Haqwaset was to bring in the bow, Tiye and Kergipa, linen and clothing. As Haqwaset had wished, he, together with Merymose and his two sons, spent two days hunting, using Maiherpri’s arrows. The first day they took game which was to be mummified and placed in the tomb. The second day’s kill was for the funeral feast. Others would bring in plants and linen. The tomb would be filled.
The procession set off from the newly completed Temple. Today it had been handed over to Maiherpri’s family to honour and bury their son. The ornate coffin was placed on a distinctive, unique barque. Specially commissioned statues of the protective goddesses Nephthys and Isis, the celestial sisters, representing death and rebirth, were placed one at each end of the coffin. On the barque the sacred text was written.
May Maiherpri be protected by the mother Nephthys, as he sinks into the darkness on the Barque of the Night, then having found his true voice, rise again with Isis on the Barque of the Light of Day.
The barque was pulled by a team of oxen. In front of the coffin walked Tawy. It had been Merkare’s wish that she sing in the procession. The families of Kha, Yuya and Maiherpri had spent much time together over the past seventy days and had grown very attached to one another. It seemed the years of separation had not dimmed the true feelings of love Tawy felt towards her sister, mother and father and theirs, for her, in return. The bad times were not spoken about and seemed to have been put behind them. Merit was giving cause for concern to all except Kha, who refused to discuss his wife’s health if anyone broached the subject.
Beside the coffin a squad of soldiers marched. Alternating between Palace guards, carrying their ceremonial golden spears, and Nubian bowmen, dressed all in white and carrying bright, gilded bows. Their quivers made of fine linen, woven with gold and the gilded arrows inside shining like the precious metal.
Many citizens of Waset lined the route to the sacred valley, heads bowed in respect. Some had never seen such a funeral procession, the last one had been twenty three years before, when Haqwaset’s father had been taken all too soon. Now the spectators saw the funeral barque in all its glory. The King and other dignitaries rode in golden chariots, each pulled by a black horse with shining oiled coats. In Haqwaset’s chariot, standing proudly beside his father, was Thutmose. Teppy rode with Yuya, whilst Smenkhare shared a chariot with Meri-Bes. The Royal women were conveyed on covered ebony carrying chairs, their poles plated with gold, each borne by twelve men. Behind these came the carts bearing the gifts which would be placed in the tomb. Following the carts, came the lesser officials and servants on foot. It took more than an hour for the end of the procession to pass through the gates of the Mortuary Temple, between the gargantuan statues of the King.
Once the procession reached the crossroads leading to the valley, soldiers lined the route. No civilian was allowed to enter the valley as no-one other than the family and trusted guards were permitted to know the precise location of the burial place. Even some of the workmen didn’t always know to whom the tomb, they were working on, belonged. It was a tradition for kings to dig more than one tomb at a time so as to confuse any potential robbers. Only the artists who carried out the final decorations would know the precise tomb to be used and these were all trusted workers from the village. Legends had grown, saying those who worked on the tomb were buried inside it to protect its secrets. It was a rumour based on little, if any, fact; however, it served a purpose to promote the story.
The cortège arrived outside the tomb. Before entering, the priests, accompanied by Merymose and Prince Thutmose in his Sem priest leopard skin cloak, performed the mouth opening ceremony. This took place in the shade of a large canopy, erected to provide some cover from the sun for the royal participants and family. Once completed, priests entered the tomb to perform the blessing, chanting appropriate prayers to ensure the deceased’s ba, would be welcomed into the afterlife and known by the gods. The incantations would also help to guarantee that his heart would pass the test of being weighed against the feather and his spirit would rise again to dwell in eternity with his forebears and the gods.
The coffin was carefully lifted from the barque and taken inside. As the tomb was restricted in size only a few people could enter with the coffin, other than the bearers. The priests came out and the coffin bearers went in, followed by Merymose, Merkare, Amunitore and Haqwaset. Maiherpri’s two brothers waited at the tomb entrance. They were now dressed as soldier princes, their muscular frames adorned with gold. Each wore a short kilt made from white linen but with gold plates hanging from a waist band giving the kilts a striped appearance. Around their arms were golden bands and a gold breast plate hung from their necks. A bow was strung across their shoulders, a quiver of arrows and sword by their side. In their hands they carried the ceremonial ostrich feather fans their brother had so proudly carried in his life time. They stood like guards at the entrance.
They heard a furore and instinctively turned to look into the tomb, which was brightly lit with candles and lamps. They heard Haqwaset’s voice, low but steely.
‘What do you mean it doesn’t fit?’
They could not make out the response but they heard their mother and Amunitore start to cry. Curious, they squeezed into the chamber. The sarcophagus was open. The coffin, carrying the body, was partially inside.
‘Majesty, the coffin doesn’t fit inside the sarcophagus.’
‘How can this be?’ Haqwaset asked to no-one in particular. ‘Who is responsible? This cannot go unpunished.’
‘Please, brother,’ Merymose spoke in hushed tones. ‘This is not a time for retribution, let us bury my son. Let us mourn and pray for him. Let us not make today be remembered for failures.’ He turned to the coffin bearers.
‘Remove my son from the coffin in which he was brought here. Place him in the second coffin, seal it and place that inside the sarcophagus. His body will be well enough protected.’
The bearers looked at their King who nodded his agreement.
‘What is to be done with the empty coffin?’ one of the bearers asked.
It was Amunitore who answered.
‘Please leave it where it is. It may serve for me in the future.’ Merkare turned to the girl she had wanted as her son’s wife. She took hold of the young girl’s hand.
‘May the gods bless you child. Don’t plan the end of your days just yet, you’re young and have a long life ahead of you.’
Turning her attention temporarily away from Amunitore, she said, ‘Leave the coffin. Do as Amunitore asks. Maybe when his spirit rises he can rest in the unused coffin, if he tires of where he now lies.’
The brothers left the tomb and took up their previous positions outside. They were faced with a wall of inquisitive faces but they ignored the looks, staring straight ahead. After a short while those who had been inside the tomb came out. All had been crying, even Haqwaset had been overcome with the emotion of seeing the bandaged body of his friend lifted from one coffin and placed in another. The young, strong, muscular man seemed frail inside his shroud.
Haqwaset wanted to remember his friend as he was in life, strong and vigorous, but now his final image was one of linen wrapped frailty. Merkare and Amunitore together had placed the precious ‘Book of the Dead’ papyrus scroll inside the coffin where Maiherpri’s body now lay. Djoser’s work had been a source of comfort, especially for Merkare. She was pleased at how her son was depicted as he truly was, wearing his curly wig. She felt heartened and reassured, both by the scroll and the omen from the goddess Sopdet, that her son’s passage to the afterlife wouldn’t be too burdensome for him.
The largest of the funerary gifts was the first to be taken into the tomb. The Osiris bed, which the boys had worked on with their father and the artisans, with such endeavour, was carried in by six servants. Then all of the principal mourners took in their special gifts. Tiye went together with the children. She had taught them not to be afraid to cry; they too had lost a fr
iend and this was their final chance to say goodbye.
After the gifting was completed, a feast was prepared and eaten. All started in sombre mood, but gradually, perhaps aided by the free flowing wine, people started to reminisce about their dead friend, son and brother. There was some laughter. Fond memories of Maiherpri would last as long as these people lived and their thoughts would frequently turn to the young man who had been so full of life. They would remember also, the sight of his two hunting hounds lying down silently at the tomb entrance. They didn’t move until called away by Amunitore at the end of the feast. As they walked away they frequently turned to look at the tomb entrance until it was out of sight. Their heads remained hung down and it was several weeks before they returned to anything like their previous boisterous selves. They never left Amunitore’s side. It was as if their master was telling them to look after her and they would always obey him.
It was agreed, Aperel and Djutmosis would return, with their parents, to Kush. After the inundation Aperel would come back to Waset to take over Maiherpri’s duties, while Djutmosis would stay in Kush to learn all his father could teach him about being a viceroy. Haqwaset had always in mind to appoint Maiherpri as a Vizier. This was one of the most important official positions in the whole of the Two Lands and Haqwaset needed a person he could trust. Now Aperel would stand in the stead of his dead brother, whilst Djutmosis would be the next Viceroy of Kush when his father died. Yuya congratulated Haqwaset on his choices. He also congratulated Merymose for appointing Nahkt’s ‘son’ as overseer of the Medjay stables in Kerma. This post was nothing more than a glorified stable hand and being surrounded by Medjay, some of the most fearful of all soldiers, meant his abilities to interfere in matters of state would be severely limited.
Djoser and his daughters would normally have gone with Yuya, in light of Djoser’s new position as scribe. However, Merit’s health was seriously deteriorating. Tjuya was concerned.
‘I want to stay here for Merit,’ she told Yuya. ‘If you feel you must go home then please do so. I don’t think she’ll live to see the crops being sown after the inundation and I don’t want to leave her. She will be more comfortable here in the Palace. Having Tawy, Merit and Djoser’s girls here is a great comfort to her, but I know if I leave she will want to return to her own home. She’s better off here.’
Yuya leaned over and kissed his wife.
‘Like you, I can’t leave her at this time. When Asenath was dying it was Merit who buoyed my spirit. Kha will also need my support. He’s in denial about her condition; her passing will hit him the most.’
Merymose and his family left three days after the funeral. Merkare made a special effort to again thank Tawy for her singing at the ceremony. She was accompanied by Aperel, who seemed enchanted by Tawy. Merkare invited her to join them in Kush, which Tawy declined in view of her mother’s health.
‘But I would love to come one day,’ she said.
‘You must, and I’ll make sure Aperel brings you with him on his next visit home.’
‘It would be an honour and a pleasure,’ said the young Nubian.
Tawy blushed.
*
Three weeks later, on the day the Mortuary Temple of Haqwaset was flooded for the first time, when all that was visible above the water was the Ark, as Haqwaset was celebrating the achievement in the Great Hall, Merit died. She was surrounded by her children and grandchildren. Kha, the only man she had ever loved, was at her side holding her hand.
‘I love you,’ he said, when she opened her eyes for the last time.
‘I know, and me you, always,’ she replied.
She looked into his eyes, turning her head slightly to do so. He could not make out what she was thinking. She then looked straight up at the ceiling, which had been painted with stars resembling the night sky. She sighed, closed her eyes and her breathing stopped. For a long time the only sound in the room was the soft sobbing of all who were there. No one seemed to want to disturb the private grief. In the end it was Tjuya, standing with her husband at the back of the room, who moved forward. She put her arms around the shoulders of Merit and Tawy.
‘Come, let us leave your father and mother alone for a while so he can say goodbye.’
Without another word the three of them walked towards the door. Djoser and his daughters followed silently behind.
Once they had left the room, Yuya walked over to his friend who was still holding his wife’s hand. Tears were streaming down his face. He placed his hand on Kha’s shoulder.
‘I always believed I would go first. I promised her. It’s the only promise I never kept. Nothing is ready for her funeral. The tomb is finished but there’s no coffin. I have spent so much time preparing for my own passing I haven’t thought about this. What can I do?’
‘Don’t worry about anything now,’ said Yuya. ‘Just say farewell and we’ll sort everything out tomorrow. You’re not on your own Kha, my old friend. You have a wonderful family around you and Tjuya and I are here for whatever we can do to help.’
‘Thank you Yuya,’ Kha said, looking up at the tall figure beside him. He patted Yuya’s hand, which was still resting on his shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ he repeated.
Yuya left him there to mourn and perhaps say things only his wife should hear. He went straight to the Great Hall to break the news to the King.
Merit’s funeral took place fifty days later. The body still needed forty days, covered in natron, to be properly preserved, but the wrapping ceremonies were less elaborate. Kha had insisted his coffin, so carefully prepared for him, should be used for his wife. Some adjustments were necessary, but it would be the best option. Her body was small in comparison to her husband’s. Once her lifeless body was placed in the coffin, the empty spaces were packed with linen. The funeral was simple, but well attended.
In addition to their tomb, Kha had constructed a small pyramid chapel. It was to this chapel that Merit’s body was initially brought. From there it was carried, by friends and family, to the tomb at the base of the cliff. Inside, Kha had spent many years decorating. He was not a poor man and Merit would want for nothing in the afterlife; jars of perfumes, ointments and kohl, inside vessels of faience and glass, surrounded the coffin. All of Merit’s clothes were left in the tomb, as well as a wig, gifted to her by Asenath many years before.
The funeral was a cause of wonder for the villagers. The King and Queen came, along with many other dignitaries and Governors from several sepats. They knew that Kha was in charge of the tomb building of the King, but for him to personally attend the funeral of Merit was extraordinary.
Merit was laid to rest. Kha busied himself over the next months preparing new coffins for his own use. He didn’t intend to stay too long without her.
*
Six months passed. The King’s tomb was finished. The grateful monarch thanked Kha for the work done. Kha walked home and sat in his favourite chair, asking Merit to pour him a glass of wine. He chatted quietly with her and Tawy, speaking about their mother; he spoke of his joy that Tawy had been able to spend time with her before her death. After a while, Kha blessed them both and told them it was time for him to rest. He said ‘goodnight,’ and closed his eyes. He saw Merit standing in the courtyard of the Palace of Justice, Djoser in her arms, smiling as she had so many years ago on the day of his release from prison. He went happily into the final sleep, from which his earthly body would never wake, and journeyed to be with his cherished Merit.
PART THREE
PRINCE THUTMOSE
FIVE YEARS LATER
‘And thus did Osiris speak: I am Tamyt, the Triumphant justified by the Great God. Tamyt is not dead, neither is her body weary.’
(Inscription on the sarcophagus of
Tamyt the cat – Cairo Museum.)
chapter thirty
The chanting became louder and louder, rising to a crescendo. The chantresses of the Temple o
f Ptah were lamenting.
‘Greetings exalted Ptah, The Ancient One. Your ba on earth has joined you…’
Thutmose knew this meant only one thing. The Apis Bull was dead. It was no surprise to him; the sacred animal had been slowly weakening. His duties, as sem-priest, required Thutmose to take part in the many ceremonies associated with its death and the accompanying search for a new Apis. He should go to the Temple immediately, but his mind was elsewhere. Tamyt, his beloved ‘Miauette,’ didn’t wake him this morning, as she had done for the last five years.
‘Miauette, Miauette,’ he called, walking from room to room in his palatial quarters. He looked everywhere. Under furniture, in hidden corners. There was no sign of her. A scream from the direction of the servants quarters made him turn. One of the girls ran out, seeing the Prince she fell to her knees, sobbing.
‘My Lord, forgive me,’ she said.
‘What is it?’
‘Tamyt. Out there.’ She pointed towards the kitchen beyond the door.
Thutmose ran out of the door, into the early morning sunshine. Tamyt lay beside the bread oven, curled up. She appeared asleep. As Thutmose approached his adored cat, he called her name softly.
‘Miauette, my precious Tamyt, what is it?’ He knew, but hoped for a miracle. Picking up her lifeless form and holding her to his chest, he said nothing. Tears streamed down his face as he returned to his chamber. He laid her gently on the bed. To most she was only a one-eyed cat, but to him she was his faithful companion.
In life the small creature had amused and comforted the Prince through good and bad times, particularly during his first months away from daily contact with his brother, sisters and friends. His initial training as a Priest of Ptah meant staying twenty four hours a day and seven days a week at the Temple. Of course his family were frequent visitors, but he couldn’t play jackals and hounds with Teppy, or senet with Nefertiti or Smenkhare. Tamyt was always there. Playing with a bauble or snuggled up on his lap, purring and sleeping. Waking him every morning, jumping on him in bed. She meant his day always started with a smile.
The Awakening Aten Page 36