The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (23 page)

Then he kissed my forehead and turned to leave. Tia was checking the hallway to see if anyone was approaching. There was no guard posted.

“Know that my heart goes with you today,” I said to him. “You have my heart, forever.”

He looked over his shoulder at me as he was heading out the door, “Then I will guard it well until I find you again.”

Then he was gone.

Tia had gone with him. When she returned, I was still crying. She hugged me tightly.

“I’m so scared, Tia. What is going to happen to me? What of him? If someone sees us… but I cannot be apart from him.”

“We will find a way,” she said.

But I could not see any way that would lead me into his arms again.

The Land Is In Darkness
1322 B.C
.

Walking through chamber after dark chamber, I remembered when worship was bright and joyous. When I had worshipped Aten, it was in an open court, the offering tables outside for all citizens, and His light filled us with peace. His form could not be portrayed as the other gods were in animal or human forms. He was above us, His numerous arms reaching down and cradling us, and His love made sense. In Waset, statues of the gods were kept in dark rooms.

Of course, Aten’s temples were now being taken apart. The images were defaced, and the stones were being removed for use in other monuments. It was Horemheb’s idea. Everyone wanted to forget. Bit by bit, my life was coming apart. I longed to stop it, but there was nothing I could do. Father’s name and city could not be spoken, and being kept under rooftops all day made me feel as if even the sunlight was banned.

So much of the palace here was roofed. It felt unnatural. Light peeked about through windows, but it wasn’t the same. Every day I felt drained. It was as if the sunlight was my food and wine. Everyone around me complained about the heat as they lounged around at banquets, but I didn’t feel it. I grew up in sunlight which was unchallenged by man.

Any light was far removed from me now as I got to my knees and presented an offering. It was cold and unfriendly in the temple. The floor scratched at my knees and stole my flesh. I felt no connection to the words of prayer I recited, and I’m sure the gods knew it. My heart was not present; it was traveling with Amyntas now three days gone. So I prayed for a safe journey for him.

It seemed my entire life had been balanced on prayer. But there was a shadow following me, at times consuming me. I was not sure if Aten could even hear me anymore. I craved light.

I had come to realize Father’s main mistake. The title of pharaoh meant being the living manifestation of a god. A pharaoh was worshipped as that god. My father did not fully depart from this idea when he left the other gods behind but in fact amplified it. Maybe the reliefs of my family didn’t portray us as gods, but people
did
pray to us. While my father prayed to Aten on behalf of our people, people prayed to my father’s image. Aten was never shown in an earthly form; my father took that place. Father thought of himself as the only one allowed to pray to Aten, the only one worthy of His grace. There were no carvings of Aten blessing the people, only blessing Father. One thing that probably brought about this idea was that Aten did not have a grand mythology as many of the other gods such as Osiris, Montu, Ptah, countless others. So Father had the people pray to him instead. I think this became Father’s great weakness over time because if others stole his light, he became jealous. It was the downfall not only for himself but his monotheistic religion… for all of us. The people did not feel a connection to Aten and thus certainly did not mind turning their backs to Him.

The temples of the gods would employ a multitude of people with specific skills or functions including watchmen, gardeners, weavers, bakers, butchers, and teachers, to name just a few. Droves of people were employed by the temples, and thousands of citizens received part of the offerings given to the gods after the ceremonies. An ox slaughtered for a god was not left to rot on an altar; its meat was shared among the priests and common people connected with the ceremony. This one sacrifice could provide food for hundreds of people. Even the poor were given a chance to eat and drink the finest of nourishments during larger festivals. Anyone could be a part of the worship of the god and receive gifts freely. At Akhenaten, this never took place. The people were pushed aside as Father basked in their presence. He put himself on a pedestal that no one could touch, not even his great wife.

I could not blame Aten for the fault of man. My father had done Aten wrong by being a substitute for His image and so had lost His true message. He did not let the people come to Him, he kept Aten to himself. Eventually, our people refused to follow my father. They could not make sense of the new religion. They did not find the answers to their questions as I had.

Amyntas had helped to guide me to these answers and had brought me some peace. He helped me to forgive.

Of all the stories we had shared, one of the favorites I had of Amyntas’s was the story of a bush that had burned and how God had spoken through the flames. His god, Adonai, was also believed to live above us in the sky. To me, this was Aten, fire in the sky keeping watch over us. Amyntas refused to call Adonai Aten, saying this was just another idol created by my people, but the name helped draw me in and understand Him. I was sure He would not mind a name. Children will call out names to label people in innocence all the time, like old or darker skinned, and a parent does not stop loving them. It was just a name.

Of course, there were times I found myself confused and in doubt when listening to the priests or looking at my husband’s tomb. There were rituals and tests the kings had to pass before entering the Western Lands and rising again as the sun. Was this just our worldly understanding of things in the Afterlife? Could the ways of the gods not be understood by our hearts because they existed away from us in the heavens? I had grown up with only one god. To me, it made sense. It felt right. But other ideas made sense too.

I had come to learn that there was only Adonai and… what were they called…
angels
beside Him to help us find peace. So perhaps there were no battles yet to be won or hearts to be weighed or kings needing to prove their righteousness for eternal life. Perhaps the rituals were our imagination, maybe concocted to scare us into submissiveness. The priests before my father’s reign had begun to make up stories to scare people into worship and offerings. Amun had become angry at the people, and the only way to appease him was through service and donations to the temple priests, or so they said. It was a disgrace to what they stood for.

But could the older stories also have been started through greedy hearts? If our entire belief in the Afterlife journey was made up of just complex stories which required trial and tribulation, then Amyntas’s eternal life story seemed too easy to attain. Could simply living a good life be enough? So much of my people’s beliefs contradicted such a simple viewpoint. There were tests that needed to be passed and evil that needed to be defeated. And how could someone love me no matter all my hidden thoughts and desires? Especially if I disappointed myself? How could God also not be disappointed in my failures? I struggled with this many times when Amyntas and I would converse. I wanted to find him again and ask him these questions, let his explanations quiet my worries for a moment more.

Why was it so easy to doubt something so simple? Why could my heart not accept it willingly? It’s like it wanted to argue.

Forgive me, God, Aten, Adonai, for my doubts, my questions, my internal war.

I stood up out of my thoughts and was led, chamber by dark chamber, to the front of the temple. I thought about Aten and His love for me. I prayed that He could still hear my cries for help. For I could not escape the plans of man.

Footsteps approached from behind. I did not fear. I had bodyguards surrounding me. I was also being watched in case I decided to take my own life. This would ruin a few people’s plans to use me to claim the throne. If I were gone, there would be no ties for them to grasp hold of. My death could bring about a national calamity. If only they knew that was something I did not wish.

General Horemheb stood beside me. He bowed his head.

“My queen, your grandfather requests an audience.”

“It is late, General, and I have just finished my evening prayers. Can this be done when Ra returns?” I asked in weariness.

“I am afraid not, Queen. He says he has found something of interest that he thinks belongs to you.”

I nodded my head and followed Horemheb. The guards stayed behind and watched us go wordlessly.

My fingers found their way to my necklace, the one made so long ago by Amyntas. I loved to trace the thin hoops with my fingers. They were still smooth to the touch.

Again, my heart wandered to places that I could not go…

Chapter Eight

When Thou Has Risen, They Live When Thou Set, They Die

1334 B.C.

It was finally done.

I looked up at the relief carved in mourning of Meketaten’s death. We were all there, even Mother, lamenting her. I did not think Pharaoh heard me when I requested that Mother be included, but he must have.

Meketaten was remembered in our Royal Tomb in the main corridor, and I was disappointed. The rock here was hard and difficult to sculpt images into. So any definition in the relief came from thick layers of painted plaster. This was not what she had wanted. I prayed her memory would not be lost because of this shallow image.

I put a hand down on my stomach. I was growing with child. After that first night, Pharaoh only seemed to come to me when he was mad and wanted to hurt someone. And it hurt every time. Every day as I looked down at my swollen belly, I remembered the pain and the anger in Pharaoh’s eyes.

The moon had changed its shape seven times since I first noticed that I was with child, so there was still time to prepare for the baby’s arrival. I thanked Aten that I was not as young as my sister had been. I was to be 12 soon.

I remembered Meketaten full with child at this time of year as well. Two helical risings of Sopdet had passed now. The season was about to change again. A new year was poised to rise with Sopdet’s appearance in the night sky.

A great deal had been happening in the country. Alliances were breaking, there was unrest in the city, and the food was becoming scarce. Our city was greatly dependent upon ships to provide us with our food. There were no farmlands or fields here sufficient to feed a capital city. Of late, the ships had not arrived, the taxes were neglected, and the city was floundering. While Pharaoh had great ideas about our spiritual life, he was proving to be a terrible and aloof leader.

Pharaoh was not a patient person. He wanted instant results. He wanted to see and feel power around him. He wanted to give and see the people praise him for it. But he could not sit idle and wait for results to simmer. He also rarely paid attention to anything outside of the city.

The vassals appointed by Pharaoh of the outlying cities were corrupt. I could see it when they would come and make reports. Their dress was finer than anything I was wearing. They had more necklaces and earrings than any civilized person I had ever seen. They took all that they could to use for themselves. Rarely was there enough to put back in the land. It was not just the city that was sinking but the entire state.

Unfortunately, Pharaoh would not hear otherwise. His eyes and ears were fixed on Aten, nowhere else below that.

I touched the stone wall with Meketaten’s pictures on it, careful not to upset the plaster. I closed my eyes and hoped she could still hear my song, “
You have changed me by your love. Thus I say in my heart
.”

Behind me, a workman walked out with a basket of chiseled-out stone. Work was still to be done on the tomb even though it was home to my sisters and grandmother already.

My guards were always alert to anyone coming close. Today I only brought one. I had one familiar that I always took with me, Wahankh. His name meant “strong in life.” He certainly looked the part. He was very tall, dark-skinned, and heavily muscled. His curly hair, which had once sprouted from his scalp when my mother had lived in the palace, was freshly shaved. I assumed this was because he always seemed to sweat under the sun, and this was a means of keeping cooler. His eyebrows were fine but wide over his deep-set eyes. He had a sharp jawline. His chin and nose were both rounded at their ends. He smiled infrequently, but when he did, two deep dimples appeared in his cheeks. Sometimes I tried to make him laugh, but he was a very quiet man. He understood that sometimes a queen needed a little space outside of confining walls and disputing neighbors. He kept my secrets and kept others away from them as well. I could not have asked for a better man. I knew now why my mother had trusted him.

I’m not sure if he felt that he owed it to my mother to protect me or if she had told him to keep a close watch. They had been together for years. Mother would visit the palace now and again, but I had not seen her in many days. I saw her with my sisters, but we never spoke. I was too close to Pharaoh. Oddly, Wahankh had not been Meketaten’s familiar when she was the great wife. Being my mother’s chief protector, I would have assumed that he would have taken over that role for Meket. For some reason, he had stayed by me. I had never understood what made me so special.

Another worker shuffled in with an empty basket. This worker stopped and stared at my sister’s remembrance. I could smell the charcoal on him.

“Greetings, my friend,” I said.

“Hail, beautiful lady,” Amyntas replied. “I have missed you.”

“I wish we had more time, but I must return for the petitioners soon. Pharaoh needs someone to assist him.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked. We dared not fully turn our heads toward each other, but our eyes did find a way to connect.

“I am well. The baby moves often, but it is small.”

“I’m glad.”