The Twelfth Transforming (45 page)

“He is despised by the priests of every god save those at Memphis and On. He is derided by every courtier who lives on his generosity. He is mocked all over the world by the rulers of tribes who are once again finding a pride in their own military might. Your son has lost us an empire, Goddess. He must be prevented from taking our country from us also.”

At Horemheb’s words Tiye felt her grip on the arms of the chair become painfully tight, but somehow she could not release it. “He is the incarnation of Amun, a prince of the royal blood, true son of a pharaoh,” she responded hotly, stung irrationally into a defense of her son, “whether he believes these things or not. It is a sin against Ma’at to lay hands on him.”

“I do not speak of murder.” Horemheb’s deep voice took on a placatory tone. “Let him keep his kingship until Prince Smenkhara is ready to reign. But take from him command of the army and use it to make a war of recovery.”

“And I suppose you would lead such an army?” Ay replied evenly. “Are you being deliberately naive, Horemheb? Once victorious, could you resist the temptation to place the Double Crown on your own head? Do not forget that although we regard the omnipotence of the Aten as Pharaoh’s delusion, there are many men, both in the army and among the courtiers and priests, who are genuine converts. I think in trying to wrest military might from Pharaoh we might well precipitate a civil war. We would eventually win, but at the cost of much blood. And supposing we gave the crown to Smenkhara? How long would it be before he ceased to be grateful and began to view those who brought down his predecessor with suspicion? Or, if the crown went to one of us, Smenkhara as legal heir could raise much support from the common people and war against us. We must remember, too, that whatever happens, we will remain tainted by our association with the Aten. If the country returned to its true state of Ma’at, we would be discredited. The only answer is to do what we can indirectly.”

I will not forget this argument
, Tiye thought.
It has the glibness of words spoken many times before, and brought out tonight to test me. I must arrange for spies in both households
. “Horemheb, how desperate is the situation beyond Syria? Is Egypt in any immediate danger?”

“Not at present,” he replied unwillingly. “The foreigners make war on one another with the delight of those long kept under Egypt’s peaceful thumb. They are still in awe of her and prefer in any case to kill one another to test their skill and strength. One day Suppiluliumas will march the Khatti on us, but not yet.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You did not have to be so honest. You could have tried to impress me with an urgency that is not present.”

He laughed shortly. “It would not be wise to lie to you, Majesty.”

“No, it would not. Therefore, I propose that first we discredit my niece, so that I can slowly begin to turn my son around. I must add that any thought of murdering the queen would be foolish. Amunhotep would be lost to all reason if she died in suspicious circumstances. That is a divine command,” she emphasized, having noticed Ay and Horemheb exchange glances in the darkness. “Ignore it at your peril. Mutnodjme, are you asleep?”

“No, Majesty Aunt.” The cool voice drifted over the grass. “It has been a most interesting conversation.”

“Then call your litter bearers. I want to go to my couch.”

Mutnodjme rose, brushed herself off, and shouted for her servants. Horemheb also came to his feet and, pressing his lips to Tiye’s hand, murmured his worship. Together they bowed and vanished into the night.

“How long has Horemheb had designs on the Horus Throne?” Tiye demanded sharply of Ay when the torches of the couple had disappeared.

Ay pulled his chair closer to hers. “I do not think he as yet has such ambitions,” he replied. “But it is frustrating for a born commander to see soldiers idle year after year while their country crumbles for lack of a simple order.”

“And you, Ay, have you such ambitions?”

“Tiye,” he chided her gently, “the gods have blessed me with fifty-eight years. I am too old to dream the foolish and exhilarating dreams of youth. My sister is a goddess, my daughter a queen. What more could an old man desire?”

I wonder
, Tiye thought when he had gone.
Ambitions that would lie safely dormant under a strong Horus must inevitably stir in times like these. I pray I may not live to see them mature
.

Tiye had to wait several days before she could speak to her son, for the excitement of her arrival had precipitated another debilitating headache, accompanied by the vomiting that had become so much a fashion at court. In the meantime she received dispatches from Thebes. Maya wrote that the emaciated bodies of starving priests had begun to be found floating in the Nile. The mayor wrote also, his letter one long complaint of violence among the jobless, desecration of the empty Amun shrines by the ignorant fellahin, and the shortages of food caused by Pharaoh’s command that goods of every kind should first pass through the customs houses at Akhetaten. Tiye listened to her scribe’s drone impassively. She could do nothing, and therefore anxiety would serve no purpose. She went dutifully to the Great Temple and stood under her magic sunshade twice a day, watching Nefertiti and the priest Meryra perform rites for the sick pharaoh.

While passing the time before her audience, she sent for one of the Aten priests and had him read to her from the scrolls of the Teaching. She was struck, as she had been when Akhenaten had sung to her, by the artless beauty of his religious conviction. Here was no solemn arbiter of man’s fate but a god with the gentle humanity of Akhenaten himself. “Creator of the germ in woman, who makest seed into men, making alive the son in the body of his mother, soothing him that he may not weep, nurse even in the womb, giver of breath to sustain alive every one that He maketh! …Thy rays nourish every garden; when Thou risest, they live, they grow by Thee. Thou makest the seasons in order to make develop all that Thou hast made. Winter to bring them coolness, and heat that they may taste Thee…. Thou makest millions of forms through Thyself alone… Thou art Aten of the day over the earth. When Thou hast gone away and all men, whose faces Thou hast fashioned in order that Thou mightest no longer see Thyself alone, have fallen asleep, so that not one seeth that which Thou hast made, yet art Thou still in my heart….” Such sentiments were so unusual that Tiye wondered what had prompted them. While she and her first husband had deliberately encouraged Aten worship for diplomatic reasons, neither had had any real interest in Ra as the Visible Disk. Another small segment of Teaching, entitled simply “Revelation to the King,” read: “There is no other that knoweth Thee save Thy son Akhenaten. Thou has made him wise in Thy designs and in Thy might.” Here was a son she could recognize, a man deep in the toils of visions that were incomprehensible to all save himself.

It was with genuine sorrow that Tiye presented herself outside his private rooms and heard her herald announce her titles. She knew that Nefertiti was at Maru-Aten with Ankhesenpaaten, sitting for a sculpted portrait that was to be done from life, and Pharaoh would be alone at this hour. She walked through the doors confidently.

Akhenaten rushed to greet her, smiling and folding her in an exuberant embrace as her servant withdrew. She answered his kiss and stepped back, regarding him. He was pale, with dark smudges under his green-lidded eyes, but otherwise seemed well.

“I am glad you have recovered, my son,” she said. “I was distressed at the thought that my arrival had made you ill.”

“My excitement overcame me.” He smiled back. “To have you here with me! It is wonderful. I feel safer now.” He released his hands and invited her to sit, himself sinking back onto his chair and arranging the voluminous folds of his gown across his plump thighs. At the farther end of the room three monkeys sat perched on an arrangement of wooden frames that had obviously been built especially for them. Below the perch was a large golden bowl filled with overripe fruit, and the smell of the animals’ droppings and the bruised fruit wafted unpleasantly around Tiye. She looked for Parennefer as Pharaoh offered her wine, but he poured for her himself. “After I have suffered the touch of the god, I like to be alone,” he explained in answer to her enquiring eyebrows. “Often the god speaks to me or shows me visions, and I cannot listen properly if Parennefer or one of the others is hovering to serve me. The pain is terrible, Empress, but the rewards are great. Ah!” He rubbed his orange palms together. “To see the family united and growing larger is bliss.”

“Are you speaking of little Meketaten and the child she carries?”

“Certainly. All my children must receive the blessing of the Aten through me, so that I and they might remain inviolable. But I speak also of dear Nefertiti’s child, soon to be born. The Aten brings fertility to everything.” His high voice was husky, almost drowned by the sudden gibbering of the monkeys who, seeing an intruder, had left their perches and were bobbing around her, hands impudently outstretched for a sweetmeat. Akhenaten tossed them each a date from the plate on the table. Tiye kept her hands around her wine cup.

“I have been studying the Teaching,” she said. “It is exquisite, Akhenaten.”

“I dictated the words, which came from the god,” he said proudly, “but the music for it is mine alone. So much comes to me with my sickness. It is a holy gift. Yesterday while I lay weak and spent watching Meryra light the incense in the shrine by my couch, I saw your face in the smoke, young and lovely as I remember you from my childhood. It was such a happy omen!”

Tiye noticed that he had begun to sweat. His forehead under the white helmet beaded suddenly, and moisture trickled down his long neck. His hands moved constantly against each other.

“I will always be the mother who cared for you and tried to lighten your days of imprisonment,” she said gently. “That is why I have come to you today. I will not see my dear one hurt.”

He frowned across at her. “I remember that tone also,” he said with swift perception. “You are going to tell me something I do not wish to hear. Why did you dismiss Meryra as Nefertiti’s harem keeper?”

The familiar feeling of picking her way through tall reeds without a path to follow returned to Tiye. “I replaced him with Huya because he was putting his duties to his queen before his duties to you, Divine One,” she said with careful emphasis. “He would not have told you that Nefertiti is seen in the company of your sculptor Thothmes too often.”

He blinked rapidly. “I suppose she is,” he said quickly, “but that is because Nefertiti has been commissioning many statues of herself with which to beautify Akhetaten and cheer the hearts of her subjects.”

“I expect that you are right,” Tiye replied. “Nevertheless, you know it is my prerogative as chief wife to appoint whom I choose. As your harem is so very large, I decided to trust the position to Huya.”

The dark, restless eyes flickered over her face. “I remember him. Kheruef left your service because he said we broke a law, you and I, but Huya remained loyal. I will give him a tomb in the northern cliffs.”

“That is generous of you. Could I prevail upon your generosity yet again and ask for Tutu’s dismissal? He does his work now no better than he did at Malkatta—”

“Malkatta belongs to a past I despise!” he broke in loudly. “Mother, why are you trying to turn me into a little boy again? All is well at Akhetaten. I rule justly, I love my people, I do right in the sight of the god. Tutu stays!”

“Very well.” She backed down hurriedly, appalled at the sudden change in her son. Sweat now poured from him. He lifted the skirts of his gown with both trembling hands and mopped his face, uttering small whimpering noises, his breath coming fast and noisily. Then he sprang abruptly to his feet and began to pace the room, his robes floating away from his flabby body, his hands gripping his breasts before sliding to entwine about each other.

“All will be well!” he shrieked. “As long as I obey the god and harm no man, Egypt will prosper.”

Alarmed, Tiye went to him, calling for Parennefer over her shoulder. The monkeys ran excitedly after her, and stumbling, she kicked them out of the way. “Akhenaten,” she murmured, putting an arm around his wet, hot neck. “Forgive me for distressing you so. I love you. I only wish to help you.”

“So does Tutu. He is a loyal child of the Aten, and Nefertiti is my rock, the ground on which I plant my august feet! Her breath is as the sweet lotus, her smile as the rising of the god. Her touch is pure! Now I am unhappy once more!” He shook her off and began to sob, a hoarse, dry sound that sent a thrill of terror through Tiye. The doors opened, and she saw Parennefer look quickly inside and then disappear. She forced Akhenaten over to the table and urged wine on him, steadying the cup against his red mouth. He drank in gulps, shuddering.

“Pharaoh, it may indeed be as you believe,” she said urgently, “but the fact remains, Nefertiti should not be with the sculptor so frequently. She is the queen. It is not seemly.”

Wine ran from the corner of his mouth. He leaned against her, swaying, his eyes closed. “It is hard to be God,” he slurred, a broken whisper. “They do not love me, any of them. I shower gold and gentle words upon them, but beneath their smiles is darkness. Only Nefertiti. Only her…” He slumped, and unable to hold his weight, Tiye let him slide onto the chair. Her own palms were damp, and her knees shook. The door clicked open, and she turned to see Horemheb bowing grimly to her before he directed his attention to Pharaoh.

“My dear lord,” he said, kneeling and repeatedly kissing the twitching hands. “Do you remember the trip we took together to Memphis, when you first left the harem? How we would pray together in the evenings, in your beautiful tent with the river lapping outside and the piping of the marsh birds all around? We would share wine, and you would ask me of Memphis. I am still here, Akhenaten.” All the time he was speaking in such a soothing tone his hands were moving, rubbing the silver-girt arms, gently massaging the still shoulders. Parennefer and Pharaoh’s body servant looked on, motionless.