The Twelfth Transforming (39 page)

“A sober Mutnodjme? Impossible!”

Mutnodjme barked a laugh. “Certainly not. But I do not want to begin all over again. You see this gown? One bare breast, a coy titillation. It is all the rage at Akhetaten. Simpering and eyelids fluttering, silly flirting. My uncle’s court here at Malkatta may have been in some measure depraved, but it was an open, robust depravity. The dissipations of Akhetaten have a paler, sick cast to them.”

You always were astute
, Tiye thought,
but you were never this articulate
. “Are you here out of boredom?” she enquired gently.

Mutnodjme shook her head. Clapping her hands sharply, she shouted “Hoi!” and one of her menservants came running, a small chest in his hands. At Mutnodjme’s signal he placed it on the throne step and withdrew, bowing. “Be pleased to dismiss all your train, Majesty Aunt,” Mutnodjme asked. “This is for your eyes alone at present.”

Tiye immediately complied, and the two women stood looking at each other as the servants departed. At last the door was closed, and they were alone. Mutnodjme hesitated, one hand on the lid of the chest.

“This has no interest for me, you must understand that,” she said quietly. “But it may trouble you. If it does not, I will return to Akhetaten and consider our arrangement at an end. Although I have done very well by you, Empress! If it does, my husband has instructed me to tell you that he is at your disposal.”

“I understand.” Curiously Tiye watched as her niece pulled back the lid and drew out what appeared to be a small carved group of monkeys. There seemed to be nothing unusual about it. Egypt worshipped many lesser monkey gods, and baboons were considered sacred. Mutnodjme placed it in her hands.

“This is a particularly expensive example, done in alabaster and carefully painted, but reproductions are available all over Akhetaten, smaller and larger, in wood or stone or, for the poorer people, in clay. They are for sale at stalls in every market.” Without waiting for permission, Mutnodjme turned and sat on the throne step.

Tiye bent over the carving. There were four monkeys, graded in size. The largest half-stood, half-squatted behind the others, its pendulous breasts sagging, its fat thighs spread wide. Yet it was not female, for a disproportionately large penis jutted from beneath its swollen belly. Its tail curled up between its legs and nestled between the legs of the female monkey that knelt before it, both hands around its penis. The thick lips of the largest one were puckered toward the smaller monkey standing at its left, and its hand circled the neck and rested on a tiny breast. The other hand was thrust between the legs of the small monkey on the right. The genitals of all the animals were painted bright red; the ears, huge eyes, tails and hair, gray. The whole piece suggested flagrantly obscene sexuality, but it was not the impression it conveyed that caused Tiye to give a low cry and thrust it away. The largest monkey wore a double crown canted between its pricked ears, and the next in size a tall, cone-shaped helmet. Mutnodjme leaned over and swiftly removed it, dropping it back into the chest and flipping the lid shut.

“No one knows who began it,” she said. “But even before the carvings appeared, there were rumors. Of Pharaoh copulating with his monkeys, of nights spent with the queen and both the older girls together. Lusty jokes have always abounded at court, but this is different. There is malice in it. Pharaoh has completely lost the respect of the citizens of Akhetaten, and before long those things”—she indicated the chest—“will begin to be found all over Egypt. The Thebans will love them.”

Tiye swallowed and, feeling dazed, went to sit beside Mutnodjme. Her hands shook. “What does Pharaoh say? His anger, his shame…”

“Pharaoh feels neither,” Mutnodjme said calmly. “He smiles. He says his people are only beginning to understand true affection, and when they do, the carvings will vanish. The queen is beside herself with rage, though. She has forbidden ownership of them, but of course the common people take no notice. She should have ignored them altogether.”

“Yes,” Tiye whispered. Nefertiti had always lacked the right instincts so necessary in a ruler. Her loves and hates were too extreme, too public. Yet Tiye had never pitied her more than she did now. Her, and her defenseless, foolhardy husband, Egypt’s god. “Is it because they are shown embracing on the ben-ben in the Aten temple?”

“Partly. After all, Pharaoh and the queen do not behave like gods to be worshipped. But it is also because they have wished to display themselves as a family drowned in mutual affection, before their subjects. Forgive me, Empress. To speak so of Pharaoh has always been blasphemy, yet I believed you would want to know, and my letter bearer would not have been able to communicate the perversity of it to you. It is not just the carvings. The people cheer him in the streets, but it is the sound of derision, and he cannot hear it. Horemheb begs…”

Tiye held up a hand. “No more,” she said quietly. “Eat with me tonight when I have rested and pondered. Leave me, Mutnodjme.”

Obediently the other woman rose, bowed profoundly, and swung down the long hall.
I did not ask that an apartment be prepared for her
, Tiye thought.
But I suppose she will open Ay’s house
. The whip was snaking white behind the bare heels, and Tiye, mesmerized, watched it undulate. Long after Mutnodjme had gone, she could not wrench her eyes from the floor. Finally she summoned Piha and went back to her room.

The sun had lost a little of its fierce heat, but the air remained stifling. Tiye ordered a bath, and then tried to sleep, but Mutnodjme’s voice and the image of the distorted red genitals fought for prominence in her thoughts, and her heart refused to settle to a calming rhythm.
But I wanted to go home to Djarukha!
she protested silently.
I had decided! I can do nothing, I am too old, it is too late
. With anguish she remembered how cool the lily-choked lake before the blue pillars of her portico was in the gentleness of the north, how moist the air.
I miss my mother, my father
, she thought as her control finally gave way and she began to weep quietly.
For once it is not you, Osiris Amunhotep, I long for. It is the safety of Yuya’s strong arms and the smile with which Thuyu woke me every morning. Oh, stop!
she tried to berate herself.
There is nothing so pathetically ridiculous as an aging woman in tears. Let them foul the bed they have made for themselves. Let me go home!
But she already knew she would never see Djarukha again.

In the twilight she sat on the dais in the great reception hall, Mutnodjme beside her, their ministers and servants grouped around the small, flower-laden tables below. Tiye had commanded a room full of light, and hundreds of torches and lamps leaped gold in the draughts that blew between the tall columns. A procession of tray-bearing slaves came and went from the food tasters to the gilded table, and the stewards bent from time to time to fill the wine cups. Between the dais and the floor of the hall the musicians set up a wall of clamor that screened the women’s conversation from the other diners, and dancers swayed between the tables. Tiye tried to eat, but the very sight of the rich food sickened her, and in the end she sat drinking and watching Mutnodjme demolish every course presented. Between mouthfuls her niece cast blank glances at Prince Smenkhara, eating at the foot of the dais with Beketaten, and Tiye smiled inwardly in spite of the turmoil in her mind. Mutnodjme was not as politically neutral as she pretended to be. Either that, or the situation at Akhetaten was so grave as to make everyone there a budding oracle. When the food had been consumed and such entertainment as Tiye had been able to gather had begun, she beckoned Mutnodjme closer.

“Did Horemheb or your father send you to me with that abominable thing?”

Mutnodjme signaled, and a servant lifted the low table away. Sighing with satisfaction, she leaned back on her cushions. “I had forgotten how tasty beef can be when a god is not peering over one’s shoulder disapprovingly. We are not forbidden meat at court, but Pharaoh will not touch it, of course. In answer to your question, Goddess. I came of my own accord. Ay and Horemheb approved, though. They need your help. They could not tell you in dispatches, and indeed, one can scarcely speak of such things there are so many spies in the city, people who work for themselves in the hope of dropping gossip in Pharaoh’s ear and gaining favors. My cousin is easily swayed by ideas clothed in the adoring language of Aten worship.”

Mutnodjme’s every word pierced Tiye’s heart, and for a moment she hated her brother, Horemheb, all the sycophants trying to worm their way into a simple man’s affections when their own hearts were cold. Mutnodjme’s indifferent honesty was infinitely preferable. “Then tell me now what it is the great fanbearer and the mighty commander want me to do.”

Mutnodjme grinned at the sardonic tone. “They want you to take up residence at Akhetaten, to see Pharaoh every day, to lend weight to their own advice. The most pressing problem is the situation beyond the borders. Tutu tells Pharaoh one thing, my husband another, and Pharaoh hesitates because he simply cannot believe in the perfidy of men.”

“Nefertiti would do her best to discredit me, perhaps even have me murdered. Tutu has always resented me. Mutnodjme, I am tired. I would be going into a nest of vipers whose only wish would be to see me dead. I would also have to cope with a swarm of fawners who would immediately gather around Smenkhara. I would have no friends, no one to trust.” She stopped speaking, overwhelmed at the prospects as she described them. The stabbing pains in her abdomen that always assailed her in times of stress or fatigue began without warning, and she held her breath until they had passed.

“Then go to Djarukha and wait for the summons of the gods,” Mutnodjme said softly. “Majesty Aunt, I have always loved you. But do not mistake me. I am not declaring my affection for you as an offering of active support if you decide to come to Akhetaten. I know myself too well. I merely want to see you happy. You have earned the right to peace.”

“I have not been happy since Osiris Amunhotep Glorified died,” Tiye responded flatly. “Would I be content at Djarukha, after listening to you? I do not think so. I brought Pharaoh into the world, and it seems I have a duty to protect the world from him and him from the world if I can. How the Son of Hapu must be laughing!”

“Then you will come?”

The question angered Tiye. Pain lanced her again, and she felt sweat break out along her spine. “Of course I will come!” she managed. “How can I refuse such a challenge?”

Mutnodjme sipped thoughtfully at her wine, her eyes slowly traveling the noisy hall. Smenkhara was clapping in time to the music, his eyes on the naked dancers. Beketaten was slumped belly down on her cushions, fast asleep. The harem women, flushed with wine and excited by the unexpected break in the boredom of their existence, giggled and shrieked. There was nothing left to say. After a moment Tiye rose. Silence fell. The guests prostrated themselves. Her herald grasped his staff of office and sprang to precede her, and together with Piha and Huya she left the hall, striving to stand tall against the pain until she had gained the privacy of her apartments. Collapsing on her couch, she sent for her physician and lay waiting for him, knees drawn up, fists bunched, her muscles tense as much against the rage she felt at her fate as against the pain.

Mutnodjme sailed for Akhetaten the next day. In the afternoon Tiye dictated a letter for Pharaoh and then called for Smenkhara. For once he came promptly, his slim hips swathed in a loose kilt, his feet sandy and his legs still beaded with water from the lake. He bowed to his mother, casually kissed the hand extended to him, and turned excited eyes on her.

“We are going to Akhetaten, aren’t we, Majesty?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“The servants have been gossiping about nothing else all day. When do we leave? I cannot believe I am really going to see Meritaten again. Thank you, Mother.”

“I think you will miss Malkatta when you have been in Pharaoh’s new city for a while,” Tiye said calmly. “You have enjoyed a freedom here that you will never see again. But you have a few more months to savor it. We will leave when the river is highest. Go and tell Beketaten.” She had wanted to share his enthusiasm, but she found herself accepting his gratitude and excitement grudgingly. She watched the light die out of his eyes. He pursed his lips, gave her a perfunctory obeisance, and walked away. He had suddenly become a responsibility that already weighed heavily on her.

17

T
iye left Malkatta at the end of the first month of winter. When news of her decision had reached Akhetaten, she had received an ecstatic letter from Pharaoh, guarded greetings from Ay, and nothing at all from Nefertiti. Resolutely she refused to look into the future. While her stewards strode purposefully down the passages of the palace, scrolls in their arms and frowns on their faces, and myriads of servants fetched and carried, packed and repacked, Tiye surrendered for the last time to the magic of Malkatta, allowing every memory to overtake her. Sitting under her canopy by the lake, she remembered being poled across the river, a little princess newly appointed to Pharaoh’s already vast harem, to look at the unpainted rooms, the churned, stone-littered ground, the overseers with their shouts and whips, and the straining backs of the fellahin. She had stood with a slim young Tia-Ha and other princesses in the awesome grandeur of the empress’s quarters, as yet untenanted, her hands behind her back, her kohled eyes on the ceiling as Kheruef described the plans Pharaoh had for his new palace. Many of the women were silent and uneasy, not wanting to consider the proximity of the dead and the nights they would have to spend with only a wall between them and those who lay stiffly in their coffins. Tiye had been silent also, but not from fear. She had been wondering why her husband had decided to move his court from its ancient and honorable site on the east bank, close to Karnak. A man with such unlimited power and wealth could do anything he pleased, yet it seemed a pointless, irrational waste of gold and effort. At that moment she had felt eyes on her back and, turning, had seen the young pharaoh staring at her, his ministers surrounding him. She ought to have instantly averted her gaze, but she found herself staring back. Though the marriage con tract had been sealed and she had been in the harem for over a month, she had come no closer to her husband than a long stone’s throw at official feasts. Now he was imperiously crooking a finger at her. Bravely she had walked to him, crumpling at his feet until a toe gently pushed against her ear gave her permission to rise. Behind him she caught her father’s eye. He had winked solemnly at her.