The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (51 page)

“Adonai loved the people, even though they were bad, so he gave them 100 years to turn back to Him and give up being evil by how they acted. So for 100 years, Noach built his ship. It was almost as big as the pyramids so that all animals of the world would be saved too. But nobody would pray to Adonai or do good deeds.

So Noach and his family loaded the boat with the animals, two of each, a boy and girl, and they walked on the giant ship side by side. When the doors of the ark shut, the waters rose. It washed away all that was evil in the world. But Adonai was sad because of all the death, even though they were evil people, and promised never to flood the lands again. Each night we pray to Him to forgive our evil thoughts and ways and try to be good like Noach and his family. And all of us sitting here today are descendants of one of Noach’s three good sons. That is how I know you and Pharaoh are good rulers, because Adonai has driven out all the bad people,” he finished proudly.

My smile broadened over his innocence. I felt it taking over my cheeks and crinkling my eyes. I had forgotten the outlook youth have. “Excellent, young man. You are a grand storyteller! You may take three cakes for that fascinating tale.”

He grabbed the cakes so fast, I doubted even a snake could strike so quickly. As the sound of his glee-filled munching arose in the air, I thought of what Tushari said. My people, according to a dream, were not of the chosen people. My people were descended from evil creations, stolen breath, and raised within a tight grip of lies.

I focused back on Tawaret as the sweetness of Tushari’s words faded from my heart.

Ankhesenpaaten Tasherit…

I smiled down at her. She looked nervous.

“May I… may I tell you something? I’m not sure who I can tell, but my heart is saying to me that I can trust you.”

“Of course, you should always trust what your heart tells you.” I held out my arms hopeful she would enter into a hug.

“I have never told my mother this, but I feel I must share it with someone.”

Then her lithe body crawled up upon my lap. She wrapped her arms around me, and I had to bite my lip to stifle my cry of joy.

“I’ve been having dreams. This past moon, they’ve been coming to me every other night. In my dreams, there is a woman, not my mother, who holds me in her arms. She is crying. She kisses me and sings to me. I cannot make out the song, only a few words. Then she gives me to another woman. But I do not want this other woman. I want the first woman I saw. I struggle and cry, but I am only a baby and cannot get away. Then this second woman puts me in a basket. The last thing I see is a carving of the sun. But the sun had
hands
reaching down to a group of people. I’ve never seen such an image before. Then the lid is put over my basket. I feel like I cannot breathe. Then I wake up. I wake up, and I feel so lonely. And sad. I don’t know why, but I wish to return to sleep and see this woman once more.”

I stroked Tawaret’s back and kissed her gently on the head. I could not allow myself to speak just yet. I did not have control of myself.

She remembered me. After all these years, she wanted
me
.

Tawaret continued, “Is it bad that I want to find this other woman? Will my mother be upset?”

Her words slapped me out of my dreams.
My mother
. Dream or no dream, I was no longer her mother and could never be again. Why did I allow such wishes to plunge into my heart?

I sat up straighter and released my tight hold around her. “No. You have a good mother who will understand your fears. And do not hold these things in, darling. I would guess that now, because you have spoken aloud your dream, perhaps it will let you go. But, out of curiosity, could you tell me the words to the song you hear in your dreams? Perhaps I know of it?”

Tawaret sat back and looked at me. Her nose wrinkled up as she thought hard. “I think a few words are,
you have changed me by your love…may you stay eternal…sheds delight…
that is all I can remember.”

“You have been very brave sharing your story with me, and I am honored. For it, you have earned as many honey cakes as you would like. Just don’t tell your mother that I let you have so many sweets before bed!”

Tawaret’s face lit up. She moved off of my lap and grabbed two cakes. Then she scurried back over to her seat between Tia-Sitre and Pa-ramessu and eagerly ate.

Her parents. Those were
her
parents. I could not allow myself to forget it.

*****

He came to my room in a mood. I was reading a poem to relax myself before sleep. When he met my gaze, there was anger. My heart sank into my stomach as I guessed as to what might be the source of this emotion.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Tutankhamun asked.

I set the papyrus aside and stood to face him. I would not hide from my actions. “I am sorry, husband. Was it so obvious?”

He released a heavy breath. “I think it was by the grace of Amun that Ay was absent tonight.”

“Do not bring the gods into this.” My voice came out as a hiss, repressed feelings swelling to the surface.

“An, you sound as if you have turned your back on them.”

“Well, I’m tired of laying down offerings to gods who can’t give us one gift in return. We’ve done everything asked of us and what have we received in return from
them
? We‘re probably praying to nothing but a mound of stone. Nobody is listening!”

Tutankhamun rushed up to me and put his hand over my mouth gently. There was sadness giving his movements a slow and heavy quality. “Do not say such things, Meret. For one thing, it is not safe, and I cannot bear losing you.”

He removed his hand from my lips as he continued speaking, imploring me, “And second, what hope is there if there is nothing else than this one life? No one helping or guiding us? My heart cannot bear the thought. How did we get here if not from a god’s hand shaping our bodies from the earth’s clay and breathing life into our ka? What is the point of living if there is nothing but drying dust makes us up? We would be the same as animals who attack in the night and eat the flesh of the innocent. Why should the murderer fear retribution if his heart is never weighed? Why should anyone help one another if this is the only life we get? Instead, people would hoard all that they could get and better only their lives, hurting others so long as they got what they wanted. Why bother fighting for our lands, our country, and face the threat of death if death brings about an end to everything? Emptiness awaiting? Eternal emptiness? I cannot accept that this is all there is, An, I cannot.”

He dropped down onto my couch and covered his face in his hands. “I cannot believe that our daughter never got to live. How can any man who has loved a child believe that she had no ka. It is absurd! I felt her.”

He sat up straighter and looked down at his empty palms. I dropped down beside him as he continued to speak. “I see her in my dreams, or maybe it is my imagination, I cannot tell sometimes. I see her running toward us, arms outstretched. Her eyes are open, a smile stretches out her thin lips, and long hair appears to swim around her. She is so beautiful.”

I could hear Tutankhamun trying to hold back his tears. We had shed so many. How could there possibly be more? When would this ache inside us end? How easy it was to rip someone down with words. Not even a sword would have caused him such pain as I had just inflicted.

I spoke up, “I am so sorry. Of course I believe. I have caused you pain from my careless words. I also have not trusted you. I tell myself time and again that I will do better, but then once more, I keep everything to myself. Please forgive me,”

He looked up and focused on nothing in this world, only that dream in his head. “I wonder what color her eyes would have been.”

“If you ask, I will not see Tawaret again.”

“That is her name now? I wondered.” Tutankhamun stood abruptly. “No, it is probably good she is here for you. It has made my decision much easier. Soon I will be leaving.”

“What?” My voice felt like it shrunk as I spoke, regressed into something I could not find. “Please do not leave because you are angry with me.”

“I leave because I have nothing else here. My heart still boils with anger that our child was stolen from us. You have made your choice in moving your daughter here. It is how you will recover from this… this horrible nightmare.”

I stood and tried to touch him, but he stepped backward out of my reach. He continued on, sounding almost like he was lecturing me. “I have made my choice and that is to ride with Nahkt-min in the next offensive to reclaim our lands.”

“No, please.” I begged, “Do not leave me. I need you.”

Tutankhamun’s expression softened as if he believed me, but his voice was emotionless. “I had believed that until I saw a little girl with your eyes move into the palace.”

I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead against the floor at his feet. “Let us leave Waset then. I will go with you to Man-nefer. It will be just us. Please, I can keep company with Mutbenret and her family. Please, Meret, stay with me.”

Tutankhamun crouched down and gently lifted me up so I looked into his eyes. “I will not take you away from your child. My only regret is that she is not ours. One day, we will try again. But right now --” He shook his head instead of finishing his sentence.

He looked away and stood us both upright. The movement was steady. I felt my heart flip with subdued energy as I realized that his ankle was stronger than before. He could support us both with it.

He stepped away from me and turned toward the bronze mirror. He gazed at his reflection. “Let me return a strong and triumphant king. The gods will not be able to ignore our prayers then.”

I could see him smile out of the left side of his mouth as his eyes shifted to my shape in the mirror. “Let me bring you hope once again.”

All I could do was cry. Was this the only reaction I was capable of? I became angry at myself, which drove my tears even harder. My bottom lip felt like it would cramp up from my sadness.

My husband wrapped me up in his arms and kissed my forehead. “An, I will return to you. Horemheb will stay behind and protect you. Trust him. Until my return, you will be Pharaoh. Horemheb knows of my wishes. He will help you in any and all ways that he can. He will also keep Ay busy. Just keep yourself safe.”

He leaned down and pressed his smooth lips onto mine. Suddenly, I wanted to love him fiercely. The anger I felt for myself was now melted into desire. I desired to show him my love. I wanted to prove to him that I was not pushing him away. I wanted to be one with him this evening. Our lips moved together rapidly as we devoured each other’s fire. My heart thumped furiously against my breasts.

And then he pulled apart and turned away. The door keepers opened the entry for his departure.

He did not look back.

The Hidden Things of the Heart
1322 B.C
.

Funeral Procession of Pharaoh Tutankhamun

We stood in the breath between silence and speaking.

His large rectangular stone sarcophagus, which had been prepared inside the tomb, had waited patiently for its missing inner piece. Finally, placed gently atop a lion-shaped bier, it rested inside the sarcophagus. The golden coffin, the coffin we had followed here, looked dwarfed by its outer shell. Servants scurried to get the first lid which would be placed over my husband’s image. Then I watched as the lid was slowly laid over his coffin sealing the House of His Body.

My husband now began his descent into the Afterlife. He would leave this world forever. One lid had been laid, a lid carved to mimic the golden coffin’s appearance. The last two were waiting to be placed, two more seals of protection also carved out with his image.

It was time to let go.

In my hand was a wreath. The base was of papyrus and was shaped beautifully from the season’s foliage: blue cornflowers, olive leaves, and the loose petals of blue water lilies. I leaned over and blew a kiss down upon the first lid. Then onto it, encircling the rearing cobra and vulture of the first lid’s crown, I reached down and laid my wreath to rest. As I stepped back, priests came forward to cover this lid in white shrouds. Then the next lid was held high before being gently lowered into place.

Using handles made from silver, two on each side, the lid was eased down. I could see fragments missing, intentionally chipped off, from the toe portion of this protective layer. It disgusted me to think that this was not properly measured in the first place. The workmen had callously resorted to hacking away the images of my husband because of their own inadequacy. This carelessness made me sick. Was this the remembrance fitting a king? This was what the land offered him? Broken beauty, halved names, and thus forgotten prayers intended to seal his life. That and subsequently more shrouds lay upon the surface by the dutiful priests.

Next came the final lid, which had been crafted to match the base of the large sarcophagus. But this lid had broken in its construction. Originally of yellow quartzite, the workmen had to prepare a new one quickly, and the replacement was made from pink granite which was then painted over in yellow to attempt to match the base. I sighed mournfully. It was a poor substitute. Everything about this day was underwhelming. The world had moved so quickly, ready to leave Tutankhamun and everything associated with him behind in its wake -- including me. The respect and love he deserved at his final goodbye was forgotten.

The final lid was laid, and an echoing thump rang. As the sound finally settled in my ears, I knew it was time to leave. The funerary banquet would begin when we returned to the palace, and Ay would sit in my husband’s chair.

I turned away, and the last thing I saw of his body’s house was the etchings of outstretched wings attached to one of four goddesses. The four ladies, Isis, Nephthys, Neith, and Selket, were positioned on each corner of the stone sarcophagus. I did not look close enough at the high relief to distinguish which goddess it was, all I knew was that they would now protect him. I did not want to look closely enough to see if these images were also damaged in some way.