Akhenaten: Dweller in Truth Page 6

  When everyone else had left, I insisted on remaining with him, as did Meri-Ra, the priest of the One God. But the sage Ay met with us and said, “We are only leaving to protect him from an attack that we cannot ward off. It is the only way we can save his life. Believe me, if anyone was to remain with him I would have chosen to be that one. I am the father of his wife, and his first teacher.”

  “But Ay, my staying with him will not change the course of events anyhow.”

  “The agreement between us and the priests was that Akhenaten would not be harmed, on the condition that none of his followers and men remain in the city with him. The priests will assign a few servants to watch over him.”

  My heart was seared with pain as I was forced to join everyone else. I still have doubts, for I, too, cannot understand why God abandoned him. Sometimes I pray to God and sometimes not. When I received the news of his death, I wept until my eyes exhausted their tears. I had a deep feeling that he did not just die but that they killed him by sorcery or in some other brutal way. Now, here I am living without purpose or a trace of happiness, waiting for death to take me, as it took my beautiful city.

  Tadukhipa

  Tadukhipa was the daughter of Tushratta, the king of Mitanni, Egypt's closest ally. At the end of his life, King Amenhotep III married Tadukhipa. He was sixty years old and she was fifteen. When Amenhotep died and Akhenaten became king, he inherited Tadukhipa as a part of his father's harem. Now she lives in a palace in northern Thebes with three hundred slaves in her service. She agreed to speak to me only on the recommendation of Haremhab. She was a beautiful woman, in her thirties, with an aura of mystery and dignity. I met her in the grand reception room, where she was seated on a chair of ebony inlaid with gold. Her smile encouraged me to ask her to tell her story.

  I lived with King Amenhotep III for a very short period, a period filled with jealousy and bitterness. When I met the Great Queen Tiye I was rather surprised. I could not understand how a woman like her was able to rise to such status. In my father's palace the likes of Tiye were more than happy just to serve in his harem. I was even more surprised when I first saw the crown prince walking in the garden. What a wasted and hideous creature he was. I felt more contempt than pity for him.

  Soon after my marriage to Amenhotep III his health began to deteriorate. Some spiteful people dared to blame me for the king's ill health. My concerns, however, were different. From the very first night of our marriage I could see in the king's wrinkled face my imminent misfortune—that wretched boy would soon take me as part of his inheritance. I found myself thinking that life with his old father was probably better than life with him. After all, Amenhotep III, despite what one might expect of an ailing man his age, was lively, cheerful, and full of vigor. In the harem quarters the woman often talked about the crown prince. We amused ourselves by making fun of his passion for feminine art forms like painting and singing, and his dubious disinterest in women. We thought he was quite unfit for the throne.

  Soon the news arrived about his obsession with a new religion, and the trouble this was causing his parents. We heard that the priests of Amun were alarmed. We were curious about all this but, really, it had very little effect on us; in the harem, the daily concerns of women came before those of the country. It was only the king's death that shook us and threw us into a quandary we did not know how to escape. The loathsome creature was crowned king and shared the throne with Nefertiti, whom he had married when his father was still alive. And, yes, we all became his possession. It is true that he was very generous in the care he provided us, but he kept us like tamed animals without once coming near any of us. As a result of his neglect, the women soon engaged in perverse relations to gratify their desires.

  “Why doesn't he pay attention to us instead of these religious feuds with the priests and everyone else?” one of the women asked.

  “He must be impotent; why else would he bother with all that religious nonsense?” another replied.

  Nevertheless, Nefertiti was very jealous, and decided to pay a visit to the harem. The women rightly guessed her real motive. Nefertiti wanted to see me, because she had heard in the palace that I was young and beautiful. I was the only one in the harem who was close to her in age and just as beautiful. Indeed I was of rather better descent. I was the daughter of a king, while her father Ay was just a commoner. Ay was one of the first to declare his faith in the new religion. Later, when Akhenaten's sun was setting, he was the first to abandon him and join his enemies. In any event, the new queen came to the harem surrounded by slave girls. She greeted us, one woman after the other in order of seniority. When it was my turn—and I was the last—she looked at me with piercing eyes, full of curiosity. I stood before her defiantly until her face grew somber. I was not surprised to hear that she was furious at the queen mother for advising her son to pay attention to his duties toward his harem, and especially to me, the daughter of Tushratta, Egypt's friend and ally. Indeed Nefertiti did not forgive Tiye for pressuring Akhenaten in this way. She became even more enraged when the king yielded to his mother's will and decided to pay me a visit.

  I waited for Akhenaten, as instructed, in my room on my gold-inlaid bed, completely naked, in all my beauty. He arrived wearing only a short loincloth, and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling softly.

  “Would it make you happy to bear me a child?” he whispered.

  I tried to ignore the feeling of disgust that came over me. “It is my duty, your Highness.”

  “But it is love I am after.” There was a look of desperation in his eyes. “Love is my only duty.”

  “Is it love that inspires your desire for me, Master?”

  “Forgive me.” He stroked the back of my hand tenderly, kissed me on the forehead, then left the room as calmly as he had entered.

  I did not tell anyone what happened in my room that night, and most of the women in the harem thought that Nefertiti had lost at least half the king's heart. Days passed and we continued to receive news of events outside the palace. Then we heard about the king's decision to build a new city, and in a matter of a few years we moved to Akhetaten. In the new city, everyone was happy but us. We were cast off in a remote quarter of the palace, where we lived an unbearable and utterly degrading life that bred further perversity. When it became known that the idiot king wanted to fight sin with love instead of punishment, those in the harem who had not resorted to sleeping with other women had no qualms about inviting the palace guards to their beds. The moral system fell apart. Nevertheless, the king's only concern was to spread his new religion in the provinces. All the women around me began to pray to the One and Only God, without true belief. Akhenaten's religion, I thought then, was the only religion without believers. I still think that his religion created a nation of hypocrites and people greedy for power and wealth. I just could not fathom how this vast universe could have only one god. Why, every city needs a god to look after its affairs; every human activity requires a god that knows about it. Besides, how could people relate to each other with love only? What nonsense! His mother must have spoilt him completely, for him to be so irrational. He often recited poetry in front of large audiences, and then his wife would sing. The sacred throne was overtaken by a mob of rascal poets and singers and the dignity of the pharaohs was shattered.

  What followed was inevitable. Misery was everywhere, like a long night promising no dawn. Disasters hailed on the country and the whole empire. My father was one of the few allies who remained loyal to Egypt during those frightful times, until finally he was killed in battle, defending an idiot king. Some people thought the problem was that Akhenaten was a noble poet misplaced on the throne by a twist of fate. But the truth is that he was a strange creature, neither man nor woman, driven by shame and stigma to destroy himself and the country. He wanted to hold up love as a beacon for everyone; instead enmity and malice spread like fire in people's hearts and his empire was extinguished. As for his cunning wife, Nefertiti, she only went along with this nonse
nse in the hope of having exclusive access to authority, and to gratify her insatiable lust with as many men as she desired. Nefertiti managed to convince everyone that she and her husband were a model of love and fidelity. They would actually kiss before their subjects on the streets of Akhetaten and at provincial conventions. But it was a well-known fact among the women in the palace that the king and his wife never slept together. Akhenaten was incapable of such things with women. Nefertiti had relationships with the sculptor Bek, the general Haremhab, Mae, and many others—which is how she got her six daughters. There were rumors among the slave girls that the only sexual relation Akhenaten ever had was with his mother, Queen Tiye.

  Tadukhipa must have noticed my confusion for she observed me silently for some time. Then she continued.

  It was known in the harem that Tiye bore him a daughter. That was an unquestionable fact. More than one slave girl testified that she had seen Akhenaten and Tiye having sex. Certainly it was no secret to Nefertiti, which was why the two women despised each other.

  The problem was that most people could not imagine how this man who caused so much tumult in the world was in essence such a worthless, despicable being.

  That, however, is the truth that must be known and recorded in history. If Akhenaten had not been born in one of the greatest families in history he would have lived a low life in the alleys of Thebes, slavering like a madman, an object of children's mockery. No wonder then that the empire collapsed during his reign. As for Nefertiti, if it had not been for Akhenaten, she would have been a professional whore.

  A short while before the tragedy ended, the queen mother came to Akhetaten hoping to save the ship from sinking. There was a fierce argument between Tiye and Nefertiti. Nefertiti accused Tiye of collaborating with the enemies of the throne.

  Akhenaten was deeply pained by his wife's accusation and defended his mother—or his lover I should say— vehemently.

  That, of course, angered Nefertiti, but she kept it to herself and then took her revenge by leaving him at the critical moment, with no explanation whatsoever.

  Then she tried to gain the friendship of the priests to secure herself a place in the new era. Perhaps she even aspired to be the wife of Tutankhamun. But all her attempts were futile and if it had not been for the sway of her lover, Haremhab, the priests would have ripped her to pieces.

  Tadukhipa was silent for a moment. Then she concluded, with a scornful smile, “This is the story of the imbecile king, Akhenaten, and his absurd religion.”

  Toto

  “I never renounced Amun, nor did I join the caravan of hypocrites and opportunists. I served the heretic in agreement with the high priest of Amun. I was the watchful eye that protected Amun, and the first that struck in his defense.”

  Thus began Toto, the chief epistoler in Akhenaten's chamber. Clearly it agonized him to think that he, too, like all the others who served Akhenaten, would be regarded as a hypocrite. I met him in his vestry in the temple, where he resumed his work as chanter priest in the Tutankhamun era, the position he had had when Amenhotep III was pharaoh. He had a fleshy face with bulging eyes, but his outstanding feature was his ill temper. He was eager to tell me his version of the tragedy.

  The heretic's forefathers were great kings. Trouble started when Amenhotep III chose a partner on the throne from the common people and she bore him that stupid, mad son, the crown prince. Amenhotep III and Queen Tiye had adopted a new policy toward the priests of Amun. They appreciated the merit and status of Amun and believed in him as master of all deities. At the same time they paid enough attention to the priests of other gods, so as to secure the loyalty of everyone. Together, the priests of other deities were an equal power to the priests of Amun. Thus the throne used the priests to curb each other, and the king and queen monopolized power in the country. We were not particularly fond of this policy, yet we had enough privileges that we were not offended, and we did not protest. After all, Amun was the holiest of all deities as far as the people were concerned.

  When Akhenaten became king, the path was clear before him. He could have taken the same course as his forefathers and walked it peacefully. But the mouse fancied himself a lion. Therein was the catastrophe. He lacked the wisdom and power of his predecessors. He was haunted by his natural weakness, his ugliness, and his womanliness. Such malice and deception can only come of weakness and jealousy. Thus he decided to get rid of all the priests in the country and claim sole power for himself.

  He declared himself the only god with no partner but an illusory god that he used as a mask for his ambition. In the beginning we heard news about the miracles of the young lad who had matured beyond his tender years. Then came the story of the new god who revealed himself to him and asked him to renounce all other deities. That day I said to the high priest, “It is a conspiracy that must be killed in its cradle.” He did not seem convinced. I continued, “I suspect that Queen Tiye and the sage Ay are behind all this. The boy is merely a tool.”

  The high priest said, “The queen is partly responsible, no doubt. But her mistake is one of bad judgment. That is what I hold against her, not a conspiracy. As for Ay, I think he is no less alarmed than we are.”

  I believed him, for the high priest is infallible. “Then the boy must be possessed by the spirit of Set, god of evil. He must be slain immediately.”

  “Have patience, Toto,” the high priest said. “I believe it is not beyond the king and queen to put things right.”

  I was convinced that our hesitation would prove to be very costly. I prayed to Amun:

  Amun,

  Master of the silent ones,

  Father of the poor,

  When I call upon you

  You heed my pleas,

  O Amun, Master of Thebes,

  Savior from the nether world.

  Toto continued with events I had heard about before— the crown prince's tour of the empire, his return, and his succession as pharaoh of Egypt.

  Men declared their faith in exchange for high-ranking positions. They dropped their dignity and swarmed like flies around the heretic. In time his venom poisoned the entire country. Treason. That is what it was, treason beyond any justification. They are all responsible for the destruction that came upon us.

  “There is no crime without punishment,” I said to the high priest. “We must take Akhetaten and kill them all; the heretic and his wife, Ay, Haremhab, Nakht, and Bek.”

  “The country cannot bear any more destruction,” the high priest replied.

  “Only blood will quench the thirst of Amun,” I insisted.

  “I believe I know more of what would satisfy Amun.”

  I said no more, but the flames of rage continued to burn inside me. I believe that the absence of punishment encourages crime and breeds evil among people. They begin to question divine justice. It pains me to see people without honor enjoy the peace and comfort that belongs to those who do have honor. Why should we protect those who contributed to our own destruction?

  Toto went on to tell me about the building of Akhetaten, the exodus to the new city, and Akhenaten's rising fervor in spreading his religion through the country.

  In Akhetaten I worked in the heretic's chamber. As I heard more of his ravings I realized the extent of his madness. He should have been a poet or a singer. Instead he was king of Egypt. Catastrophe! He concealed his weakness behind a veil of mystical inspiration. Some believed him, and others decided it was sheer madness. It was neither piousness nor hallucination; it was the shrewdness of a man humiliated by his own weakness, a man with no other power than deception. It was by deception that he monopolized the rule of Egypt. He had an aching desire to prove that even without military conquests and physical strength, he was still more powerful than Tuthmosis III. He created a fantasy world, with ludicrous laws and customs; even the people in it were his own fabrication. Akhenaten was master and god of an illusion. It is no wonder then that his kingdom tumbled down with the first winds of reality, and the mob of cowards
he had gathered fled at the first sign of danger.

  People marveled every time the heretic went into a trance. They talked endlessly about the remarkable, unearthly words that flowed from him like a stream of magical melody. I witnessed some of these trances myself. As I reviewed the epistles before him, he would suddenly yield to a gush of intense sentiment, gradually withdrawing from the bounds of awareness to fade into the unknown. Eventually he returned to his senses. “God will persevere,” he would say. At those times I would steal glances at Haremhab, Ay, and Nakht, and wonder if they really believed him. As for me, I thought it was an obscene mockery of everything we held sacred. And in truth, none of them believed him either. Their faith in his god was a means to an end. Ultimately, they abandoned him, and so demonstrated that their only loyalty was to their inexhaustible ambition.

  Toto told me about the corruption of the civil servants, the suffering of the citizens, the spread of rebellion, the attacks on the borders of the empire, and the tragic death of Egypt's most powerful ally, Tushratta, king of Mitanni.

  “I was consumed with fear for the future of Egypt,” he continued. “I made a plan to have him killed, to save the world his evil. It was easy enough to find someone eager to do it. I arranged a hiding place for him in the palace garden where the king retired to be alone. The man would have succeeded in his mission if it was not for Maho, chief of guards, who saw him at the last minute. By killing him Maho earned the eternal curse of the deities. Finally, I resorted to sorcery. That failed, too; most likely it could not withstand the counter-spells of the heretic and his men.”

  Toto then told me about the visit of Queen Tiye to Akhetaten, and the extraordinary meeting between the priest of Amun and the men of Akhenaten.