“What have you heard?” asked Pentu as he peeled away the bloody linens.
The High Priest glanced toward me and raised his eyebrows.
“Merit-Aten is trustworthy. Her father has expressed that she be privy to all court affairs. You need not withhold information. She must understand the political and social threats being made.” Pentu examined the mottled skin and deep pockets of putrification.
“The Sesh crave the restoration of the worship of Amun because they do not understand how to pay tribute to the Aten. After all, the sun cannot be sailed up and down the Nile for festivals. It confuses them. They are an uneducated lot who miss the superstitions and fear imposed upon them for centuries.” The Orama bit his knuckle from the exposure of his wound to air. He patted his face to cool his burning flesh.
“How could they miss cruelty and oppression?” I asked.
“People become insensitive to it. The Aten offers freedom of worship and prosperity. Yet the Sesh may be incapable of governing themselves. Because they are now allowed so much freedom in Thebes, our military cannot control this rebellion. The people demand the return of the old religious dogma to help guide them.”
“The law is still the law,” I said, rising up. “The worship of Amun is banned. The Sesh will never be permitted to return to the old ways.”
The Orama offered a tight smile and appeared to choose his words carefully. “Khemit does not have enough armed forces available to keep the entire nation under surveillance, Your Majesty. What the Sesh do within the seclusion of their mudbrick huts would be a formidable task to legislate. They could have twenty idols gracing their altars, so should we destroy every flea-bitten shelter for justice? If the masses ever rose against us, who do you think would win?”
I sat down humbled. I had never considered that we didn’t have the power to make everyone honor the Aten. What if the Sesh weren’t content having free schools for their akh, or free medical care to aid them when ill? How could taking care of the needs of our country cause its citizens to revolt?
“About this uprising in Thebes, tell us more,” urged Pentu.
“My spies intercepted a messenger from Aziru of Amurru, who sent repeated pleas for the reinforcement of archers to defend Babylon. His urgent requests were not answered by Pharaoh Akhenaten, so he redirected his appeal to the Hanuti banished to Aswan.”
“This is most disconcerting.” Despite his words, Pentu remained unruffled.
The Orama fanned himself, in an attempt to cool his reddened face.
“Aziru will join allegiance with the Hanuti and Amunites of Thebes if they can raise a militia to defend his city.”
“I thought by imprisoning those three in the rock quarry we would be done with them,” said Pentu.
The Orama leaned forward. “Not to worry, the one who received Aziru’s request was discovered using black magic to contact the others. You could say he had an unfortunate accident and broke his neck.”
“Let me guess, was it Ases-Amun?” asked Pentu.
“No, Mery-Ptah.”
“Oh, no!” I said, feeling light-headed and ill. Sit-Amun would unleash her rage upon the Atenists, or, even worse, my family. Of all people, how could her lover have wested?
The men turned toward me.
“I meant, oh, no, someone had to die, and you know how my father does not want anyone to suffer,” I said, trying to cover my outburst.
“We cannot take chances. If Aziru does influence any of the Hanuti or the Amun priests to assist him, it could be bad,” replied The Orama.
“And what do the Amunites ask for in return?” I asked.
“That information has not come forth.” The Orama shifted in his chair. “But, based upon the divination of the stars, there may be a great upheaval of power. Antagonism could come from an unexpected enemy.”
“Female or male?” asked Pentu. “Is it conjuncting the Moon or the Sun?”
“It could be a person, a group, or a neighboring country. But a civil war could start if this situation is not revealed and remedied.”
I shook my head. “The Aten has no enemies. We are at peace with all.
The Aten embraces everyone.”
“Your Majesty, while the three of us venerate The Atenic Laws, others do not uphold the integrity of unitive consciousness.” Pentu patted my hand. “Until we can educate and wrench the masses from the former shadow of tyranny, we must accept that polarity still exists in Khemit. While it is indeed true, Your Majesty that we have no enemies, those who live in darkness will undermine the beauty of what your father aspires to create.”
“How can I help?” I felt utter despair.
Pentu smiled. “Your job is to pass these initiations and join your father in ruling Khemit.”
“These troubles are not your concern, nor your responsibility,” said The Orama. “We will uncover the traitors. You must remain faithful to your studies and the training we offer.”
Pentu put an arm about my shoulders. “Now, it would be wise for you to attend this evening’s ritual.”
“What will we be doing tonight?”
“Tonight is the Ritual of the Last Breath,” said Pentu with care.
He let the secret slip. I gloated. I must be getting better at asking. Then it hit me. “Last Breath? As in another lesson from the Book of Breathing?”
“No, Your Majesty,” said Pentu.
Pentu and The Orama exchanged quick glances but remained silent. I felt I should push hard. Something in me told me I should know what was coming.
“Pentu, I wish to know more.”
The Orama tapped his nose in thought. “I make it a strict rule that initiations never be revealed. The mind will chatter with fear, giving all the reasons why one would fail. Then the entire reason for giving the initiation becomes polluted and distorted. But Pentu and I have had many discussions about whether this particular one should be revealed to you.”
“Why?” I asked, and then trembled.
“We base many of the other initiations upon the skills you have acquired. For this one there is no training and it is emotionally difficult for most Neophytes, yet it is a necessity for the afterlife,” said The Orama. “Do you wish to know or would you prefer we keep it a secret?”
Well, that was like carving a hole in a water bucket and expecting no one to notice as water gushed out. “I wish to know.” A shiver ran down my spine.
Pentu reached for my elbow to steady me.
“Your Highness, you and your class will be entering the Room of Soul Reflection. You will witness your own deaths in this lifetime.”
“Pentu, why would anyone want their future foretold in that manner?”
“This is part of your path as a Neophyte in the Temple of Heliopolis. You relive how you die, then witness how your body turns to dust in order to learn to move into the higher realms after death. More important, it is arrogant to be so attached to your body that you cannot let it go upon your final breath. Many beings get stuck here upon their westing.”
I remembered all the souls that had been stuck in their bodies along the Nile. I at least had tried to help them. What if no one freed me? “What if I die in a horrible manner? I could not bear to relive that pain. I have nearly died by an assassin’s arrow, the High Priest of Osiris’s scepter, and then a poisonous snake. The others will most likely live a long life. For me, I cannot be sure.”
“And that is why we decided to reveal this initiation to you alone. We are aware of your unusual talents and that you may try to…” The Orama paused, “change the outcome of what you see.”
“Could I?” I asked, feeling relieved.
“No!” boomed The Orama. “If you alter your destiny and your moment of death, then you will be banned from Amentii and be forced to walk for all eternity in the underworld.” I shuddered.
“We tried to warn and guide you,” said The Orama.
Pentu grimaced. “You are the Per Aat in-waiting. By law I cannot force you as the future sovereign to do something
against your will.” Panic welled in me and I felt weak-kneed. “Then I choose not to take this initiation.”
“I cannot allow her to be excused from it,” said The Orama, raising his voice. “This class must achieve this initiation together. The Pharaoh demanded that I produce enough Adepts who can hold the full Atenic light in order to have the power to change Khemit. If the Pharaoh’s daughter avoids the Soul Reflection initiation because we were foolish enough to reveal it, then I will not allow any of her class to continue. She will be the one who fails the Pharaoh, not I.”
I sank to my knees. “You would forbid them to continue? They have worked so hard. How would you ever tell them?”
“Oh, not I,” he stabbed a forefinger at me. “You must explain why they will fail. I have already opened the portal for this viewing. I must guide everyone through at the same time. If you choose not to participate, no one will be allowed to finish.”
* * *
I walked alone back to my cell, feeling devastated. Now I would be asked to leave. I had failed. I’d end up bearing heirs, just as Meti wanted.
The Orama demanded that I announce my decision to the class. When I got back to my quarters, Rennutet threw up into the brass bucket.
“Are you ill?” I asked, sweeping her hair out of her face. “Perhaps you have caught a cold. I will send for Pentu. He will give you aid.”
“No, Merit-Aten, I do not need a remedy. Something I ate vexed my stomach. If I take off my belt, I will feel better. You need to change, before the gong rings. I need a bit more time getting to the initiation Temple.”
She wiped the spittle off her face.
“I have some disturbing news for the other Neophytes.” I shivered, dreading the ruination of their dreams of working in the Aten Temple. I knew Netri would still expect me to continue the rituals, but the others might as well find positions working in a trade.
“Merit-Aten, what is it? Please, I cannot take anymore difficulties.” Her foreboding look made my heart ache. She was so sick this winter. Yet every time I demanded an extra blanket or remedy, Ra-Nefer denied me.
Just then Ra-Awab and Archollos walked by.
“Wait,” Rennutet stopped them. “Merit-Aten needs to tell us something terrible.”
Archollos put his arm about my shoulders. “What is wrong?”
I felt a warm tingle race up my spine and a flush in my cheeks.
“I shall gather the class.” Ra-Awab then shouted in his masculine and far-carrying voice, which brought everyone running.
“What happened?” asked Smenkhkare, quite nervous and out of breath.
Everyone collected about me. My knees quaked. “I met with The Orama. He told me about the initiation tonight. I am afraid I cannot bring myself to partake.”
“Why did he tell only you?” asked Keshtuat, yanking her braids. Ra-Awab thrust his hands on his hips. “Tell us then.”
“Quit crowding her,” said Archollos.
My throat constricted. “Well, I cannot tell you what will happen. But it is impossible for me to go through with it.”
“We must be nearing the end. I should have known the tests would get more difficult,” said Smenkhkare, and then grimaced.
“We passed them all so far. Let us not go into fear,” advised the Nubian girl.
“If Merit-Aten chooses not to go through with an initiation, there must be a reason. Otherwise, why would they have given her a choice?” said Archollos.
“There is a problem,” I said, realizing they didn’t understand. “They said if I did not proceed, then none of you will be allowed to finish either.” Ra-Awab moved toward me with his jaw clenched. “What?”
“Stop it.” Archollos pushed Ra-Awab’s chest, “You may not lay a hand upon her. Merit-Aten, explain.”
“I am so sorry, but I am not that brave,” I said.
“So because of you, we all fail?” asked Sarawat. She put a hand over her mouth.
“I cannot fail. I promised my sick mother that I would support her,” said Rennutet.
“I am a foreigner,” said Archollos. “If I fail, where would I go? What would I do?”
“You cannot let us down, not after all we have been through,” said Keshtuat.
Ra-Awab’s face turned red as a baboon’s ass. “What do you care if we pass or fail? You can always return to your life as a royal, but what about the rest of us?”
“Merit-Aten, tell them this cannot be true. You would not get us thrown out,” cried Rennutet. “If I do not find work in the Aten Temple, I do not know what will happen to us.” She placed a delicate hand over her mounded abdomen.
“Us?” I asked.
“I am with child. The fisherman I was assigned to raped me every morning as his crew looked on, then forced me to scale his fish. Smenkhkare rescued me and begged his fisherman to allow me to work with them. Being pregnant, I could still serve in the Aten Temple back at Akhet-Aten. They would take us in.” Rennutet pleaded with her eyes.
How could I not notice? She favored the sheaths loose enough to hide it.
Still, as terrible as I felt, I just could not go through with the next trial.
“I am sorry.”
“We shall help you,” said Archollos. “If it is a physical task, then I can assist you.”
“You can hold the light,” argued Sarawat. “What could possibly make you so afraid?”
“I cannot tell you. It is an order.” I started to cry. I could see the yellow, orange and red swirls emanating from the Neophytes’ bellies. I couldn’t absorb all this rage and fear.
“She is the Per Aat in-waiting. She can do anything she pleases,” said Smenkhkare. “Do you think Nefertiti would allow anyone to argue with her?”
He always took my side. I felt relieved that someone understood.
“She took a vow to give up her external power and become one with us. Why do you think we had to go through all that physical labor?” asked Ra-Awab. “It was to break us all down until we gave up any attachment to ego.”
“That is right. She made our jobs harder,” accused Keshtuat. “Every time she opened her mouth, Ra-Nefer made us fill water buckets, or clean the piss pots. Yet, we protected her.”
“And because she is still royalty, no matter what, she will be taken care of. She was never one of us,” said Sarawat.
“You are not a true Neophyte because you still refuse to let go of it all and trust,” said Archollos, who stomped off. Sarawat followed him. “She always looks out for herself, not us.”
“It is over,” said Ra-Awab. “We might as well leave.”
One by one they abandoned me.
Rennutet sobbed. “You cannot let us down. When the priests discover I am pregnant, they will kick me out anyway.”
The gong sounded. They all had turned against me. I knew I could never have friends. Grand Djedti was right; Royalty could trust no one. I didn’t need friends. The people I loved ended up leaving me anyway, as Meti did. Or, they were killed. My heart hurt at what happened to Hep-Mut, Asgat.
I trailed behind them toward the temple. I wouldn’t participate in the Ritual of the Last Breath. Of this I was certain.
Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) Page 34