The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (54 page)

We passed through the main marketplace with its relaxed borders able to accommodate both booths and a sea of shoppers. Then we moved in between dwellings where the roadways narrowed to allow only a couple of people to pass at a time. These passageways were sometimes blocked with piles of garbage from the residences and shops on either side, so we would have to backtrack and try another route. The world became thicker and soured as piles of refuse stained the air. It flowed in my mouth and nose. I was thankful I thought to bring my ground-up incense bag to help block out the smells. I held it up to my nose, inhaling cinnamon and cedar, as we passed the junk-laden streets.

The streets were as sporadic as they were dirty. Tia would describe our trail, and I tried to pay as much attention as I could to the places we passed by, but I knew that I would never find my way back to the palace without her as my guide. While in Akhenaten I had never left the city, here I had never walked beyond the palace temples. As we walked, I felt my familiar lands fade into a foreign territory.

My legs were beginning to ache when we finally came upon the section of town abundant with workshops. I could smell our approach back into better properties as the refuse began to release the air. Amyntas must have started his trade here before he was hired by the palace. The houses were modestly sized with surrounding walls. On one of the gate’s wooden door, there hung a batch of dried lotuses.

I stood behind Tia as we approached the house. She knocked four steady beats on the door. It opened slowly, and I could see a face emerge. While the skin was lined with wrinkles, I recognized the heat-flushed features of Amyntas’s father, who in turn recognized Tia and quickly waved us both inside. I followed close behind as a servant would, head down and strides small. He did not pay attention to me. I could not remember his name.

“We are about to begin. Please, find a spot. You know the way,” he said. His voice was like a rush of winds through papyrus branches.

“Thank you, Esam,” Tia replied.

We walked to our left into a garden area which encircled the main dwelling’s walls. Ducks swam within the waters of a rectangular pool. There were lotus trees planted in the two corners of the space. Their buds were white with specks of pink at their bases. A slight wind would blow by and scatter the petals around the garden. It was beautiful! Growing between the trees were strips of grass with the occasional potted plant. It was a well-cared-for garden. The tiled central areas were painted with pictures of birds. Scattered about the tiles and grassy areas were thick, plush pillows. Many of the gathers were sitting on these pillows and conversing. I followed Tia to the most vacant corner and took a seat next to her.

The conversations were subdued and timid. Some people clearly recognized others but refused to acknowledge them. Others quietly approached their neighbors and coworkers. Many wore scarves, as I did, over their mouths and noses to conceal their identity. Men and women of a variety of ages and skin colors were there ranging from the dark-skinned Nubians to the pale-complected Asiatics. It amazed me that this worship had spread to so many groups of society. All around us, servers weaved in between offering wine, pomegranates, and date bread. To my shock, I recognized some as palace servers.

Amyntas’s father, Esam, appeared. His eyes were weary. “Welcome friends, sisters, brothers united in the one God. I am here to answer any questions you may have in my son’s stead.” He opened his hands and made eye contact with every face that would meet his, waiting. “Please, you may speak without judgment here. This is a space for free conversations. You are here for many different reasons, and I welcome them all.”

A man covered with a purple scarf spoke first. “Is this the God of the heretic?”

“Yes. Do you speak of Aten? Or is this Amun?” another man questioned, stroking a dark beard that hung down to his midchest.

“I speak of Adonai,” Esam answered. “Some, like the previous pharaoh, called him Aten, but his worship was misguided. He glorified himself over Adonai.”

“Is that why he died?” the bearded man probed.

“Is that why his son’s leg is crooked?” a woman asked. I was stunned that such a question had been brought forth in public. If a guard had been present, I would have had her thrown in the jailhouse for such a horrific accusation. I clenched my fists and crossed my arms, my body tense with my anger.

“No, Adonai did none of those things,” Esam answered calmly. “Adonai loves you all. His work is never done. He is still watching over us even though He follows the one known as Moshe.”

“The murderer?” a second woman asked, stepping closer to the exit.

“The God who made us suffer and took my son from me?” An older man stood up. “You speak for that God too?”

Esam spoke again, gentle as rustling leaves. “I have met Moshe. He is a devoted and inspired man. God works through him, not me. I know Adonai was greatly pained at your suffering. Moshe spoke of this to me. He wants to save you all. I believe that is why I was of a mind to come to this land. My son and I hope to guide all your hearts to Him.”

A thin man stepped forward. His head was shaved, and he was dressed in the attire of a priest. “If He loves us, then why did my wife die? Why didn’t He save her if He loves me?”

Esam walked over to him and put his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “Men are quick to ask these questions. She died, and it was a great loss to your heart. I am so sorry. But Adonai does not create this pain in you. And I must ask you and everyone here, when blessings rain down upon you, do you praise Adonai for them? Do you thank the God for the good things in your lives?”

Esam stepped away and began to walk around the pool. “If you ask Adonai why He does one thing, but do not thank Him for another, what sense does that make? You cannot deny Him one moment and call upon Him the next. He is there through it all, but He does not want to see you suffer. He wants to comfort you. Let His grace heal you in your time of need. Do not push Him away from your heart.

“Let our question tonight be, what have you done? When your neighbor was suffering, what did you do? Did you bring him bread? Did you comfort him? Why are these things left to God? We must ask ourselves the hard questions before we shout to the sky asking: Why would You do this to me? It is not Him, it is us. We must be responsible for each other. If you ever need comfort, please, come to me. I will shelter you. I will pray with you.”

He turned to the thin man once again. “I will help you in any way I can. Please, stay after the worship, and we will discuss things further.”

The man responded with a nod and then covered his face in his hands.

“What about the plagues?” the aged man cut in, “He rained down suffering on us just because we were not Hebrew. Now He wants our worship?”

“You are right, He did. But He did not do it because you were Khemtu. He did it to convince Pharaoh to let the Hebrews go. They were punished for worshipping Him. They were given the worst of work and the scarcest of food. You suffered, yes, but it continued because of Pharaoh’s selfishness. Pharaoh saw your cries for help, and he ignored them.”

“Amenhotep was a great pharaoh!” a man close to Tia objected.

“He did great things. But when his people suffered, he turned away. He was stubborn and at times cruel. He laughed in the face of a man whom he raised as a son. And I am sure you all know of the Hebrew babies he ordered killed? Tossed into the Nile to be drowned or eaten by the crocodiles?”

All was quiet then. There were a few nods, but the quiet felt as stifling as the air inside a tomb.

“What of Pharaoh and his wife? They have led people to the old gods. What does your God think about this?”

I turned to Tia, surprised at her question as well as her insight into what had burned inside of me since coming to this meeting.

The ever-calm Esam turned to her. “Adonai knows that everyone has a choice. He hopes that you will come to Him, but He will not force you. That is what love is, is it not? It comes to us freely and is never pushed on us. This is what Adonai offers – love. For this love, He does not require food or gold. He hopes that you will share this love. Share what you have and find peace in your heart. My friends, I offer you my hospitality tonight. Eat, drink, and after you have considered my words, please stay for a prayer. Adonai is listening.”

There was a bell hanging by the entryway. Esam walked over to it and pulled the string. Quickly, more servers filtered in with platters filled with fine meat and cheese. Cups and plates were handed out.

In the shuffle, Tia and I got up and went to find Esam. He was no longer in the garden. As we entered the house from a side entry, we saw that he was in the kitchen just across the hall helping fill some decanters with wine for the servers to hand out.

“Ah, Tia!” he said as we entered. “How is your family? It has been too long since you have visited!”

“My sons are now married and are excellent wine makers. They work a vineyard together. I will have to bring you a jar.”

Esam plucked her arm up and kissed the back of her hand. “And your daughter?” he continued. “How does the beauty of Waset fair?”

“My daughter is busy trying to flirt with the soldiers before they leave for Man-nefer. She has always had an eye for strong, muscled men. I don’t know where she gets that from,” Tia joked. Her laughter was light. Esam joined her.

“And your husband, my lady?”

“He is recovering. He has been ailed with a sickness for many moons, but the fever has broken, and he is eating again.”

“I am so glad to hear he continues to improve. I am sure the masons miss him.”

“Thank you. If I may, is your son well? He has not been at the palace working for a long time. The queen has sent her servant here to retrieve him.”

Esam shook his head. His eyes again looked weary. “He has kept to himself. Even his children do not bring him joy. I fear what this means.”

“May I see him?”

“Oh yes, I am sure he would appreciate your visit, old friend.”

“You will soon address me as your
late
friend if you call me old again,” she replied with a smile. Esam laughed and then ushered us towards the back of the house.

Tia led me down the hallway and up a flight of stairs to the second level. She turned to face me as she spoke. “Go down the hall and up the stairs to the roof. It is where he spends most nights. I will wait for you here.”

I squeezed her hand. “I am sorry about your family. And I’m sorry… truly sorry that I never asked…”

“An, you have an entire nation to care for. My needs are not that great. Now go. Someone else needs you now.”

I followed her directions. As I reached the roof, I could see the dark sky punctured finely with the night’s lights. It was later than I realized. In a corner facing the river, Amyntas sat in a wooden chair. As I walked slowly to him, I removed my veil. I was sure he could hear my footsteps, but he made no move to acknowledge his visitor.

I picked up a chair and moved it next to him. Gently I sat down and followed his gaze out across the lands and into the depths of the ever-flowing river. It looked almost black as kohl in the night, a giant yawn of emptiness which cut Kemet in half. While beautiful one way, the Nile could be foreboding and frightening the next.

“It was not your fault,” I said looking over to him. Slowly, he turned his face toward mine. My heart felt still in my chest. I could not release my breath. It had been so long since I had seen him last. How I had missed his eyes, his pale green eyes that met mine. Looking at him now, I realized how much I missed having him in my life.

A tear rolled down his right cheek. “An” was all he said.

I smiled. The way he said my name, it sounded beautiful and desirable. It sounded rich and exotic. I wanted his voice to continuing surrounding me.

“I am so sorry, Amyntas.”

He smiled very softly. “Through all this, all I could think about was the last time I saw you. You were right to walk away. I was not being fair to you or Mara. I did not realize how selfish I was being and how much I was asking of you.”

“Your father worries greatly for you.”

“That is the job of a father.”

“He speaks eloquently about Adonai. A man downstairs asked if God had caused his wife to die. Do you blame Adonai for what has happened to you?”

“No,” he responded quickly.

“Your father thinks God sent you here. To help people. But why would He if you would have to suffer so much? And why are we always pulled apart?”

Amyntas reached over and took my hand in his. They were chilled from the night air. “I have missed your questions. It has helped strengthen my relationship with Adonai. Did you know that? Your questions help me to understand so much more. You challenge me, make me think.” He looked out at the Nile again and took in a deep breath. “I think of our time together as a gift. Life would not be worth it if I had never met you all those years ago. I am glad He brought us here.”

I felt my face flush, and he looked back upon me just in time to see it. He laughed. It sounded like the most beautiful melody.

“Still blushing, An!”

My heart suddenly fluttered as he leaned closer to me. Quickly, I closed the gap between us and touched my lips to his. We kissed, and I felt as if lightning itself was coursing through me. I had not seen lightning in many years. A great storm had bathed Akhenaten when I was a little girl. I remembered it now. It seemed to fracture the sky with its blade-thin appearance. All my feelings felt as if they were rushing through me and lighting up my body in this one moment. I cupped his cheek with my free hand and ran my fingers back into his hair, down his neck, onto his shoulder, down his back, pressing closer.

For too long, I had denied my heart the fruit it craved. Now here I was again, and everything seemed right within my world.

Slowly pulling back, taking in a breath, I spoke, “I have never stopped loving you. I need you near. Please come back to the palace.”

He brushed my hair behind my ear and then ran his hand down my cheek. My body trembled from his gentle touch.