The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  Since the earliest of days, King after King was depicted on Temple and tomb walls, defeating the enemies of Kemet by smiting them with this, most simple, but effective weapon. A club, normally with a stone or metal head, this one was entirely of gold.

  The King took the weapon in his hand and walked towards the kneeling Princes. As he did so soldiers removed the helmets from their heads. Each had long hair, knotted at the top, a tail hanging down the back of their heads. For the first time, Kha noticed traces of fear in their eyes. They looked at one another, then at the man now towering in front of them. Kha had always believed that the illustrations on the tomb walls were symbolic, not literal, but here, on this battleground, on this day, his King was walking towards his defeated enemies with the symbol of conquest in his hands.

  As he moved to the first, Amenhotep began to speak. No longer did he use the strange tongue Kha had heard up to now. He spoke in clear, almost exaggerated, tones, his words in the formal Kemetian used on tomb and Temple walls.

  ‘I am Akheperure, mighty in the strength of Horus Strong Bull, favourite of the Two Ladies bestowed with unlimited power. Golden Horus is with me as I conquer every land. I am the son of the body of Ra and loved infinitely by him. I am Lord of all lands. None can match my strength…’

  He grabbed hold of the tailed hair of the first Prince and struck him hard on the temple. Without stopping for breath he continued to the second Prince. The stricken Prince was shaking uncontrollably, like a man possessed by a demon.

  ‘My arm is mighty of strength…’ Amenhotep took hold of the second Prince’s hair and brought the mace crashing with great force against the side of his forehead.

  ‘No man can draw a bow to match me, no Hittite nor Naharina soldier can touch me…’ the third Prince was struck with great force. Amenhotep continued along the line.

  ‘No King in any land is greater than I; no one can match me in battle. I am the wall that protects Kemet from the savages. No army of men, nor horses nor chariots can survive against me. I am the air that the whole world breathes. I am the image of Amun- Ra and all nations bow to my will and pay me homage. I am the King of all Kings; the borders of Kemet are without limit, thanks to me. I am the ruler of all lands upon which the Aten shines by day and over which Khonsu waxes and wanes by night. I am all powerful and none may contest my power and survive.’

  By the time he finished, all seven Princes lay semi-conscious on the ground at his feet.

  ‘Remove these vermin from my presence. Take them to my ship, hang them by their feet from the prow, keep their heads out of the water for now – they can drown slowly when we set sail. I will visit with King Artatama, to demand retribution from all who have given shelter to these enemies of our beloved Kemet, and ensure such disrespect for my being, my land and my gods, shall never again come forth from this, or any other, country.’

  He walked away, handing the now bloodied golden mace to a soldier. Amenhotep clapped Tjay on the back and they jumped onto the golden chariot and sped away to the base camp. Kha remained open-mouthed.

  ‘Never have I seen such power emanating from a man. Never have I seen such strength in wielding a mace. Never have I seen rebellion brought to its knees, humiliated and destroyed. Never again do I want to see such slaughter. How can a man destroy life with such zeal and ride away laughing? Thank Renenet that my destiny was to be born in Kemet and harbour no resentment for the Kings who rule her.’

  Kha was not sure what he should do now. Should he return with the soldiers to where the King’s ship had been docked and from there join the forces overland back to his home in Min? Was he needed still to witness the movements and actions of his King? He resolved to return and find Minmose, maybe he, with his greater experience could tell him what to do.

  ‘Wait for orders, like an obedient servant,’ was the reply he received from the increasingly dour and unresponsive stone mason.

  Kha didn’t have to wait long. A charioteer came just as Kha was preparing to eat.

  ‘You have no time for bread, scribe,’ he said.

  ‘You are required to come with me to accompany the King to the Palace of the Naharina Ruler. Make haste we leave immediately.’

  Kha stuffed the uneaten bread under his tunic.

  The soldier walked away. Kha gathered his things and ran to catch up with him.

  He entered the Palace of Artatama through a side entrance, was ushered to the servant’s bathing quarters, bathed and dressed in a new tunic. Following instructions, he was brought into the audience chamber where soldiers and local nobility gathered. No sign of Amenhotep or the Naharina King. Tjay was standing with the other generals of the charioteers and King’s Braves. He noticed Kha enter and walked over to him.

  ‘You need to sit and listen to everything attentively. On you the burden of history. What you portray will be seen forever as the truth of these events.’

  Kha nodded. He had learned from Minmose that he needed to write in the most favourable terms for the King. This wouldn’t be difficult. What Kha had witnessed only increased his resolve that Amenhotep was indeed the manifestation of the omnipotent gods whose power, glory and savagery knew no bounds.

  When Amenhotep entered he was flanked by Crown Prince Thutmose and an extravagantly dressed, overweight official. Walking slightly behind him was a tall bearded man dressed regally, unquestionably this was Artatama. Beside him, a young girl, an entourage of women closely following. Amenhotep didn’t hesitate; he took his seat on the Naharina throne, with Artatama standing beside him like a servant. There was no doubting the power in this room and in this country.

  Once seated, the King ordered the ensemble to rise from the supplicant position all had adopted when he had entered. Kha didn’t rise but altered his position so he sat cross legged with papyrus and ink at the ready.

  ‘By failing to control your sons you have betrayed me. You have broken faith with the gods and their living embodiment from whom comes all your wealth and life. You are each and every one of you to blame. The gods have been insulted and retribution is needed to appease them. I have ordered that Princess Parukhepa, the most beloved daughter of your King Artatama, shall return with me to Kemet and there be brought up with my children at Court. Her wellbeing is assured by me, so long as Naharina remains loyal. Equally I shall take from each of you, two children and their mothers. Seven sons, I have already taken, however, their health is not assured and you can each regret that you didn’t bid them farewell as your eyes will never fall on them again.’

  There were gasps and the faint sounds of muffled crying.

  ‘Now I want your youngest and eldest child. It would be cruel to separate child from mother, so they too must come to Kemet. All shall reside there, under my protection, until they join your sons in the afterlife. Remain loyal to Kemet and they shall live well for their natural lives. Permit dissention or rebellion in your cities then their heads will be returned to you and their eyeless forms will be the last image you will see before your own slow, painful deaths. Guards do not let these people leave the room until you have secured those who are to come with us. I am Amenhotep-Akheperure and I will be obeyed.’

  He left the room. The young girl who had entered with Artatama was crying and being consoled by Crown Prince Thutmose.

  As the Army prepared to depart, Kha spoke briefly with Tjay.

  ‘Kha you are to return to Ineb-Hedj on the King’s escort ship, with some of his Braves. The King wants you to start immediately preparing two stelae. One to be placed at the sun temple by Naharina, the other in Kush. The King’s deeds are to be explained so no-one can be in any doubt that rebellion will be quashed, rebels destroyed and retribution paid. Also you should prepare drawings for the smiting of the seven Princes. He will decide if you or another shall supervise the work at the holy Temple in Waset, where he intends to have this deed engraved, but whether or not it’s you, prepare your ideas.’

>   Passing the King’s ship, the seven erstwhile haughty Princes, were hanging by their feet from the prow. Their heads moving up and down with the motion of the craft, dipping into and out of the water. If they were alive or dead, Kha could not say. He hoped for their sakes they were dead.

  He boarded his ship. Here, were the fourteen children of the seven lords whose sons had led the rebellion, together with their mothers and the Princess Parukhepa, who kept herself separated from the others. Her face showing beauty, pride and intelligence.

  ‘History has not seen the last of this Princess, hostage or not,’ he thought. ‘She is not just a pawn in this game of power.’

  ‘Sitting there on the boat, she looks like the goddess Mut.’ Prince Thutmose startled Kha. ‘From now on I shall name her ‘Mut on a boat’ – Mutemwiya – it has a good ring to it, don’t you think, Kha?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty,’ Kha replied, turning his head away so the besotted Prince wouldn’t see his amused expression.

  ‘And she needs to have a Kemetian name,’ clarified Thutmose.

  ‘Indeed she does, Majesty, and what better than one likening her to a goddess,’ replied Kha.

  ‘Quite,’ said the Prince without taking his gaze away from the young Princess.

  *

  Minmose and Kha said their goodbyes when the Temple carving, of the smitten Princes, at Ipet-Ryst in Waset was finished. Minmose wiped sweat from his brow.

  ‘So ends my days working for the King. Kha, it will now fall on your shoulders to show the world the mightiness of our sovereign. I wish you luck.’

  They never met again, and Kha never heard what became of the old stone mason.

  Kha completed the carving of the stelae. Erected as ordered, he told the story of humiliation, the ferocious against the feeble, how seven Princes ended their days spiked and rotting outside city walls. Kha’s words were sent on clay tablets to all kingdoms paying homage to Kemet. Amenhotep was determined to inform all of the consequences of revolution or insurrection.

  Kha didn’t mention the needlessness of the slaughter nor the enjoyment his sovereign had displayed in its execution.

  chapter seven

  Idle hands and under-occupied mind frustrated Kha. He was becoming restless. Back at his home in Yuya’s complex at Khent-min there seemed nothing to do. The harvest had been gathered and stockpiled in the granaries he designed and supervised.

  ‘You’re now officially an artist for the King,’ Yuya told him as they sat with their wives in a shady spot in Yuya’s garden.

  ‘As may be,’ Kha replied ‘but I enjoyed being back in Waset. Merit was able to visit her parents and other family, I was getting my hands blistered and dirty again. I miss the physical work, maybe I can go back to my old job. Perneb is now Governor at Iunet and Khety is in the royal workshops in Waset, inventing something new every day it seems. You are in no need of new granaries, what am I to do with my life?’

  ‘Look after Merit and the children.’ It was Asenath who spoke. ‘And don’t go thinking you can leave here and take Merit with you. She is my best friend and I can’t contemplate life without her. Whether you go or stay is up to you and Yuya to decide, I would never dream of interfering in your decisions, but if you go, you go alone.’

  ‘I’m pleased, Asenath, that you’re not going to interfere in such a decision,’ Yuya said. ‘Kha, what do you think? Maybe stay around here at least for a while longer?’

  ‘Mmm’ was the only reply he could summon.

  ‘Don’t worry, Kha. I’m due to travel to Ineb-Hedj in a few days to discuss some issues with Prince Thutmose and, if permitted, also with the King. Why don’t you come and keep me company? Merit and Asenath can take care of each other here.’

  ‘Thank you Yuya. That I would like. Are you sure the Prince won’t object?’

  ‘Of course. I’m always allocated several rooms so your sleeping in one won’t be a problem and Thutmose actually quite likes your company – at least in small doses.’

  ‘And I his,’ Kha said, ‘unless it’s to go to another war.’

  ‘Hopefully there will be peace for many years to come. At least while Artatama holds power in Naharina. The Hittites took a severe beating to their pride with the new chariots failing so badly in battle. It will be many years before they will risk attacking Kemet’s neighbours and jeopardise their independence.’

  *

  Kha and Yuya arrived in Ineb-Hedj and went to their quarters. They were dining on wine, bread and freshly roasted duck, when Prince Thutmose came rushing into the room.

  ‘Yuya, it’s great to see you my friend. You’re here just in time, tomorrow I’m going hunting in Giza, I hear that there is some fresh game in the area. You must come, you will enjoy it.’

  He hadn’t seemed to notice Kha but then he turned to him.

  ‘Kha, I hope that you will come too, it will give you the chance to see where my father has erected the stela you did for him– he is very proud of it. He still doesn’t know your name but he does like your work, particularly that done in Waset. I think that he may have some plans for ‘that artist’ as he calls you. Is there a goblet of wine for me?’

  *

  The evening didn’t stop at a single goblet of wine.

  It was with throbbing head and unsteady gait that Kha rose, bathed and walked into the courtyard. Yuya was already there. Tjay, the King’s charioteer and two other young men were with him.

  ‘Greetings Kha,’ Tjay said, as he wrapped his arms around the artist.

  Three chariots were lined up, their horses soothed by the tones of the grooms talking to them. The animals’ coats gleamed, their flanks and bearing showing them to be of the highest breeding.

  Without seeing him, Kha knew Thutmose was approaching. The grooms all sank to their knees in unison, as did Tjay and the other soldiers, Kha followed automatically and immediately. Only Yuya didn’t kneel, he did, however, bow as his friend approached.

  ‘If we are all here let us be going,’ the Prince said. ‘Tjay, have the targets been set?’

  ‘As you ordered, my Prince. Lions have been penned and bronze targets set along the training course. All is as you would wish.’

  ‘Good, let’s get going. I have a feeling today is going to be a good one.’

  Kha was now an accomplished chariot passenger. Thutmose and Yuya raced each other, light hearted banter and insults flying between them and the two charioteers. Inevitably the Prince was declared the winner of the race, and with Tjay driving the Prince’s chariot, it was a fair result.

  Tjay, ever mindful of the well-being of the horses, called for refreshments to be brought, so the hard worked animals could take a rest. Fresh horses were waiting to be harnessed for the hunting foray. Grooms took the sweating horses into a shaded area where they were given water to drink and oats to eat. Young, naked girls, who had been sent ahead from the palace distributed beer which had been specially brewed adding poppy seeds. Thutmose had taken a liking to the effects this beer had.

  ‘It helps me see things clearer,’ he said. No one argued.

  Thirst slaked, Thutmose rose quickly.

  ‘Tjay, you promised me lions, where are they?’

  The grooms brought the chariots with their fresh horses and Thutmose and Yuya headed off with sand and dust flowing in their wake. Kha had come to see his stela in the Sun Temple, not go chasing lions or flocks of birds. Not for him shooting arrows at bronze targets. His interests lay in more sedentary pursuits. He couldn’t understand how the Prince and Yuya could go racing off chasing lions and other game when one of the world’s greatest sights was here just in front of them.

  They were on the estates of Hwt-Ka-Ptah, the Temple of Ptah at Ineb-Hedj, at the funeral monuments of Khufu, Khafre, and Menkaure. Kha knew the history of this place as well as anyone. The three Pyramids shone brightly, the sun reflecting off the polished limestone surfaces. Kh
a appreciated how much work had gone into the making of the outer shell of the tombs. The precise angles of the stones, the polished surface using sandstone blocks and sand, a monumental feat of engineering and gruelling work.

  Kha had never seen the Great Pyramids before, but he had learned the engineering. He wanted to walk the short distance to take a better look, but he could not take his eyes off the enormous carved regal head, rising out of the sand and towering over him.

  A short distance away was Amenhotep’s Sun Temple, built in thanksgiving, shortly after his coronation. It was in this Temple that the stela carved by Kha was standing. He came here to see his own work, but that went completely out of his head. His arms and neck tingled, a shiver went through him. There was something about this great statue which fascinated him but at the same time filled him with awe.

  ‘It doesn’t seem right. The disembodied head, shaped to the likeness of Khafre son of Khufu, built such a short distance from the burial places of the Kings, but being a separate and lonely figure,’ he mused.

  The view of the head went against all the teachings of the architects who had taught Kha his trade. A bodiless head just didn’t make any sense.

  He stood in front of the statue. By jumping up he could just reach the false beard made of stone and part of the ceremonial dress of the Kings of Kemet since time immemorial. The nemes headdress had clearly been painted in antiquity; even from below Kha noticed remnants of paint.

  ‘Why have you been so neglected?’

  He spoke directly to the statue.

  ‘Your magnificence should not be left to decay. If I had my way your glory would be resurrected. I wonder what secrets lie beneath the sands? Are you just a head or is there more to you?’