The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  ‘We must look for them,’ he said. ‘Where did you last see them?’

  The voice of a woman came from behind him.

  ‘We’re here your Majesty. Thank you for helping our son. We’ve heard terrible stories of boys and young men being beaten or killed by these men; girls ending with a worse fate. We warned him to stay close but the crowds separated us. He is determined one day to be a priest and wanted so much to see the embodiment of the god.’

  The boy’s parents were well dressed and clearly of an educated class. The father probably a cleric or scribe. The mother carried a small child in her arms.

  ‘Did you see the calf?’ Thutmose asked the boy.

  ‘No Majesty, we arrived late and the crowds were too great.’

  The Prince took a small ring from his finger. He gave it to the boy’s mother.

  ‘Come to the Temple in the mid-morning, tomorrow. Show the guards this ring and tell them I have requested you to visit me. Let us see if we can ask the new Apis if he will give us an audience.’

  The boy’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘Would it be really possible? Can we mother? Can we?’

  She smiled at her son

  ‘We have a command from the Royal Prince himself, how can I say no?’

  ‘I’ll meet you tomorrow then young man. What is your name?’

  ‘Panehesy.’

  The boy walked away beside his parents, following the guards, who were escorting the mercenaries. Six of the soldiers waited and flanked Thutmose as he too walked in the same direction towards the Palace. He hoped he would be able to bathe and change in time to meet his parents and other members of the family before the feast, although, in truth, he had no appetite for merriment. Maybe Aperel and Teppy could cheer him.

  chapter thirty-three

  With the Apis ceremonials completed, preparations began for the Royal family’s return to Waset. The main topic of conversation for the senior members of the family was Thutmose. Everyone had their own ideas about the best way to deal with the situation. For the first time in his life Haqwaset was indecisive.

  For his part, Thutmose went about his duties. The day after the arrival of the Apis calf, he kept his promise and met with Panehesy and his parents. He learned how the family had journeyed from Iunet, where Panehesy’s father worked at the Temple of Hathor as a scribe to the High Priest. Panehesy spent many hours with his father in the Temple and had set his heart on becoming a priest. The boy was excited entering the holy sanctum and being able to actually touch the young animal.

  This simple, innocent action, when it came to the knowledge of the High Priest, caused him to become so enraged that he demanded the immediate presence of the Crown Prince and sent a messenger to the Palace seeking an audience with the King himself.

  Thutmose was completely unconcerned about the High Priest’s reaction. His time with the young scribe, his parents and younger brother, had been relaxing and fulfilling.

  ‘Panehesy, if you really want to become a priest then perhaps your parents would allow you to spend some time with me in the Temples.’

  He informed them he wouldn’t always be at the Temple of Ptah but may travel to other Temples. If they were willing, he would offer Panehesy a position as junior scribe, so his education could be completed and he would have access to the Temples. If after all of that, he still wished to dedicate his life to being a priest, he would help him.

  Panehesy’s parents were incredulous.

  ‘The gods behave in strange ways,’ Panehesy’s father said. ‘Yesterday, his brains could have been scattered across the street but for your intervention Majesty. Now you offer him a position which would be a dream for any boy. We can’t express our gratitude enough.’

  ‘There is no need to thank me,’ Thutmose responded. ‘The Two Lands are in need of honest priests and I believe Panehesy has the makings to be one such rare being. I’ll speak tonight with Perneb, the Governor of your sepat and the arrangements can be made through his household.’

  Panehesy was buoyant, about to embark on a career, on a life, no-one could have predicted.

  The messenger, bringing the summons for Thutmose to go to the High Priest, arrived as he was saying his farewells to Panehesy and his parents at the Temple gate. He sighed when he read it.

  ‘Inform the High Priest I shall come to his office within the hour. I have some, more important, business to attend to first.’

  The Crown Prince knew very well such a message would enrage the High Priest even more, but he didn’t care. He took a walk up to his thinking place at the top of the Temple, the spot where only the day before he had stood to watch the arrival of the young Apis calf. This was his sanctuary from the hustle of Temple and Court life. He let his thoughts drift to the carefree days of his childhood, the dawn trips with his father or Yuya, to watch the sun rising over the river in Waset. The hunting trips with Maiherpri. The boat trips with Meri-Bes and the family. Like all lucky children he had enjoyed his childhood, but appreciation for the glorious, carefree days they were, only came with hindsight and at times of reflection like this, many years later.

  After, he guessed, an hour had gone by, Thutmose walked down the steps through the courtyard and on to the office of the High Priest. Thutmose decided to face his adversary firmly and directly. He strode into the High Priest’s office.

  ‘High Priest, I am not accustomed to receiving a summons, except from my father. I remind you, as Overseer of all the Priests of the Two Lands, I am your superior in all things other than the religious ceremonies in this Temple. Now, what is so important you deemed it fit to insult the Crown Prince with a summons?’

  The High Priest was taken aback. He was not used to being spoken to in this manner. People always treated him with deference. Even when he spoke with the King, protocol was adhered to and formalities were respected.

  ‘You’re a Sem priest of Ptah and in such role, you are answerable to me. I have been informed you allowed a boy into the sacred Apis compound this morning and you permitted, no, encouraged, this child to touch the god’s reincarnation. This is a sacrilegious act. An offence against the god, in breach of the holy rules and a personal affront to me.’

  ‘Exalted excellency,’ Thutmose responded, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice, ‘yesterday I had to rescue that boy from two of your hired thieves within the Temple grounds. Had it not been for the intervention of the Medjay, the Two Lands might be looking for a new Crown Prince. That was an offence against the god. The visit today was to appease the spirit of Ptah, who was righteously angry. What better way to soothe, than the touch of a child? What better way for the god to apologise, for the acts of his servants, than to receive this innocent child into his presence? You speak of sacrilege? Your mercenaries are terrifying the visitors to this Temple. They are mistreating and abusing decent citizens and stealing from them. Is any share of those misbegotten gains ending up in the coffers of the Temple? Are the beatings and rapes perpetrated by these animals, under your protection, of your doing and in your knowledge?’

  ‘Of course not. How dare you make such allegations? Remember where you are.’

  The High Priest slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. It must have hurt because he winced.

  ‘And you remember, priest, who you are talking to,’ said Thutmose.

  At this point a messenger arrived from the King, agreeing to meet with the High Priest and setting the time later in the day.

  ‘We shall see what your father has to say about this.’

  ‘I look forward to it,’ Thutmose replied, as he walked out of the door.

  He headed straight back to his solitary place at the highest point of the Temple. Thoughts about his future were beginning to take shape and the future he saw would not be based within these white walls. He knew he would face opposition from his family, particularly his father, but he had things which he ne
eded to do. It could be ten or twenty years before the mantle of Kingship would fall on his shoulders, if ever. A lifetime away.

  Decisions formulated, he made his way to the Palace. He wouldn’t go to his father until after the meeting with the High Priest, unless summoned. The King should make up his own mind about what the High Priest would say. Thutmose didn’t want him influenced by any sense of loyalty or love.

  Unbeknown to either the High Priest or Thutmose, Haqwaset had indeed made up his own mind. Not about his eldest son’s future, which would take much more time and consideration, but certainly he had no doubts about the Temple.

  Thutmose received a summons to attend his father’s meeting with the High Priest. He was instructed to dress in his ceremonial robes, as Crown Prince, and to arrive five minutes after the High Priest had been accompanied into the audience chamber.

  This would be enough time to get the obeisance and formal pleasantries dispensed with. The young Royal would not enter alone; he would escort his mother into the Chamber. Thutmose feared he was about to suffer the consequences of his father’s anger.

  With trepidation, Thutmose bathed and allowed himself to be dressed in a knee-length gown of intricately designed royal linen, representing his authority and power. Around his waist, a golden braid. His neck was adorned by a necklet, of faience and gold, from which hung a myriad of ankh shaped jewels. On his head was placed his wig and then the Royal Seshed diadem made of gold and decorative stones, shaped as two entwined cobras with their heads rearing one above the centre of his forehead and the other over his right ear.

  Dressed as instructed, he went to his mother’s private quarters to find her and wait to make their entrance at the appointed time. She was sitting relaxed and talking to Tjuya and Nebetya, her faithful and ever present servant.

  Tiye’s face lit up as Thutmose entered. He walked over and kissed her. He also kissed Tjuya and took a seat in the corner.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ his mother said, ‘the end of the world has not come yet.’

  ‘I feel something is ending,’ replied her son. ‘I don’t know if it means there is something else about to start or whether it’s just an end.’

  ‘Thutmose,’ it was Tjuya who spoke, ‘what has got into you? Where’s my wonderful, fun loving and witty grandson on whom I rely heavily to cheer me up?’

  ‘I’m sorry grandmother, I’m not sure where that person has gone, perhaps things he’s seen and heard recently have driven a part of his spirit away.’

  ‘What nonsense,’ his grandmother responded. ‘I think you need to take some time. Come and stay with your old grandparents and chase bulls and lions on your chariot. I’m sure Meri-Bes would join you.’

  Thutmose’s face betrayed his happy thoughts of the ever good humoured dwarf, with his gruff manner and false irritation at everything and everyone.

  ‘Where is the aged scoundrel?’ Thutmose asked.

  ‘He’s in the audience chamber with your father and Mahu, awaiting the arrival of the High Priest,’ Tiye responded.

  ‘How will we know when to enter?’ asked the young Prince.

  ‘A messenger will be sent as soon as the Priest is shown into the chamber, we are to make our way to the entrance door and await the guards opening it from the inside.’

  ‘All very organised and orchestrated,’ said Thutmose.

  ‘I’m not sure there will be any music.’

  Tjuya looked straight at Thutmose as she spoke, her deep brown eyes gleaming. Despite his best efforts, Thutmose could not resist. He went over to his grandmother and kissed her again.

  ‘Thank you, great Lifter of Spirits,’ he said.

  ‘I like the sound of that,’ she replied, ‘have a word with your father and see if it can be added to my titles. I like a good title.’

  They were all still laughing when the messenger arrived. Tiye and Thutmose followed him; the young Prince felt a tightening in his stomach, still nervous about what awaited him. They arrived at the entrance door just as it opened to admit them.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ thought Thutmose.

  As they entered there was a fanfare blast from three sheneb musicians. ‘Your grandmother was wrong about the music,’ Tiye whispered to Thutmose, ‘unfortunately. I’ll speak to your father about this, I’m sure he does it just to annoy me, it’s his idea of a joke.’

  All the time she was talking, Tiye kept walking, the expression on her face unchanging and regal. She linked her arm into that of her son as they appeared from behind the Throne dais. All except the King knelt on the ground and offered obeisance. There was a moment of hesitation from the High Priest, which didn’t escape Tiye’s notice. He was not in the habit of having to obey the formalities of giving homage to Thutmose and, had the young Prince entered alone, he almost certainly wouldn’t have done so. In his own mind at least, he was the superior of the Sem Priest, however, in the presence of the Great Queen, he didn’t have the option and reluctantly fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the two Royals. Haqwaset had known what he was doing and the entrance had been a deliberate ploy to leave the High Priest feeling, at least a little, uneasy.

  Haqwaset was a master at controlling meetings in order to get his way. He ensured he was in charge of the agenda and its implementation. The deference formalities over, Tiye and Thutmose took their seats. Apart from the High Priest, his ever present scribe and the two most senior priests performing their month long duties at the Temple, there were few others in the room.

  The King began to speak. ‘Gracious High Priest of Ptah, it is most pleasing to the King, the living god and Lord of the Two Lands that you have asked for this urgent audience.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty and I’m grateful for the kindness extended to me in allowing such an audience so quickly, given your, as ever, busy schedule. It concerns an incident this morning…’

  Haqwaset didn’t let him finish his sentence.

  ‘Yes, yes, we may come to all that in a minute. As I was saying before you interrupted me…’ the King paused, his words were designed to further unsettle the High Priest, who audibly gulped, showing the King’s plan was working.

  ‘Your request saved me having to send a messenger of my own to your offices, along with the soldiers you see behind you, to escort you here immediately.’

  The High Priest looked nervously behind him. Thutmose looked surprised. Tiye, who had seen this scene, or ones very similar, played out over many years, smiled to herself. From striding across the Temple grounds and into the Palace and entering the Audience Room full of brash self-importance and righteousness, the High Priest was now feeling very insecure and fearful. Exactly as Haqwaset wanted it.

  ‘Captain, have you done as I asked?’

  Haqwaset directed his question to the officer who had rescued Thutmose yesterday. He already knew the answer.

  ‘Of course, my Commander, all you requested has been completed.’

  ‘I’m grateful Captain, as always, for your efficiency. Please let us have your report.’

  The Captain stepped forward to a pre-organised position slightly forward of the High Priest and to the side of the King. This was to ensure the Priest could see him and the King clearly during the giving of the report. Haqwaset too could look directly at the Priest. Maximum discomfort, maximum effect.

  ‘The prisoners taken yesterday evening your Majesty, were thoroughly interrogated.’

  No-one in the room needed to be reminded of what such ‘thoroughness’ would have entailed.

  ‘The information given was acted upon and in the last hour the other perpetrators have been rounded up and are being questioned as we speak.’

  ‘What has talk of prisoners and interrogation to do with me?’ the High Priest blurted out.

  ‘We are none of us too old to learn,’ said Haqwaset, taking a tone as if talking to a naughty child. ‘To learn we must at times wat
ch and at other times listen. For you this is one of the times when you should listen. Make sure you do so in silence.’

  There was no mistaking the altered tone of the last sentence. The High Priest dropped his eyes to the floor.

  ‘Please Captain, continue.’

  ‘During the questioning, the prisoners yesterday informed us of a stockpile of valuable objects which they stated had been ‘confiscated’ from persons they regarded as criminals.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the King, ‘and I understand one of them made a public proclamation yesterday, in one of the squares inside the Temple grounds, that to be a criminal it was enough to be a Kemetian carrying a sack. Can you believe that, gracious High Priest?’

  The King repeated the sentence, speaking slowly, emphasising each word.

  ‘In – Kemet – it – is – enough – to – be – Kemetian – and – carrying – a – sack, to be stopped and deprived of anything of value you are carrying.’

  The High Priest raised his gaze to the King. He had paid no attention to the King’s dress, but now he noticed, with growing consternation, over his shoulder, he had a small linen sack. Point driven home, Haqwaset continued.

  ‘I’m sorry for the interruption Captain, carry on.’

  ‘When asked what was to be done with these valuables, they became slightly more reticent and the truth needed to be persuaded out of them.’

  Thutmose had once visited the interrogation rooms in the barracks and saw the implements of persuasion which he was sure had been used on Panehesy’s assailants.

  ‘We were informed how, at the end of each week, all of his comrades presented the person in charge with the amounts collected. They claimed the spoils gathered together were divided into five parts. One part was then distributed equally between the bottom ranked mercenaries, as their wages. We are certain not everything collected made its way to the weekly stockpile.’

  ‘The remaining four-fifths, what happened to that?’ asked Haqwaset of the Captain, but all the time never taking his gaze from the High Priest, who was now nervously shuffling from side to side. This day was not turning out as he had expected.