by Overton, Max
Tutankhaten stood frozen, wanting to run but unable to move his legs. The great column of the snake's body rose up in front of him and the breath caught in his lungs. The small glittering black eyes of the cobra mesmerized him and his attention focused on the reptilian head. Mouth open, the cobra's fangs stood out whitely, a drop of venom at the tips. The torchlight caught the drops, turning them into drops of liquid fire. They sparkled and drew the boy closer and in a rush, understanding flooded over the prince. This was Wadjet, sacred cobra of the kings of Kemet, a friend to be welcomed, not an enemy to be feared. Tutankhaten relaxed and smiled.
The cobra sank back down to the floor and moved closer, winding about the boy's legs, traveling upward in coils about his waist and chest. The young king staggered as the weight of the snake lifted from the floor. The cobra hissed again, angrily, and Tutankhaten braced himself, standing still once more. Torchlight threw a shadow on the wall of a two-headed beast, human and writhing serpent, then the snake lifted itself and spread its hood once more, a living uraeus above the king's brow.
The figure in the shadows stirred. "Amun accepts you as the heir of Kemet. Wadjet, daughter of Amun recognizes your royalty." The Amun-priest walked forward and lifted the cobra from the young king's head and shoulders, lowering it to the floor. It slithered off into the shadows.
Tutankhaten left the pavilion whereupon the priest styled Iunmutef, or Pillar of the Mother, approached. He represented the god Heru, welcoming his father Asar back from the dead. The prince had died to his former life in the ceremony with Wadjet, and been reborn as god-on-earth. Wearing a leopard skin and a great wig of plaited hair drawn to one side, the priest took the great white conical Hedjet crown of Upper Kemet and placed it on the king's head. The assembled priests cried out in exultation, praising the boy as king of Upper Kemet. Iunmutef removed the white crown and replaced it with the red Deshret crown of Lower Kemet. Again the priests shouted out and Iunmutef handed it back to an assistant. Next came the double crown, red and white, the Pasekhemty or Two Powerful Ones, followed by the Atef crown of Re, the Seshed headband for informal occasions, the Ibes crown and a whole series of ornate and simple headdresses that represented the monarch's power for any conceivable circumstance. The final crown to be lowered onto the young king's head was the blue war bonnet or Khepresh. This one, Iunmutef left in place and fastened a giraffe's tail, ancient symbol of the clan chieftain, to Tutankhaten's belt. Attendants approached with a pair of sandals and Iunmutef held them up so the king could see the figures of the nine subject peoples engraved in the soles. The king would leave the temple already treading down the traditional enemies of Kemet.
Atum and Heru of the Horizon fell into place on either side of him and guided the king deeper into the temple, passing through the third pylon. Within this deep recess he turned to the right and entered the shrine of Amun. Carved from a single block of rose granite, the walls had been ground thin enough to be translucent, the torchlight penetrating as a dim red glow. In this gloomy space, Amun, ram-headed, bearing the solar disc upon his head, waited for Tutankhaten. The young king knelt at the god's feet, his head bowed. Amun reached down and lifted the Khepresh from his head.
"Accept this crown from your father Amun," echoed a deep voice and Tutankhaten felt the Khepresh crown replaced gently. The god's hand touched the nape of his neck in a silent benediction.
Tutankhaten backed out of the rosy glow of the god's presence, his head still lowered, and found the priests waiting en masse. His guides, now divested of their god-heads, led the young king, still shivering from the touch of Amun to a low throne. Seated upon it he looked at a sea of upturned faces. Five priests moved to the front and in turn, addressed the young king.
"Let the aspect of Heru empower you," intoned the first priest. "Your name shall be Heru: Kanakht tut-mesut--Strong bull, of perfect birth."
"Nekhabet and Wadjet name you also," the second priest said. "Your name is Nebty: Neferhepu segeretawy--He of the good laws, who pacifies the Two Lands."
"The gods recognise you as their son on earth," said the third. "Heru Nebu: Wetjes khau sehotep neteru--He who wears the crown and satisfies the gods."
"Nesut-byt--King of the South and of the North," cried the fourth priest. Nebkheperure--Lord of the manifestations of Re."
"Sa-Re--Son of Re." The fifth priest paused for a heartbeat, a slight smile on his lips before completing the king's birth name--"Tutankhamen, Living image of Amun."
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, the priests muttered and whispered. Tutankhaten, surely? Had the fifth priest made a mistake? The young king's forehead furrowed and he stared at the priest, wondering the same thing. He saw the knowing smile and knew it was no mistake. Amun had claimed the king for his own.
The priests led King Nebkheperure Tutankhamen out into the forecourt of the temple, now packed with people. Wearing only his plain white kilt and the blue Khepresh crown of blue leather, his whole being radiated a new-found confidence and sense of his own position, god-on-earth, nine year old Father of his people. They led him to a raised throne and presented him to the people, who cheered so loudly the pigeons roosting in the rooftops of the temples during the heat of the day took off in a startled clattering of wings. The priests performed the coronation ceremonies once more, to the acclaim of the assembled crowds, replacing the blue crown with the double crown Pasekhemty . They twined lily and papyrus around a pillar in the ceremony of Sma-Tawy , a symbolic uniting of the Two Lands, and the boy-king, donning the lightweight blue crown once more, raced around the walls of the sanctuary in symbolic representation of his fitness to rule.
Tutankhamen held in his hands the two traditional scepters for the first time, the crook or heka of Southern royalty and the flail or nekhekh of the Northern Kingdom. Invested with his full powers, the king of the South and the North left the temple through the great pylon of his earthly father Nebmaetre and rode through the streets of the city in an electrum-plated chariot driven by the most senior of the royal charioteers. Multitudes lined the streets, waving and cheering, happy that the times of trouble were at an end at last and even want and hunger were past now that the young king was there to lead them.
Hours later, as dusk fell, the chariot stopped at last at the eastern palace where a very tired boy, his head barely supporting the blue leather crown, was helped from the chariot and into the palace where he was reunited with Ankhesenpaaten, now officially Queen of the Two Lands. Sobbing with exhaustion, the king was led off to his bed where he fell asleep within minutes, his thumb securely in his mouth.
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Chapter Nineteen
Horemheb was in Waset. Somehow, in their passage down the flooded river, Scarab and Khu had passed him by; whether at night when the boat, wallowing heavily in the water under the weight of melons and cucumbers, tied up to the trunk of a tree; or just passed unseen during the day, the boats separated by the wide expanse of water. Certainly there had been many boats and any one of them could have held the General. On the other hand, maybe he had brought his army with him and traveled by the land route, bypassing the flooded valley. All Scarab could find for certain was that Horemheb had been in Ineb Hedj on his way south but left long before she had arrived.
"So what do we do?" Khu asked simply. "Turn around and go back to Waset?"
"I'm tempted," Scarab replied. "Even if only because I must see Horemheb. It's too dangerous though. If Ay caught even a hint we were near..."
"So what then?"
"We carry on up to Zarw. That is Horemheb's military base, he will be returning there."
Just north of the city of Ineb Hedj, the great river divided into several great channels and the number of smaller waterways and lagoons of the Delta of Lower Kemet. The annual flood turned the discrete channels into a broad sheet of water dotted here and there with clumps of trees, beds of papyrus sedge, the tops of their leafy stalks riffling the surface of the water, and low hillocks crowded with mournful herds
of cattle. It was easy to get passage on a boat out of Ineb Hedj, especially heading north into the flooded lands. Farmers and herdsmen, out of work until the waters subsided, readily took on other work and there was fierce competition for the tiny shaving of gold on offer. In the end, Scarab settled on a boat owned by a young lad from a village that now lay under water. His name was Amenhotep, the same as her father, yet a more dissimilar person could not be imagined. Where Amenhotep the king was--or had been--tall and handsome, strong as a bull and beautiful to look at, the young lad Amenhotep was short and scrawny, with a squint that made his face a perpetual scowl. He had a sunny disposition though and he managed the boat with a consummate skill, as if born to the water trade.
The flooded river broadened as it reached the flat lands of the Delta, spreading out over the land almost as far as the eye could see. Only the pyramids, those mountains of stone so old not even the priests could truly say who had built them, men or gods, towered above the river valley on their own western plateau. The current carried them past and into Lower Kemet.
Khu looked over to where Amenhotep stood in the stern, lazily sweeping the rear oar as he kept the small boat stable, pointed down river. "Do you know where we are going?" he asked. "I don't see how you can navigate without landmarks."
The lad shrugged and swept a hand vaguely toward the sky. "The sun tells me." He went back to his sleepy contemplation of the sluggish waters.
"What does he mean, the sun tells him?" Khu complained to Scarab, who sat in the prow trailing her fingers in the water. "And I'd be careful of crocodiles too," he added.
Scarab lifted her hand sharply from the muddy green water. "I think he means just that the sun tells him east and west."
"So how can he tell north and south?"
Scarab lifted an eyebrow mockingly. "And this from a farm boy? The river flows from south to north."
Khu stuck out his tongue, then grinned. "How can he tell how far we have traveled? As far as I know, Zarw is on the eastern border somewhere. That means at some point we are going to have to leave the river and strike overland. How will he know when we have reached that point?"
"I don't know, Khu. I've never been this far down-river. Why don't you ask him?"
"He doesn't talk to me. You ask him." Khu leaned back against the side of the boat and closed his eyes.
Scarab sighed and got to her feet, dusting down her gown. She adjusted the shoulders, making sure her breasts were adequately covered before moving down the small boat to talk to Amenhotep. No seventeen year old in Kemet was ignorant of sex, but Scarab had found, before their travels north, that she had been somewhat protected as a princess. Here on the river, where as far as anyone was concerned she was only a lowly maid-servant or some such, she attracted a lot of attention from men, by no means all of it welcome. However, as with the guard in Akhet-Aten, she was learning to turn men's lusts to her advantage.
Amenhotep turned to face Scarab as she approached; his face lighting up as if the sun shone behind his squinting eyes. His perpetual scowl turned into a grimace that in the two days since they had engaged his services, Scarab had come to recognise as a smile.
Scarab sat down on the broad rim of the boat and, shading her eyes with one hand, looked out over the waters. A gentle breeze from the north ruffled the surface of the river and set the short reddish brown locks of hair on her head, waving. She had shaved her head for so many years she had almost forgotten she did not have the straight black hair of most of the population. Her mother Tiye had had hair like hers, probably as a result of her Khabiru roots. At least when we get to Zarw, I won't look out of place, she thought. There are lots of Khabiru there .
"Amenhotep?" Scarab asked quietly. "How is it you know exactly where we are? One stretch of river looks much the same as another."
The lad shook his head and pointed. "This is just a river with too much water in it at the moment. The land is still down there, but covered by water. See that slight ruffling of the surface? It means there are reed beds below. And over there, where the river runs smoothly, like oil? That is flat rock."
Scarab looked dubiously at the river, trying to distinguish between oily water and ordinary water, between calm and ruffled. Another patch of faintly rippled water came up and she hung head first over the edge, peering into the muddy water. A swirl of clearer water revealed a glimpse of vegetation, gone almost before she could register it. "Reeds?" she asked.
Amenhotep smiled and nodded. "You are learning. After a while you recognise the features of the river and surrounding land as if there was no water."
"So you'll know when we reach the place where we must go overland to Zarw?"
"About five days. We are only just passing the channel that leads to Iunu."
"Iunu? The place of pillars?" Scarab felt the hair on her head prickle. "I have heard of it but never been there. Where is it, Amenhotep?"
The young lad looked around, considering. "There." He pointed northeast. "If we sailed up that channel," he said, pointing at the open water to the right of the little boat, "We'd get there in about a day. You'd still have to walk though. Even with the flood, Iunu is not on the river."
"Take us there, Amenhotep."
Amenhotep frowned. "I thought you wanted to go to Zarw. If we go to Iunu, we'd have to come right back here before going north again. You'd lose two days--a day there and one back."
"I...I know, but I feel we must go. Take us there, Amenhotep. We'll pay you extra."
Amenhotep snorted. "I do not need more gold. It is my pleasure." He slipped a loop of rope around the steering oar, holding it in place, before scrambling over the deck to the small mast. Hauling on ropes, he raised a tiny triangular sail which billowed and luffed in the slight headwind, heeling the boat over and slowing its progress.
Khu's eyes snapped open as a splash of cold water wakened him. "What in Set's name is happening?" He looked around wildly, clinging to the side of the boat. "Why are we turning?" Scrambling to his feet he set off, awkwardly, for the rear of the boat, ducking under the sail. "What are you doing, Amenhotep?"
"Ask your mistress." Amenhotep jerked a thumb as he busied himself tying ropes.
Khu picked his way carefully over the covered bundles of the cargo toward the steering oar where Scarab stood staring out over the water. "What's happening? Why are we turning?"
"Iunu," Scarab murmured, without turning.
"So? What's Iunu and why should we want to go there?" Scarab did not answer so he lightly touched her bare arm and asked again.
She turned slowly, as if reluctant to lose sight of something. "You have never heard of Iunu, the place of pillars?"
Khu shrugged. "I am only a farm lad, Scarab. I've never been down farther than Ineb Hedj. What is this place of pillars? A temple or something?"
"Yes, a temple to Atum."
"Aten? Why do we want to go to a temple of the Aten?"
"Atum." Scarab smiled faintly and sat down near the steering oar, motioning to Khu to sit beside her. Amenhotep finished tying off the ropes and took his place by the oar once more, staring ahead at the new course of the boat, but sneaking glances at the young girl.
"Atum," Scarab repeated. "The creator god from whom all other gods came. The priests say he sat all alone on the Ben-Ben mound until he created the earth and everything in it. They say the city of Iunu grew up around him."
Khu nodded. "I remember the name now. My father used to pray to the sun god in his various forms. Khepri was his favourite..."
"Mine too."
"...but the evening sun was addressed as Atum. So this Atum is really just an aspect of Re?"
"The other way round I think. Atum came first, but the city is also known as the City of the Sun."
"So why are we going there?"
Scarab shook her head, the reddish highlights in her short hair catching the sun. "I don't know. I didn't mean to but when Amenhotep mentioned Iunu, I knew I had to go there."
Khu looked up at the young man standing at the
steering oar. "I hope you like an adventure," he said, a trace of sarcasm tingeing his voice. "You'll find lots of exciting things happening around Scarab here."
Amenhotep squinted at Khu, then looked dreamily at Scarab. "If her name really is Scarab then I think she should go to the City of the Sun. It seems right."
"Thank you, Amenhotep. And that is exactly where we are going." Scarab got up and walked carefully up to the angled prow of the boat where she seated herself looking out over the water as the little vessel carved its path eastward toward the distant shore.
The voyage to Iunu took the rest of that day, despite Amenhotep praising the speed of his little craft. When they reached the eastern shore, he turned the boat north again, hauling in the sail and letting the current carry them onward. The sun was sinking low in the west when he turned the boat toward land again. Khu looked back at the setting sun. "I've never seen it plunge into water before," he said with a worried expression. "What if it goes out and there is no light tomorrow?"
Amenhotep pulled the little boat into the shallows near a clump of date palms and secured it to a fallen log. They set up camp in the shelter of the rustling palms and cooked a meal of fresh-caught fried fish that they ate with some stale bread and water straight from the river that was mildly gritty on the teeth but tasted pure. The sun set in the river waters, apparently without harm as there was no sound of hissing, as when a bronze blade fresh from the armorer is plunged into water. Khu listened for it but grudgingly admitted night fell without the sound of the sun's death.
The feeling of relief was obvious in his face the next morning when the first rays struck the ground, evaporating the light dew. He knelt, facing east, and bowed his head. "Now I know why the Aten is worshiped."
Amenhotep cleared away the pots and tidied the small fire. He pointed to the east. "Iunu lies over there, about half a day's walk. You will find a road before long if you continue toward the sun. It is the main Ineb Hedj to Iunu road. There should be lots of people."