A veritable armada carried courtiers, musicians as well as the hordes of administrators together with shrubs, plants and seeds to the place of the Aten. The waters of the Nile were almost hidden by the great flotilla. Along the banks moved line after line of carts, donkeys, and mules piled high with wood. Flanking these was the massed might of Egypt’s army: footsoldiers, archers, and squadron after squadron of war-chariots. I would have loved to have flown like an eagle to view the majestic power and might of Egypt all moving North to the place of the Aten. A veritable army ringed the land approaches whilst war-barges patrolled the river. Thebes was shocked, its leading citizens given no quarter. Power followed Pharaoh. If Pharaoh left Thebes the dilemma was whether to stay and lose all influence, and any hope of preferment, or abandon the family home and join the great exodus North. Workers in the Necropolis rioted as they realised the impact of the new religion on their labour. Nakhtimin’s troops, assisted by my police and Sobeck’s gangs, crushed these disturbances.
I met my old friend secretly. Sobeck had decided not to move North but stay where he was and, as he put it, ‘look after the City of the Sceptre till the eventual return’. It was the old Sobeck, relaxed and cynical, as intent on building his own empire as Akhenaten was to realise his dream. He admitted that he had met Maya. I explained the circumstances. Sobeck just shrugged, gave that lopsided smile and murmured that, at least, he had another friend high at court. I and the other members of the Kap had no choice but to leave Thebes. The Old City, as it was now termed, was left under the command of Nakhtimin and my subordinates in the East and West.
Time flew. I seemed to spend my life journeying by river to and from Thebes. The entire archives of the House of Secrets were moved to that sandy crescent which now blossomed into a city of pavilions and tents. Chaos was avoided. Akhenaten and Ay had planned so well, so resolute in their plundering of the temple treasuries, that enough provisions and supplies were at hand to feed the growing influx of citizens and workers. Thousands upon thousands of sculptors, architects and craftsmen were hired to work under the direction of Akhenaten’s Chief Architect Bek and his two assistants Tethmos and Intu. Bargeloads of sandstone from beyond the First Cataract were on the move North. Ships, their cargo-holds full of sweet-smelling Lebanese cedar, travelled across the Great Green to disgorge their cargoes in the Delta to be placed immediately on the waiting barges. The nearby marble quarries of Hathor were quickly extended, thousands of workers from Thebes hired, the precious stone hacked and sledged into the Holy Place. Alabaster, as well as copper and malachite from Sinai and Kush, together with gold, silver and lapis lazuli from all the mines of Egypt followed after.
All this had been planned from the start. Ay had plotted and worked into the early hours, year after year, as Akhenaten prepared for his great moment. Ay proved himself an administrative genius. I admired him for his subtle cunning, the way he’d kept his plans so close to his heart. The city had been created in the minds of Akhenaten, Ay and Nefertiti and kept secret in detailed plans on roll after roll of papyrus. Akhenaten realised his dream of creating a place for the Aten; he also wreaked hideous vengeance on the great ones of Thebes, its nobles, administrators and priests who, for years, had either ignored or mocked him.
At first Akhenaten’s opponents tried to exploit the situation but Sobeck’s influence was even greater whilst the prospect of work for the new city emptied the slums of both Thebes and the Necropolis. Tens of thousands of people wrapped their possessions in bundles and trekked North to begin a new life. They were quartered on the west bank of the Nile and used to shape millions upon millions of hard mud bricks. Surveyors became busy with stakes and ropes laying out the new city in accordance with Akhenaten’s dream. The shanty towns around the construction site grew whilst detailed plans ensured a special place for the imperial family and other nobles and scribes. All was protected by Egypt’s war-chariots, her massed regiments drawn in from every garrison and outpost throughout the Kingdom of the Two Lands. The Nile had just flooded so transport was easy whilst the deserts on either side, deliberately neglected for years, were full of game for the hunter. At the same time the great storehouses and granaries of nearby cities were ordered to open their doors to send a constant stream of supplies to that great camp now growing midway between Memphis and Thebes. No wonder Ay had been concerned about the previous harvests. They had been good and so now he reaped the fruits of his hard work.
I must confess in my long, sin-sodden life, I have met few real surprises, but to see a city, its palaces, temples, houses, gardens, parks, pools and lakes literally spring up from the desert was truly awesome. It happened so quickly, almost like the sun rising and flooding the land with colour and exciting life. What a city! All the resources of a great empire were directed to its construction. The imperial residences were the first priority; its colonnaded great bridge spanned the King’s Highway with the glorious Window of Appearance so Akhenaten and Nefertiti could meet those they wished to favour. The Northern Palace followed next with its inner and outer courtyards, glistening pools, colonnades, altars open to the sun, gardens full of flowers, and row upon row of lush vines. Floors were laid, so highly polished they gleamed like water. The beautiful Green Room was constructed with its long windows all two yards high and seven yards long, overlooking the most sumptuous garden, richly stocked with every kind of herb, flower and tree. The Chamber’s other three walls were painted a deep blue to reproduce the beauty of the Nile. The exquisite green borders at top and bottom represented the Nile’s fertile banks, alive with all the exotic birds of the riverside. The floor and ceiling were of pure white, so brilliantly constructed and originally painted, the illusion was created that the room was an extension of the garden and that the garden was an extension of the room.
Other chambers in the palace were decorated with different motifs. In the River Room, kingfishers nested in lotus and papyrus thickets, the red spathus of the papyrus so realistic, they seemed to be bending under a breeze. Above these, black and white kingfishers dived towards the water, so vivid you’d expect to hear the splash and see them fly up. Another chamber, the Vine Room, was decorated with girls gathering grapes whilst nearby bird-catchers drew in a clap net full of trapped wild fowl, so lifelike, if you stared long enough you’d think the birds were about to flutter, you’d even strain to catch their cries. The ceiling was decorated with pictures of vine trellises, their grapes of purple faience so luscious you were tempted to stretch up and pluck them. In the centre of this palace, as in other palaces, was the Throne Room with majestic columns on either side resplendent in every colour. At the far end, under a beautiful sculptured canopy of stone, stood the gold and jewel-encrusted thrones of Akhenaten and his Queen.
The temples of the Aten, the Eternal Mansion or the House of Rejoicing dazzled the eye with the whiteness of their limestone founded on pink granite. These were approached through soaring pylons: you would cross spacious courtyards and climb tiers of steps to altars open to the sky, carefully positioned to catch the rays of the sun. Around these sanctuaries stood the storehouses stuffed full of gorgeous tribute brought to the temples from the broad-slabbed quaysides which now ran along the Nile. All such buildings were bounded by walls, each with its own spring, well and gardens. Every palace had its own sunshade pavilions, garden chapels with cool rooms and colonnaded walks decorated with gold asps as well as plants or flowers painted in the form of rosettes and garlands.
The private houses of the nobles to the north and south of the city were all built flat-roofed and mud-bricked, but made all the more resplendent with columns, porticoes, steps and colonnades, all brightly painted and decorated with artwork. The inside walls blazed with light depicting hunting, farming or river scenes though it was almost compulsory that the central hall depicted Akhenaten, his Queen and their children being blessed by the rays of the Aten. Akhenaten’s watchword to his builders, architects and craftsmen was ‘to live in the truth’. By this he meant art was to reflect life in all its detail and the heart of all life was the glory of Aten. The nobles were only too eager to comply. Their mansions became small palaces with rich drapes covering the windows, exquisite furniture, beds of ebony and ivory, baskets of flowers and, everywhere, the sign of the Sun Disc, the symbol of the Aten’s true son, Akhenaten.
The city was composed of three sections: the northern suburbs, the central city with its temples, Great Palace and Mansion of Aten and, beyond that, the southern suburbs with the villas and mansions of the nobles. To the north-east of the city were the houses of the workers whilst others had to find homes on the west bank of the Nile. Streets were clearly named and the entire city was connected by a broad imperial avenue called the King’s Highway. In the centre lay the administrative heart of Akhenaten’s city, the House of Scribes, the House of Reception and the House of Secrets with its police station and cells where I executed my office. Djarka became my lieutenant. We allowed no one to join us from Thebes but recruited mercenaries, Asiatics and Nubians to patrol the streets. Horemheb and Rameses were responsible for the security of the approaches by land and river; at night, the eastern clifftops gleamed with the campfires of their soldiers.
I have been asked so many times what life was like in the City of Aten. It was peaceful at first, full of petty incident and excitement as the seasons of the year rolled one into another. All of Thebes and Egypt had been shocked by the speed and thoroughness of Akhenaten’s revolution; like a wrestler with the breath knocked out of him, they could only stagger and choke but do little. Animals bitten by a certain snake become paralysed, so it was in both Egypt and the Palace of the Aten. Oh, I can describe the different buildings, their beauty as well as the stream of ordinances issued to keep everything fresh and lovely. But in the end? Well, we were like children invited into a beautiful garden to play. The sun shone and shone and shone, plates of sweet dates and iced melon were served and served and served. The music played and played and played but night never came. No breeze blew to cool our sweat and we were not allowed to go home. The sun, indeed, became too bright. Our guests grew sick of the rich food. Our ears were dinned with so much music, we longed for the darkness of the night and the coolness and peace it would bring.
Aten! Aten! Aten!
At first everything was centred around this, with only slight changes in the rhythm. Akhenaten, escorted by Nefertiti, would summon meetings of the Royal Circle to lecture us about the new religion, our duties to him and the Aten, our obligations to accept it in all its ways. Huy quietly grumbled how he would love to go and preach about the Aten somewhere, anywhere, as far away as possible. The theme was constant: ‘You should be grateful to Akhenaten for revealing to you the light.’ We were to thank him for what he had done, rejoice in his presence, be ecstatic over his gifts, as well as realise that the Aten would only hear our prayers if they were directed through himself and his glorious Queen.
Matters were not helped by what I dubbed ‘the toadies’, the courtiers and officials who now surrounded Akhenaten. They did not include the children of the Kap except for Meryre: he was made High Priest of the Aten when Akhenaten gave up that office, moving from the role of priest to that of He whom the priests should venerate. The ranks of these toadies were swollen as more of the Akhmin gang arrived. Ahmose, fat and slimy, reeking of perfume, who rejoiced in the titles of True Royal Scribe, Fan-bearer on the Right of the King, Steward in the House of Akhenaten, Overseer of the Court of Justice. A viper of a man, Ahmose had a heart of stone and a nose sharp for his own preferment. Tutu from the House of Secrets became Ahmose’s good friend – a disappointment to me but he was seduced by the exclusivity of Akhenaten’s immediate circle and, of course, he also came from Akhmin. Another was Rahimose, Chief Scribe of Recruits, Ay’s nominee from his own town to counter-balance the growing military power of Horemheb. These and others formed what I called ‘the Devout’ or, in private, ‘the Toadies’. The others, including myself, I called ‘the Cynics’: Horemheb and Rameses, Pentju, Huy and Maya. They grew bored with the constant childish excitement of the parades and ceremonies, the offerings and rewards. Horemheb and Rameses used their military duties to escape into the Red Lands. Huy often went on embassies and would return more woebegone than ever at Akhenaten’s attitude to Egypt’s foreign policy.
‘It’s quite simple to understand,’ Huy declared on one occasion. ‘All people should worship the Aten and all people should accept our Pharaoh as the Aten incarnate. Any problems are not his responsibility. He thinks the Mitanni, the Canaanites, the Libyans and Kushites should love him for what he is and not for the gold and silver they expect to receive from him.’
The others were equally cynical. Pentju, in particular, would often use the excuse of tending to a patient or searching for some new cure to avoid official functions. Maya found some comfort in his new duties as Overseer of the House of Silver, proving to be a brilliant financier and treasurer – ‘Able,’ as Rameses remarked sourly, ‘to squeeze gold out of a rock.’ Maya often had to travel to Thebes; he would use such occasions to meet Sobeck. At least his return brought a welcome relief as he reported the chatter and gossip from that stunned, dying city. He told us about its temples, the subdued life in the markets and the growing resentment of its populace at what they now openly called the Great Heresy.
Ay was the bridge between all groups. Akhenaten’s faithful minister, the confidant and ally of everyone who mattered. A watcher and scrutiniser of hearts was Ay, yet even here I sensed a subdued panic. We had all been brought to this place – but what next? Ay expended his energies on strengthening his ties with the men of influence in the city of Aten and elsewhere, particularly Horemheb whose military skill and organisation he came to admire. Mutnodjmet, Ay’s second daughter, Nefertiti’s comely, fat-faced, calm-eyed sister, arrived in the city with her Danga dwarves. Horemheb fell in love with her only as Horemheb could: stiff-necked, tight-jawed, stuttering and embarrassed. Yet he truly loved her. I used to tease him, tapping him on the chest and saying, ‘At last I have discovered that you have a true heart and not one of flint.’ Horemheb would splutter with annoyance, he’d even blush. This was one problem Rameses was unable to help him with so I had constantly to advise Horemheb on what presents to buy and how he should act. Ay encouraged all this. Mutnodjmet was not indolent but she had been kept in the shadows by her beautiful elder sister. At first she was very confused by Horemheb. Eventually, with a little coaxing from both her father and myself, she responded sweetly to the great soldier’s overtures. Rameses, too, encouraged that match and eventually they married. Maya tartly commented that he didn’t know whom Horemheb loved the most, Mutnodjmet or her dwarves.