The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (7 page)

The banquet we prepared for today was particularly special because it was for Tadukhipa’s family from Mitanni. They came to see their granddaughter as well as discuss Tadukhipa’s bride price, which had yet to be paid.

Tadukhipa was given at age 15 to my grandfather, Amenhotep III. She had been offered by her father, Tushratta, as an alliance between the two kingdoms. But Tushratta had wanted Tadukhipa to become the queen consort and take the place of my grandmother, Tiya. He had offered much to Grandfather to try to assure her place as the chief wife, including horses pulling a chariot plated with gold and inlaid with precious stones; a litter decorated with gold as well as colorful stones; jewelry and other ornaments; a saddle with gold eagles upon it; dresses colored purple, green, and crimson; and a large chest for storage. In return, though, Grandfather never sent the gold he offered as the bride price and did not think of her as more than a harem girl. After his death, Tushratta sent missives complaining about his lack of reciprocity from Amenhotep III. Grandfather was supposed to send him solid golden statues, and he was not fooled by the gold-dipped wooden ones my father had sent when he took the throne. After many letters, Father finally sent an emissary to invite Tushratta and his family for a banquet in their honor. My father preferred to discuss politics in person. He hardly ever made promises written on papyrus which could be used against him later. At least, that was his way of seeing it.

Hearing of her family’s invitation, Tadukhipa flitted about the palace for months making sure everything looked right. She purchased new cloth for her daughter’s attire and kept the seamstresses busy. She became more prominent around the servant’s quarters than my mother, who had now birthed six daughters needing dress and preparation for special events. Tadukhipa was ordering people around constantly. She demanded more furniture for her rooms and more jewelry for her body. She had not seen her family since she was given to Amenhotep III so many years ago, and she had also not become queen consort to my father either. If she didn’t have the part, she at least wanted to look it.

When she came out the morning of their arrival to visit with the Mitanni merchants who had accompanied her father’s troupe, she was radiant looking. The god skin glowed all around her ankles, wrists, and neck. Her Nubian-style wig was thick and filled with gems that made the hair look like it was filled with stars colored blue and green. She was not very tall, but she still had a lean figure after having given birth. Her round eyes were outlined subtly with kohl. Her lips were a bright red, and her nails were colored with henna. All the painting stood out on her as she had more of a cream-colored tone to her skin. Her eyes were brown as was her hair beneath the wig. She seemed to be enjoying her conversation with the merchant, so I left her alone when I came out to see the wares for myself.

I wanted to see everything before the grounds were crowded with people. Even though, at the age of 7, I could get through almost any throng of people thanks to my small physique, I preferred to see things without people pushing and crowding around. Sometimes it was not the mass of people but the noise that bothered me. People always seemed to yell when they bartered, and it could get so loud that I would get a head pain. My head would feel swelled from all the conflicting sounds, so I had made sure I was awakened early today so I could avoid the rest of my day being spoiled.

I had heard through our servants that my father and mother would not make an appearance at the market today. If they wanted to see certain items, those items would be brought to their private chambers. It depended on mother’s mood sometimes. If she felt like a new gown, the richest cloth seller would be brought to her. They would only come out to see exotic animals on display. I did not see any animals brought this time around. The dark-skinned trappers from the south were missing from the day’s merchants. My heart sank a little. My favorites were the big cats that they brought. Sometimes my parents would bargain for one for our animal house in the back of the palace, but after a few seasons, they were often neglected and would become fat and lazy. Only my sisters and I would visit them, but their days of running and hunting were over, and their boredom was evidenced in their crescent-moon lidded eyes and their protruding bellies.

Already the open-air courtyard was filled with foreign and local sellers all vying for space. They were arranged on low tables with the sellers sitting on a cushion (the fancier the cushion, the wealthier the merchant) on the ground. There were foodstuffs, alabaster jars, jewelry and gems, clothes, wines, perfumes, and slaves just to name a few goods. I could smell the exotic fragrances riding on the morning breeze like a caravan full of spices and flowers. I wondered if there any pieces of Libyan glass. This was a type of glass that was made from transparent pieces and could be used for almost anything! The scarabs were particularly beautiful and looked magical placed in gold necklaces.

A gentle flow of wind tickled my face. I was glad there was a breeze. We occupied an area next to the river, so cooler air was a possibility. Conversely, without the roof above this area, Aten was allowed to beat down on the space unchallenged. As the Aten rose this day, I hoped the wind would not die down under His powerful stare. He seemed to enjoy dominating over the winds to remind us of His presence by tanning our backs and clothing our bodies in perspiration.

There were places to seek shade, though. The courtyard had tall trees around it. There were also statues of Father in a seated position all around us. They were so large that I imagined the top of his sandstone crown was scratching the floor of Aten’s realm. His immense statues would block Aten at times and provide a tall shadow across the grass and stone walkway for guests to escape under.

It was nice to spend the day outside with new people around the palace. I enjoyed seeing unique faces and colors of people from around the world. Though most of the visitors were Tadukhipa’s family, people from lands farther away would join up with a large traveling group of royalty, who were sometimes added as protection and other times for a fee. I had never known people came in so many shapes and hues until recently when my father began hosting delegates from other countries to the palace. He was eager to show off his new capitol as it had finally completed construction.

People were beginning to enter the palace yard and walk around. There were so many designs of dress and hair. The hair was long, short, shaved, curly, straight, plaited, beaded, and multiple combinations thereof. I could only imagine what my hair would look like when my youth lock was removed. Musicians were beginning to play in a corner, singing and strumming songs to the glory of Aten and for my family. There were many women here today shopping alone for their families. Their husbands were probably in the barracks training or out stoneworking. Some of the wealthier women had sashes of color in their dress and broad jewelry draped over their necks and chests. A few had slaves accompany them to hold soft ostrich-feathered fans over their heads, shading their eyes from the light.

As I was beginning to loop around the area a second time, seeing more and more items put out on display, a soft hand grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. I imagined a guard wanting to drag me back inside where it was “safe,” pulling me from the fresh air and fresh sights. Turning around with fury in my eyes, I saw my sister Meketaten attached to the arm. My anger dissolved.

“Look, the jewelers are almost all set up. We should find something for Mother!” Meketaten said. She was holding a pouch filled with something she intended to use in trade.

I knew she still feared what she had seen years ago at Brother’s birth. Mother was pregnant again, and although her last delivery had been an easy one, my sister always wanted to pick out something to ward off demons who may be lingering in the palace and who could make Mother’s womb twist up just like our aunt’s did.

I looked out at the merchants, following her gaze. There were many jewelers and metalworkers to choose from. My eyes caught the ones with the biggest gems that glittered like chunks of Aten’s own flesh torn away. How could anything on land glow so brightly? I gravitated toward a very finely dressed merchant with many pieces on display. His necklaces, bracelets, and earrings seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. But Meketaten caught my arm once again to stop me.

“Not that one. His stuff is so big it’s probably only painted gold. Let’s try one of the Canaanite sellers. They’re always fair to deal with!”

The Canaanites were not hard to find. Their clothes were intensely patterned and made of wool. Their skin was reddened from Aten instead of browned like ours. Many of the men also had black beards that were so thick and curly they looked like they had fat ewes sewn onto their chins.

Meketaten stopped in front of a merchant whose clothes were made from a thinner woolen material, which was colored brown and red with patterns crisscrossed in it using yellow threads. The man behind the table was tall and lanky. His cheeks and nose were dotted with brown spots over pale skin. His black hair was slick with sweat already, and his eyes looked droopy. Next to him stood a boy who looked a few years older than I was. He did not look like the man at all except for his round nose. His clothing was also colored in red and brown. His blonde hair was slightly unkempt but not sloppy like that of a slave. His skin was pinkish. His oval-shaped face held an expression of excitement, probably because our business was walking his way. But it was his eyes that caught my attention. They were a pale green as if made from precious gems, a rare eye color to see in our lands. My own cheeks began to pinkening for reasons I was not quite sure of.

Embarrassed at myself and wanting to shift the focus somewhere other than my face, as I was sure everyone was looking at me, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You’re a finely dressed slave boy.”

The boy’s demeanor instantly changed. His small eyes narrowed to the point where it was hard to see the color anymore. Lines marred his forehead, and his lips sloped downward in anger. “I am NOT a slave! I am a merchant’s son!”

With defiance taking hold over me in response to his tone, I tartly replied, “Since when does a Canaanite have a blonde-haired son? You are clearly a Greek slave who has probably drugged his master to fill your own pockets with gold.”

“Since when do girls have shaved heads as a boy’s?” he spat back.

I was about to reply in kind, as he obviously was an uneducated boy belittling the ways of royal blood and the passage from childhood to adulthood, but the man next to him seemed to wake up from his heat-induced slumber and spoke in a calming tone, “My son, you must show respect to two jewels of the Nile. You speak to princesses.”

Suddenly the boy’s eyes widened in fear. “I am sorry, princess.” His voice was higher than earlier, timid, and full of fright.

“May I ask what we may assist you with, beautiful daughters of Aten?” the man smoothly interjected.

Meketaten decided to take over the conversation and started to question the different pieces. As the two spoke, the boy stepped around the table and came over to me with worry lining his eyes, forehead, and thinly drawn-in lips. “I am again sorry. I did not realize to whom I was speaking. My anger gets the best of me, and I forget my place. Please forgive me.” He dropped down to his knees and then prostrated himself before me.

Suddenly my heart softened. This foreigner was truly frightened of me just because of my title. It was not a title that I really felt. I was a third daughter. In fact, his reaction was a little embarrassing. How was I to talk to people if their faces were buried in the ground?

“Please do not fear. I was not expecting to see a boy running a Canaanite stall. Especially one so fair-haired,” I relented. It was not exactly an apology, as I had just been reacting to
his
mood, but I also did not want anybody to fear me. I had no intentions of ever harboring any power.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting up on his heels, “The mistake happens too often for my liking. But you were partially right. My mother was Greek.”

“Your father married a Greek? I’ve never heard of such a union! How did they meet? Was she a slave?” I was surprised he could make out each sentence as I was speaking them so fast.

Though anger flashed in his eyes from my last remark, he replied calmly, “I do not want to bother a princess with such stories. You would find them boring, I am sure.”

I placed my hands on my hips. “You presume much. I happen to love stories! Please share.”

He sighed. I sat down next to him in the grass. He looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I nodded encouragingly at his nonverbal question. He sighed again and sat back on his rump before beginning his tale, “My father was traveling with a group of his kin when they came across a small caravan being looted. My mother was being tied up to be taken with the bandits. He said they were touching her in ways that only husbands are allowed to touch their women. She was crying, her family was being murdered before her, and her possessions were being burned. He felt a rage as he has never felt before. So his group rode in and fought the bandits. I think he started the charge by himself and his brothers followed him hoping to save his life from such foolishness.”

It was like literature scholars would write for entertainment only it felt so real because of the way his words moved and shaped it and because of the emotion that drove it. His tongue was like a whip upon a stallion. I was quickly captivated. I usually only read and copied the words onto papyrus in school. But this? I could picture what had happened in my own eyes as he spoke. Bandits were prevalent enough on the outskirts of the black lands.

“Were they not scared? Facing bandits and their sharp, swift swords is usually a death sentence!” I asked.

“My father tells it more grandly, but he says Adonai was with them that day.”

“What is Adonai?”

“He is Lord over all lands.”

“Oh, you mean Aten!” I corrected. “His power can be felt most in the red lands.”