The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (33 page)

“Man tends the fields, man brews the beer, not God. What I saw were people who were starving, ignored by their pharaoh who was too busy singing praises to the sky. Where is God in that? Tiya could do nothing to help him. She came here to stop her son, but he would not listen. All of you gave him deaf ears to his own mother. ”

“But that is not God, it is man.”

Smenkhkare leaned in close to me. I felt his breath on my lips. “You are just a child playing in an adult world. You do not see anything past these walls. No one believes in Aten. They believe in themselves. Does God create monuments and temples? If He lived on this land before, where are His everlasting landmarks? Do you see anything that was built before man? No. It’s because the gods were never here. They’re just myths told to children to teach them right from wrong. Watch, and you will see tonight that the gods are nothing more than stories.”

He did not move. Instead, he drew a hand up to my hair and began to twist it within his fingers. I stayed where I was, determined. I knew what he said was wrong.

His voice surrounded me like smoke. I hated smoke. “I certainly hope you kissed your girl goodnight. Did you know she will never wake?”

“I know that my brother will save me, and we will make sure it is your name that is forgotten.” Venom seemed to shoot from my mouth at his threats. I had more confidence than ever. He did not know of my plans, and he could no longer stop them.

His fist clenched around my hair. He stared into my eyes trying to make me waver. I had my heart fixed on Aten. Pharaoh would not break me.

Gently, he pulled away and took a drink of wine. I could tell his fury was building up. Soon enough, it would all break loose.

Pharaoh clapped his hands loudly, and more wine was poured into his cup. Food came out, and the people cheered at the sight of the steaming plates arriving at their tables. I was saddened as I realized that Smenkhkare was right about the people. They no longer believed. They did not have the memory of a god who watched out for them. All they remembered was pain and death. Perhaps it was simply that they did not want to believe for fear of their hearts being broken again.

The city was a ghost town. All around me were hollow shells, flesh and bone and nothing more. The people went about their business and only lived for the day. They did not think further than themselves. Society was changing. People were forgetting God. They were lost, and their happiness was drifting away. I felt an urge growing within me to help them. They needed hope in their lives. They needed someone to lead them to a safe haven, a home.

I meant to speak only to myself, but it came out louder than I expected. My father had said it once long ago about Aten’s everlasting strength: “Until the swan grows black and the raven becomes white.”

The heads of the tables around us turned toward my voice. I was a little ashamed at my lack of control, but then I realized it must have been the voice of God speaking through me by what happened next.

“What did you say?” Smenkhkare spoke it like a question, but I knew he understood exactly what I had said.

A voice rose above all others. It was Mayati’s. “Until the mountains rise up and walk and the waters flow uphill.”

She stood and looked out among her people. They all stared at her perfectly painted face. Her voice was like a bell ringing clear through the night. Those closest felt its vibrations as it shook the world by its ring.

“My father was our teacher, but we did not listen. He was our caretaker, but we have stripped the land bare. He did not just believe in the power of his God, our Aten, he believed in the power of us. He loved us. And how have we repaid him? We drink our neighbor’s blood and eat their flesh. Now our pharaoh has stolen our God from us. He does not praise Aten, and he has led you all astray!”

“Sit down!” Pharaoh roared as he stood. “You seal your tomb with such words, Wife.”

“You already shut the doors with the plans you have set in motion tonight. I know your scheming, and tonight I will see my daughter in Isis’s eyes. I proclaim the rightful heir to the throne to be my brother, Tutankhaten.” She raised her arms and looked to the skies. “Save us, Tutankhaten, from the heretic before us!”

The room erupted then. Quickest of all was Smenkhkare. He jerked out a blade from his belt and smashed it into my sister’s breast.

I screamed. My vision was suddenly clouded in a red fog. Smenkhkare turned to face me, blood dripping from his blade. My sister’s blood fell carelessly to the floor. But not just her blood, it was also my blood.

In a rage, I was ready to scratch the eyes from his face, yank the hair from his head, tear his flesh from his bones. His weapon did not impress upon me. My thoughts were a pulsing vehemence raging inside of me. I could feel it burning in my gut. I wanted nothing more in this life than to pounce on him with all the craze of a panther, but his guards grabbed him and pulled him out of the hall.

There was screaming around me. Praises were being sung. A name was being heralded, but my ears were filled with my heart’s pulse of hatred, which impaired me from identifying the words from their lips. Then I saw my mother and Horemheb come up beside me, each with a long sword pointing toward Smenkhkare’s exit.

I did not care. I ran to Mayati. She lay on her back. Her blood was pouring freely on the gypsum flooring. The paintings of the marshlands were drowning in a pool of what remained of her, my sister’s life, as it escaped. I put my hands beneath her head. Her eyes blinked, and her breath came sporadically. She had not yet left me.

She spoke quietly, “He rules me no longer. My heart has been screaming, and tonight I set it free. May you and your daughter live forever.”

I tried to give her a smile before she left me, but my lips were frozen in place. “I am so sorry I could not save Merytaten.”

Mayati smiled. “But now she will have both Meketaten and me to love her. Truly, we are the lucky ones.”

Her eyes lost their focus as she sang our song, our last song. “May you stay eternal in health and in strength, for you are my health and my life in your lasting breath, and the nearness of your countenance sheds delight, by reason of your well-being, over a heart, which seeks you --”

And there was no more to say. I knew I would never sing that song again. Her head slipped out from my fingers, but she did not feel her head hit the floor.

The tears did not fall from my eyes. I felt as dry as the sands. Mother leaned down and closed Mayati’s eyes, locked forever in line with the emerging stars above. From Mother, there was a shower of sadness falling onto Mayati’s face.

“This will end tonight,” she said. I was not sure if she was addressing me. She just said it. She stood. As she did so, she hooked her hand under my arm and lifted me to my feet.

Mother wore the outfit of a warrior. She had thickly padded leather on her arms covering the wrists to her elbows, which was a rather unusual dress for a soldier. She had on a tunic held in place by a belt. Beneath it a kilt branched off, which barely made it down to her mid thigh. Crowning her was the Khepresh atop her head made from painted cloth and decorated with golden discs along the hairline.

Others came into focus as my ears registered the Hymn to Aten being sung by our citizens. My little sisters were beside Mother, each with a hand on her tunic. They were crying hard. Horemheb and his soldiers surrounded us. Farthest away from us was my brother, Tutankhaten. He held a sword in his hand. His arms and chest were bare and sprinkled with sweat from the charge. Muscles were beginning to bud underneath his skin. Around his curved ankle, there were strips of binding, calf high, holding his foot straight to the ground. I could not imagine how much pain that might cause him. The sole was wide and probably helped to give him more balance during this battle. He looked many seasons older around his eyes, and I remembered when we had last sat together during The Rebirth Celebration of Nehebkau. He had still been a child with big dreams then.

He looked at me with relief on his face. His features relinquished a small smile. All I found I could do was nod back.

My mother’s voice caught in my ears. She was seated at the table next to my sisters. There were three wine glasses before them. Mother was pouring something into two of them.

“I have something special for you both, my darlings. It will help you forget everything.”

“Even you?” Setenpenre asked as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

Mother looked down at her with serious eyes. “No, not me. Not any of the people who love you. But of tonight you will forget.”

“So we can forget Pharaoh?” Neferneferure’s voice was high-pitched like a baby’s. Her full lips quivered as her crying slowed.

“Of course you can. Just drink what is in these cups. There is a special potion in there. You will fall asleep, my beauties, and wake up cleansed of all of this heartache.”

“We just fall asleep?” Setenpenre responded.

“It is that easy. And the best part is, your father will be there to awaken you!”

“How will he, Mother?” Neferneferure’s piped in. They were so good at taking turns; they even waited to ask questions.

“Don’t you know? All of this is but a dream. You will wake up in the real world.”

“I’m dreaming?” Setenpenre spoke next, “But it’s so sad!”

“Will we wake up with you too, Mother?” Neferneferure’s question had delight in it.

Mother swallowed. “I will be there soon. I promise.”

They all picked up their glasses. Each took a sip. Setenpenre wrinkled her nose at it.

“It may not taste the best, but it helps you to dream beautiful dreams before your eyes open again,” Mother said evenly.

“I don’t like it, Momma, do I have to?” Setenpenre whined.

Mother smiled a little and stroked her hair. As she did so, Setenpenre yawned. Her eyes began to droop.

“You are almost there. Just a few more sips, my sweet grape, and you will be home.”

I backed up close to Tutankhaten. We met eyes for a second and then looked back at our sisters one last time. They had just finished another long sip.

“I think it is tasting better,” Neferneferure said with a giggle. Her movements were sluggish, her voice slightly slurred. “What is the real world like, Momma?”

“Well, the gods are there.”

“More than one?”

“Many more than one, yes, Nefer. But there is only one Great God. Aten is so busy, He may not have time for us. Others will come to greet you, though, being daughters of a great pharaoh. Father will be there, my mother, and your father’s parents. Your grandfather Amenhotep III was also a great pharaoh. He will be proud to see you.”

“Why is that, Momma?” Setenpenre asked as she leaned against Mother. She yawned again.

“Because you are so strong and brave. Just one more drink, my darlings. Then all of this will be over.”

They did so. They both leaned against Mother’s chest as their breath slowed. Mother rocked them gently until all strength left them, and they fell onto her lap. She showered them with her tears, her kisses, and whispered over and over, “Forgive me, my loves. Forgive me.”

“Nefertiti, we must move,” Horemheb urged. His voice was not sharp, but there was urgency to it.

Mother set them down gently on a pillow nearby. They looked as if they were sleeping. Their cheeks were painted a soft red from my mother’s lip stain. For my sisters, death was beautiful. It captured their innocence and let them flow gracefully to the Afterlife. Tutankhaten put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder, but I did not cry. Not now. I did not want my sadness intruding on their dreams… their new life.

Mother did not try to hide the tears, but she also molded her face into one showing pure anger. There was a fury in her eyes that I had felt just moments earlier.

“We must find Smenkhkare. He has much to answer for.”

I knew what she meant. One person had tried to destroy the last God of our people but instead destroyed our family. Now there was only myself. I was the last of Nefertiti’s children.

Horemheb and mother took the lead. Tutankhaten dropped his arm and followed them. I came up on his heels.

“You do not have to come any further. I will have my guards protect you,” he said to me. His voice was steady. He must have prepared for this for I heard no fear from him.

“I am coming. I will see this to the end as well.” My voice was determined. I would not let him question my fears. I had none anymore. My heart told me that God would protect us. It was just a feeling, but I knew it to be real.

We traveled from the hall into the pillared side entrances and out into the original structure. There were people scattered everywhere, running to get away from the battle erupting in front of them. There was no sign of Smenkhkare until we stepped outside by the quays, and there was a gathering of soldiers not loyal to us. Here he had waited.

“If it isn’t the most beautiful woman in the lands, the great Nefertiti. And now she hefts a sword like a soldier,” Smenkhkare mocked.

Mother brought her sword up with two hands and pointed at Smenkhkare. “You have disgraced the title of Pharaoh. We are here to take it back.”

Smenkhkare laughed. He sounded like a demon as he did so. “First of all, you’re the one who helped me get here. And second, just because your father was a soldier that does not make you one. Do you think I am scared by your posing? You are nothing but a wife who has murdered her family all for a few pieces of red and white leather to place on your head. You are no better than a conquerer leading a horde of infidels.”

“I did what I could to protect my family from your black heart, and it’s Mayati’s death staining your hands.” She took a step closer. “If it were not for you, none of this would have happened. My husband spent many seasons loving his followers. It only took two for you to topple everything. Because of you, my family dines with Osiris and Isis. Because of you, no one with our blood can stand past tonight.”

“So are you telling me I can plunge this sword through your stepson, little Tutankhaten back there, to cleanse this world of our bloodline? Is that your wish, Great Queen? Why stop at your daughters after all? Oh wait, one still lingers. Should I help you with that little problem too?”