Horemheb’s request was odd to Meri-Ra. Why did they want to appear at the Aten temple when they were worshippers of Amun? Perhaps it was to see where Nefertiti was found at the time of her death, he thought. Without questioning the order, he directed them to the exterior of the majestic temple. Horemheb surveyed it from the ground up, paying close attention to the floor and walls of the structure.
“We can make good use of the limestone and gold,” said Horemheb to Ay.
“I don’t understand,” said Meri-Ra.
“We’re shipping the limestone and gold back to Thebes to use as building materials—”
“You’ll do no such thing! I’ll allow no one to desecrate this holy temple by ripping away its foundation,” said Meri-Ra.
Horemheb continued speaking as if he didn’t hear him. “After we remove it, you’ll have fifty days to gather the rest of the people here and return to Thebes before I set fire to this entire city,” said Horemheb. He left Meri-Ra speechless as he and Ay returned to their ferryboat for their journey back to their capital.
THOUGH THE AMUN PRIESTS had changed Tut and Senpaten’s names, when they were alone, they secretly called each other by the name their parents gave them, the names of which they considered themselves to truly be.
The royal couple had adjusted well to their new exalted position in the palace of Thebes. They spent most of their time sailing the river in the royal canoe. Tut loved to hunt ostrich and Senpaten delighted in helping him, handing him arrows to load into his bow.
“Teach me this time, I want to try,” said Senpaten as she held out another arrow.
Tut put the bow in her hand and wrapped his arms around her from behind, guiding her aim at an ostrich lurking in the river for food. He allowed her to release it but the arrow completely missed the target and skidded across the water. Senpaten laughed at her failed attempt.
“I hope to be a better queen than a hunter,” she said. Tut took the bow away from her and loaded an arrow for himself.
“You are a good wife and a great queen. One day you’ll be as great as the great Queen Nefertiti.”
“I miss her so much,” said Senpaten. “If I had but one wish, it would be to see her beautiful face just once more. If you had one wish Tut, what would it be?”
It took Tut a moment to ponder her question before he could give her an honest answer.
“Because I see Mother’s face whenever I gaze upon yours, I would wish to see Father. I yearn to hear his voice.”
Senpaten kissed Tut, and he gave into her affection with caresses.
“I like being your wife,” she said. “Tell me you won’t take another.”
“I want no one else,” he said.
“Do you mean that?”
“With all my heart.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
They embraced, enraptured by the first and only love of their youth. Tut handed her a lotus blossom he picked from the river. She in turn gave him a mandrake that she had brought with her on the canoe.
“Soon I will be the true pharaoh of Egypt,” said Tut.”
“But you are the pharaoh of Egypt,” Senpaten replied.
“In title only. Until the Amun priests’ releases me from their co-regency, Egypt will be bound by their decisions, not mine.”
“At one time will their co-regency expire?”
“The day of my seventeenth birthday, if they decide to follow the law.”
“Months and years pass quickly. That day will be upon us soon,” said Senpaten. “Do you still possess the Aten amulet Father gave you?”
Tut reached inside the neck of his garment and pulled it out so that it was visible.
“I have to keep it hidden or the Amun priests might discover it and condemn me for it,” he said.
Tut kissed the amulet for luck and released an arrow from his bow at another ostrich. It pierced the stomach of the animal before it collapsed in the water. Senpaten cheered him on as she had always done since their childhood.
MERI-RA HAD ONLY DAYS before Horemheb would return to raze the Aten temple. Afraid that the general might also pillage the temple of its valuable treasures, Meri-Ra collected the sacred gold utensils into a burlap sack to hide them from the general’s men.
After he sealed the inner sanctuary, something on the altar covered by a black cloth caught his attention. He had never seen it there before, nor the amulet of a scarab beetle that was lying next to it.
Meri-Ra picked it up and examined it. He had seen an amulet like it before in Thebes but could not quite recall where.
Meri-Ra placed the amulet inside the sack with the sacred utensils and tied it shut with string. When he removed the black cloth from the altar he gasped and stepped back. Under the cloth there appeared to be two severed hands crudely cut off at the wrists, stained in blood and infested with crawling maggots. He turned to flee the temple, but was confronted at the door by a man holding a wooden mask of the same scarab beetle on the amulet, over his face, concealing his identity.
Meri-Ra grabbed his priest wand from the altar. “Who are you?”
The masked man did not move nor respond. He stood there as still as a statue, his black pupils shifting about through the eye-holes of his mask.
“If you don’t reveal yourself, the Amarna guards will do it for you,” threatened Meri-Ra.
The man moved the mask away from his face. It was Sia.
Fear enveloped Meri-Ra. He pointed his priest wand at Sia’s legs and shouted an incantation:
“You cannot stand against the Aten, you will fall at his feet and collapse because you have no legs to stand on,” repeated Meri-Ra.
Sia screamed from the pain as he fell to his knees. He went silent, then a moment later, laughed hysterically.
At first Meri-Ra was perplexed until it occurred to him that Sia had pretended to be affected by his spell. Without effort, Sia stood up and faced Meri-Ra.
“I can and will stand against him.”
Sia lunged forward and grabbed the flint knife from the altar and slit his own wrist with it.
Meri-Ra was bewildered at the sight of Sia’s blood dripping on the floor.
“This is not my blood, Meri-Ra, it’s yours, and it’s draining out of you. You are growing weaker, Meri-Ra, and it’s you that cannot stand,” said Sia.
“Your gods are powerless without the illusions,” replied Meri-Ra. “The contraptions they built underground for your rigged statues only work in your temples. It has no effect here in Amarna.”
“Really? Is that what you believe?” said Sia, smiling at him.
“It is the truth,” Meri-Ra answered.
“The truth is that the underground contraptions the engineers built had never worked. What you, my twin, and so many others witnessed—the blood dripping from the statue’s mouth, the thunderous sounds it made were all real, and proof that Amun is the true and most powerful god of Egypt.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t? Then why are your legs weakening, Meri-Ra?”
Meri-Ra shook his head. “No.”
His legs were weakening and suddenly snapped beneath him like a tree branch in a storm. He toppled over on the ground, fearing how he would survive a battle against a priest whose god was proving itself to be more powerful than his own.
Meri-Ra struggled, unable to prop himself to his feet. Sia was winning.
“The power of the Heka god is mightier than the Aten, but when it unites with the power of Amun, it is insuppressible,” said Sia. “I am the master of the writings of Heka, you were only a student, Meri-Ra. If you renounce the Aten and convert to the worship of Amun, I will make you its highest ranking disciple.”
Meri-Ra lifted his head and spat in Sia’s direction. “I will never convert to a god of darkness, when I am enclosed and protected by the life-giving light of the Aten.”
“What a pity,” Sia replied. “There were so many things I myself could’ve taught you Meri-Ra—priest of the Aten. U
nfortunately, your time has run out. Your insides have rotted and decayed.”
“No, my insides are clean and protected by the Aten from your sorcery.”
“By the power of Heka and Amun, your insides are rotted and decayed,” Sia repeated.
Meri-Ra’s subconscious capitulated to Sia’s incantation, and he choked and gasped for air. His fear of the Amun priest had overtaken him.
In the midst of consternation, scenes and images from his life’s past flashed before him and then faded away as if each one was being erased from his memory one-by-one. He trembled so violently that the pain in his organs rose into his heart. “I must meditate and be calmed. I must pray for the power of—” he murmured out loud in a frenzied voice trying to convince himself. He needed to be calm before he could recite the pertinent incantation that would halt Sia’s advantage over him. But, before he was able to conjure up the words from his memory, Sia continued his incantation of sorcery against him.
“They are inside you, feeding on your decayed flesh, Meri-Ra. You want to vomit it out but you can’t.”
“The Aten protects me from your divination!” shouted Meri-Ra, “and I call upon—”
Meri-Ra suddenly couldn’t speak. His body jerked back and forth as though he was about to vomit, and just as Sia told him, nothing came out. Curling up into a fetal position, he prayed silently to himself for the Aten god to save his life. It was then he convulsed, until he vomited out what he had ignored was moving about in his intestines the whole time. Meri-Ra’s eyes widened as a slew of maggots poured out of his mouth.
“You were never alive, Meri-Ra. You were long dead before I even appeared,” said Sia, as he took the black cloth from the altar and wrapped it around his wrist to stop the bleeding from his self-inflicted wound.
The next morning, an Aten priest entered the temple to find it ransacked and the image of the sun-disk defaced in camel-dung. The sacred gold utensils were gone, and the seal on the inner sanctuary was broken.
Inside, the priest found Meri-Ra dead on the floor, his eyes wide open and staring up at nothing. There were two amputated hands still lying on the altar in the identical manner Meri-Ra saw in his premonition. They were the same two bloody hands that were now missing from Meri-Ra’s severed wrists.
CHAPTER 34
Three years later, on Tut’s seventeenth birthday, the Amun priests’ co-regency expired. Sia had been reluctant to release full control of Upper and Lower Egypt over to Tut citing his youth and inexperience as a valid reason to continue it. Horemheb told him of Tut’s combat skills and of his extensive knowledge of Egyptian history in the ways of the great pharaohs, but when Sia still refused, Horemheb referenced his knowledge of Egyptian law to force the priest to comply.
Tut celebrated the momentous occasion by racing across the wide valley of Thebes in his most magnificent chariot, worked with electrum and gold, and anchored atop six-spoked wheels. His driver had spotted a gazelle fleeing to the northern side and Tut had instructed him to give chase. This was no picture target from his youth; they were chasing a living, breathing animal running for its life in the year 1327, and Tut basked in the excitement of it all. Archery thrilled him, but to practice it while traveling at incredible speeds in his favorite chariot went beyond exhilarating. Killing the animal would not be his reward.
Tut took careful aim at the gazelle, and at the precise moment, when the chariot traveled at its most stable point, he released the arrow. It pierced the animal in the belly, though stubbornly, it kept running. He nocked another arrow and signaled his driver to speed up. Tut steadied himself, closed one eye, and aimed for its head. The chariot made a second sharp turn and just as the gazelle seemed to have escaped his sight, an opening in the dust cloud appeared and he released it. The animal fell dead on its side with the arrow protruding from its head. He envisioned how proud his father would have been to see him in this moment.
Tut thought of his father often, more than he did his mother. What Akenaten taught him and his sisters about reading and writing hieroglyphics instilled in him the confidence that he could accomplish anything. Tut knew the writings of scribes, able to read his grandfather, Amenhotep’s, stories of war written on the walls of his Colonnade Hall. He had spent days and nights there deciphering, learning, and memorizing his grandfather’s war strategies and diplomatic victories that were ostentatiously displayed throughout the unfinished structure. Because of his youth and inexperience, these were all things from which Tut expected to be tested.
His knowledge of war was a necessary resource when he attended the State of Affairs meetings with Horemheb, Ay, Kafrem, and Maya.
The morning following the hunt, Tut found his advisers battling each other over how the harvest surplus should be used.
“It’s urgent that the army is supplied with new shields, battle-axes, bows, and sandals to replace the old, inferior ones immediately,” demanded Horemheb.
“Only you say it’s urgent,” Maya argued. “This war has no urgent purpose and it should be delayed until our treasury can support it.”
“You had no aversion to war when it suited Queen Nefertiti’s desire for gold,” Horemheb quipped.
“This is not Amarna,” said Maya.
“War is necessary and not just an item on a list you can schedule whenever you see fit. We don’t dictate the time of war. War dictates its time to us,” replied Horemheb.
“Perhaps you, my Pharaoh, should settle the matter,” Ay said.
Tut didn’t hesitate to respond. He had thoroughly studied both points of view days before he would appear in their presence.
“The Hittites have to be stopped now before they turn their attention to our most valuable tributary—the kingdom of Nubia,” he said. “Once we collect the tribute from them, our treasury will triple.”
“Yes, my Pharaoh, but—” said Maya. Tut cut him off.
“Horemheb will receive all that he requests,” Tut went on. “If I am to fight, myself, I want each of my soldiers equipped with the best of what’s available. Would you not want the same for someone who fights alongside you, Maya?”
“Without question, my Pharaoh,” replied Maya.
Tut had surprised them all with his intention to fight in the war. His father would be abhorred to know his only son wanted to use his skill in chariot archery to become a warrior king. Tut not only intended to fight, he yearned for it. He believed his archery skills could benefit their army and was more than willing to overlook the wish of his father and learn in battle what he could from the great General Horemheb.
BEFORE EGYPT WAGED WAR against the Hittites for their encroachment upon their northern tributaries, the Nubian tribute would be collected. Tut traveled to the kingdom of Kush with Horemheb and his army to personally retrieve it. The Nubians needed to see him in the flesh, Tut reasoned, and become familiar with his face.
Upon their arrival they were greeted with a thunderous welcoming salute of three hundred drummers beating rhythmic patterns on their cowhide-skinned drums that sounded more adversarial to Tut than friendly. The Nubians cheered for them and brought before Tut many talents of gold, ivory, and precious jewels. The Nubian king himself vowed his allegiance to Egypt, and in turn, Tut vowed to protect them from the Hittites, by appointing an Egyptian governor to reside there in Kush with the Nubian people.
Once they made their exchanges, Tut and the Egyptian army left Kush with chariots filled with Nubian treasures.
“He kept smiling at me while his guards filled our chariots with their gold and ivory,” Tut said to Horemheb. “Under what circumstances is it ever a joyful occasion for a king to give his treasures away? Either he doesn’t take me seriously as the anointed pharaoh of Egypt, or he’s conspiring to do something against us.”
“I commend your intuition, my Pharaoh. However, I think both scenarios are true. He certainly does not take you seriously because of your youth, and he indeed is conspiring against us as his spurious demeanor easily gives him away. The Nubians are no different than
the Hittites—both are untrustworthy dogs and deserving of each other,” replied Horemheb.
Their journey home from the Nubian kingdom was long and treacherous. Dust-filled windstorms enveloped the desert, creating unbearable heat. Horemheb’s army lost many of their horses to dehydration and their food supplies had dwindled to almost nothing by the time they reached the boundaries of Egypt. Only the camels appeared unscathed.
SENPATEN WAS WAITING FOR TUT in her chamber when he returned. He had an aching in his shoulders pulsating outward to his extremities. She helped him to his favorite chair and rubbed his body down in an aloe ointment.
“Tut, you have a fever,” she said after caressing his forehead.
“It’s nothing,” he replied.
“I know your plan is to lead the army into battle, but your illness will put your life at risk. I beg you to let Horemheb take the lead,” said Senpaten.
“Just because I haven’t taken part in a war doesn’t mean I’m incapable of fighting in one. I am a skilled archer and master of the chariot.”
“Tut, you’re the bravest man I know and will make a great warrior king. But think of us. What will we do if you don’t return? How will I tell our child? It will need its father.”
Senpaten placed Tut’s hand on her swelled belly. It was her eighth month of pregnancy. Tut worried for her, but refused to forsake the calling set by his grandfather, Amenhotep. The glorious scenes of combat drawn on the walls throughout the Colonnade Hall had evoked an irresistible urge in him to lead their army in the war against the Hittites.
Tut pulled out his father’s amulet from under his garment. “The Aten will protect me from my enemies,” he said, “I’m not afraid.”
HOREMHEB ADMIRED TUT’S PASSION for learning the ways of war and his keen determination to lead the fight for his country, but physically the young pharaoh’s body was much too slight for combat, and his prowess, grander than what his small frame allowed. A Hittite soldier could easily toss him from his chariot and crush every bone in his frail body with one blow of the battle ax. The pharaoh’s position in the front line would be a liability, not an asset to his army. Tut’s strength was his skill as an archer, and the challenge to keep him alive during the combat would be an unnecessary burden on Horemheb’s men.
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