A God Against the Gods (20 page)

“Majesty,” Aye said quietly, “we are all aware that there is no purpose to be gained by threatening Nefer-Kheperu-Ra. We all know that he lives in truth and speaks the truth. When he says he would die rather than go, we know he would die rather than go. Therefore I think there must be some other way to resolve this impasse.”

“And who has created this ‘impasse’?” I demanded with an anger made greater by the fact that my teeth, as always when I am under stress, seemed to be choosing this particular moment to hurt worse than ever. “
He
has, by his ridiculous attempt to interfere with
my
desire to rename
my
palace as
I
wish in whatever way is pleasing to
me
,
who am Pharaoh and King of the Two Lands.”

“But as he truly says, Neb-Ma’at-Ra,” Aye pointed out, respectfully but firmly, “so is he. And therefore he perhaps has some small voice, though I will agree a junior one, in a decision bearing so directly upon the relations of your House with the priests of Amon.”

“Does he consult me when he idolizes the Aten and thereby offends the priests of Amon?” I demanded bitterly; and my son, of course, turned it upon me, which I suppose I had invited.

“Who first urged me to worship the Aten, Father,” he asked quietly, “if it was not you, O Son of the Sun?”

For a moment I was at a loss to reply, and it was the moment Aye had been waiting for, because, as always, he had a compromise to offer. Aye is full of compromises, which is why he will probably survive us all. But he is a good and shrewd man and has helped our House times beyond measure. I cannot be too harsh with him—even though now, with this new move of accepting the assistant priesthood of the Aten, he has me somewhat puzzled, though I think I see his reasoning.

“Perhaps the solution is a simple one, Majesty,” he said to me. “And perhaps if your father agrees, you will be considerate enough to agree also, Majesty,” he said to my son.

Neither of us gave ground at that moment: we simply stared at him and waited.

“Neb-Ma’at-Ra,” he said, “why do you not be content to rename Medinet Habu simply “The-House-of-Rejoicing”?—but tell my brother Aanen at the same time,” he added quickly as I started to protest, “that of course this means rejoicing for Amon—for it were not so, why, then, have you built such great works for Amon? On every hand he sees them rise. The sounds of the hammer, the adze, the chisel and the shovel are everywhere in Thebes, ringing from Karnak, ringing from Luxor, to the greater glory of the god. Surely if there is rejoicing in Medinet Habu it is rejoicing for Amon. Aanen and his priests can see this with their eyes and hear it with their ears. Why, then, is it necessary to spell it out?”

“Because I wish to spell it out,” I said, but less certainly.

“It is not necessary, Son of the Sun,” Aye said. “It is apparent in everything you do.”

There was a pause while I thought. My son, as always, remained absolutely silent, absolutely still. No expression, of interest, triumph or concern, appeared upon that long, unsmiling face. Only the eyes were alive behind their narrowed lids; and them I have long since stopped trying to analyze.

It was his mother who finally spoke, siding, as I expected, with her brother and her son.

“Son of the Sun,” she said, “my brother speaks much wisdom, as always. It is not necessary to emphasize to Amon what Amon already knows. And it is not necessary to insult our son and the Aten, which such a complete renaming as you propose would do. In fact, if you insult the Aten you will not only please Amon but you will seriously weaken the Aten as well. And I do not think you wish to please Amon
that
much.”

“Of course you do not, Majesty,” my son said then, so calmly that one would never have guessed the triumph he must have been feeling. “Why do you not simply announce that you have decided to add the name ‘The-House-of-Rejoicing’ to the name The-House-of-Neb-Ma’at-Ra-Shines-Like-Aten’? Those who choose may use either. Thereby both gods will be appeased, the balance will be kept, all will be happy. Is it not so?”

Confronted by their massed opposition, and by what Tiye has since succeeded in convincing me was a quite logical argument (my son’s compromise, ironically—not Aye’s, after all), I presently yielded. I told them I had secretly arrived at these conclusions myself, and had only wished to test them with my seeming obduracy. I congratulated them upon their shrewdness in correctly perceiving my own ideas. I said I would proceed as I had always intended to proceed: the old name would stand, but to it would be added a new designation which those who so desired might freely use; namely (I told them) the name I had always secretly contemplated—“The-House-of-Rejoicing.”

I then dismissed them, telling them my teeth made further conversation too painful at the moment. Aye went to his house in the compound, Tiye retired to her chambers, the Co-Regent, face impassive, bowed low, kissed my hand, and departed for his boat and the short sail across the Nile to his palace in the south of Thebes.

I sent immediately for my brother-in-law Aanen and told him flatly and without embellishment what I intended to do.

“But—” he stammered in anger and amazement. “But you told me—”

“I did not tell you everything,” I snapped, “nor do I need to. You will go now and tell your priests that they may rejoice at the new name of my House, for it honors Amon as many, many other things I have done have honored Amon.”

“But—” he sputtered.

“
Go!
”
I shouted, rising from my throne; and while Aanen does not often look terrified of me, for I am basically an easygoing man who does not often try to terrify people, this time he did.

Even so, after he had backed humbly and silently to the door, his head suddenly shot up, his eyes glared, and he snarled, “That monstrous boy has bested you, Neb-Ma’at-Ra! Who is it who
truly
rejoices when he comes to ‘The-House-of-Rejoicing’?”

Then he turned and stalked hurriedly away, fleeing the sound of my enraged shouts that followed him down the long corridor past the startled soldiers, who watched in amazement a sight that is almost never seen in Kemet: the open anger of the Good God.

But he was right, of course; and although none of us ever mentioned the matter again, it marked the beginning of the decline of my power and the increasing dominance of the young Pharaoh. Now it is all Amonhotep IV (life, health, prosperity!) and the Aten. Amon believes himself to be, and is, hard pressed, though as yet it does not extend to any actual physical attacks upon him or his power. And perhaps I should not concern myself if it does: perhaps I should simply enjoy in luxury whatever years remain to me. It would be easier that way, and I am not in sufficient health to fight the battles with my son that would be necessary to reverse his policies. Nor am I sure I want to. The Aten is a happy god, unlike dark Amon. Perhaps it may be for the best.…

Though still, of course, I worry. He is young, he is impulsive, he is determined, he is adamant. He is not flexible. He does not bend as a good ruler sometimes must.

Tomorrow he will reveal to us, he says, new wonders that will be good for our House, for Kemet and for everyone. Tiye has started snoring now and I believe I may dare cease my own pretense and think about this quietly for a time until Nut lets me sleep—if she does. She is aided by my son in keeping me awake: and my son is a powerful force.

I do not know quite what his mother and I have given Kemet. I marvel at it every day and only pray—to both Amon and Aten and, I assure you, with equal fervor—that it will not be the ruination of the land and of our House.

***