The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (16 page)

“Who are you to give me orders?” Father sneered back. I found myself pressed against their door. When had I taken so many steps? Though I feared being caught, I also feared who they were talking about. Was I in danger?

Mother spoke sternly and softy at once, “Do you remember when we were living in Waset, and we would watch Aten rise over the Nile? All the colors in the heavens were in front of us, the gentle breeze that touched us, the light sprinkled in the Nile like salt from Aten’s glory… do you remember sitting there with me? We just talked. Your laughter was free and gentle. There was no palace, no courtiers, no petitions, it was just us. I promised you then to always love you, and I have! I do. When we are happy, the people are happy. And they followed us here. They still believe in us… us!”

There was silence. Mother continued, “Remember when Mayati was born? She was such a tiny girl. But she screamed so loud the nurses thought we were pinching her! And she ate so much back then I couldn’t get her away from her wet nurse. Then Meket, she had so much hair! Remember how surprised you were? And of course, our little An, such the quiet girl. You hardly even knew there was another baby. You had so much love for them each time you looked into their eyes. Our past has been beautiful, my darling, let’s not forget it.”

Again there was silence. Feet were rustling on the floor. Fearing that they would emerge from the room, I opened the nearest door and ducked inside. I peeked out carefully, keeping the door open a crack, waiting for Father to depart.

The door to Mother’s room did open, but no one left. Instead, voices continued to carry on the evening’s air.

“I will meet you down in the banquet hall,” Father said. “There we will tell Meketaten of our plans.”

“No! You can’t! Husband, you will kill her! If your sister was too young --”

But she was cut off sternly, “I will also be moving your room into the harem’s quarters. Clear out of here. Your love is as dry as sand on my tongue. As I drink tonight, I wash out my mouth of your taste.” Father stepped from the doorway and into the hall.

“Why do you listen so keenly to your mother? When has she ever supported you? She hates me because my father is your confidant and not hers anymore. Jealousy grows hatred, even for her own brother!” Mother shot back.

“My father was a great pharaoh, and my mother was always there as his guide. Her words are wisdom. I would do well to listen to her more,” Father snapped.

“What about Mayati and Smenkhkare? What if they produce an heir? He is of your house! Do you want this competition… this bloodshed in our family?”

“What you do not know is that Smenkhkare cannot have children, not with any lack of trying on his part, but he has never produced a child. They are no threat. I led Merytaten on. I know she wants a child, and I lied to her so she would accept the marriage without objection.”

“Your heart has turned to stone. You bring about the death of us all!” Something shattered against a wall at the close of her shouts.

“I will tell Meket myself. I do not want to see you in this palace again.” Then the door slammed, and I quickly shut the door I hid behind at the noise. As I turned around and rested my back against the wood, I saw my brother and Maia standing before me. Tutankhaten was in Maia’s arms and hiding his face from the world.

I realized that this must have been the room intended for his mother before she died. I had not thought anyone was here. But I had just barged in without a thought to anyone else.

“I’m sorry.” I got out between heavy breaths. I was panting, scared.

“You should go down to the Great Hall. Your father will notice if you are gone.” Maia’s face was ashen. She must have known what they were talking about.

I somehow put one foot in front of the other as I left their room. When I reached the bottom of the stairway, I burst into a run all the way to the dining hall. My family (except for Mother and Tutankhaten) was seated together at Pharaoh’s table. No one else besides the servants was there this night. When Father saw me, he waved me over urgently. I sat without a sound and waited for what my mother had so desperately pleaded against.

When Father stood, I felt my heart drop to the floor. I didn’t know what he was about to say, but I dreaded it even more because of that fact. I kept hearing Mother’s desperate pleas over and over again in my memory. Meket was in danger.

Even though my heart was shouting at me, the rest of the hall was silent.

Father’s voice boomed above our heads, “I wanted to tell you all that there will be a new Great Wife. Aten is wise. He has shown me that a change is needed. Meketaten, you will prepare to move your things to the upstairs room adjoining mine. There, you will become the Great Wife for me and for our people.”

I looked over at Meketaten. Her face had gone so pale it appeared that she had never been touched by the light of day. Merytaten’s hands covered her mouth. Her new husband looked enraged.

My father took no notice. “Aten has blessed you with your bloods. His intention is clear. Tomorrow you will appear beside me at the temple. We will pray for His blessing and begin a new line of kings together. Once we are blessed with a son, Smenkhkare will hold the throne until that son is old enough to carry on our bloodline. We will continue to honor my mother tonight in our prayers, and tomorrow will be the celebration of our union. Praise Aten.”

I looked down at my empty plate with hot tears filling my eyes. Mother was saying that he was going to kill Meketaten. That must be because he planned to sire a child with her. The thought frightened me. To give a child so young? She was only just 9 and would be 10 when the child was born.

It felt wrong. All of this was wrong. Royal families married one another to secure their place on the throne, but Father had never cared about this before. When he had lived with two wives who were not sisters, he had been happy. Now everything was changing. She
was
too young. Her cheeks still retained some baby fat. She was short for her age. Even I was taller than her. How would a child fit inside of her? My emotions rolled in my body like waves. I felt like I was going to burst with anger.

“Why?” I shouted. The table stopped and turned to me. Father’s look was confused. He had no idea what I had heard upstairs. “I don’t understand. What is wrong with Mother?”

It was my grandmother who answered, “She has had plenty of chances to give Pharaoh a son. She needs to step down and learn her place as a wife and not as a Pharaoh. She should not have the power to erase a princess from the blessings of God and her people.”

I suddenly knew who the goddess in my dream was referring to. “This was your idea.”

“Ankhesenpaaten!” Merytaten snapped at me. “We do not question Pharaoh.”

“Sister, it’s all right.” Meketaten assured me, even though her voice was quivering like a bow string. “I am honored to take my place at Pharaoh’s side.”

I didn’t care anymore. I felt sick to my stomach. I jerked myself to a stand and ran out of the hall. I ran until I reached an altar at the quay. Outside, the sun boat had disappeared. Stars swirled above me. I collapsed at the foot of the altar and leaned my forehead against it. The stone was already cooled by the night’s air. On the water before me, wooden boats creaked as the Nile rocked them into a dreamless sleep.

What a thing, not to dream. Not to have nightmares. They were not alive, these wooden constructions, but they provided so much to the world. These boats carried guests, foodstuffs, and stone monuments constructed outside the city. They were even used for outings, swimming in the river, and all the joy that came with family togetherness. But that was never to be again…

I cried and prayed that Aten would keep my sister safe. I prayed and prayed until I lost all thought of what to say next. So I sang. I sang the hymn Father had written for Him. Maybe then Aten would remember His faithful servants. Maybe then He would restore my family to normal.

It was my favorite part that I sang to the heavens:

“Thy rays suckle every meadow
.

When Thou risest, they live, they grow for Thee
.

Thou makest the seasons in order to rear all that Thou hast made
,

The winter to cool them
,

And the heat that they may taste Thee
.

Thou hast made the distant sky in order to rise therein
,

In order to see all that Thou dost make
.

Whilst Thou wert alone ---

There was nothing else I could do but sing. In the plans of man, her fate was sealed. Only a god could save Meketaten now.

Tia came down. Her lithe arms carried me back inside. She couldn’t know, but it was the last place I wanted to be. It was a place that ruled me with fear.

Coming Forth By Day
1322 B.C
.

Word had finally come, and I grieved at the news. The Hittite prince had been killed!

At my request, he had come, Prince Zannanza, and now he had been murdered. There was no proof as to whom it was, but I suspected that somehow General Horemheb knew. Maybe he saw the Hittite emissary crossing his entourage as they were traveling back home while they had been burdened to slowness with Tutankhamun’s bier. Maybe Ay had somehow caught wind of my plan and sent soldiers to meet the prince’s caravan. Either way, his death was on my hands, and my security had once again been lost in the Red Lands.

The 70 days had begun, but there was still time. If I could send my plea again, perhaps they could make it to Waset before the funeral procession. The possibility was there. But how would I get the message out? Surely my actions were being observed. I would have to send someone even closer to my inner circle. Someone who would not arouse suspicion traveling out of Kemet. There was only one person I could think of, and I would have to leave the palace to find him.

My husband had arrived a few days prior to this news. The caravan had stopped at the palace quay to pick up Ay and me, and then they took us across the river to begin the blessings for the mummification process. Much work had to be done to ensure that his ka would recognize his body in the afterlife. Once his ka reentered his body, he would live again.

Looking at his face while we traveled across the waters, I was frightened. The skin was slack, and his features barely resembled the person he was. His skin was an unnatural shade, and I thought that a demon might have tainted his body. I was afraid it was too late for his ka. If it could not recognize his body, the ka would remain restless for all time, never finding the path to the Afterlife. He would never have peace.

The priests assured me that they would save and preserve him so this would not happen. Anubis would bless their work and keep my husband’s eternal soul safe. I took comfort in that and hoped what they said was true and were not just words to calm a woman’s pounding fear. These days, all I had was hope, and I clung to it. I would never find out the truth of his death until I joined him in the far west where the pure of heart dwelled.

Or would I? My heart felt black and heavy. How could it not tip the scale? There was so much around me that was weighing me down, death resulting from my actions, everything I did forcing me to become someone I was not.

Now I stood on one bank of the Nile while my husband’s body lay upon the other. The morning sun was rising quietly, as if nothing had happened. Shouldn’t the world be screaming at this madness? How could a god sit back so silently and watch this happen? I watched the colors paint the lands as I fought to control my emotions. I thought of how things could be worse. I could be lying on the embalmer’s table instead of watching the miracle of a new day crest the hills. At this moment, Tutankhamun’s inner flesh was in the process of being cleansed. This would be a period of 15 days. The Hery Sesheta would make the first cut, and then it would begin. Pieces of flesh from inside his skin would be removed by the Wetyw priests and placed in four jars, but first they would be dried with natron to preserve them. Of course, his heart would remain in his body, the center of thought and reason. Once his ka, his wandering soul, reentered his mummy, his heart would remind him who he was. It would testify to his good deeds in the Afterlife, but the heart could also speak out against him in Osiris’s Hall.

His heart was a good one. It would sing wonderful, beautiful songs about him.

One day, I would see him again, and we would live in fear no longer.

I made up my mind. A third letter would be sent out tonight. I had to make this right.

As I was making my way back to my quarters, my grandfather emerged from an open corridor. I felt like my own ka jumped out of my flesh at his precipitous arrival. It was as if he had read my thoughts and come to stop me. Not only were the gods watching me…

I lowered my head so he would not see the fear in my eyes, “Honored Grandfather Ay, counsel to my husband, good fortune to you this day.”

“And good fortune rest upon you, Ankhesenamun. Are you feeling well?” His voice was bland, as if all emotion had been sucked from his being.

“Your concern is appreciated. I am well. And if I may respond in kind, why do you ask?” I looked up at him now, feeling a composure settle over me.

He was very old. The wrinkles on his face were deep and seemed to connect to one another all over his skin like plaster that had cracked. He was slight in build. The muscle from his days as a commander had worn thin. His cheeks and eyes were sunken in creating a dark haze across his face. His eyebrows were still thick and bushy as they had always been when I was younger, only now they were colored white. His nose was small and round. He had a strong jawline even with the skin that sagged from his cheeks.

His lips, dried up and torn, moved slowly, “Seeing the face of death can be difficult to handle. I was merely asking if you were doing well since Pharaoh’s viewing.”

“All I see in his face is life and eternal peace. I pray for the same when my time comes to join the gods.”

Ay smiled a little at this, “I am glad you see things as such. We are all concerned for your well-being. I know this is difficult for you. I would advise you not to do anything drastic.”