by Nick Drake
The royal group were invited to examine the wall carvings that ran all along the length of the new, enclosing walls. Priests held up torches, or gathered together in groups so that their white robes reflected and enhanced the slanting light, to reveal the detail of the brightly painted raised relief work where it lay obscured in the darkness. The flickering flames seemed to make the colourful images move. I worked hard to keep my position close to the King and Queen, but also because I was curious to see these wonders. Firstly, by the entrance, a strong ray of sunlight, by coincidence or contrivance, illuminated the carved features of the King himself. I watched as he stood before his carved stone image greeting the God of the temple. Tutankhamun, flesh and blood, with his childish fears and delicate face, assessed his stone reflection, which bore the wide shoulders and decisive, authoritative gestures of a King. I must confess here they looked unalike, but for the carefully rendered similarities of the profile and the ears.
Everyone moved on, shuffling along the long west wall. Here were carvings describing the water procession of the Gods to Karnak during the Opet Festival. Here were the agile acrobats and the barges with their rigging observed in minute detail, and the blind musicians with their instruments. It seemed each face was a portrait of an individual I might have recognized in a crowd. I wondered if my own face, and those of my family, might also be among them.
Then, with much jostling and tension, the royal group, attended by the officials and servants, moved across to the opposite wall, which continued the story of the festival. Tutankhamun and the Queen moved slowly along, reading the images carefully, as they listened to the High Priest and his acolytes who leaned respectfully towards them, whispering praises and information, no doubt alluding to the astonishing cost and the remarkable statistics of this great work of the temple’s glorification to the King’s and the Gods’ images. The event was following its ordained course.
They returned towards the entrance, and were invited to examine the last register of the wall carvings near the corner, describing the most important scene–in which the King entered the presence of the God within the shrine–when something happened. Tutankhamun was reading through the inscriptions of this most holy moment, under the direction of the High Priest–when suddenly he stepped backwards in alarm. The High Priest, profoundly shocked and ashamed, held his own hands up before his eyes, as if he had witnessed an appalling desecration. Instantly the palace guard moved into a defensive posture around the royal party, bristling with drawn curved daggers. Behind me, people craned their necks to see what was going on. I pushed my way forward, through the guards. Ay was already scrutinizing the carving the High Priest was pointing to with his staff. He allowed me to stand close to him, in order to examine it. In a cartouche, the King’s royal names had been completely erased.
Ay took charge. He spoke quietly to Tutankhamun, who was trembling, while Ankhesenamun tried to help him drink water. He ordered the desecrated carving to be concealed from view, and strictly instructed all those who had seen it never to speak of it on pain of death. The names would be recarved immediately. Ankhesenamun was whispering into Tutankhamun’s ear, and finally he nodded. Then, pretending all was well, the royal party continued with the tour. As she passed by, Ankhesenamun glanced at me. But we could not speak.
We all moved quickly back through the Colonnade Hall, between the great columns, and onwards into the Sun Court, where more crowds of priests had gathered and prostrated themselves in the sunlight of midday, dazzling after the soaring darkness, before the King and Queen. The procession stayed within the high shade of the great papyrus columns that ran along three sides. We walked around the Court in a strange hush–for everyone now knew something troubling had happened, and yet the ceremony continued as if nothing had changed. From there we entered the oldest part of the temple. I found myself in an ancient darkness. Everywhere the carved image of the old King Amenhotep dominated, making offerings to Amun-Ra, God of the temple and the city. The royal party continued through a pillared offering chamber. Along the walls, carved into the eternity of the stone, Amenhotep drove the sacred cattle, and made the ritual offerings of flowers and incense in the place where the gold barque of the God would rest during the festival. Beyond this point I had heard there were many small chapels leading from the Divine Sanctuary, and even smaller antechambers along the side walls, where, folded in deep shadows, stood images of the Gods fashioned in gold. But neither I nor almost any other man could continue beyond this point. Only the King and the highest-ranking priests could enter the Sanctuary of Amun himself at the dark heart of the temple, where his statue, which gave him earthly presence among men, was worshipped, fed and robed.
This was the moment, and Tutankhamun had to go forward alone into the mystery of the Sanctuary. Ankhesenamun could accompany him into the antechamber, but no further. He looked nervous, but seemed to take courage. Ankhesenamun and the King moved forward and disappeared together, and all was silence.
Rich drifts of incense and sweat rose up from the heat of all those human bodies crowded into the small chamber, and in the Sun Court behind us. Prayers were intoned by ranks of priests. Sistra were shaken, tinnily. The temple chantresses intoned the hymns. Time seemed to stretch on and on…I saw Ay raise his head slightly, as if wondering whether all was well.
And then suddenly the King and Queen reappeared together. He had exchanged the Blue Crown for the Double Crown of Upper and Lower Egypt. The vulture and the cobra flared in divine protection from his brow. She was wearing the high double-plumed crown that her mother Nefertiti had worn–and in doing so she proclaimed herself as the Queen as Goddess. Far from looking tentative or frightened, Tutankhamun now stared arrogantly ahead over the amazed crowd of priests and dignitaries gathered in the vestibule, and beyond that in the Sun Court. He waited, and then in his quiet, intense voice he spoke.
‘The Gods have revealed themselves to Tutankhamun, Living Image of Amun, in the Temple of Amun. I possess the royal names: the Horus name, Strong Bull, Most Fitting of Created Forms, King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Possessor of the Forms of Ra, Ruler of Truth. In these, my royal names, I wear the Double Crown and I hold the crook of government and the flail of Osiris. I declare from this day I am King in name and deed.’
Names are powers. They bring forth into reality that which they declare. This was a declaration of a new policy of independence. A new coronation. A stir of amazement and awe followed this astonishing, unexpected pronouncement. I would have given gold to behold Ay’s face as he listened to these words. But his bony head remained bowed.
The King continued: ‘Let this be proclaimed throughout the Two Lands. I declare I will celebrate this day with a new festival in the sacred name of Amun-Ra. Let this be recorded for ever in the writing of the Gods, and let these words go forth in writing throughout all the nomes of the Two Lands so that every subject of the Great House may know this great truth.’
The official scribes hurried forward with their palettes and sat cross-legged, their kilts stretched out over their knees like little tables, and wrote everything down swiftly on their open scrolls.
As I now realized they must have rehearsed many times, Ankhesenamun then rose and joined Tutankhamun, and they remained standing together while the crowd slowly absorbed the revelation and the implications of his words, and then got down on their knees to prostrate themselves. I wondered how Ay would respond to this audacious move in the great game of power. He turned to the multitude of faces, which were alert with anticipation that he would not accept such a demotion without a fight. But he was more intelligent than that. After a long, careful pause, as if it was he who held the destiny of the Two Lands in his hands, he spoke.
‘The Gods are all-knowing,’ he said. ‘We who have laboured all our lives to support and strengthen the Great House, and to restore lost order to the Two Lands, celebrate this proclamation. The King is King. May the Gods make him a great King.’
The scribes wrote this down, too, and on a signal fr
om Ay they passed their scrolls swiftly, hand to hand, down the chamber. They were then taken off by assistants, to be copied and distributed everywhere throughout the land and the dominions, in scrolls and on carved stone stele. And then he led the crowd, prostrating himself before the royal couple like an elderly monster before his children, slowly and stiffly, and with the dangerous irony only he seemed to be able to insinuate into everything he did. Ankhesenamun and Tutankhamun had gambled everything on this moment, and on the success of their declaration. The next days would decide whether they had won, or lost.
22
The King and Queen processed out of the temple complex, back through the Sun Court, where the priests abased themselves on the carefully swept ground, through the colonnade and into their waiting chariot, which drove them swiftly away in a brief blaze of gold.
Before I followed them, to depart with Simut in his chariot, I looked back at the crowded area before the Colonnade Hall, and saw Ay standing at the centre of everything, watching us all go, still as a stone. It seemed as if waves of fervent speculation and excitement were breaking and spreading throughout the multitude all around him. The news would very quickly be communicated everywhere in the city, to the bureaucracies and the offices, the granaries and the treasuries; and the official proclamation would follow in Thebes, and then by messengers directed to all the major cities and towns–to Memphis, Abydos, Heliopolis and Bubastis, or south to Elephantine and the garrison towns of Nubia.
We followed the royal chariot back to the river, where a great crowd had gathered, shouting prayers and acclamations, and then swiftly boarded the royal ship for the river crossing. The King and Queen remained in their private enclosure. The curtain was drawn. As we set off across the water, and as the cries from the dockside faded, I could hear them talking quietly to each other; the words were not audible, but I caught the tone of her voice, calming and encouraging his more querulous one.
When the ship docked at the palace, the royal couple disembarked and were quickly surrounded by a protective phalanx of palace guards. They hurried inside as if sunlight itself was dangerous.
Khay accompanied Simut and me along, talking quickly. For once he looked excited.
‘Ay will be incensed!’ he whispered eagerly. ‘He didn’t see this coming.’
‘But you did,’ I said.
‘Well, I flatter myself to say I have been the beneficiary of the Queen’s confidences. She would not have made this move in the great game without first establishing her network of support among those close to her.’
And she would need it, I thought. Ay gripped the Two Lands by the throat; he still ruled the priesthood, the bureaucracies and the treasury. Horemheb controlled the army.
‘But that was very nearly another catastrophe. How could it have happened? It must be investigated immediately. Fortunately, it did not prevent the King making his proclamation,’ Khay said.
Simut bristled.
‘The Chief Architect is being brought here for questioning, even now.’
‘And you, Rahotep, are no closer to discovering the culprit, who seems to have the freedom of not only the royal quarters but now also the Colonnade Hall within the bounds of the sacred temple itself!’ said Khay, as if now was the time for accusations to be shared equally among us.
‘We are fighting a shadow,’ I said.
‘Which means precisely nothing,’ he scoffed, irritatingly.
‘What matters is understanding how this man thinks. Everything he does is a clue to his mind. So we must read each situation carefully, and try to decipher and understand its meanings. The problem is: all our efforts at controlling the situation are undermined by the disruption he is carefully creating amongst us. To him it is a kind of elegant game. He challenges us to understand him, to make sense of him, and then to catch him. So far we have been successful in none of these things. We have hardly even begun to take him seriously. Or perhaps we have taken him too seriously, for if we ignored all of these acts, what power would he really have?’
‘You sound like a warrior admiring his enemy,’ replied Khay sarcastically.
‘I can respect his intelligence and skill without admiring or respecting the uses to which he puts them.’
Ankhesenamun and Tutankhamun were waiting for us in a reception chamber, seated upon two thrones of state. The atmosphere was heady with euphoria, but there was also a tangible edge of anxiety, for everything had not gone quite perfectly.
Khay, Simut and I offered our formal congratulations.
Tutankhamun gazed at us all intently.
‘Bow your heads before me,’ he suddenly shouted, standing up. ‘How is it possible that I should be so humiliated again? How is it that there is still no safety for me, even in my own temple?’
We all waited, our heads bowed.
‘Husband,’ said Ankhesenamun, quickly. ‘Let us consider our options. Let us take good advice from these trusted men.’
He sat back down on his small throne.
‘Look up.’
We did.
‘None of you has been able to protect me from all these perils. But I have had an idea. I think it is a very fine idea. It may, in fact, solve all our problems at once.’
We waited with what must have been a mixture of emotions on our faces.
‘In what time-honoured fashion does a new King proclaim his power and courage but in a lion hunt? We have proclaimed ourselves King. Therefore what better means of proving our fitness to the people than for me to go into the Red Land and hunt, and return with the trophy of a lion?’ he continued.
It was Khay who spoke first.
‘A masterstroke, of course,’ he began, very carefully. ‘It would create a most positive image for the public. But lord, have you considered how it exposes you to great danger?’
‘And what is new about that? Here in my own quarters, which are supposedly secure, supposedly safe, there is still greater danger,’ he said petulantly.
Ankhesenamun placed her hand gently on the King’s.
‘May I speak?’ she asked.
He nodded.
‘It seems to me the success of kingship is in great part dependent upon the carefully managed display of the powers and virtues of that kingship, in the person of the King. Parades of victory, rituals of triumph, and so on are the means by which we represent to the people the glory of kingship. Therefore, if the King were to be well protected, a symbolic hunt, conducted within one of the great hunting enclosures, could be most useful at this time,’ she said.
‘That is a marvellous compromise,’ said Khay immediately. ‘Such an event can quickly be organized within the safety of the hunting park. A lion, some wild deer too, perhaps…’ he continued, hopefully.
But the King’s face clouded.
‘No. Ritual is not enough. Prowess must be manifested. What dignity is there in killing a lion that has already been captured, and cannot escape? I must be seen to kill a lion. And it must take place in the wilderness that is its territory. I must be seen to assert my royal authority over the land of chaos. There must be nothing symbolic about it,’ he replied.
This silenced all of us.
Now it was Simut’s turn to speak. He was less diplomatic.
‘In the hunting enclosure we can control the environment. We can ensure your safety. But in the desert lies great danger.’
‘He is right,’ said Ankhesenamun. ‘What matters, surely, is the spectacle?’
But Tutankhamun shook his head.
‘Everyone will know all I have done is kill a trapped beast. That is not the right gesture with which to begin my kingship. I am a good hunter. I will prove myself. We will go to the desert.’
Khay tried again.
‘Has your majesty considered that, in order to reach the hunting grounds to the north-west or the north-east we will have to pass Memphis? Perhaps that is not very…desirable. After all, it is Horemheb’s city, and the base of the army itself,’ he murmured, uncertain how he should be saying this.
Tutankhamun stood up again, leaning carefully on his gold cane.
‘A royal visit to Memphis is most desirable at this time. We intend to take Horemheb closer to our hearts. He is an old ally, and in case any of you have forgotten, he was my tutor in Memphis. He has been too long engaged in the Hittite wars. We shall travel with all due ostentation. It is necessary for me to appear there, now more than ever, because it is Horemheb’s city. I must make my presence and my new authority clear. And when that is accomplished, I will return in triumph to Thebes, and parade my victory through the Ways of the city, and everyone will know, and acknowledge, that Tutankhamun is King not only in name but also in deed.’
The consequences and ramifications of all this multiplied in our minds. Ankhesenamun spoke again:
‘The King is right. He must be seen to be King, and to do the things kings must do. This is most necessary, and must be done. But we must request one important thing. This is my personal request…’