The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (49 page)

It echoed in my head as I felt a strong breeze sweep across my face.

She died…

Somewhere, doors parted, but I could not tell if they were my doors or that of Duat’s entrance.

All went black.

I Have Not Set My Mouth In Motion
1322 B.C
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Funeral Procession of Pharaoh Tutankhamun

His coffin stood upright in front of the mouth of his tomb. It was set upon a clean mound of sand and positioned facing south.

Fear gripped my heart as we stood in silence. I had not seen many tombs, but I knew they were supposed to have 12 chambers leading to the pharaoh’s House of Gold where his sarcophagus would lay. Each chamber represented one of the 12 hours of night and in turn Pharaoh’s journey through the night in the Duat. But this tomb was one of a nobleman. Looking around at the swell of grave goods, I could not imagine them all fitting inside. All these things he needed in the Afterlife, how could they possibly all claim space? And how, with everything in such close quarters, would he even get to half of the items if he needed them when his ka awoke.

Maybe it would be best if this belief in life after death was a myth. If it was not, then my husband faced grave danger. The texts which would serve as his guide through the treacherous Duat were absent from his tomb walls. I could only wonder if this was an intentional omittance or simply another victim of time. It made me sad that time was found to carve Ay as pharaoh, but the necessary spells and warnings about my husband’s journey in the Duat were neglected.

Would he rise again in the morning? Even if it was a half-truth, a myth, it was a beautiful myth. My heart could only think of that moment when I would be gazing out across the lands the next morning and seeing him again rising as the sun, bold, bright, and finally victorious in battle. It was all he had wanted from life.

Ay was starting to mount the steps to the coffin. Behind him walked other priests. Their hands were filled with offerings and tools needed for the ritual. There was incense, water, grain, iron from both the north and south, pitchers of wine, onions, cake, unguents, garments, and meat from the bulls that were sacrificed upon our arrival as part of the preliminary rites. The rest of the oxen meat was to be prepared for the funerary meal this evening.

Ay proudly reached the top of the stairs and collected himself to begin the opening ceremony. The sun disc was beginning to dip toward the rock face of the valley, and Ay was at just the right location for the hands of Aten to poke at our upturned gaze, causing our eyes to squint during the proceedings. Ay’s bald head seemed to crackle underneath the gaze of Aten as if he was on fire.

I did not know his exact age, but Ay was at least in his middle 60s. Somehow, he had outlived so many people in my life. He had spent his life in the shadow of the throne, and somehow, that shadow had kept him hidden from Death’s grasp. I could already feel the stale aftertaste rising up my throat just from the mere thought of being his wife. I had not seen his wife since I agreed to his kingship, and I could only wonder her thoughts on my position in their lives. She had seemed kind each time I met her, but she was as elusive as a jackal slinking through the cloak of night.

Water was brought forth to the coffin, and as Ay began speaking, it was sprinkled onto the front of the sarcophagus using the skeletal branch of a tree.

“Osiris, take upon yourself all that is hateful. Adopt this burden of sin, and take all the evil words which have been spoken in his name. Come, oh Djehuty, and take them unto Osiris. Bring all the evil words which have been spoken and place them in the hollow of thy hand.”

Incense was brought forth next by one of the priests to purify him.

“Whosoever marches, march with his ka. I call upon you now, Horus, Set, Djehuty, Sep, and Khent-maati, march with his ka. And thy ka, mighty Osiris, which resides within him as a god’s son, pharaoh of this land, and ruler over the Horus throne, march with his ka.”

Water was again brought forth and poured upon the coffin face.

“The libations which are poured out by thy son, which are poured out by Horus, are for thee, oh Osiris. Mayest it refresh thy heart as you welcome this son into your house.”

Natron balls were then brought forth and rubbed upon the mouth of the coffin.

“Thou purifies with natron. Thine own mouth is as pure as a baby’s at birth. So as a baby’s mouth is purified and opened at its birth, so too do we purify the mouth and give breath once again to our departed pharaoh.”

The knife in Ay’s hand was touched to the mouth of the coffin.

“Thou art established among the gods, thy brethren. Thy head is purified for thee with natron, thy bones are washed clean with water, and thou thyself art made perfect with all that belongs unto thee. Oh Osiris, I have given unto thee the Eye of Horus.”

Another priest stepped forward and used his fingers, pressed against my husband’s image, to animate his lips opening.

I breathed deeply as I took comfort in seeing the ceremony performed honorably. His jaw was unlocked; his unity with the gods was identified before all.

Now was the time when we would bring forth gifts of meat and drink. I drifted into the line of offering bearers as Ay continued to speak and proclaim my husband to Osiris, but now Ay addressed my husband directly instead of speaking to Osiris or some other god. We slowly shuffled forward, one by one, as he spoke.

“These are the offerings which are brought unto thee, the offerings which thou sees, the offerings which thou hears, the offerings which are with thee. Dwell thou, mighty pharaoh, with the gods. Osiris opens a path for you among the shining ones and will establish you among the eternal.”

I mounted the stairs and stood before him. This would be my last look upon his face in daylight. This was the end. The rest was darkness.

“May all the shining beings see him, may they hear his name, for the Eye of Horus now takes his place before Osiris.”

All was quiet around me then. It was as if the words from Ay’s shriveled lips had silenced the world. Life had hushed itself.

The Opening of the Mouth Ceremony was over.

I whispered, “I will protect your name, Meret.”

I squeezed an object between my hands, one that I would always keep with me. It was his cartouche carved in ivory, and it would remain with me for as long as I lived. Then his name would never be erased.

In my hands, I held him safe.

I recited my lament for him, written for him by my hand. The words were etched in my heart, and I spoke with as much strength as I had left within me, “I am thy wife, oh Great One - do not leave me! It is thy good pleasure, oh my husband, to feast with the gods, but that I must reside so far from thee? How can it be that I go away alone today? I say now: Shall I accompany thee, oh thou who didst like to converse with me? But thou remainest silent and speakest not. My ka cries out to you and awaits your echo. Until that day when the gods call upon my ka and I may bow before you again, mayst your ship sail straight and strong toward the bounty of Aaru.”

A servant came beside me and laid out my gifts. I walked down from the tomb’s entryway. Others waited for their turn to bless the former king. I was but one piece to the puzzle this day, pushed into my designated spot and then dismissed.

Perhaps it is what I deserved, for Anubis knew the hidden things in my heart.

Chapter Six

Thou Remainest Silent and Speakest Not

1325 B.C. – Sixth year of Tutankhamun’s reign

We traveled back to Waset to bury our daughter. She had been prepared for the Afterlife and now would be placed inside a small tomb next to my husband’s.

The world had ended.

Her coffin was so small. When I held it, it was like cradling a full-sized baby. But she was not that. She was too early. That afternoon when I had broken the Hathor statue, more than just blood had poured out from my body. The doctor had arrived, shook me back to consciousness, and then I delivered my child.

Others shrank away from the sight of her, but all I saw was a stolen, innocent life. Lines of blue could be seen beneath her skin. Her eyelids were closed, and there were no eyelashes or eyebrows. Her skin was a muted blue-gray. She was not even a cubit long. She never took in a breath. She came from my body silent and never tasted the world which had been poised to bow before her.

Perhaps so much talk of a boy had caused her ka to disappear from her body. It was all that we had referred to the baby as. The people had even cursed the thought of a girl. Was it the people’s fault for discounting her before she had opened her eyes? Was it my fault for saying “he” while she resided inside of me? Was it my anger that had driven her out? Had I driven all innocence from me in my burst of rage? Or was Hathor mad that I had broken her image?

What had I done wrong?

I had feared my husband’s reaction, and he was deeply saddened by the loss. I was not sure what I expected, but the last three births in my family had been filled with grief and heartache. When he came into the room, he collapsed into my arms and cried just as hard as I had. He had looked upon the small form, bald and withered, and had said a prayer over her. As I had, he too wanted to drink in the life that had slipped away. I was not repulsed by the underdeveloped body before me, nor was my husband. This was my child, our child. We had created her.

At Tutankhamun’s request, Horemheb had taken over the court and religious duties in his stead. During this time, I spent much time with my husband. We took comfort in our shared company as we had in the past. We imagined what our child would have been like, guessed at her favorite games, wondered who she might have married one day and brought to the throne as her husband. We kept our hopes alive by dreaming of what could be. Our dream of a child would not be allowed to die. Yet when we talked, I was more of a listener. My emotions were stifled and my talk cautious. I had turned myself off from any sweet thought that could so easily be soured.

Horemheb had tried to comfort Tutankhamun. He had encouraged him that we were young and had plenty of time to produce more children. Ay had warned my husband that it was my fault, reasoning I was cursed from carrying my father’s seed and suggested a harem should be started immediately. I wondered how he could say such things as his wives had never bore him a boy either. Or could this be part of his anger against me? His wives failed, his daughter failed, and now so did I.

Tutankhamun refused. I heard that he had even slapped Ay across the cheek for his words against me. I kept it to myself, but I wished I could have seen such a thing. Instead, I was being tended to by Heryshefnakht, High Priest of Sekhmet. He attempted to drive away any curses or demons that could have caused my child to come forth too early and performed the Rites of Appeasing Sekhmet. He was also the chief of magicians and my husband’s personal physician. He prayed and made sacrifices for me. He gave me charms and prayers to ward off any further wrath from the goddess.

Nedjemou, the chief physician in the physical arts, said my body would recover after bedrest as I had lost much blood. I had no desire to leave my room for weeks anyway, so ordered bedrest sat well with me. I did not want to face my people and hear their thoughts on my failure as a wife and queen. Mostly as a wife.

Nedjemou mentioned that the afterbirth had looked torn and was the wrong color. Without putting it into so many words, but with just enough, the message became clear. It was something that was wrong with me. This had been my fault. I had failed my husband and our country. I felt their trust in me line with cracks, as an old tomb after many long years, when I went out in public. Anytime the citizens looked at me, I wondered what their thoughts were.

On the trip back to Waset, I stayed hidden under the canopy for most of our voyage. I was afraid what reaction I would get once we arrived. News had been spread, and I had no idea what reception we would be given. Would the city still welcome us as its rulers?

“Marry young and have many children.” It was a saying of our people. We were young, yet no children blessed our lives. For some women, to bear a living, breathing child was as easy as praying. I had created life before, but now that I had someone who loved me, I could not make a son for him. Now that I wanted a child, it eluded me. Did those other mothers know how lucky they were? Did they still praise the gods when their children cried or whined or screamed at them? How I hoped they did.

In my heart, I had named her. The priests said that because she had not taken in breath, she never possessed a ba and a ka. I did not believe this. How could I? I had felt her inside of me. She had moved. If I ate certain foods, she would kick me. I had laughed about this, my baby already making demands on her dinner preferences. She had been alive once. Then something happened…

What had surprised me was our arrival at Waset. As we were escorted to the palace by litter, what looked like thousands of people came out. They called out prayers of healing for me. They held out gifts for comfort, fertility, love. They wore floral bands and cried out in the streets in mourning for us. My heart swelled with love when I saw so many supportive faces.

Pleasant memories of our interactions with the citizens came to mind then. They were grateful for our return, our reunification, our works on their behalf. Everyone seemed joyful when they were around us. I had forgotten that. It gave me a small speck of happiness being back in Waset. These people were devoted and loyal to us. Being here felt less judgemental than the time spent in Man-nefer.

Yes… I felt happy. This felt like a home, and it welcomed us with open arms.

Our next few days home were rather quiet. Dignitaries and priests would come and bestow offerings for our continued health and eventual prosperity. I still needed time to myself. So in my private rooms, I stayed.

*****

I had finished my bath and dressing routine and was sitting before my mirror. It had been six weeks since our return, and we were to inspect the work at the Temple of Amun. We had glanced at it during our morning prayers, but today we would get a report of the progress. Tutankhamun had requested my presence, and I was honored he had not distanced himself from me since my failure.