The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  Mahu and Meri-Bess had the scroll, delivered from Naharina, between them and were reading it.

  ‘I was surprised the message is in writing,’ said Tiye. ‘We all thought it would be verbal. Does this mean we were worrying for no reason?’

  ‘This message is completely different from the original.’ Haqwaset had no emotion in his voice, but his wife could tell from his eyes and his demeanour that he was extremely angry. This, on top of the argument with the High Priest and his ride in the desert, meant someone was going to pay heavily. She had a good guess as to who that would be.

  A month before, following a change of garrison in Naharina, the garrison commander had returned with a message and scroll from King Shuttarna. Only urgent messages were written by Shuttarna on a scroll, normally he would use the traditional clay tablet as they were more durable. A scroll was quicker to write, especially as two identical copies were needed, and its existence spoke of urgency. The written message detailed information Shuttarna had received, of a plot to overthrow him, replacing him with a puppet regent acting on behalf of the Hatti ruler.

  He had heard that a person, “close to the Royal Court,” was deeply involved and would be installed as the regent. Shuttarna didn’t want to believe the plot was real, however, in order to find out, he would send his Royal Messenger, Barratarna, with an identical text. If the message arrived intact, the King had faith the plot was not genuine. If the message given was verbal, or had in any way been altered, then it was a clear indication the plot had substance and furthermore, Barratarna was, as suspected, the one being set up as regent in the King’s place. The message from the garrison commander was concise and detailed about what Shuttarna wanted, if the plot was real. Now that request had to be considered and acted upon.

  Tonight’s scroll mentioned the fears King Shuttarna had about losing his mental faculties or possibly being taken over by evil spirits. It stated he was subjected to bouts of “petrifying irrational fear of attack.” All his close friends, servants and family were unfoundedly under suspicion. He worried the presence of Kemetian troops in his territory might lead him to order an attack against them, due to a false fear they were trying to destroy him. He needed help and could only turn to his daughter’s husband in Kemet, the one who had befriended him and taken Kirgipa as a Royal wife. He pleaded for a doctor of Kemet, who could cure a sick mind, priests who could ward off evil spirits, or both, before it became too late. He requested gold, lots of it, to ensure that the payments to his Palace guard were enough to stave off any danger of bribery. In addition he requested a temporary removal of all Kemetian troops from Naharina to avoid bloodshed in the event he lost his senses completely.

  ‘If I may speak my Lord,’ Huy said.

  Haqwaset smiled. ‘You rarely do, but when the occasion arises it’s normally worth hearing. Please proceed.’

  ‘The letter is good, but it’s written by a different person from the original.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ asked Meri-Bes.

  ‘The Akkadian cuneiform script looks similar in both letters. However, if you compare here and here, the emphasis of the strokes, on the same word, is very different.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said Haqwaset.

  ‘Also the letter delivered tonight has some different expressions not used in letters from Naharina, but much more common in correspondence from the Hatti rulers. The scroll you are all now examining, in my opinion, has been written on the journey here. I suspect one, or more, of the aides accompanying the Naharina envoy is from Hatti and one, at least, is a scribe. I presume the scribe is required to send messages back to Hatti.’

  ‘We shall find out quickly enough,’ said Mahu, steel in his voice, ‘one way or another.’

  ‘We need to return to the feast,’ said Haqwaset. ‘We know what Shuttarna wants us to do; I may just add one or two embellishments of my own. We’ll need to reinforce our garrisons in Naharina. What do you think Mahu, a hundred chariots and five hundred infantry?’

  ‘I think such a number along with a hundred archers should be more than enough to frighten any attempted usurper. It would certainly show intent.’

  ‘We’re agreed then. Tiye you go first, we’ll follow shortly after, we don’t want any suspicion we’ve all been plotting something.’ Haqwaset managed to keep his humour intact.

  ‘Meri-Bess you better go quickly too. You look as if you’re about ready to eat that papyrus.’

  When the Lord of the Two Lands re-joined the feast everything was well under way. Meat, fowl and vegetables had been supplied in copious quantities. Beer and wine was flowing freely. Dancing girls, naked except for a jewelled band around the waist, were performing to the melodic sounds of harps, accompanied by rhythmic drums and sistrums.

  The “perfumed elephant,” as Tiye had called him as she left the war chamber, was sitting, mesmerised by one particular dancing girl who, facing away from him, had arched her back so far, the palms of her hands were flat on the floor behind her. In this position she was able to move back and forth to the music.

  Much to Haqwaset’s amusement, Meri-Bess was tucking into a whole goose which had been placed on a platter in front of him. Beside the plate was a small statue of the god who shared his name.

  ‘It didn’t come with your name on it, but there was this likeness on the platter beside it, so I thought it must have been yours. My cousin Neferu tried to take some of it but I stopped her. Did I do right? Is this your goose?’ Amunitore said.

  Meri-Bess said something incoherent through a mouthful of bread and goose, which resulted in them both laughing heartily.

  Shaking his head, Haqwaset took his seat and, as he did so, spoke to his guest.

  ‘Are you enjoying our Kemetian entertainment Barratarna?’

  The envoy jolted with surprise. He was so engrossed watching the dancing girl, that he didn’t notice the two men, sitting beside him, rise and move their seats, allowing their King and Chief of Security to return to their places. He had been blissfully unaware of his Royal host’s return.

  ‘Oh Majesty, I do apologise, my mind was elsewhere.’

  ‘So I see. If you would like to have a private dance performance later from the young girl, just let me know.’

  ‘Oh Lord, most agreeable, most agreeable indeed, you are most generous, I thought you might have wanted one so beautiful and so clearly… erm… talented for yourself.’

  ‘Barratarna, my Chief Wife is a great beauty. I have more than three hundred other wives, one of whom, as you know, came to me from your King with an entourage of three hundred and seventeen young women. I think I can leave some for others to enjoy, no matter how beautiful or talented they may be. Mahu, can you ask the dancing girl to come and see me once her performance is finished, I have a special favour to ask of her.’

  Turning his attention back to his guest.

  ‘If you prefer to go to your room immediately to begin the private entertainment, I can have more food and wine sent to your chamber. I’ll not be offended and in fact I’m more than a little fatigued myself. It has been a long day. Tomorrow, I must ask you to take an urgent message from me to your master’s daughter in Ineb-Hedj as you pass on your way home. I’m sure, as you’re old friends, she will be delighted to see you. If you would like, maybe your dancing friend can join you on the journey to keep you company.’

  ‘I can’t thank you enough. Anything you wish of me just ask, Majesty,’ the envoy was breathing hard again and sweating. ‘Perhaps I should go now. You have been most kind,’ he waved urgently at his aides who came rushing up to help him stand.

  He hastily said his goodbyes to the Queen and others close by. Assisted by his aides he made his way to the door with his strange, slow, waddling gait and jangling jewellery. Once he was out of earshot Tiye turned to her husband.

  ‘There is every chance his heart will give out before he gets to the chamber.’

 
‘Now that would spoil everyone’s fun, especially young Henite’s, there.’

  *

  Henite, along with three other dancers, a harpist and a drummer, skipped along the corridor leading to the guest quarters. Accompanying them were four members of the Palace guard. The girls were giggling, making lewd gestures towards the young, handsome guards, who might make good husbands for a dancing girl. As before, the girls were naked, but now each had decorative scarves around their necks and tied around their wrists, each wore a new, aromatic perfume ball on their head. They approached the room where the Naharina envoy waited expectantly. Two aides stood outside the door. One of the girls started somersaulting as she approached, the final flip bringing her up very close to one of the aides.

  ‘Take a good look at what you will be missing tonight,’ she teased, touching his nose with a finger.

  Henite was looking forward to what she was going to do. Some nights her work was more enjoyable than others. Tonight would be one of those. The beautiful dancer had taken special note of all the gold this man wore. She loved gold and was sure she would be able to convince him to part with some of his tonight. A beauty with many talents, she knew just what to do to make this a very profitable occasion.

  The aides opened the doors. Henite was certain they wouldn’t close them properly and try and watch what was going on inside. As they reached the open doors the drummer started a loud rhythmic drum beat. The girls stood in line, the somersaulting girl first, Henite last. They began clapping loudly in counter rhythm to the drum beat. The drummer and harpist entered the room first and stood one on either side of the double doors. The girls entered. A table laden with food and wine was on one side; on the other was a large couch. Lying on it, watching their every move was the envoy, completely naked. The drum beat got quicker and louder. As the doors began to close, the drummer and harpist used their bodies to ensure they were properly shut. The drumming and the clapping picked up pace and volume. The girls started to dance and chant as they moved toward their one-man audience who was clearly getting excited about what was in store for him.

  The beat began to slow and the girls stopped clapping and changed their chant. They swayed rhythmically backward and forwards moving close to the envoy and then away. Two of the girls walked around to the back of the couch without breaking rhythm, their bodies tantalising close, then moving away. The naked messenger clapping, laughing, his eyes moving lustfully from one girl to another. At the feast he only had eyes for Henite, now he could see the charms of the other girls. He didn’t know which one he preferred, which of them he wanted on the journey home. The King was a generous man, maybe he could take them all.

  His thoughts on this happy prospect, each of the girls, in time to the chant, removed the scarves from around their necks, with quick and graceful movements they wrapped one each around the envoy’s ankles and wrists. The two girls at his feet pulled his legs apart forcefully and painfully and he let out a yelp. He was confused, not knowing if this was a part of the game. Simultaneously, Henite and her companion on the wrists pulled his arms sharply above his head and he let out a moan. They joined their scarves together and pulled downward; the envoy thought his arms would come out of their sockets. He was yelping, whimpering, crying all at the same time. ‘What are you doing? The King will hear of this.’

  The girls ignored him; he couldn’t understand why his aides had not come in. He began shouting, screaming for them, but they didn’t come. Instead, Henite jumped on top of him her bare legs straddling his stomach. In her hands, a needle and container of red liquid. She began, skilfully, painfully applying the fluid on to his skin, into his flesh, using the needle to penetrate deep into his chest. He couldn’t determine what she was doing; all he could feel was pain. He couldn’t move. He tried to lift his head, it was impossible, the girl held his arms tight above his head. He attempted to throw Henite off by twisting his body, to no avail.

  ‘The King will hear of this,’ he repeated.

  ‘Indeed he will,’ came a deep voice from the door.

  Haqwaset entered, followed closely by Mahu and Meri-Bess.

  ‘Have you finished yet Henite?’ he asked.

  ‘Almost, Majesty,’ she replied. ‘Tattooing onto moving blubber would be hard enough but to have to do it in Akkadian and Kemetian takes more time. There,’ she said, jabbing the needle down hard into the snivelling, mewling mass beneath her.

  Haqwaset moved closer.

  ‘It will look better in a few days when the blood and the scarring have died down,’ Henite said, lifting herself off his body.

  ‘It looks good to me already,’ said Haqwaset. ‘Thank you for your help girls, the Queen is waiting outside, please join her, she wants to know all the details. Ask two of the guards to take the chest from over there with you. It’s where he keeps his gold and my wife will ensure you all get your fair share. You’ve earned it.’

  The girls left, their spirits even higher than when they had made their way to the room to carry out the plan. As they had entered the room, the drum, clapping and chanting, muffled the sounds from outside. The guards quickly disarmed and arrested the two Naharina aides and took them away, where detailed techniques would be used to get the information requested by the King.

  As the girls walked with their Queen to the ladies quarters Tiye said to Henite, ‘Perhaps your talents are wasted as a dancing girl, maybe you should become a scribe.’

  ‘A scribe is no job for a girl, Majesty, especially not for one as young and beautiful as me. Time enough to think of scribing or other boring pastimes when I’m old and wrinkled, married and with children. Until then I’ll let my beauty and other talents make me as rich as I can be.’

  chapter sixteen

  The next morning, two men set out from Waset, on separate, very different journeys. Neither of them knew, or cared about the other. Both had one similarity. Each believed this was a journey which would eventually lead to his death.

  Djoser was confused. He wanted to speak with Nahkt, but even before he could get within fifty paces of his sister’s house, one of the Nubian guards came running up to him.

  ‘Djoser no see master today,’ he said.

  ‘But I must. It’s very important.’

  ‘No disturb master today. Go away now. No business you here today. Go away.’

  It was clear Djoser was not welcome. He couldn’t argue with the fierce guard. The journey to meet his fate must begin without explaining his dream or his reasons to his co-conspirator.

  Djoser loved his sister dearly. Although he neither trusted nor liked her husband, the partnership between them had been of great mutual financial benefit. Djoser didn’t much care it was now at an end. He had more than enough set by for his daughters to be regarded as reasonable acquisitions as wives. He just had to make sure, unlike him, they would remain alive to enjoy the fruits of his, mostly, ill-gotten gains. He would also do what he could for his sisters. He didn’t need to worry about his now aging mother and father. They were wealthy enough to live comfortably for the rest of their lives and beyond. Merit, his caring younger sister, named after her mother, doted on their parents and he was sure her future would be secured by them. However, he had set some aside even for her. His mother and her youngest daughter were inseparable. Merit, the elder, teaching her namesake everything she knew about running a household and the daughter doing everything she could to make her adored mother’s life easier. Theirs was a special bond.

  Iunet was Djoser’s destination. He believed the person he needed to meet would break his river journey there to visit the Governor, who was also an old friend of Djoser’s father. They had shared a prison cell together many years before. It was his best chance of seeing the old man before he arrived in Waset. If he waited, it might be too late.

  It was approximately eighty miles from Waset to Iunet and Djoser decided it would be best to travel there by camel. A camel could do the journey in t
wo days, maybe less, a donkey would have perhaps taken four days and Djoser was afraid of horses. Bitten by one as a child he had avoided them ever since. A boat would have to rely on the wind and also would need more than him to man it. This was a journey he needed to make alone.

  He also needed the certainty of arriving before the important barge had passed through. Djoser couldn’t be sure when the boat would arrive or even if it would stop at Iunet. He prayed the gods would favour him just this one more time; after this journey they could do with him as they wished.

  He would follow the river all the way, so would know if the barge and its escort were to pass him. He could always turn around, but hoped this wouldn’t be necessary. He bought the camel in the market the day before. Experienced negotiation resulted in him paying only half what the seller originally asked. The beast could always be sold in Iunet if the trip was only going to be one way. He might even make a profit on the sale, not that he would need money if the journey ended as he feared.

  *

  As Djoser was being turned away from his brother-in-law’s house on the east bank, the other man’s journey was beginning on the west bank of the river, with much commotion. Throughout the night, workmen had been constructing a cage on a cart to be pulled by two horses. Barratarna was unceremoniously forced up the makeshift steps leading to the reinforced enclosure. He made pitiful wailing noises and was speaking incoherently. Obviously the night had not been kind to him. He was completely naked, his body filthy with a mixture of dirt and blood and he was chained at his ankles.