by Paul Doherty
‘Well, well, Mahu, Baboon of the South. We brought you out here to the desert where so many men’s bones lie. Tell me, Mahu, what happened the night your master went hunting?’
‘I have told you,’ I spluttered. ‘We were attacked by Desert Wanderers, Sand Dwellers, I don’t know! They crept in, loosening shafts through the night. We tried to gather round the chariot. Some were killed, others were driven off.’
Again the stinging blow across my back.
‘Lies!’ the voice snarled. ‘And what else, Mahu? Imri’s death, a keen hunter, a man who knew the Nile and its dangers?’
‘An accident!’ I screamed.
‘So many accidents,’ the voice murmured. ‘What does your master say to you, Mahu? Does he plot against the Divine One?’
‘He tends his garden,’ I retorted, ‘and visits his House of Paintings.’ For one eerie moment the image of that beautiful woman standing by the gate in the torchlight returned to haunt me.
‘People visit him,’ I spluttered. I felt a cut on my ankle, a knife slicing the skin. The cut was so unexpected, the knife so razor sharp, the blood was pouring out before a stab of pain coursed through my leg.
‘We have only just begun, Mahu. We’ve drawn blood, we’ll let it trickle then we’ll bind your feet and leave you here.’
The questioning continued; about the fate of the Kushites, Imri’s death, what my master did – who visited him? The questions came so fast I couldn’t determine who was questioning me; in truth, I didn’t care. My body shook. My legs trembled in a cold sweat. Sometimes I’d drift into sleep; dreams came, memories from the past. Weni lying in that pool, floating face down on the surface. On his back, my pet monkey Bes. In the trees beyond, Sobeck and his lover locked in a passionate embrace, her arms and legs around him, her long hair falling, unaware of the hunters racing towards them. The Veiled One sitting on cushions, his almond-shaped eyes staring at me intently. Queen Tiye slapping me across the face, Isithia dragging me by the hand. Cold water was thrown over me, another blow to my back and the questioning continued. At last I collapsed onto my side.
‘Enough!’ a voice cried.
The coarse-smelling blanket was taken from my head, the bonds on my hands were cut. I was half-dragged across to the roaring fire. A wineskin was forced between my lips, a platter of bread and soft delicious lamb thrust into my hand. I ate and drank.
‘Mahu! Mahu?’
I raised my head. The Veiled One was sitting across by the fire, dressed in a Sand Dweller’s striped robe, the hood pulled back. At his side sat his mother Queen Tiye, similarly dressed, her hair falling down either side of her unpainted face. Beside them was a man who kept in the shadows, his face indistinct, although I could make out a sharp nose, glittering eyes and a bushy moustache and beard. I gazed around: a circle of men protected us, their drawn weapons glinting in the firelight – shields, spears and swords. Others were armed with bows, the arrows already notched. Beyond them another line of men held torches, keeping away the night prowlers, the beasts of the desert. I groaned and took a slurp from the wineskin.
‘I am cold.’ I grasped my ankle. The blood had stopped flowing, leaving an open, aching wound. ‘Why this?’ I protested. ‘What games do you play?’
‘Life and death,’ Queen Tiye retorted, pushing her hands up the sleeves of her gown. ‘You were visited today by God’s Father Hotep, emissary of the Divine One. He sat with you in the hall of audience, didn’t he?’
I nodded.
‘He urged you to reflect about choices, what paths to follow.’
I nodded. The Veiled One sat gazing at me. In the light of the fire his face seemed more beautiful than grotesque, the eyes soft and liquid, the full pouting lips parted in a smile.
‘Don’t you trust me?’ I asked. ‘Is this what we have come to?’
‘We had to make sure, Mahu.’
‘Haven’t I proved my loyalty already? What other evidence do you need?’
‘It’s not about the past,’ Tiye interrupted, ‘but now and the future.’
She spoke in a tongue I didn’t understand to their companion who withdrew. Queen Tiye gestured at me to join them. They moved back from the fire so we could sit facing each other. Tiye urged me to eat and drink, holding the wineskin herself.
‘You can sleep tomorrow, Mahu. Tonight you must listen. I have told you about my son’s birth, the pain, the way he was abducted, kept by the priests and abused.’
The Veiled One snarled as if his mother’s words pricked his memory and boiled the hatred seething within him.
‘Ignored and abused,’ Tiye continued. ‘What the priests also knew, Mahu, were the dreams I had whilst I carried my son in the egg, whilst he danced in my womb. Dreams of grandeur, Mahu, of a Pharaoh who would rise high on the far horizon. Of course I was delighted! I chattered to my husband, the Divine One, who shared this knowledge with the priests. They cast their own horoscopes and Pharaoh became troubled. The priests did not share my joy but whispered about the Accursed, about a ruler who would mete out justice to the other gods of Egypt.’
I stared half-drunkenly back. I never cared for dreams or horoscopes. Aunt Isithia had cured me of all that.
‘You don’t believe us, do you, Mahu?’ the Veiled One demanded.
I recalled my words to Hotep. ‘I believe in the effects of love and hate. Of a child being alone and abused.’
The Veiled One laughed softly.
‘Is that why you brought me out in the desert?’
‘Look around you,’ Tiye urged. ‘Who are these men, Mahu?’
‘Ruthless killers,’ I replied. ‘I ache from head to toe.’
Again the soft laugh.
‘Desert Wanderers, Sand Dwellers,’ I yawned, rubbing my arms.
‘No, Mahu,’ Queen Tiye smiled. ‘They are my people.’
I caught my breath. In the Kap I had heard the stories and rumours, of how the Magnificent One had been captivated by this young woman from Akhmin. How he had broken with custom set from time immemorial that the Pharaoh always married a foreign princess. Tiye was the exception. Oh, how we had giggled behind our hands about her presumed expertise and prowess in bed. Now the laughter seemed sour and unworthy.
‘My family come from Akhmin and soon you shall meet others from my tribe.’
The face of the Beautiful One returned.
‘But for now,’ Tiye continued, ‘we are the Sheshnu, the Apiru, tribes who wandered across Sinai from Canaan many years ago, drawn by the wealth of Egypt, the black soil of the Nile, its fertile crops and the favour of Pharaoh. We have become one with Egypt. Well,’ she shrugged quickly, ‘at least some of us have. Others stay away from the cities, tending their flocks, serving their god. My family have followed other paths. Oh yes, Mahu, I am a Priestess of Min. I have danced and cavorted in his temple before his statue but that’s only on the surface, like grass and bushes carried by the river. The customs of Egypt are like a garment I can put on and off whenever I wish.’
I sat impassive, no longer aware of my aches and pains, the soreness in my ankle, the cold wind, or the chilling sounds of the night.
‘The Egyptian word for mankind is Remeth,’ Tiye continued, ‘which is the same word for Egyptian. In the beginning, Mahu’ – she leaned forward – ‘Egyptian, Libyan and Kushite were all one, serving the same, invisible omnipotent god. The Egyptians call him Aten, my people Elohim, or Adonai, the Lord. Different names for the same being. He dwells like the air we breathe. He is in us, works through us, sustaining all life yet he is also apart, all-loving, all-creative. That was in the beginning. Since then, mankind has gone its own way and fashioned gods for itself, making them in its own image, slicing the One God like you would a piece of fruit. A God of War, Montu; a God of the River, Hapi; a God of the Earth, Geb; the Sun God, Ra.’ She gestured with her hand. ‘Mahu, this is a time to put aside childish nonsense.’
‘Mahu is not a priest,’ the Veiled One broke in. ‘He does not care for the gods, do you?’
; I gazed unblinkingly back.
‘You think I worship the Aten,’ he continued, ‘and so I do. But the glorious Sun Disc is only the symbol, the manifestation of my Father. My dream, Mahu, is to be Akhenaten, the Radiance of the Aten. It’s not only my dream, it’s my destiny.’
‘One other god amongst many,’ I argued back. ‘Even the Divine One pays homage to the Aten.’
‘Ah, yes.’ The Veiled One raised a hand, like a teacher in a hall of learning. ‘We worship the Aten and pay deference to the rest because that is the way things have to be, at least for a while.’ He bowed his head. ‘I know what you are thinking, Mahu.’ His voice became muffled, mouth hidden behind the folds of the cloak. ‘The Temple of Amun-Ra has thousands of priests. Its Houses of Silver are filled with precious stones, gold, silver, amethyst and jasper. The priests own estates and property from the Delta to beyond the Third Cataract. The temples have their own troops, chariot squadrons, scribes, a kingdom within a kingdom, Mahu. The priests determine the rituals and calendars of the year. They dominate every aspect of life. That is true of the temples of Karnak and Luxor. And what about the others – Anubis, Isis, and Ptah in the white-walled city of Memphis?’ He gestured with his hand. ‘Can you imagine, Mahu, what would happen if these temples united against the power of Pharaoh? Think of the wealth they conceal. Legions of priests with a finger in everyone’s pot, feeding the populace from their granaries and stores, the bribes they offer, the people they can buy. They must be checked.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘The night is passing,’ he murmured. ‘You have been given a glimpse of the future, Mahu, and that future will happen.’ He grasped his cane, rose unsteadily to his feet and helped his mother up. ‘That is why we brought you out to the desert, Mahu. To make certain of you, to bind you closer so you can participate in the sacrifice.’
They left me alone for a while. People came and went in the darkness. More food was brought. I fell asleep, slouching forward. I was shaken roughly awake; the sky was already lighter though the wind was still cold. On a small hillock not far away I glimpsed an altar, fashioned roughly out of stones heaped together, now ringed by those who had brought me here. Queen Tiye and the Veiled One were already before the altar, faces towards the rising sun. My guards gestured that I join them. I was allowed through the circle of men and climbed the hillock. A strange experience: it was unlike any sanctuary or temple court I had ever entered before. No coloured pillars or frescoes, just a sandy, pebble-strewn hill on the edge of the desert. The altar table was a slab of rock resting on others. At each end glowed pots of incense. In the middle stood bread, wine, and a flask of oil, next to a freshly slaughtered kid, its throat cut, the blood already crusted and dried around the gaping wound.
One of the Shemsou pulled the carcass into the centre of the altar. Queen Tiye crumbled incense over it. The Veiled One grasped the flask of oil and sprinkled it liberally, covering every inch. A firebrand was brought; Queen Tiye held it up. She and her son, eyes on the Far Horizon, watched the glow of pink turn a fiery red. The flame of the torch danced in the wind. For the first time in my life I felt I was in the presence, not of something holy, but eerie, strange. These two people standing so fixedly in that silent ring of men. The Sun Disc appeared, a brilliant red glow on the horizon, its light racing out over the desert. Tiye lowered the flame and the offering was consumed in a blaze of fire, smoke billowing towards the sky. The air turned rich with the smell of incense, oil and burning meat. Once the sacrifice was lit, Tiye broke into a paean of praise: her son joined in and the refrain was taken up by the circle of men. A powerful song, it seemed to follow the smoke and flames as they rose to the sky.
The sun was rising fast, turning the cold air warm; the breeze, the breath of Amun blowing from the North, faded in the light and heat of the day. On the makeshift altar the fire began to die. The incense pot and what was left of the oil were poured over it. We stood back until nothing was left but charred, blackened remains, and the magic, the mystery, died with it. We were out on the edge of the desert under the strengthening sun about to face the searing heat of the day. I felt exhausted. Tiye was now issuing orders. The altar was dismantled, the stones being cast aside, the fires doused and, escorted by our retinue, cloaked and hooded, we made our way down to the rich pasturelands and back across the Nile.
On our journey home both the Queen and my master remained silent. We entered the palace grounds by a side gate. Our retinue with the carts disappeared, leaving the Queen, the Veiled One and myself to walk alone through the deserted gardens. We passed through guard posts; the Queen, armed with the imperial seal, was not checked or stopped, but given every deference. As we passed the House of Residence, the place where I had been raised, I paused in astonishment: the gates had now been removed from their hinges, the walls widened to allow the builders’ carts in. Stacks of timber lay next to slabs of masonry and builder’s tools. Already the masons, sleepy-eyed, were gathering. I hadn’t been there for some time. I’d heard vague rumours about refurbishment and rebuilding.
‘You are surprised, Mahu?’ The Veiled One took off his striped robe, throwing it over his arm. He stood like a hunting dog sniffing the breeze.
‘All things change, Mahu. This is going to form a new residence for me and my bride.’
‘You are to marry, Master?’
‘The bride is already chosen. My Cousin Nefertiti.’
‘The Beautiful One!’ The words slipped out of my mouth before I could bite my tongue.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ The Veiled One stared at me, head to one side. ‘That’s what her name means: the Beautiful One has arrived. How did you know this?’
‘I glimpsed her once.’
‘Impossible.’ He shook his head. ‘But, there again, Mahu is the Baboon who hides amongst the trees. My Cousin Nefertiti is the daughter of Ay, my mother’s brother.’ He grasped my hand. ‘You will meet her soon.’
Tiye was watching us strangely. The noise from beyond the walls grew: the shouts of masons, the creak of timber, the clatter of ropes and pulleys.
‘You know nothing of her, do you, Mahu?’ she asked, coming forward and pulling back her hood.
I noticed again how she wore no adornment, not one precious stone on her fingers, ears or around her neck. The same for her son, as if they had to enter the presence of their god purified, wearing nothing more than simple clothes.
‘The Divine One wanted a marriage with a Mitanni Princess’ – Tiye gave that twisted smile – ‘but I convinced him otherwise.’
She was about to continue when I heard the sound of running feet and Snefru, breathless and wide-eyed, came running down the path. He fell to his knees trying to catch his breath and he touched the ground with his forehead.
‘What is it?’ the Veiled One snapped.
‘My lord!’
‘Kneel back, man.’
Snefru raised himself back on his heels, wiping the sweat from his disfigured face.
‘A company of archers,’ he gasped. ‘The Strength of Khonsu are now encamped’ – he gestured with his hands – ‘not far from our pavilion.’
‘Troops?’ the Veiled One murmured, turning to his mother. ‘The Divine One has sent troops!’
‘Their officer,’ Snefru panted, ‘claims they are here to protect you against any further accidents or mishaps.’
The Veiled One’s face suffused with anger. Tiye seized his arm. ‘Let it be. Let it be,’ she murmured, ‘for the moment. Let us be like,’ she smiled, ‘yes, let us be like trees and bend before the wind.’
My master dismissed Snefru. He led me and his mother into a sunfilled glade. ‘Whom do people say I am, Mahu?’
‘You are Prince Amenhotep,’ I stammered.
He raised his hand to slap me but let it fall.
‘But who do men say I am, Mahu? What do they snigger behind their hands?’
‘The Grotesque? The Ugly One? The Veiled One?’
My master nodded. ‘You have spoken with true voice and so will I. I shall tell yo
u my real name. I shall reveal it to you as I have to those who are close to me.’ He stared through the trees at the sun. ‘I am He-who-ispleasing-to-the-Aten, my true Father, who knows my name. At the appointed time I shall reveal it to others but now to you, Mahu. I am He who is pleasing to the Aten. My name is Akhenaten.’
The hieroglyph for ‘fragrance’ – idt/edit – is a hand dripping with perfume, and a loaf of bread.
Chapter 8
Your love, dear woman, is as sacred to me as sweet
balmy oil is to the limbs of the restless.
Your love, dear woman, is as vital to me as the shade of
a cool tree in the blazing midday heat.
Your love, dear woman, is as alluring to me as the fire
in the freezing night wind.
Your love, dear woman, is as precious to me as the
gurgling spring to my thirsty throat.
Your love, dear woman, is as delicious to me as sweet
soft bread to a starving man.
So says the poet, so says Mahu when he first met Nefertiti! ‘She of Pure Heart and Pure Hands, Beloved of his Flesh, Great King’s Wife whom he loves beyond all others. Lady of the Two Lands, Mistress of the Diadem, Wearer of the Two Plumes, Mistress of the House! Nefertiti, may she live forever! Beloved of the Great High Sun Disc who dwells in eternal jubilee.’
I still sing her praises. The very thought of Nefertiti sets my heart dancing in its own dark chamber. The faintest whiff of her fragrance is like the sound of gushing water in a stone-dry desert. She is the warmth on the coldest night, that wide-eyed girl whose memory calls across the years as clear as the song of a swallow on a quiet spring morning. Nefertiti’s touch is still with me; her smile warms my soul and sends the memories whirling like birds from a thicket. She comes to me on the wings of an eagle in the dead of night wrapped in storms, Nefertiti, my pearl of great price. My witch queen with her face of dazzling beauty. Nefertiti, the beautiful woman who has arrived!