The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (17 page)

Suddenly, my heart pounded so loudly that I was sure Ay would hear the terror running circles in my chest. “What do you mean?”

His smile disappeared. “Keep your worries within the boundaries of the Black Lands. This is a difficult time for our people. Getting others involved would not be a wise maneuver.”

So he did know. He must have been involved with the prince’s death. I responded as innocently as I could, “I promise you that I would never do anything to jeopardize our proud kingdom.”

Ay bowed his head to me as he walked past my left shoulder and into the dark hallway behind me. I resumed my march back to my room.

I could not become his lesser wife. He was still married to his second consort, Tey. She had been my mother’s nursemaid and had later become Ay’s wife. I would be used for nothing more than my bloodline, securing the throne for him. Then who knew my fate? In his advanced age, I could not imagine he would still be capable of producing children. After securing the double crown for himself, what else would he need me for?

My feet quickened their pace. I was almost to my room.

Now more than ever, time was rushing past me. I would not get swept away in its tide. I would not sink below its surface.

Aten guide me, I still have hope. Even if Your name is damned, I still have You…

Chapter Six

For He Who Made Them Rests in His Horizon

1336 B.C.

My sister was bursting with child, and she was miserable. It was the Third Shomu, a season of giving thanks for the gifts Aten gives to us, but Aten was also His hottest during this season. The markets had bloomed considerably with the new harvest. Donkeys labored under loads of foods to sell, and Meketaten could not get enough of the fat, ripe fruits.

I helped her any way I could. She had trouble getting anywhere without a litter to carry her. Her body looked like a swollen red ball. Her ankles and feet were twice their normal size. She was sweating all the time and took more than three baths during the day. She was often sending me out for fresh fruits and dates, and I was happy to walk to the market for her. I kept Tia and a few bodyguards with me as I left, but I also found time to make a personal stop.

My steps must have been directed by the gods. I remember walking down the market lane on one of my first trips with Tia, and there he was! Amyntas was set up and selling sparkling works of fine jewelry and lavish trinkets. His father was not there, and I soon learned that he was continuing to make exquisite pieces out of their home as their demand was great. They were making a good living. I could see it by the clothes he wore that first visit. When I stepped up to his stand and our eyes locked, everything felt peaceful in the bustling city space. It was like the world tipped upside down when I gazed into his eyes. And yet, somehow this way made sense. His smile made my head feel dizzy. We held each other in our eyes until my guards began to push me away. Even then, I struggled to hang onto him in my sight. I couldn’t explain it afterward, but I knew I would see him again.

Our visits soon became a part of my daily routine. It felt like my body called to be near him. I needed these visits just as much as I needed water. So Tia, Wahankh (my mother’s former guard familiar), and I would dress to make ourselves appear like his family, and we would sit with him during the middle of the day after our prayers. I no longer went to school so I could help Meketaten, but this was the time of day she slept. When we arrived at his stall, Tia and Wahankh would take a seat behind us. I chose to sit right next to him. I never really asked if I could, but he never seemed to mind either.

Sometimes I watched him charming customers with his products. Other times we talked about what was happening in our lives. I mostly talked about Meketaten and her pregnancy. Sometimes I asked if he had seen my mother or gone to her temple. When we talked, it was so easy. He always listened. His gaze never wavered from mine. With him, I was just a girl, not royalty. Even with the muscled guard sitting ominously behind us, he never showed fear. In fact, some afternoons we played a game: who could make Wahankh crack a smile first! Amyntas usually won.

If we had nothing to say, we would just sit together and watch the people bustling about. Sometimes Amyntas would talk about the necklaces the passersby were wearing and figure out how he could make the design better. His mind could easily create works of art from nothing. He had pieces of broken pottery that he would sketch out designs on to bring back to his father. I marveled at his gift. He would ask my opinion, and I would laugh at him. I knew what I liked, but I did not have the imaginative skill to help his ideas along. Mostly I would just tell him what I would or would not wear.

Sometimes our meetings would be a couple of days apart, but with so many fresh foods, it was not hard to get out to the market daily. Our talks helped me in more ways than Amyntas could have known. When we were together, I could forget the sadness that I breathed in daily in our home. I could see the joy of life again. Meketaten was sick, Merytaten and her husband were not getting along, and Mother had disappeared from our lives without saying goodbye.

One thing we loved to do is share stories of our peoples. We both had a passion for literature and poetry. He could not read but had stories handed down to him from his father through retelling. I would bring scrolls of papyrus and read them to him while he would share his from memory.

On this day, I brought
The Tale of Two Brothers
, a favorite of mine. I held out the papyrus and began to read. Abruptly, he reached out and pushed down the scroll. I gave him a look of confusion.

“I bet you could tell me the story yourself, if you love it so much.”

“Why would you want me to do that? I might forget something.” I was flustered.

“I would like to hear it from your heart. Then I will remember it in mine,” he said gently. When I caught his gaze, I actually felt as if he was encouraging me with a glance, his eyes saying so much to me I had never read in them before. I wasn’t scared anymore. His eyes had a story to share. All of our lives were a story; their magic came in their retelling. Words could give life everlasting rebirth.

I would accept this challenge. I would use my breath to give life.

I took in a breath and slowly let it out before I began, collecting my thoughts. “There were once two brothers who worked together farming land and raising cattle. But Anubis, the older brother (not the god, by the way), had a wife who attempted to seduce Bata, the younger. Bata was angry when she did this, and he rejected her advances. The wife was jealous of all the time Bata was spending with her husband and fearful of Bata telling her husband what she had done. So the wife told her husband that Bata attempted to seduce
her
.

“In response, Anubis became enraged, like a panther of the South, wild and unthinking, and attempted to kill his brother. Bata fled and prayed to Pre-Harakhti, great-grandfather to Horus, to save him. He cried out,
My good Lord, it is you who distinguishes wrong from right!
Hearing his plea, the god created a lake of crocodiles between the brothers. So Bata was finally able to appeal to his brother and share his side of the events from across the waters. To show his sincerity, Bata fetched a reed knife, cut off his phallus, and threw it into the water where the catfish swallowed it up. His elder brother became grieved and stood weeping for him aloud, but he could not cross over to where his younger brother was because of the crocodiles.

“Bata then told Anubis that he was going to the Valley of the Pine, where he would place his heart on the top of the blossom of a cedar tree, so that if anything happened to him, Anubis would be able to find it and help Bata come alive once again. He said that all Anubis had to do was put his heart in a bowl of cool water. Then he would come back to life in order that he may avenge any wrong done to him.” I paused as I thought of the next part of the story.

“You tell the story beautifully,” Amyntas said, “except for what I will call the catfish
tragedy
.”

My face flushed, and I laughed out loud. I had not thought how that might sound. As I was laughing, Tia came up to me and said that we had to get back to the temple.

I stood up. “I still have another part of the tale to share.”

“Then I await your return, An.” As always, Amyntas stood and bowed to me from the waist in goodbye. But it was not a goodbye. I would never let it be.

As always, I would return.

It did not take long to arrive at the temple from Amyntas’s stall. I had my formal wardrobe underneath my tattered commoner’s robe, but I wore no necklaces or bracelets. This stirred up a disapproving glance from my grandmother. Once the family had gathered, we made offerings. Father and Smenkhkare and Grandmother stood in front, Merytaten behind them, and then my sisters and I in the back. Thankfully, Meketaten was allowed to rest for this temple appearance. Tadukhipa and Marahkaten were not there, nor was Tutankhaten. The words I spoke and sang tasted bitter to me as I thought of those who were absent. How could we preach God’s love and in turn deny it to those of our own blood?

After our singing and sacrifices, I walked around and stared at Mother’s portraits. This portion of the temple had been cleared out of other citizens for our own use for private prayers. I did not know where to begin, so I just walked.

Mother was pictured in so many places, including walls at the city’s two temples, tall pillars, pylons, and gateways. She would stand as tall as Father, sometimes in poses reserved only for pharaohs. She was even carved out as a mighty conquerer smiting the enemy. I knew Grandmother hated these images. Most times, I thought Mother looked like a goddess blessing Akhenaten. Every depiction of her was elegant, serene, and loving. Sometimes, looking on these portraits of us as a family, a memory would flash through my mind. One of my favorites was a depiction of me as a toddler sitting on her lap, our heads turned towards each other, my hands reaching out to her, and her arms around me. How I missed her presence.

As I looked up at Mother’s image, I wondered how she would care for Meketaten, who was beginning to catch a fever. When we were young, what did she do to comfort us? I could not remember anymore.

“I always thought Mother’s blue headdress looked a lot like Pharaoh’s war crown.”

I turned my head to see Merytaten. She was looking up at the same carving I was where Mother wore her tall, flat-topped, blue-tinted crown.

“I’ve never seen Father wear a war crown.” I responded.

“Blue was always her best color. Remember when we used to paint our walls? You always used blue.”

“I remember my quills always snapping in half,” I replied tartly.

Merytaten laughed. It startled me, as it was a sound I had not heard in years. Her head was tipped back, her eyes closed, and the sound was high-pitched and staccato. She almost sounded like a bird that filled the morning air with its song.

“You pushed on them too hard,” her voice was still laced with humor. “I remember the servants scrambling to find more fish bones for you to paint with.”

“Then they should have found something sturdier, like an ox bone!” I smiled back at her. We had not spoken for a long time. It felt good to have another sister. But when I met her gaze, her eyes were now heavy with a deeper emotion.

“Ankhesenpaaten, I have had a bad omen about Meket. I just… just wanted to say that you should not blame yourself if something goes wrong.”

I did not like where she was going. I turned away to take my leave of this, “She’ll be fine. I have been faithful in my prayers and offerings for her.”

“An, listen, there is a shadow over our family. We have betrayed the gods, and our names taste bitter on their lips. Pharaoh has become a different person, Mother is gone, and our people grow in sickness every day. A storm is brewing.”

I did not look back at her, I just walked away. If words were as powerful as she believed, like when I asked about Pharaoh’s brother, why would she dare speak these curses aloud?

*****

Merytaten was right. The people were getting sick.

It started in the work camps. Strong men would drop dead in the field. They began to cough up blood. They had trouble taking in breath. Their legs, neck, and armpits would swell and turn black in color. Sometimes they would forget who they were or what they were doing and wander aimlessly before being taken to the Afterlife. It became frightening seeing so much death just outside our walls, our safe place.

I tried to keep Meketaten in her room so she would not see it, but she could smell it. Dead bodies were piling up. Sometimes protesters of my father would leave bodies in heaps outside our walls. They would defecate around the palace. The smell was everywhere. There were also bugs. They swarmed around the festering grounds. Father ordered servants to remove the bodies, but then they too would get sick. We put up nets to keep out the bugs as best we could.

Meanwhile, Meketaten was getting worse, but her symptoms were different. She vomited often. She also had severe headaches almost every day. Sometimes she said everything was blurry when she woke up in the morning. If not blurriness, her eyes caused her great pain if there was too much light in the room. Often she lay in bed and could not move, and she continued to gain weight.

I would sit with Meketaten in her room and rub her legs and feet. She said it helped greatly. Her legs often pulsed with pain. Dark blue lines appeared under her skin. I would call our doctor, Pentu, in as often as I could, but he said that her illness happens with pregnancy sometimes and that she would be cured once the baby was born.

She tried not to complain, she tried to be strong, but I knew she was afraid. I never told her what Mother said, but her moods expressed that she was thinking death was near. I never let her speak of such things when I was around. I tried to keep her busy with other thoughts.

As I entered her room in the early morning, I could see her body glistening in sweat. I picked up a bowl on a nearby table, and poured water in it from the pitcher I had brought with me. I soaked a towel in the cool water and then began to wipe her feet and legs. Meketaten groaned a little as she began to wake at my touch.