The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  The young Princes kept clamouring for more.

  ‘Come on boys, the girls need a rest,’ Tiye said eventually.

  ‘One more. Please, just one more?’ It was Teppy, looking up at his mother, his big brown eyes wide open. He had a way of rapidly nodding slightly and smiling when he wanted something really badly, encouraging his mother to repeat his nod.

  ‘Can we have the song about the sailor again, one more time, please?’

  Tiye looked at the girls, her eyes conveying sympathy. The three musicians smiled and started again, with the young Princes making up for the lack of tone in their voices with great enthusiasm. At the end of the song they rolled around on the floor laughing.

  *

  Maiherpri and Amunitore heard the sound of the music and singing as they walked in the garden, the two dogs obediently at their sides. They talked excitedly about their marriage, about what their lives were going to be like. Maiherpri had a choice to make. Should he stay with the King, he was a favourite and his position in Court was secure, or should he return with his parents and brothers to Kush? Amunitore wanted to stay at the Palace, they both knew his mother wanted them to return to Kush, but what would he do there? His brothers were older and one of them would no doubt succeed his father as Viceroy.

  In his heart he also wanted to stay at the Palace. From the age of five he had been at Court. It was the only life he had known. He loved the King and his family and was unable to imagine not being around them. He enjoyed knowing what was going on, not just within the royal precincts but also being privy to many of the secrets of state. In addition to this, he and his beloved dogs were frequent companions of the King on hunting expeditions and hunting without the King would never be as exciting.

  ‘Let’s stay here, Maiherpri.’

  ‘I want to stay, but I think I owe it to my mother to be with her and my father at home, at least for a while. We’ll talk to them tomorrow and see what can be agreed.’

  The young lovers walked in the gardens for several hours. On his way to bathe, Haqwaset saw them across a courtyard. He was happy to see them so much in love.

  Maiherpri was exceptional. A young man with a wise head. A man who could be trusted, whose quiet company was comforting and who was almost as good a hunter as Haqwaset himself; almost.

  Haqwaset would one day make him a Vizier; he was waiting for Maiherpri to have a few more years experiencing the diplomacy of the Court and for the right position to become available. The King of the Two Lands needed people around him he could trust and Maiherpri was certainly one of those. The young Nubian knew nothing of the King’s plans. Haqwaset resolved to grant Maiherpri a year’s leave to visit Kush and stay with his parents. He could learn much from his father, but then he would return to Waset and serve as before until appointed Vizier.

  As the evening went on, Kha and his family were invited to stay the night. Merit and the girls, were thrilled. Kha said he would have to go to the King’s tomb the next day and needed to go home to collect the things he would normally have with him for work. Yuya and Perneb offered to go with him by horse and collect what he needed and to come back.

  ‘A good idea,’ Kha told them. ‘It really wouldn’t be suspicious at all if I arrive at the tomb, not having travelled there with the other workmen along the usual route from the village but from the direction of the Royal Palace, and then a note arrives from the King. Better I go home. Merit and the girls can stay though, if they wish. I think maybe I also need to talk to that son of mine. Djoser a spy? I just don’t believe it.’

  ‘Better for all if you do Kha, my old friend,’ said Yuya.

  Kha glanced at him suspiciously.

  ‘Do I detect a conspiracy?’ he asked.

  Yuya laughed.

  ‘Speak with Djoser,’ he said.

  Kha left to go home. Perneb insisted on going with him and the two took horses from the stables and went off together. Once at the edge of the village, they said goodnight. ‘We’ll come and visit you in the next few days,’ Perneb said as they parted.

  ‘It will be a great pleasure my old friend,’ Kha replied sincerely. ‘It has been wonderful spending time with you. Today has been a good day.’

  Kha turned and walked away. Perneb watched his friend for a few moments. He seemed old as he leaned on his stick going up the incline towards the village.

  ‘We’re none of us getting any younger.’

  Perneb mounted, holding the reins of the now rider-less horse which Kha had used; he headed back to the Palace.

  *

  The following day was spent organising the capture and punishment of the tomb robbers. Mahu risked the wrath of his master by suggesting, several times, he should not be at the forefront of the expedition.

  ‘Better your Majesty, to wait until everything is secure and then come when I can guarantee your safety.’

  ‘You’re a young man behaving like an old woman, Mahu,’ Haqwaset said. ‘I can’t criticise you for doing your job, but.’

  ‘I knew there would be a “but” somewhere,’ Meri-Bes interjected unhelpfully.

  ‘But,’ Haqwaset repeated with emphasis, casting a look at the dwarf who was biting into an apple. ‘My mind is clear. I will not act in fear in my own country, especially in my own city. If I’m wrong, then you can always tell my corpse, “I told you so,” Mahu. I will not hold it against you.’

  ‘It’s not your corpse I’d be afraid of telling,’ said Meri-Bes, looking studiously at the piece of fruit in his hand. ‘It would be Queen Tiye who I would be really scared of Mahu, really, really scared.’

  The King’s mind wouldn’t be changed. As soon as it was confirmed that the robbers had made their way back to the tomb, one hundred and fifty of the King’s most elite troops and bowmen were split into three groups. Each squad had forty-five soldiers and five bowmen. There were only three possible ways off the mountain from the position of the tomb, which was at the head of the eastern valley. One was to the west, into the valley where Kha and his team were working on Haqwaset’s tomb. One group of fifty was sent under the pretext of acting as security for the visit of the King the next day. Another possible escape route lay to the south and the second group was sent to set up station along this path. There was no need of a pretext as it was an empty, barren area.

  They were to camp a reasonable distance away and march, at dawn, to get nearer to the tomb and be sure no-one could pass them on the narrow pathways. The third route of escape was to the north, along the main access way. This was the approach the King would take, with all pomp and ceremony, as far as the entrance to the valley. It would help the subterfuge that this was merely a Royal visit to his tomb. The procession would, however, carry on without him into the west valley. He, and the remaining fifty soldiers and bowmen and his own personal guards, would move along the eastern valley to block the thieves in.

  *

  Nahkt was shocked when a request from the King came directly to him, asking that he and several other priests, attend the ceremony being planned at the Royal tomb the following day.

  The High Priest was also to be invited, but it appeared as if the King had forgotten that every year on the day after the Beautiful Feast of the Valley, the High Priest headed by boat, with his priests stationed in the delta region of the Two Lands, to attend various ceremonies and celebrations in other Temples of Amun.

  The King’s messenger, obeying instructions, sat by the river until the High Priest’s boat sailed out of sight. He then went to the High Priest’s residence and feigned sadness at being informed he was too late, the High Priest was gone.

  ‘The King will be most disappointed,’ he had told the aged housekeeper. ‘I hope I’m not punished too severely for my tardiness,’ his voice trembling.

  He was convincing, he was a good liar, but then he was paid very handsomely to be precisely that.

  After failing to get the King’
s message to the High Priest, he went to the house of Nahkt. He didn’t like the look of the two dark skinned guards, one each side of the door. He thought they looked familiar, but couldn’t place them. They allowed him to enter and deliver his message and showed no apparent interest when he left. The messenger was cheerful. One more message to deliver and he was finished. Moments later, Nahkt called them in.

  ‘Quick,’ he said.

  ‘I need to make arrangements to leave. The King says he wants me to attend a ceremony tomorrow, but it’s a trap. I know it’s a trap. What am I going to do? Where shall I go? I have to get out of here.’

  Panic was making him say things, in front of the two guards, he wouldn’t normally say.

  ‘You must protect me. With your lives, if necessary, but you must protect me.’

  ‘We do whichever us master command us,’ one of them replied in broken Kemetian, smiling to his brother who nodded in agreement.

  ‘We’ll go tonight. I need to collect my gold and we’ll take a boat north to the sea and from there we’ll decide where best a ship can take us. This King can’t live forever; I’ll come back when he and his foreign scum family are dead. I’m a rich man I can survive, I’ll live.’

  ‘We all live until day we die,’ replied one of the bodyguards.

  ‘I didn’t ask your opinion,’ hissed Nahkt. ‘Now go, one of you, organise a boat. The other, stay close, outside.

  The two men left. One of them picked up a small stone, examined both sides and showed one side to his brother who nodded. The stone was tossed spinning in the air and when it hit the ground, both looked down at it. One started to laugh.

  ‘You lose again brother,’ he said. ‘I’ll arrange the transport.’ He headed off towards the river.

  The remaining Nubian picked up the stone, mockingly throwing it after his fast disappearing sibling and took up his haunched position outside the door, waiting.

  chapter twenty-six

  Djoser spent the day at Nahkt’s tomb, working alone, a solitary lamp by his side. He didn’t want any questions asked about his work, so he entered the tomb before dawn. He closed the makeshift door behind him to prevent anyone seeing his lights. Normally people asked if they could see his work and he was proud to show them. Not today. This was not a day for pride. Today was a day to be ashamed. Work of this quality should be respected and honoured, not vandalised. Would he be forgiven by the gods for what he was doing? He hoped so.

  As he brought the lamp light around the tomb, he stopped at the picture he had created of his three daughters. One behind the other; precious musical instruments held in their hands. He defied convention in this painting and was proud of the result. He touched their faces and the feet he hadn’t yet been able to finish varnishing; now he never would. With tears in his eyes he picked up his hammer and chisel and set about the final act of his work in this tomb. Each time he struck, the vibration coursed through him. This work did not come from his creative mind, but under the instructions of the King, whose only thoughts were of destruction and humiliation.

  *

  For the fifty soldiers in the western valley, the dawn was greeted with complaints of aches and pains from sleeping on the rocky ground the night before. After rising, they were called into lines of ten, the Commander walked along the front line.

  ‘You’re all getting soft,’ he said. ‘Soft beds and softer wives to lie beside, it’s no wonder. What we need is a war. There’s nothing like a real battle to toughen men up.’

  ‘Or kill us,’ a voice came out from the ranks.

  The Commander continued walking along the second line. As he reached the end and turned to examine the next line, he said, ‘I won’t ask, who said that.’

  He stopped in front of the fourth soldier. ‘But you,’ stabbing the soldier in the chest with his finger, ‘will lead the climb up the mountain this morning.’

  He pointed to the ridge, ‘And the gods help you if any soldier gets past you on the way up. War won’t kill you boy,’ he said, summoning up as much threat in his voice as he could, ‘because I might murder you myself before you get the chance to go to war. Understood?’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  The Commander moved on. When he had gone far enough away so the soldier was sure he couldn’t hear, he whispered out of the side of his mouth, ‘Why is it always me?’

  ‘Because you can’t keep your mouth shut,’ shouted the officer from the end of the line.

  He smiled. He liked this young soldier, he reminded him of himself years ago. Toughen him up and he will make a good commander one day, if he can control his tongue.

  They set off up the mountain path, to a position previously agreed, awaiting the signal to advance to the tomb and close the pincer movement on their prey.

  *

  At the same time, at the southern end of the valley, the second group of fifty soldiers started their climb up from their overnight position. They had been forbidden to light fires so both groups had eaten only cold rations. These were troops trained to survive days without food, if necessary, so bread and beer was a good enough breakfast for them today.

  The climb was arduous, but once they reached a certain height, a path of sorts could be seen heading towards the top of the ridge. The Commander knew from the detailed briefing he had been given yesterday and the map in his pouch, memorised by heart, that over this ridge was a relatively easy route towards the tomb. It was potentially dangerous, being clearly visible from a distance. They were to remain this side of the ridge until the signal was given, by then it would be too late for the robbers to escape.

  The soldiers in front of him stopped suddenly. He was about to say something when he saw what it was that brought them to a halt. Two heavily blood-stained bodies were lying just beside the pathway. He pushed past his men to the front. A bowman was kneeling beside the bodies which were both face down. He was turning one of them over.

  ‘I think he lives sir,’ said the bowman, ‘just.’

  As the officer approached, the bowman was lifting the head of the almost dead man and pouring some water over his lips. The man opened his eyes and looked sideways towards the, now kneeling, officer.

  ‘They know,’ he spluttered. ‘They know. Tell Mahu.’

  ‘Don’t speak now,’ the officer said. ‘Save your strength.’

  The man coughed.

  ‘No, no time,’ he was struggling for breath, each word an extreme, painful effort.

  ‘Please tell Mahu, it was…’ he breathed in deeply. A gurgling sound came from his throat, ‘it was,’ he repeated.

  His head fell sideways, a loud exhalation, blood trickled from his lips. He was dead.

  *

  Nahkt’s planned escape didn’t go as he hoped. He sent his son on a false errand to get him away for the rest of the day. Tawy left the day before to stay with one of her friends. She was disliking the company of her husband of convenience more and more. He collected as much gold and valuables as he could. Darkness fell and he ordered his Nubian guards to pick up the packed sacks. All three men headed down to the river. The old captain was standing on the quayside waiting beside his boat.

  ‘Just the three passengers are we?’ he called out as the men approached.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Nahkt hissed. ‘That is what you were told isn’t it?’

  ‘Steady now sir,’ snarled the captain in response. ‘Plans change sometimes.’

  ‘Captain, my plans never change,’ he snapped, as he was helped aboard by his guards who stood either side of him.

  ‘Oh, I think they might tonight, priest,’ said someone from the front of the ship. Nahkt turned towards the voice. A dwarf walked towards him. ‘They might tonight,’ he repeated as he came nearer.

  Nahkt looked from one guard to another and then back again at the approaching dwarf. Behind the dwarf walked a tall black man, equal in stature to his two guards. There w
as not enough light for him to see his face clearly. He looked again at his two guards.

  ‘Do something,’ he shouted. ‘Do something.’

  ‘Yes master,’ they responded in unison. Each took a tight grip of an arm and pushed him roughly onto a bench. Nahkt was frozen with fear; he looked up at the faces of the two guards. Meri-Bes pushed between them, grinning at the priest. The black man moved in behind the dwarf and stood between his own guards. Nahkt’s face took on a shocked expression as his eyes moved from one face to another. Each slightly different but all three so similar. Realisation dawned on him and he dropped his head into his hands and cried.

  ‘Let’s not waste any time. Turn the boat around and head over to the Palace garrison landing. This priest has some praying to do tonight,’ Meri-Bes said to the captain.

  *

  Up on the mountain, the Commander walked a few paces away from the dead men and sat on a rock, thinking.

  ‘What can I do?’

  There was no way he could get a message to the King, or Mahu, in time. The procession would already have started to form.

  ‘How did this happen?’

  If they knew what was going on they could escape, or worse, set a trap for the King. He sent his most agile soldier to try and inform those approaching from the west what had happened. The terrain was such, he was not sure if the message would even be received in time, but he had to try.

  ‘What should I do?’

  He was a soldier who had spent his whole career on peacetime duties. His training was thorough; taught by soldiers and officers who had fought in skirmishes and battles in Kush and in the north.