My reverie was broken by Shishnak’s grating voice. He was talking about Tushratta, the King of Mitanni, and a scribe was distributing tablets of hardened polished clay – letters from the Mitanni court in the birdlike Akkadian script. Shishnak talked swiftly, about the importance of Egypt’s alliance with the Mitanni, how those who lived between the Upper Tigris and the Euphrates were a vital element in this alliance.
‘Princess Tadukhiya,’ Shishnak stared round the Royal Circle, ‘of Narahin is a most comely young woman. Fellow councillors, you may recall how she was sent into Egypt to marry the Crown Prince Tuthmosis, who has now gone into the Glorious West.’ Shishnak gestured at Akhenaten. ‘The Mitanni still expect us to honour our treaty’s obligations: their Princess must marry the Son of Egypt, its Pharaoh.’ Shishnak had loosed his bolt at the obvious love between Akhenaten and Nefertiti. The silence was palpable but the shift in Nefertiti’s shoulders, the way Akhenaten’s head came back, spoke eloquently of their anger.
‘I have a wife.’ Akhenaten’s voice was harsh. He gestured to Nefertiti. ‘I have a wife,’ he repeated. ‘The heiress, Fair of Form, Lady of Graciousness, Worthy of Love, Beloved of the Aten, Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt, Great Wife of the King.’ His voice rose to a shout of defiance. ‘She Whom He loves, Lady of the Two Lands, May she live for ever and ever!’
‘Quite so. Quite so,’ Hotep replied, bowing to Nefertiti. ‘But now, my lord, you are joint ruler of the Two Lands. We have allies to please, treaties to keep, obligations to meet …’
Later at the Palace of the Aten, I was part of the heated exchanges between Akenhaten, Nefertiti and Ay about the marriage proposal made by Hotep and Shishnak. Oh, they had accepted Akhenaten’s speech, they had offered no insult. They had pointed out how the Divine One’s harem was full of princesses from every corner of the empire and beyond. So, for the sake of Egypt, Akhenaten would have to follow his father’s example. At last Queen Tiye had intervened and, in a worldweary voice, declared that her son must reflect on the advice offered and make his reply. The meeting of the Royal Circle ended. Akhenaten and Nefertiti had not even let Meryre finish gabbling the prayers before they rose, gave the most perfunctory of bows, and swept out of the Council Chamber. Nefertiti had controlled her anger, not so much at the marriage alliance but at Shishnak’s impudence. Now, in the shadows of the hall of audience, she gave vent to her fury.
‘I will take Shishnak’s head,’ she swore, ‘pluck out those venomous eyes and pickle them in salt. I’ll take those lips and sew them together with twine.’ Hands resting on her swollen abdomen, she stared solemnly at me then burst out laughing. ‘Ah well,’ she sighed, ‘it will have to be done.’
Akhenaten nodded.
‘It will have to be done,’ Ay confirmed, ‘and the sooner the better. My lord, they hope you will refuse. They will invoke your father’s will’ – he caught Akhenaten’s glance – ‘I mean the Magnificent One.’
‘Where is she now,’ Akhenaten asked, ‘this Mitanni princess?’
‘In the white-walled city,’ Ay replied, ‘in a mansion outside Memphis.’
‘She is to be brought South,’ Akhenaten replied. Leaning over, he caressed his wife’s swollen stomach, kissing her on the shoulder, neck and face.
‘Every soul has its song,’ he whispered, ‘and you are mine. Only you, Heiress of Egypt, Woman of the Sacred Line and the Holy Blood, will bear my child. Only the issue of our bodies and souls will wear the crowns of Egypt. You are my Princess and my altar.’
Ay grasped my hand and gestured with his head to leave. We rose, bowed and left Akhenaten and Nefertiti lost in each other.
The decision had been made. Both myself and Ay were left to supervise the practical details. Akhenaten’s decision to marry the Mitanni Princess was proclaimed later that day. Ay was distracted, being more concerned with implementing more changes in the great palace. Nakhtimin, with his bland eyes and secretive face, was promoted to Standard Bearer of the Royal Household with direct command over the imperial bodyguard. Another kinsman of Queen Tiye, Anen, was given high office in the priesthood of Amun. Those who could not be trusted were also dealt with. Certain Generals were despatched North to the Delta, chief scribes were found fresh employment in other cities along the Nile or sent on so-called urgent business to the provinces. Leading citizens of Thebes, not to mention the Keepers of the Secrets, were constantly entertained and regaled at the Palace of the Aten. Akhenaten and Nefertiti didn’t seem to care about such details. They were more concerned with their own whispered conversations, visiting the House of Paintings or supervising the construction of a small altar to the Aten. Real power rested with Ay. He met with notables, supervised the construction of more buildings, linking Akhenaten’s palace to my old House of Instruction where the children of the Kap had been raised. Warehouses, storerooms, and granaries were built to house Akhenaten’s newfound wealth and status: the Per Hagu, the House of Foodstuffs, the Per Nuble, the House of Gold, the Per Ehu, the House of Oxen, the Per Asheu, the House of Fruits and, above all, the Per Ahuu, the House of War, with its armouries stocked full of spears, shields, swords and daggers. Ay gave responsibility for the House of War to me as he did the construction of more barracks and the selection of mercenaries to swell Akhenaten’s personal military retinue.
My master only became interested in these new buildings once they had been completed and were ready for decoration. Then he’d become feverishly involved, insisting the halls be flooded with light, that the carved columns of wood were to be painted in different colours, the doors festooned in gold and silver and the lintels decorated with flashing lapis lazuli and malachite. He personally supervised the paintings on the walls and the layout of the new gardens. He’d go out as the ground was broken up and shout instructions at the workers, where to plant, how to sow grass, how to cast seed, plant bushes and shrubs so as to catch both the sun and the rain.
Days passed one into the other. Ay received reports from Thebes and the rest of the palace: he discussed these with me before moving into council with Akhenaten and Nefertiti. One morning Snefru, now Captain of my personal guard, interrupted a meeting to say we had a visitor. I hardly recognised the old man leaning against the courtyard wall with his snow-white hair, wrinkled face and watery eyes.
‘Master Mahu.’ I certainly recognised the voice.
‘Why, it’s Api! What brings you here?’
‘Your Aunt Isithia has died.’
‘How unfortunate!’
‘I thought I should come to inform you. She fell one night …’ Api’s mouth opened and closed. ‘She fell. She was on the roof terrace,’ he gabbled on, ‘and we heard a scream. She must have slipped.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘she must have slipped.’
‘But she hadn’t drunk much. She must have leaned over.’
I recalled the roof with its couches and its tables, the trelliswork fence. Isithia cradling her wine cup. Sobeck’s dark shadow creeping up the outside staircase. He always could move like a cat.
‘Death swoops like a falcon,’ I murmured.
Api was staring at me. ‘It’s a pity you never saw her before …’
‘It’s a pity I ever met her,’ I snarled.
Api recoiled. He fell to his knees, shuffling back, the toes of his sandals scraping the paving stones. ‘I meant to give no …’
‘None taken. Who inherits the old bitch’s house and goods?’
‘The priests of Amun: the house, the chattels, the land. They all go to the House of Silver at Karnak.’
‘And you?’ I asked.
‘Nothing! After years of service, nothing!’
I walked round him. Servants crossed the courtyard staring curiously at us.
‘And neither do I have anything to give you.’
‘Master, I thought you could help. You are soon to be Chief of Police in Thebes.’
‘What?’ I clutched the man by the front of his robe and dragged him to his feet. He was nothing more than a bag of bones. ‘What did you say? How do you know?’
‘Your aunt was talking about it just before she died. She was laughing. “Fancy Mahu,” she declared, “Baboon of the South becoming Chief of Police.” Master, I have nothing!’ he wailed again. I recalled Api trailing round after Aunt Isithia, no better than a dog.
‘I was never cruel to you,’ he moaned.
‘Did she kill my mother?’
Api stared at the ground.
‘
Did she kill my mother?
’ I insisted, loosening my grip.
‘In a way, yes. When your father was absent, it was one cruelty heaped upon another. After you were born,’ he hurried on, ‘your mother had a fever.’
‘Aunt Isithia’s potions!’ I stared up at the sky. I could have howled like a dog. ‘Because of that bitch I am what I am. Where’s her corpse?’
‘In the Necropolis, the House of Death belonging to the Guild of Falcons. The priests of Amun sent it there.’
‘I am sure they did. They’ll take her money and put her corpse into the nearest hole in the ground. She’s not to be buried with my parents. As for you …’
Api fell to his knees, hands outstretched. As Snefru came through the doorway, cudgel raised, I waved him back. I returned to my own quarters and brought back five small ingots, an
ounou
of silver and three precious stones. I pushed these into Api’s hands.
‘Goodbye, Api. You are a fortunate man.’
He drew his brows together.
‘I thought of killing you as well,’ I whispered.
His jaw dropped in horror and awe.
‘What did I say?’ I smiled. ‘I have forgotten already – so have you, haven’t you Api?’
I watched him go stumbling across the courtyard and immediately sent a message to Sobeck that I wished to meet him. In the days following I received no reply whilst I was soon taken up with the arrangements for the arrival of Princess Tadukhiya at the Palace of the Aten. She arrived on the appropriate day with a small retinue of giggling maids, carts full of treasure and a group of Hittite slaves. Akhenaten met her in the courtyard. The Princess herself sat hidden behind a veiled canopy. Akhenaten exchanged pleasantries with the notables who had escorted his new wife then dismissed them. Nefertiti, standing in cloth of gold, shimmering with gorgeous diamonds and precious stones, stood like a statue under the shade of a parasol held by Ay. Akhenaten inspected the gifts then turned to the Hittites, strange-looking men with the front part of their heads completely shaved, parrot-like faces and bizarre tattoos in dark blues and reds across their chests and arms. Akhenaten was fascinated by them even though they looked a sorry lot. He ordered them to sing a song of their own country and, whilst they did so, joined his wife under the parasol, tapping his foot on the ground, head slightly turned. The song was the most mournful dirge, more like the cackling of birds than the song of a choir. Nefertiti giggled. Akhenaten, however, acted as if something petty had distracted him. Once the song had ended, he asked them what they did in their own country. They replied that they were musicians captured in a raid.
‘Were you really?’ Akhenaten snapped his fingers.
I hurried across with another parasol and he walked round the slaves, touching their skin.
‘What do you think, Mahu?’
‘If they had to sing for their living,’ I replied, ‘they’d soon starve.’
Akhenaten grimaced. He continued his inspection. I noticed at the back of the group were two Medjay, scouts who accompanied the procession to make sure light fingers went nowhere near the treasure wagon. Whilst Akhenaten hummed a song under his breath and perused the carts full of treasure, I recalled what Api had told me.
Was
I to be made Chief of Police of Thebes? How had my aunt known? Why hadn’t Akhenaten discussed the matter with me?
‘I know what we’ll do.’ Akhenaten stood on top of the cart, his fine robes spilling out about him. ‘Mahu, I want these Hittites to wear women’s wigs and dress in female attire. I am going to call them my Orchestra of the Sun. I will educate them myself.’
‘Why women’s attire?’
‘Their days as warriors are finished.’ Akhenaten clambered out of the cart. ‘They will be a symbol of the everlasting peace which my reign will bring, when swords are hammered into ploughshares and the chariots of war become carriages of pleasure.’
I could see the Princess’s arrival had interrupted Akhenaten’s thinking so I kept silent. I was always nervous about talking to my master in public lest the name Akhenaten might slip from my lips. The Prince had made me swear a great oath, my hand over the Sun Disc, that his sacred name would remain hidden until his Father gave him a sign to publish it, as Akhenaten said, to the ends of the earth and beyond.
The retinue was becoming restless. Akhenaten had not been discourteous. It was customary for such a period of waiting to be observed before a prince met his new wife. The poor Hittites looked totally bemused, shuffling their feet and muttering to each other in their clicking tongue. Akhenaten went and stood by Nefertiti. At last the sweating palanquin-holders were ordered to release their precious burden. They did so gently, the curtains were pulled back and Tadukhiya emerged. She was small and dark, no more than fourteen summers old, her black hair bound up under a rather exotic head-dress. She was garbed in gaudy but costly robes. She tripped gracefully toward Akhenaten, who grasped her hands and kissed her on each cheek, staring down at her affectionately. The contrast between the two women was startling. The Mitanni was perfectly formed but rather small, with slanted eyes in a dark-skinned face, a pouting mouth, pointed ears, and her plump cheeks glistening with oil. Nefertiti visibly relaxed; this new wife would be no rival.