The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  ‘Did I say too much or too little? Did I appear passionate or angry? Did they get a glimpse of the fire and determination within me? Or did I just appear as a petulant child?’

  These questions unanswered, Thutmose made his way down from the walls and headed towards the landing stage where the calf would be brought ashore and led to its new home and life of luxury. If all went well, the bull calf would grow into a strong male and would live for another twenty-eight years. The priests could not allow the sacred bull to live on earth longer than did Osiris, who had been murdered by his brother, Set, and dismembered.

  If it became necessary to despatch the bull, due to age, he would be drowned. It would not be appropriate to shed the holy blood, at least while the beast was alive. After death, it was different. His precious blood was drained and used in some of the sacred ceremonies.

  *

  At the time Thutmose was climbing to the wall tops, Djoser was with Aperel and Tawy, a short distance away, in the area of the great step pyramid at Saqqara. They had come to see the site of the tomb Aperel had chosen for himself and his family, at the cliffs dedicated to the goddess Bastet. Thousands of mummified cats rested close by; during their lives these were revered as incarnations of the great goddess in her Temple close by. On their deaths, they were preserved and offered to the goddess. Bastet was represented as a woman with the head of a lion in older statues, but now more frequently as a cat. She was a protective goddess, symbolised by the animal protector of crops, helping to keep disease at bay by devouring vermin.

  The lion was an animal close to the heart of Aperel and his family. His murdered brother Maiherpri had been acknowledged, by no lesser person than the King, as able to fight like a lion. Aperel, and his brother Djutmosis, had taken to wearing lion-skin ceremonial dress on official occasions with their father in Kush. The lion represented courage and fierce power. The cat represented guile, grace and affection, a combination of attributes Aperel regarded as essential to his being a successful Vizier. Lion and cat together.

  As they entered the roughly hewn entrance, Aperel handed Djoser a cubit, the measuring stick which literally ruled the artists’ work.

  ‘I would like you to use this for your work on this tomb.’

  Djoser recognized the cubit immediately. He had given this as a gift to Aperel on the birth of his and Tawy’s first son, Seny. It was inscribed with Aperel’s name, but not made of gold like the one Djoser’s father had received as a gift from Haqwaset’s grandfather. This, Kha had taken with him to the afterlife and now lay beside him in his tomb, together with his precious senet board, crafted so long ago in a prison cell. Djoser smiled.

  ‘I’ll certainly use it to check the measurements, but I prefer to use this folding version for frequent measurements – it’s easier to handle.’

  Djoser pulled out an old, well used, hinged cubit from a pouch he had over his shoulder.

  ‘The full cubit can be bothersome if working in an angle less than its full length.’

  Djoser looked around.

  ‘It’s going to be a long time before we can start any art work in here. Have you any thoughts of design or do you want me to draw some ideas? We’ll have to wait for the digging to be completed and the walls smoothed so we’ll know exactly what space we have to work with.’

  ‘We thought we’d have the entrance as a chapel, leading back into the burial chamber. We want it to be big enough for us and our children,’ said Tawy. ‘We none of us know if our children will be buried with us, they may grow to be successful and have their own tombs but, as there is always a space for them in our hearts, there should be space with us in the afterlife, if they have the need.’

  Djoser was happy climbing up rocks and looking at formations, trying to work out the best way to dig and create a tomb of sufficient size. He enjoyed the clerical work with Yuya, but this was what excited him most. Like Kha before him, he was born and bred to understand rock formations and also the representations of art on the stone walls. He had to admit though, he liked it even better when he didn’t have to do it every day.

  ‘With your permission Aperel, I would like to bring one or two workmen from the village in Waset as foremen. I can’t be here every day but need someone who can follow instructions and who understands the way I work.’

  ‘Brother, we are not as rich as the King. Will they not demand high payments to stay here for a year or two away from their families?’ Tawy was always careful with money.

  ‘Don’t worry sister,’ replied Djoser, ‘they’ll demand nothing. They’ll be paid the same as if working in Waset. They may wish to bring their families, or some of them. We only need to organise accommodation near to the worksite and a good source of water.’

  ‘Djoser, get whoever you need,’ said Aperel. ‘Tawy worries about the future too much. We are as wealthy as anyone needs to be and getting more comfortable each day. She thinks my position could end tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t. But it does no harm to be prepared.’

  ‘A few extra khar of wheat won’t ruin us Tawy. Now hurry, we need to get back before the Apis Bull calf leaves the barque. I have duties at the side of the King and Prince. Today I have asked the King to grant me the privilege of being his Fan-Bearer in honour of Maiherpri.’

  ‘You two go, do what you have to do,’ said Djoser. ‘Bulls and I don’t get on well together. I would like to stay here for a while and feel the lie of the rocks. I’ll make my own way back and see you this evening. Look after Thutmose, Yuya is very concerned for him.’

  Aperel nodded. ‘We are all concerned.’

  He and Tawy headed towards the carriage which had brought them. Djoser called over two workmen who had been digging. He began the job of preparing his sister’s tomb for a second time.

  *

  In the city, the streets were overflowing with pilgrims, clamouring to get a sight of the procession and the new Apis. In some places fights had broken out, guards had to step in to keep order. Wine, beer and large crowds didn’t make for easy control. However, the elite troops of the Medjay had been drafted in, in large numbers, to ensure any trouble would be quickly stamped out. As well as the Medjay, who were under the direct command of the King and answerable only to him, the High Priest of Ptah had organised a group of foreign mercenaries to patrol the streets. Particularly late at night these maintained security both in the Temple and the properties which surrounded it, in which many of the priests lived with their families.

  The mercenaries were crude and brutish. They were not afraid to steal from someone they thought had himself stolen. As the night wore on and the mercenaries got more drunk, people would be stopped for no reason and asked to display their possessions. If one of the soldiers coveted whatever he found, it would be “confiscated” and held “as the proceeds of a theft”. Any sign of protest from the victim was met with a rain of blows from fists or sticks. As far as the mercenaries were concerned there was no such thing as innocence. It was crime enough to have something they wanted, in your possession.

  The young bull appeared bewildered by the noise and smell of the crowd. At times it sought comfort from its mother, pushing hard against her. Thutmose looked at the disconcerted animal and felt sympathy. There were parallels with his own life. The bull was somewhere unfamiliar and going into a life with so many things unknown, just as Thutmose would be obliged to do when the Two Crowns of Kemet were passed to him. Thutmose joined his father and the High Priest for the welcoming ceremony. He went through the motions. He did what was expected of him but without enthusiasm. His demeanour didn’t go unnoticed by his father.

  *

  Djoser returned to the quarters of Yuya in the Palace, after his sojourn at the tomb of Aperel and Tawy. He bathed before seeking out Yuya to ask if there was anything required of him. Yuya was in conversation with Tjuya, Tiye and Kirgipa. Djoser immediately understood the conversation was about Thutmose and looked at Yuya f
or a sign of whether he should stay or leave. Yuya indicated he should come and sit. Bowing graciously to the Queens, he sat cross legged, in the traditional pose of a scribe, next to Yuya. He had no writing equipment; he knew this conversation was not to be recorded.

  Tjuya and Kirgipa, who had not spoken directly with Thutmose, wondered if it was just a phase the young man was going through, a kind of rite of passage into adulthood and responsibility.

  ‘He’s always been a thoughtful boy,’ said Tjuya, ‘perhaps he’s over-thinking things.’

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ Tiye responded. ‘He seems to have a deep hatred of the traditional religions, leaving no room for compromise. Perhaps he should leave his duties as a priest for a time and return with us to Waset.’

  ‘I’m not sure such a plan would work daughter. He would be around Haqwaset all the time and, with the festivals, there will be constant contact with the Priests of Amun. He needs to have separation and distance. I think it best that he stays with me on the estate, where he can completely forget about the old religions, or even new, or yet to be invented ones.’

  Tiye looked at her father closely.

  ‘You know he adores you father. If he stays with you he will constantly ask you questions about his and your beliefs and it may deepen his resolve against the traditions he will need to support. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Neither do I think it the best of ideas for him to stay too close to Teppy at this time,’ replied Yuya. ‘That young boy has become very zealous in his belief in one God and he seems unable to talk about anything other than the Aten.’

  ‘Ever since I came into this family, I have seen everyone increasing their devotion to the sun disk,’ Kirgipa said. ‘The Temple in Waset has been adorned with its representation, Haqwaset’s funerary Temple is dominated by its image, the colossal statues at its entrance are aligned to meet the dawning sun and even your royal barge has been named in honour of the Aten. It seems to me, Teppy’s views are a natural progression of the way the beliefs of this family are changing. Remember it was only the victory over the foreigners, many years ago, which brought Amun to the fore in Waset; times change and in Kemet so does the worship of the gods.’

  Tiye was first to respond.

  ‘Thutmose was saying something very similar yesterday, only with slightly more venom and passion in his voice. This is one of the reasons for his incertitude. The final decision will have to be made by Haqwaset and I doubt he will want Thutmose too far out of his sight.’

  *

  The end of the day’s ceremonies gave Thutmose the chance to seek leave from the King.

  ‘I need to check things at the Temple father, if you don’t mind. I’ll join you at the Palace later.’

  Haqwaset touched his son on the shoulder.

  ‘Don’t be late. Your mother will expect you to be on time, cleansed, dressed and ready for the feast tonight.’

  Thutmose half smiled and walked away. The whole family knew it was his father who demanded punctuality but he always put the onus on his mother.

  ‘Tell her not to be concerned, I’ll be there in plenty of time,’ Thutmose called.

  The young Prince went straight to the compound where the juvenile Apis was being housed. Bathed and anointed by the priests, he was in the luxury of his new home, but didn’t seem happy or relaxed. The calf moved around restlessly, occasionally bellowing, seeking his mother. Thutmose realised that this new god was, for the very first time in its short life, on its own and the pitiful animal was upset.

  Thutmose entered the stall and walked over to the sacred animal. Still so young and small. He spoke gentle words as he approached and the calf looked at him. Its enormous brown eyes were watery, tracts ran from the corners. He wondered if cattle cried and if this was the cause of the tracts. The calf didn’t object to Thutmose moving in close to him. The Prince kept speaking to him as he put his hand on its shoulders, stroked and patted the side of his head. The calf accepted the care of the young Prince and took the Prince’s fingers in his mouth, sucking them.

  ‘You’re a baby, separated from your mother, aren’t you little Apis?’

  Thutmose felt great sympathy for the calf who was now, effectively, an orphan. Yes, his mother was housed not far away, but they would spend little, if any, time together from now on. The bull’s religious status and the pomp and ceremony surrounding him, meant it would be almost entirely human company for him from now on.

  His meeting with the new Apis did nothing to lift Thutmose’s mood. His walk back to the Palace was sombre. On leaving the Temple he came across two of the High Priest’s mercenaries, clubs in hand, ordering a young passer-by to empty the bag he had slung over his shoulder. As Thutmose approached he could see the fear in the boy’s eyes as he pulled the bag from his shoulder. All the time he looked at the two men in front of him, each was tapping his left palm with the club held in his right hand. The mercenaries were either oblivious to the approach of the Prince, or didn’t care.

  ‘For what reason have you stopped this young man?’ Thutmose asked. The men half turned defiantly towards him.

  ‘We answer to no-one but the High Priest and it’s none of your damn business.’

  They had crossed Thutmose on a bad day. He drew out his sword. It was only a ceremonial weapon, but its blade was sharp.

  ‘Is it not the business of the Crown Prince of Kemet to know what happens in his cities? Is it not the business of the Overseer of all Priests in the Two Lands to know what is being done in the name of the High Priest of Ptah in the vicinity of his great Temple? Yes, it is my “damn business” to know why you stopped this seemingly innocent boy and asked him to empty his sack. Now if you value your pitiful lives, give me answer.’

  The mercenaries sneered.

  A small crowd gathered round. Some recognized Thutmose and sank to their knees, encouraging those around them to do likewise. The boy did the same. At the side of the crowd, a father spoke to his son, who went running in the direction of the Palace.

  The mercenaries were not cowed by the Prince, they either didn’t believe he was who he claimed or it was of no concern. They met his gaze boldly, but seeing the gathering audience, they decided to answer. Had they been alone and in a darker place they wouldn’t have been concerned about this youth’s rank or clothes; they had despatched many a noble’s son in the past. The jewellery he was wearing would be enough to keep them in wine and women for as long as they wished but, unfortunately, there was an audience.

  ‘He fits the description of a pickpocket we’ve been looking for over the last two days,’ one of them said, without taking his gaze away from the young Prince.

  His friend coughed to conceal a laugh which didn’t go unnoticed by Thutmose. The accent was strong. These men clearly came from somewhere to the North or East; Hatti or Arzawa.

  ‘I only arrived here today…’ the boy began. Thutmose used his free hand to touch him on the head.

  ‘There is no need for you to answer to these men. You only need to speak if it is I that asks you a question.’

  Thutmose looked directly into the eyes of the club wielding mercenaries.

  ‘And what exactly is this description you are adhering to so carefully?’

  ‘Kemetian with a bag,’ came the insolent reply. This time the second mercenary could not hold back his laugh.

  Thutmose was aware of the sound of running, both from his right and from straight ahead. In front of him a group of six or seven mercenaries were approaching as fast as their overweight bellies would allow. He wondered at the wisdom of getting himself involved in this minor matter, especially if those approaching from the side were of similar ilk.

  However, before the advancing mercenaries reached the small gathering, those from the right took form. A group of Medjay, the King’s elite soldiers, formed a ring around Thutmose, the boy and the two mercenaries. Alternately facing in
and out. The group of mercenaries approaching from the front stopped suddenly, the ones at the back crashing into their comrades in front. It took them a matter of moments to reassess the situation. They turned and retreated.

  It was a comic scene, but Thutmose didn’t laugh. His emotions were mixed. He felt relief that what could have turned into a dangerous scenario had been avoided, but also he felt anger. Anger, brought on by the fact his people could not go about their business, in a great and holy city, without molestation by ruffians claiming authority from the High Priest. He felt anger also because he was having to be rescued, by guards, from a situation he should have been able to handle alone.

  The Captain of the Medjay said nothing. He knew his duty was to protect his Prince, not to humiliate him by interfering. The rebellious attitude of the two mercenaries subsided.

  ‘Who issued you with the description of the pickpocket?’ Thutmose asked the now trembling mercenary.

  ‘I don’t know, your Highness, we were just doing our job.’

  ‘How many other “pickpockets” have you searched today?’ asked the Prince.

  ‘Er, none,’ came the reply.

  ‘So if I ask one of these soldiers to search you they’ll find only your own possessions?’ The mercenary looked down at his feet, remaining silent.

  Thutmose turned to the Medjay Captain.

  ‘Take them away. Search them; divide anything you find between this poor boy and the boy who ran to warn you of my predicament. Have these two flogged and moved out into the dessert, far enough away that they won’t return to this city in a hurry.’

  He turned to the boy who was still on his knees in front of him.

  ‘You’re not a pickpocket are you?’

  ‘No sir, on my life, no. I came with my parents to see the holy calf. I was separated from them and was attempting to find them when these two stopped me.’