,” she whispered.

  “We are making new beginnings, are we not?”

  I made one with her, not to beget a child upon her, or to silence her, or for any other reason than the flood of success which made me generous and loving in my heart toward everyone, whatever sort of person he or she might be.

  The next morning I was thinking that once Zannanza was king I would go to Egypt, and see all the things Aziru had seen, and Hattu-ziti had seen, and Hatib had seen, but I the Sun had not seen, and judge for myself whether these great pyramids and sphinxes and statues of the former kings were as wondrous as everyone said that they were, without having to feel that I must make little of them because they belonged to an enemy.

  And while I was thinking that, Arnuwandas was trying to persuade me to do something about the lion, old and short-tempered and responsive only to my princess Muwattish now that Zannanza was gone. Old lions often turn man-eating, it is true, but I no more would have attempted to separate m
y princess from her pet than Tarkhunta-zalma from Piyassilis/Sarrikusuh, king of Carchemish.

  I was just saying that, when the messenger arrived summoning me to Kumanni.

  Once I arrived at the front, I spoke straightaway with Lupakki about the inadvisability of going down into the Hurri land after an otherwise unidentified enemy who had been subjecting the lands to depredations, when it was likely, by the strangeness he described in their dress and their manner, that they were Assyrian troops. I had come to examine the mutilated body of a slain commander, to try to make a definite identification of these people who were pillaging, and whom every one of my countries disclaimed as their own.

  This corpse that I was examining was carefully and splendidly noncommittal about its country of origin. It bore no device of any king’s service, no weapon of foreign style. And yet the face, though clean-shaven, was decidedly unHittite, especially when seen in profile; a man could have hoed a field with the dead officer’s nose, and his chin jutted out to meet it. And more: he had, in each ear, not only one, but three tiny holes for earrings.

  Shaking my head, I had the corpse removed and took a deep breath of clean air, and told Lupakki to proceed as if he were fighting bedawin or Gasgaeans or renegade Hapiru.

  Mursili, who was assigned to Lupakki as a driver on that campaign but had been detained in Hattusas for the feast of Zannanza’s departure, had come east with me. The possessor of Zannanza’s second-best team, trained by Piyassilis’ own hand, could think of nothing else, and invariably if I looked for him and asked about the camp of his whereabouts someone would point to a dust-cloud on the horizon and grin.

  I had been there twice as long as anyone would have expected, not because Lupakki needed me, but because I was relieved to have something to occupy me while I thought my thoughts which was simple, physical, demanding and satisfying enough to quiet my heart.

  But when Telipinus drove in, unsummoned, I was jerked back violently into the harness of my kingship, and pulled all the weight of it once more.

  The Priest, so he said, had come up to join me upon an instinct, a sudden whim, and he followed me around as if he were waiting for me to fall so that he could pick me up. He was soft-voiced and deep-eyed and every bit the man of the God, and I have never been so enclouded by sourceless fear as when the Priest dogged my steps for a reason not even the sight he possessed could reveal.

  The dawn light revealed it:

  A man from Amurru and an agent of one of Aziru’s vassals brought a tablet to me in the encampment. When they brought this tablet, they spoke thus:

  “The people of Egypt killed Zannanza, and brought word: ‘Zannanza died.’ But he died at the hands of Horemheb’s police, and Teshub-zalma with him. Aziru sends the true word and the false tablet to you, my lord, Great King; it is good that you should know. And know also that Horemheb’s troops are attacking all along the frontier.” And it was well that Telipinus had come up from Halap to hold his father when he fell… though I did not truly fall, but sank into the campstool as if I had shrunken.

  It was Telipinus who dismissed the messengers, for when I heard of the slaying of Zannanza, I began to lament for my son, for Khinti’s son, for that one so young who had died of my desire to single him out, to distinguish him above all others. I saw his sharp, wiry frame, his handsome, guileless face as it had been when he drove out so eager to his death. And for Teshub-zalma, the Shepherd’s boy, did I also grieve.

  And to the Storm God, my lord, and to the Sun Goddess, who regulates kingship and queenship, and to all the other gods I raised my fists and in a terrible voice I spoke to them thus: “O gods, I did no evil, yet the people of Egypt did this to me, and they also attacked the frontier of my country! Give me vengeance, O ye gods, upon the heads of these who have broken their oaths to you, my lords, and to the Sun!”

  And thus began my war with Egypt, which is now in its sixth campaign.

  Back to Hattusas I went and Telipinus and Mursili went with me.

  We sent word to all the kings to make ready to do battle, and against the city Amqa I led troops and chariots in force.

  Those who had murdered my son we captured, along with their entire regiment, and all of them we slew. First we cut off their hands in the Egyptian fashion, as had been done to my son and his guard, only we did it while they were still alive. And then we tied them to the plow, as has not been done since olden days, and split them asunder whilst still they lived, and the bulls and oxen we used were wild ones, captured just for that purpose, and their members were dragged by the wild beasts through the countryside.

  All that season I fought on Egypt’s borders while Lupakki handled the rebellious Gasgaeans.

  It was Aye, the Divine Father, who was sitting in Zannanza’s seat of kingship in Egypt. It was he who had been taken to the widow’s heart, though he was said to be in his nineties, and even related to her by blood. It was to this Aye, murderer, dispatcher of murderers, that I wrote in my wrath. And I reminded him of the destruction of Mitanni, who was barely a power at all anymore, and whose cowardly king Tushratta ran hither and yon from my battle. And I reminded him of what those of Egypt had written to me, that they had asked me twice to send my son and that in no way did I know that such a thing they had in their minds. And I said that the king of Egypt, this Aye, was lying when he wrote to me saying that he did not know about the death of my son, in no way did he decree it. But I told him that no matter how he professed his innocence in the matter, and no matter if he wrote me again begging, saying “your son is dead. In no way was I responsible,” that there was no escape for his country. I had sent him Zannanza, I would have given him in marriage. Instead I had given him up to be slaughtered. And I said:

  “You boast of your chariotry. I have the Storm God, my lord, the Sun Goddess of Arinna, queen of the lands. They will come, the Storm God, my lord, and the Sun Goddess, of Arinna, my lady, and they will decide the matter. Your troops you say are many. But in the sky the falcon or the fledgling is as numerous. Even if you have an army which is as numerous, what will we do to it? The falcon pursues the fledgling. But because the falcon pursues the fledgling, one fledgling does not pursue a falcon. What you wrote: ‘You could come with hostile intent. I could take away your hostile intent.’ Then take away my hostile intent and take away, that of the Storm God, my lord!”

  And I declared everlasting war between us because of the murder of my most beloved son, Zannanza.

  And all the while I was fighting that first campaign, I was based in Halap, and all that while Telipinus was pleading with me to meet with Zannanza’s mother, who was yet throwing dirt over her person and grieving so that none could console her. And since I refused him each time, I was taken by complete surprise when Telipinus came before me saying:

  “She is here. I have brought her myself, and if you are going to punish anyone because she is in the country illegally, then you will have to punish me.” And the Priest’s eyes were bright and pleading, and his voice trembled in an unkingly way. “And I have sent for my sister, her daughter, that they may set eyes upon each other after nearly a score of years.”

  I tried to say, “Young King, you importune,” but not even that much of a threat could I utter. My mind was devoid of thought and inundated with mist like a swamp, and like a swamp-walker, I had to watch my feet as I sought a chair, lest I sink in the treacherous mire.

  I just remember her standing in the doorway, nothing about what else I might have said or Telipinus might have said. And I remember thinking – I cannot do anything about her. Our differences are too long-standing, too many are the years, all is irreconcilably lost. Even in my attempt to do perfectly, exceedingly well in the upbringing of our son I had failed, as I had failed in every other aspect of my husbandhood to her.

  And then I saw her, smaller, older, worn as was I. And I saw the tears streaking her dirty, mourner’s face and the pathetic clasp of her hands together, and that she opened her mouth but could not speak, and instead tottered back against the
doorframe. I counted the silver in her black hair and the veins showing through her skin and all the years gone from our grasp, and I knew then that I loved her still. Still, after all the things I had done to erase it, I loved her. Oh yes. And king or no, I went to her, and took her in my arms and rescinded her exile, and she who had never touched another sobbed out her mother’s grief against my chest, and I said to her all things the years had never let me say. And after a time I brushed the tears from the cheeks of my beloved, and she lamented very softly the loss of her beauty, and I told her that every line and pucker enflamed me, that if she could stand my leathery skin and an old man’s caress, then she should not worry about how she might look to me.

  And so, in Halap, I lay with the queen of my heart and recollected the love that had not filled me since former times, for which no lust can substitute.

  And I stayed there with her until the sky began to lower, in Telipinus’ palace like some adulterer, which I suppose I was. I could not take her back to Hattusas, nor would she have come with another woman ruling there. Nor was there any solution presenting itself to our dilemma, for I could not cast down the Tawananna of Hatti like a concubine out of favor.

  And my love, my Khinti, quieted my growlings and pacings and said that in the spring she would come down to Telipinus’ court once again, and I took a tearful Muwattish back to Hattusas, sworn to secrecy as to what had occurred when she wept in her mother’s arms, having promised Khinti to meet her when the first thaws came.