The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (40 page)

I awoke in my room. Light was peeking through the windows. The curtains floated gently in the morning air. Light sparkled off the bronze mirror across from my bed. In my mouth, I could taste grit. I cupped my fingers and spit into them.

Sand.

My ka had returned to the present day.

I could feel my heart beat in my chest as my thoughts swirled about like a desert storm. Had the god of Amyntas spoken to me?

*****

We held our final council in Waset before heading to the ancient city of the white walls, Man-nefer. Tutankhaten wanted to establish a presence here before leaving. He sat on the golden throne we had seen earlier, enemies frozen under his feet. A chair had been brought up for me at Tutankhaten’s request. I felt honored. Around us stood Wennefer, a few other priests, and the retinue that had accompanied us to Waset, minus Ay’s wife and daughter. The meeting had been in motion for at least two hours.

“I want to say something to the people. I want everyone to hear, not just those select few invited to feasts and celebrations,” Tutankhaten stated.

“It cannot be done!” Ay snapped. He was in a foul mood today, and we were not sure why.

“We need to establish your rightful bloodline to the throne, but not through your father,” Maya chimed in. “It must be done through your grandfather.”

“I have the perfect idea! Finish what he started in the temple!” Wennefer said.

“What do you mean?” Tutankhaten inquired. I could tell he was thinking of our father’s thoughts regarding the priests of Amun with their hands always out for gold. He had voiced these thoughts plenty in Akhenaten. Even someone as sheltered as my brother would have heard Father’s voice.

“The columned hall you saw coming in during your coronation, it was begun by your grandfather. With the events surrounding his final years,” Wennefer coughed uncomfortably, “he never got to finishing it. Nor did your father. The people would see you, Pharaoh, investing in the Temple of Amun, and they would see you alongside your grandfather’s images.”

“What would I do?”

“Re-carved decorations, new walls, new pylons. Perhaps all themed around a celebration day that has been lacking in the city. Something the people used to look forward to every year. We could time the completion of the project to the start of the festival.”

Tutankhaten thought for a moment. “That’s not enough. They will only see my grandfather then. I want them to see me. I am their Pharaoh, and they must trust
me
.”

“I am sure we could compose a hymn together,” I interjected. I had watched my parents do such a thing before.

“A hymn to what? There is nothing to praise of your reign,” Ay cut in.

“Let me think of these things further.” Tutankhaten stood up, taking control of the audience again. “For now, I think construction should begin on the temple. Finish what my grandfather started. We look forward to seeing your progress.”

Wennefer bowed deeply. “Thank you, Young King. Waset’s workman hunger for such work. You will please so many people.”

“Of course, this also means you will be able to employ bakers to make your offerings and more priests for tending your temples. It seems a big win for you. I am glad the people will also benefit from this arrangement instead of just the beauty of the temple,” I curtly added.

All the priests looked up at me warily. Wennefer reminded me of a dog begging for scraps. He thought only of himself and
his
hunger, which he disguised with colorful flattery.

Tutankhaten sat back down. As I looked around, I saw many eyes drifting up to me. So be it. We were not pawns to be pushed across an ivory board. I knew what they saw: Children.

“What festival would you suggest we use for this project?” Tutankhaten asked.

“I will think on it and begin plans with some of our architects. We will send correspondence to you when we are ready to begin and employ brick builders,” Wannefer answered shyly.

The room became quiet until Tutankhaten clapped his hands once, his eyes alight with an idea, and spoke. “There’s more the workmen can do. Let them build a tall stela with my words upon it. That way, all people can gaze upon what I have to say. It will be of my commitment to them, and they will read my name. Not my grandfather’s.”

Everyone paused for a moment.

“I think it’s a fine idea.” Horemheb said. “Everyone could view it whereas in the temple, laymen are not allowed into certain places.”

“It could work,” Ay replied reluctantly. “You have no battles to speak of yet, but it would be good to get more of the people working. Your grandfather was a great builder when he ruled. I will see to its commission.”

Tutankhaten smiled. “I am happy with this plan. You may all take your leave.”

Feet shuffled away from us as Tutankhaten drew his gaze over to me.

“That was rather bold of you,” He said to me quietly.

“He asks only for himself. It disturbs my ka.”

“I like what you said. It keeps the men on their feet. Thank you for giving them something to think about.”

With that, he got up and walked over to a waiting Horemheb. They departed together. I stood and slowly walked from the throne room. It was empty as I began to make my way back to the apartments.

As I turned down the hallway to the royal apartments, raised voices ignited the air. It was coming from a small waiting room.

I recognized Ay’s voice. “Your marriage was to be to General Horemheb! He would be a good husband.”

“It is too late; we have already walked the threshold. I love him, Father, and there is nothing you can do about it!”

Mutbenret’s voice! She was married?

“Your sister at least knew her place. She was in control of her heart. She did what was best not for her but for others.”

“You mean what was best for you! You want to grasp hold of Horemheb, make him indebted to you! I will not be a part of it. And I will not let you use him either!”

I had never heard Mutbenret’s voice so harsh. Her ba was like the steady flow of the Nile on a warm day. It was soothing and calm. Now there was a storm about her thrashing up waves.

I stepped into the side room. Both noticed my entrance at once. Ay looked startled. I could not read Mutbenret’s expression. Reading emotions off of people was never a strength of mine.

“Aunt Mutbenret, I hear you have joyful news to share.” I said.

She bowed before me. “My Queen, Nakht-min and I have wed. I hope you will bless our union before he departs for training under General Horemheb. We both know he will be needed for the army renewal.”

I stopped before replying and thought about the way things were done, the channels that needed to be waded through, “What are General Horemheb’s thoughts on this? Does he know?”

Mutbenret straightened. “He does. Nakht-min went to him first. He would not upset his comrade.”

“I think this is wonderful. May you be blessed by the gods, and may you multiply with healthy sons and daughters. If you ever need anything, do not fear coming to me.”

Both Mutbenret and Ay bowed to me in response.

I continued, “As a gift for you both, I think Nakht-min can spend the first two cycles we are in Man-nefer at his wife’s side. I relieve him of his duties to the army for 60 days. Ay, make sure the scribes take down my words and let General Horemheb know of my plans. I believe he promised to take my husband and me hunting anyway.”

I then took my leave. Ay could say nothing further if the queen and king were in favor of the marriage. Tutankhaten would not care about such things, but I knew what it felt like to be played like a game of Hounds and Jackals, especially by Ay. He had used my mother, and so if I could prevent him from doing the same to mother’s sister, it was for her memory that I would do so. I imagined she would be pleased.

*****

We traveled the waters again, from one unfamiliar place to another. Our boat was laden with gifts for the city, so we traveled slowly. Maya was sent ahead with other representatives to prepare for the festivities the day of Tutankhaten’s Man-nefer crowning.

For my company, I had asked for stories of all kinds, stories written down from long ago. Rolled papyrus filled my bags to read on the way. With so much empty space before me, I needed to keep my thoughts away from my daughter. I concluded that I would keep my heart busy with literature. Perhaps one day I would see her again. Then I could share with her these stories from my heart.

I could imagine Amyntas sitting at her bedside sharing stories passed down to him from his father. Would she grow up loving one god or many? Would she find a place in the world that made her happy? Would she follow her heart’s desires? Would she forgive me for sending her away?

She would probably never know me. I had to face the reality of it. To keep her safe, she needed to keep my name out of her heart. It only brought trouble. Perhaps growing up away from us, the other gods (whoever He or they might be) would spare her from my family’s transgressions. While I made no illusions about fooling the gods, I did hold out hope in fooling men. The rest I left in the space between my prayers and Aten.

It was Ay I was most concerned about. Since my backing of his daughter’s marriage, he had kept an extra close watch on me. He even mentioned here and there the mysterious disappearance of my daughter from Akhenaten Palace. I knew he must be trying to track her down. He was adamant that no other children of my father’s could survive. It seemed more personal now than necessary for the good of the throne, almost as if he was settling a score. Yet he had always been held in high regard and kept great wealth because of my family’s blessings.

I ran a hand through my untamed hair (it was nice to take a break from overzealous grooming for a day) as I picked out a rolled-up scroll from my bag. Mutbenret had helped pick out some. She knew many tales about the gods and past kings. I wondered what would make my ka sing as I explored these papyrus treasures.

As I unrolled a small papyrus binding, I saw that it was not a story from old but something from a recent woman’s hand. My heart fluttered in circles around my chest. Elation and fear were both there vying for space.

It was from Marahkaten.

An,

We made it safely to the city and watched as you and Pharaoh made your way through the streets. Your daughter pointed to you and proclaimed “momma” the entire time. She has not stopped saying it since. But do not worry, we were atop our new home and alone. No one overheard.

She cries for you. I tell you this only so you know she does not forget you so easily. She feeds from me, but I can tell that she looks at me with confusion. I am not the touch or the scent that she knows.

Her eyes glow like yours. I always envied your eyes, how beautiful they were and how they captured the sunlight. The eyes are such a small part of a person, but they shine so brightly. Yours had a fierce light about them, determined and kind.

I hope you know that we love Tawaret like our own, but I will never replace you as mother. We will keep her safe. I hope to write more in time, but for now, Amyntas has drawn this of Tawaret. He has the skill of his father. Often he has shown me the picture his father drew of his mother. There is such grace in the drawings they both create. I hope this drawing will help you keep her with you in a small way.

When you come back, look to the workman’s shops at the palace. We will find you again.

Your sister, Mara

Everything was wet. My clothes, my face, my hands, my dress, I was draining all that I had within me. It felt as if even my ka was washing away. Here I had wanted to push the memories aside, but they came back to me. I know Marahkaten was trying to help me, but in truth, it made my heart ache worse than before.

I held the picture in my hand. It looked just like my memories yet slightly different, a little longer and leaner. She was ever so beautiful, but it was also a reminder of what was taken away from me. Because of Smenkhkare, our family had fallen apart. All that I had loved was lost.

I lit a pair of candles next to me. First, I softly dropped the papyrus from Marahkaten between them. It caught flame quickly and filled the ceiling with black smoke.

I held the picture in my hands a few moments longer. My fingers traced the delicate lines of her face, her hair. Her nose curved ever so slightly and perfectly. Her eyes were the shape of small almonds not yet ready to fall from the tree. Her lips curved slightly upward, such dainty lines that they were. Her eyes looked up, as if she was in thought and pondering the mysteries of life. Her eyebrows were raised, again she was questioning. Her neck was long and thin.

I thought of my mother.

I thought of Ay.

I tossed the picture into the flames. It erupted into smoke and blew out of the open doorway. I watched for a moment as the smoke curled in the breeze and then shot upwards and out of view.

I closed my eyes and said goodbye to her again.

When I opened them, there was a figure standing over me. I saw everything as if I was at the bottom of the Nile. The room seemed to sway. Light broke at odd angles around me. It looked like Aten’s arms had been cut apart and thrown around haphazardly.

A dark shape drew near. Softness enveloped me. Then I heard my brother’s voice. “What is wrong? I saw the smoke and wanted to make sure you were all right!”

All I could do was shake my head. How could I say anything and risk her being found? And yet this was my husband. He knew my child had disappeared that night and had not questioned it. He had even defended me. Surely he must know she still lived. Shouldn’t I trust him with this?

He said nothing further. He stroked my hair gently and sang a song I did not know. It was about a mother and baby hippo rocked asleep on the waves of the Nile. Maia must have sung it to him, and now he shared such a gift with me.

I closed my eyes and let the river’s rhythm calm my quaking emotions.

I closed my eyes and leaned into the boy who was now my husband.

I closed my eyes, and I slept.

That They May Fall Beneath Thy Sandals
1322 B.C
.