The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten

by Overton, Max

  "Leave us, Shepseskare. I must speak with the king."

  The physician looked enquiringly at Akhenaten. "My lord?" When the king waved a hand in dismissal he bowed and left the bedchamber.

  Ay drew up a chair and sat down on it, close to the bed. He examined the king's blotched and sun burnt face below the wet linen compress and the revolting-looking sticky mass on his eyes. "Akhenaten, we must talk."

  The king groaned and put a hand up to his temple, touching it gingerly. "How have I offended the Aten, Divine Father? Why has he taken my daughters from me?"

  Ay still felt grief for his dead granddaughters but the pain had eased. Other things concerned him now. "The Aten did not send the plague, Waenre. Who knows why these things happen? Perhaps you should focus on your three surviving daughters and your wife. You do not see much of them."

  "Nefertiti keeps to herself. She even refuses me the solace of her body. My daughters too. They lock themselves away in the queen's palace."

  "They grieve too, Waenre, and they need their husband and father by them now. You should be comforting them, not spending your days staring at the sun."

  "I want to see the face of the Aten. I want to look into his face while he tells me why he took my daughters."

  "The Khabiru say no man can see the face of their god."

  "But I am his only son. Surely a loving father will allow his face to be seen?"

  "And have you seen the face of the Aten, my king? In all the weeks of your penance, have you seen his face?" Ay shook his head before realizing the king could not see him. "No. All it has got you is pain and despair. Leave this fruitless search for a reason and come back to a family that needs you and a land that needs you too."

  Akhenaten said nothing for a long time. He rubbed his temples with his fingers and when he got the sticky honey-tortoise brain mix on them, wiped them on the sheets. At length he sighed deeply. "Perhaps you are right, Divine Father. I should not hide myself away."

  Ay smiled. The first of his two tasks had been accomplished. "Go to your wife and daughters, beloved king. Love them and comfort them. All will be well again."

  "I fear my Nefertiti has cooled toward me somewhat. She avoids me, she no longer attends upon the Aten at the temple and she finds excuses not to lie with me."

  "She grieves for her children, Waenre. Perhaps she even seeks to blame the god for the tragedy. You must make an effort. Talk to her, be loving."

  "Yes. Perhaps then we will have other children. Sons even. It is possible."

  "That brings me to the point of my visit, Waenre."

  The king smiled gently, his first in many months. "What? You did not come out of concern for your king?"

  "That too, of course." Ay hesitated, collecting his thoughts. "My lord king, you are thirty-five years old and have been married for fourteen years. You have been blessed with beautiful daughters but alas, no sons. My lord, sons are necessary if you are to keep your family on the throne of Kemet."

  "Then the queen and I will have to have more children. Perhaps my physician can recommend a potion that will result in sons."

  "I pray that that will be the case. However, even if you had a son by this time next year, my lord, it would be another fifteen years before he was old enough to mount the throne. Sixteen years is a long time to leave Kemet hostage to the vagaries of fate, and you would be an old man. And what if you do not have a son?"

  "I cannot see what else I can do, Ay. Either I have a son to succeed me or...maybe Meryetaten could become king after me. There have been female kings before. Why, my ancestress Hatshepsut became king despite her sex."

  "It would not be advisable, my lord. Queens have a way of inciting power struggles and Kemet needs stability."

  "How then? Do I find some nobleman to marry Meryetaten? Who is there that is worthy to join my family? Besides, the throne would pass from my family to another."

  "I was thinking more in terms of finding a successor within the family."

  "Who? Do you mean yourself, Ay? You are not royal, much as I love and respect you."

  "I do not mean myself, Waenre. I have no ambitions to rule."

  "Then who?"

  "There are suitable princes." Ay breathed deeply, clearing his mind for the essential arguments. "Your brothers Smenkhkare and Tutankhaten."

  Akhenaten said nothing but he sat upright, taking the damp cloth from his head and used it to wipe the honey and brain mixture from his eyes. He stared blearily at Ay, pressing the backs of his hands against his eyeballs and blinking several times. "I still see the sun disk," he complained. "But in strange colours. It obscures your face Ay." The king folded the sticky cloth and laid it on the small table beside the bed. "Tutankhaten is but a baby."

  "But Smenkhkare is not. He is a fine young man trained in all the arts of government. Fifteen years old and managing the city of Waset with a deft touch."

  "Smenkhkare? Fifteen already? It scarcely seems possible." Akhenaten shook his head, wincing and lowering his head into his hands in pain. "You say he is competent?"

  "Indeed he is. He is learned in the laws and he has the skills of a scribe. I have also made sure he is a priest of Aten. He knows the city well and the people love him as your brother." Ay's voice took on a cajoling tone. "The people of Waset know that you have made Akhet-Aten your home and will never leave. They accept this though they are grief-stricken that you will never live among them as the kings of your family have always done. If you raised your brother to the co-regency it would bring stability to Waset and maybe even the whole country. It would also leave you free to rule Akhet-Aten without having to worry about what went on elsewhere."

  "That is tempting. Would he accept the co-regency?"

  "I cannot imagine him turning down such an honour, despite his avowed intention of living a life of learning and worship of the Aten. I am sure he would recognize his duty to Kemet and to you."

  "Really, Ay? I had not thought him so devoted to Aten. Well, this bears thinking about." Akhenaten got up and staggered across to the curtained window, waving away Ay's attempt to help. He pulled the curtains apart, uttering a low cry of pain as the late afternoon light speared his tender eyes. He turned back into the room, shielding his face from the light.

  "What if I have a son later? I would want him to be king after me."

  "Who knows what will happen by the time he reaches an age to be king? Make him a co-regent also. Either way, your line is assured."

  "I would like to have my descendants on the throne though, and Smenkhkare, while my brother, is not a product of my loins. And what if he has a son? Will he not want him to succeed? I am starting to think this is not such a good idea, Ay. Perhaps I should just concentrate on having a son with my queen."

  "Marry Smenkhkare to Meryetaten."

  "Eh? What did you say? Smenkhkare and Meryetaten?"

  "Why not? He is a prince of the blood and she is your eldest daughter. If he is made co-regent, the marriage confirms him as heir and if they have a son, he will be of your loins and king."

  "Yes, by the Aten, that is a wonderful idea." Akhenaten paused and frowned. "But they hardly know each other and they certainly are not in love."

  "Does that really matter, my lord? Oh, I know you and my daughter are in love and you were when you got married, but that is a rare and beautiful thing. It is not given to everyone to experience such love."

  "My mother and father did. He had many wives but he always loved my mother Tiye most of all." Akhenaten sat down on the bed again, his expression boyish and wistful. "I would like my daughter to be in love when she marries."

  "That is noble, my lord, and quite possible. Smenkhkare is a handsome young man and Meryetaten a beautiful young woman. How could they not fall in love? Bring him here, make him co-regent and betroth him to your daughter. Let them marry next year. I am positive they will have fallen in love by then."

  "You think this is the answer to my problems?"

  "Yes I do. Yours and Kemet's."

  Akh
enaten nodded, making up his mind. "Then let it be so. Send a courier to Waset immediately. Bring Smenkhkare to Akhet-Aten and I will make him co-regent. Then I will betroth him to Meryetaten. They can marry next year."

  "A wise decision, my king," Ay said with a smile. "Once more you have shown the wisdom that makes our Two Kingdoms great."

  "I thought this was your idea, Ay? Did you not say ...?" Akhenaten paused and peered myopically at his father-in-law. "Surely you suggested Smenkhkare?"

  "My lord, I only voiced what was already in your mind. Many times you have commented on the problem and come up with possible solutions. If I have played some small part in bringing your ideas together, then I shall deem it a great honour."

  "You are too modest, Divine Father." Akhenaten lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. "I have a headache from all this thinking. I will rest. Go and send the courier to Waset and if you see Shepseskare, send him in. I need some more catfish skull oil."

  Ay bowed his way out of the king's bedchamber and hurried away in search of the physician, well pleased with himself. Instead of Shepseskare however, he found the young physician Nebhotep.

  "Have you seen Shepseskare? The king has a headache and desires more catfish skull." Ay hurried past then stopped and turned back. "Perhaps you could see him. You know how to make catfish skull oil, don't you?"

  Nebhotep grimaced but nodded. "I was instructed well. However, catfish skull is nearly useless for headaches. The older physicians swear by it, but that is only because they refuse to look for better methods. I favor willow bark myself."

  "Well, I will leave the king in your hands. I have other matters to attend to."

  Nebhotep watched the Tjaty trot off down the corridor, heading toward the servants' quarters and the stables. He turned and sauntered toward the king's bedchamber, nodding pleasantly at the guard who greeted him and thanked him. The guard had sampled loose women indiscriminately and developed a case of the pox. After trying various home remedies, none of which worked, he had consulted Nebhotep with his last piece of copper. The physician had prepared a paste of cinnabar and bade him apply it to the sores morning and evening. A month later his genitals were scarred but otherwise in fine working order, as numerous city women could since attest.

  "Frequent a better class of brothel, Khay," Nebhotep told him. "Or you will need my cinnabar again."

  Khay grinned and let him through into the king's bedchamber.

  Nebhotep found Akhenaten lying eyes shut on the bed with the late afternoon sunlight streaming across him. He coughed to announce himself and crossed to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

  "Ah, Nebhotep. I was expecting Shepseskare. My headache has come back and I need more catfish skull oil."

  "I can give you something better than that." Nebhotep unrolled his small physician's bundle on the table beside the bed and took out a small packet of dark brown powder.

  "What's that? Dried dung or bat's guts or something equally horrible?"

  Nebhotep laughed. "Nothing that exotic--or useless. This is just powdered willow bark. I warn you, it tastes bitter. I usually mix it into honeyed milk for children. I could send for some, if you want."

  Akhenaten grimaced. "Now I will have to take it unhoneyed. Get on with it."

  Nebhotep poured a measure of the powder into a cup and added water. "It needs to soak in. Leave it a few minutes." He dipped a cloth into the pitcher of water and wiped away a crusted deposit from the corners of the king's eyes, then sniffed the rag. "Tortoise brain? It won't do you any good, you know."

  "Why are you different from the other physicians, Nebhotep?"

  "Because I choose my remedies rather than just following old ones blindly. Now, let's have a look at your eyes." Nebhotep turned the king's head gently to face the light and drew back the reddened lids. "How is your vision?"

  "I keep seeing the sun's disk, even when I close my eyes. Different colours. It makes it hard to see things around me."

  "You know people have been blinded looking at the sun? Man's eyes were not made to see the glory of the god." Nebhotep completed his examination. "I can give you a wash that will sooth the inflammation, but I can do nothing about the images. They may fade with time or ..." he hesitated. "Or you may start to lose your sight."

  Akhenaten lay silent for several minutes before sighing gently. "I am in the hands of the Aten."

  Nebhotep picked up the cup of water and swirled it, noting the colour of the liquid. "This is ready now." He held the cup out and Akhenaten shifted into a sitting position and took it. He sniffed doubtfully, and then sipped the brown liquid.

  "Aagh . That is foul." The king swallowed the tiny sip and almost gagged. He looked at the physician reproachfully and drank again, forcing the liquid down. When he reached the dregs he handed the cup back and belched. "Could you not have put honey in it anyway, without telling me children needed it?"

  Nebhotep stifled a smile. "I am sorry, my lord. However, I think you will find your headache easing within minutes, especially if we darken the room." He got up and crossed to the window, tugging the curtains across.

  "I wish all my problems were as easily fixed," Akhenaten murmured, settling back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

  "The problems of the body I can attempt, but the problems of the state I must leave to my king and his ministers."

  "It is a problem of both body and state, Nebhotep. I have no sons."

  "Ah."

  "Can you remedy that, good physician? Have you a potion in that roll of yours that will make me sire a son?"

  "If I had I could make my fortune, my lord."

  "Yes, it is as I thought, Nebhotep. It is in the hands of the Aten. If he wants me only to have daughters, then I must bow to his will."

  Nebhotep sat down on the bed again, chewing his bottom lip. "I would not presume to argue religious philosophy with you, my lord, but purely from a medical point of view, there may be things you could try."

  Akhenaten opened one eye and stared at the physician. "What things?"

  "Nothing that would guarantee a favorable outcome but there are many remedies for reproductive problems used by country doctors. For instance, it is said that binding the testicles against the body and applying heated pads can prevent conception when next the man lies with a woman."

  "That could be useful, I admit, Nebhotep, but I do not see how that applies to me."

  "I merely cite it as an example of a country remedy. More to the point is an examination of many families. Why is it that some men throw male children only, others girls, but most have mixed boys and girls? What is it about their home circumstances that produce this result?"

  "You have studied this?"

  "I have, though the results are confusing. For instance, many families with boys eat a lot of onions, whereas those with girls eat more lettuce. Of course, this may just be that families with boys send them out to do more physical labor and onions are a staple of the working man, whereas lettuce is eaten more in the home, where the girls are." Nebhotep shrugged. "Then there is the anecdotal evidence. One woman with boys swears it is because she uses a douche of beer just before intercourse, another swears it is by thinking of manly pursuits during the pregnancy, yet another thinks it is the relationship between the birth date and the flooding of the river."

  "You think I should have Nefertiti use a beer douche and think of...of war?"

  "It could not hurt, my lord. I suppose what might be more useful is to look at your own family. Sometimes families have only boys or girls for generations."

  "There are boys in my line," Akhenaten said hopefully.

  "Indeed. Yet the Divine Father Ay has only daughters and your illustrious father had only two sons, but five daughters."

  "Four sons, Nebhotep. You are forgetting Smenkhkare and Tutankhaten."

  "Yes, my lord, yet if you will forgive me pointing out, your beloved mother, who was sister to Ay who only produces daughters, only had two sons. The young princes had other mothers."

&
nbsp; "That is true, but is it relevant? I mean, does the mother really matter? Is it not the man who sires a child in the fertile field of a woman?"

  Nebhotep shrugged again. "Who knows? Yet it sometimes happens that if a man is childless he takes another wife and has children. In such a case the woman is barren; her field is anything but fertile. Could it not also be true that a woman's womb is sometimes hostile to male children, only allowing girls to be born? In such a case the identity of the mother would be of supreme importance."

  "Hmm." Akhenaten closed his eyes and thought about this idea for several minutes before opening them again and fixing his physician with a look of dawning comprehension. "My father Nebmaetre had two sons and five daughters with his wife Tiye, then he married his daughter Sitamen and had a son, then married his daughter Iset and had another son. He changed the mother, who preferred daughters to sons, and had sons himself."

  "That would appear to be so," Nebhotep said cautiously.

  "My own wife Nefertiti only has girls. It is obvious her womb is hostile to male children. If I want sons I must marry some other woman." Akhenaten's jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide. "I must follow the example of my father and marry my daughters. My lovely eldest daughter Meryetaten shall bear my son. Maybe even Ankhesenpaaten later, or even my sister Beketaten." The king sat up abruptly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "This could be the answer to my problems," he said excitedly. "Thank you, Nebhotep."

  Akhenaten got up and started dancing, a big grin on his face. Suddenly he stopped and put a hand up to his head. "My headache has gone too. Nebhotep, you solve all my problems. I am going to make you my official court physician."

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  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nefertiti looked up from the game she was playing with her youngest surviving daughter Neferneferoura when her husband walked into the wide verandah in the queen's palace overlooking the gardens. Crickets chirped in the bushes and leaf litter beneath the verandah and bats flitted and wheeled in the early evening sky. The older daughters Meryetaten and Ankhesenpaaten lay on their stomachs near the edge of the gardens, engrossed in a game that involved a lacquered wooden board and carved stone pieces.