A God Against the Gods (22 page)
Read A God Against the Gods Online
Authors: Allen Drury
Kaires
He has left me here in the middle of the plain and gone on east into the shadows of the night. He has left his horse and his garment. Stark naked and utterly alone, he is shuffling slowly and painfully, but with a terrible determination, through the clutching sand toward the eastern hills. Only Nut knows where he is now. In an hour I am to light a torch to guide him back.
Where does he go, strange Nefer-Kheperu-Ra? What is he after? What does he seek?
I do not know.
I am afraid of what will happen at noon when he performs his “wonders.”
I am afraid for him, for Kemet and for all of us.
I have come with him thus far upon his strange life’s journey, but I do not know how much farther I can go.
***
Amonhotep IV
(life, health, prosperity!)
Behind me I have left beloved Nefertiti, faithful Kaires, my parents, my people, the world and all. I am as I entered the world and utterly alone upon my plain. Only the Aten, though he still travels beneath the earth and has not yet appeared in the eastern sky, knows where I am. He always knows, he always talks to me and guides me. He tells me what to do so that I may grow strong and enduring in his eyes and the eyes of all men for all time, forever and ever, for millions and millions of years. I must have walked, now, in that painful shuffle which I permit very few of my people to see any more, almost a mile from where Kaires patiently waits. It is enough. He cannot see me or hear me and I cannot see or hear him. No sound breaks the hush of this vast expanse I first saw crowded with hundreds of thousands, seven years ago. Now that Khons in his silver boat has vanished down the western sky, no light touches it. Darkness and silence enfold me, unbroken and complete.
Thus have I desired it, for I must be alone for a little time to think of the god, to worship him, to contemplate what has been and what will be. In this lonely hour I must open my heart to him completely, receive him utterly, so that when he stands high above in the form of Ra at noontime, I may proceed firmly and unafraid to do what I know is right: so that I may live in truth this day as I have never lived in truth before, openly and completely and forever, in all things.
I have borne with great patience in the years of my co-regency, it seems to me, the things that have been done to me. I have suffered patiently the continuing overbearing presence of Amon; the sometimes rather ridiculous attempts of my father to first weaken, then appease him; the steady erosions of the power of Pharaoh and my House at Amon’s hands; the attempts that have been made to thwart and mock my worship of the Aten, which has not harmed anyone but has only been intended to free my people and return them to what should be their only true worship, the worship of the Aten and of the Good God, myself, who is the Aten’s only emissary and sole prophet upon earth.
Always the Aten has told me to be patient, to be gentle, to be tolerant—and to be
firm.
He has told me to build my temples to him, to pursue my plans for his enthronement, to live in truth and to proceed with my own anointing as the intermediary between himself and my people. And he has told me what my parents told me when they told me of Amon’s murder of my brother Tuthmose V: if you find yourself forced to act against someone or something who is obstructing the truth in which you live, wait—prepare—choose your moment—and then, if you must, strike.
This, with the Aten’s help, I plan to do; yet even now, though it will cause much consternation, I do not think I shall do Amon any really dreadful harm. Certainly it will not be half so dreadful as the wails of my bothersome uncle Aanen and his swarming white-robes will have the world believe.
I think, however, that he and they would do well to accept and not complain too much.
It will be better so.
In the Aten, and in living in truth, I have found such happiness as I expect to find while I, a god, live among men. Much of the happiness of ordinary men—above all, the simple happiness of
being left alone
—has been denied me by my station; even more has it been denied me by the effects of my illness, which used to make me a thing of wonder and mockery but now make me a thing of wonder and awe. For that I thank the Aten, who has taught me that life should not be dark and threatening, as it is with Amon, but should be free, open and happy; who has taught me that only by living in truth can one—even such a One as I, born to godhood—be truly free; that only by living in truth can one—even such a One as I, whom the gods have wantonly abused—rise above fear, rise above hurt, rise above
caring
… or, at least, caring quite so much.…
No longer, since I have come to believe so completely in the Aten, do I find that I shrink inwardly from public view in spite of my brave outward appearance. No longer do I cringe from some of the thoughts I know must be in the minds of those who see me. No longer do I hesitate to make my wishes known as emphatically and naturally as any normal Pharaoh would … or at least, no longer all of these—quite so much.…
Long ago I told Nefertiti, as I have since told others, that I would deliberately make of my malformation an instrument of awe, of superstition, of fear and of power—and I have done so. But for quite a long time, until the Aten came to my aid and shared his strength with me, I did it with an inner defiance and hurt so terrible that many times I did not think I could continue. I began to live in truth, openly—and often, quite literally, nakedly—to make of my monstrosity a fact of life in Kemet so overwhelming as to be completely inescapable. But I did these things without ever being quite convinced in my heart that what I was doing was right.
Then I began to understand the Aten and believe in him. He comforted and confirmed me in all things. He told me I was right. He drove fear and pain from my heart … as much as it can be driven.
Do you wonder that I glorify him?
Yet I have not attacked Amon. I have preferred to live in truth in a more positive way in my adoration of the Aten. I have built his temples to be light, open, airy—and small, with the exception of the two large ones at Memphis and Karnak, sites that demand enormity. I have named our daughters, as I shall name our sons, for him. I have lived in truth and have hoped by my example to encourage my people to do the same. And Amon has continued to thrive.
But he has not been content. Pushed on by my uncle and by many others high in Amon’s hierarchy, restlessness has spread through the temples and the land. Other gods have been enlisted, hostility against me has been roused by Amon with Ptah at Memphis, with Hathor at Dendera, with Bast at Bubastis, with Horus, Hapi, Isis, Thoth and the rest. In the necropolis of Thebes beneath the Peak of the West the priests of Osiris stir and grumble because I have not yet begun my tomb there; and even they are inflamed by Amon.
Unlike my father, I have decided that Amon cannot be appeased, ever. He will always want more wealth and power. He will never rest in his attempts to undercut and weaken Pharaoh. He will never be content. The arrogance that has caused his priests to refer to him as “the king of the gods” during our Dynasty will never permit him to live in harmony with the greater god whom I have proclaimed.
And I have decided: so be it.
But the gentle Aten still tells me that I should not attack Amon directly. He tells me I should continue to be patient and forbearing. He says to me, simply: “Withdraw. Go your own way, which is the way of right. Live in truth and fear not. And the people will come to believe, and all will be done in good time as you desire.”
And I have decided: so be it.
Very far, very faint just starting to touch the low ridges of the distant hills, I see his light beginning to spread across the world. I turn my face to the east, I lower myself with clumsy awkwardness to kneel upon the sand, and I say to him:
O Aten, Great Father, Great God, in you I believe!
I shall not be afraid.
I shall do as you direct me in all things.
I shall proclaim your glories throughout the Two Lands and to all the ends of the world.
I shall live in truth with you and together we will rule forever and ever, for millions and millions of years.
I face you naked as I entered the world and I say to you; Only you and I understand, O Aten, Great God, Great Father! Only you and I know.
I will never betray you, though I live through all eternity.
I, your son Akh-en-aten, so pledge myself!
A
little wind is rising. Soon the day will come. I must return to camp and get ready for my wonders.
I turn to the west. Kaires’ torch flares up, beckoning me back to the world of men.
I do not go alone into that harsh territory.
I go armored with the love of my god—
the one God,
who loves me as I love him.
***
Kaires
He returns to me out of the east as the first thin edge of Ra begins to rise above the jagged hills. His figure is tall and misshapen against the light as he shuffles forward. Hurriedly I help him struggle into his concealing garment. We mount and flog our horses back to camp as fast as they can cross the sand.
From time to time in the growing light I give his face a quick, surreptitious glance as we hurry on.
It is transfigured, unearthly. He has gone out of himself somewhere.
My fear increases.
***
Kia
I am excited! Oh, I am excited! I think I have been excited, constantly, ever since I came to this strange land of Kemet two weeks ago from my home in Mesopotamia to become the second wife of the young Pharaoh. He has never touched me, we have barely spoken, but I am his wife and it has been exciting! Oh, how exciting!
I have seen such strange sights, such beautiful temples, such marvelous cities, such gold, such jewels, such wonders everywhere! Such amazing people, such amazing things, such an amazing land!
My father said to me: “Daughter, Na-phu-ria (as we call the young Pharaoh in other lands) desires an alliance with our city. I am sending you to be its symbol and its seal. Be a good wife to him and he will be good to you. Go, with my blessing.”
And I, being just fourteen, said to my father:
“Oh yes, Father! I will do it, I will do it! I shall be so happy! It will be so exciting!”
And oh, it has been! Because I had not been married to him more than two days, after traveling up the river from Memphis to Thebes in a glorious golden barque to the happy laughter and shouts of my new people everywhere, when he decided to bring us all back down the river to this enormous empty place for reasons he will not tell his family or
anyone
!
It is so
mysterious
,
and
such fun
!
Now it is nearing noon, when their sun-god Ra will stand high overhead. At this hour he has announced that he will perform “wonders.” None of us knows what they are—except, my new mother-in-law the Great Wife Tiye tells me, Na-phu-ria’s Chief Wife, Nefertiti. But already he has done a lot, I would say! He and Nefertiti have been out since two hours after their sun-god Ra rose in the east, and together with two of their three daughters and my new sister-in-law and brother-in-law, the Queen-Princess Sitamon and the Prince Smenkhkara, they have been riding back and forth across the plain in a great electrum-plated chariot to greet the thousands who have gathered to witness his “wonders.”
And how many thousands there are! Thousands and thousands and thousands! I heard Na-phu-ria’s uncle the Councilor Aye (he is
very
dignified and
really
forbidding) tell the old Pharaoh (whom we call Nib-mua-ria) that he estimated there were probably more than two hundred thousand. Now we of the royal procession, which includes other members of the Court—the old Queen Mother Mutemwiya; a funny, dried-up, wise-looking little old man with the curious name of Amonhotep, Son of Hapu; the Chief Scribe and Commander of the young Pharaoh’s troops, Kaires (small and sharp-featured but kind and also, I think, very wise); and many other court dignitaries—have come to the center of the plain where a big empty block of stone has been dragged into place just this morning. And there seems to be a solid sea of faces dwindling off into the distance as far as one can see.
They are restless but happy, at this moment. They shout greetings to us constantly, great waves of sound keep coming from them. In my birthplace in Mesopotamia we do not have such thousands; a few hundreds only, at the most, attend upon my father when he rides out. But here—my goodness, how many people Kemet has! Five
millions
,
so Kaires tells me. And how they love the House of Thebes! Every royal progress draws thousands and thousands; my own trip up the river when I came here, and now our trip down again, have been examples. Everywhere, people, people, people! And all happy, cheering, welcoming, adoring—at least of the old Pharaoh and the Great Wife, though it seems to me perhaps not quite so much of the young Pharaoh and Nefertiti.
In this, I expect I am probably imagining things, but it has seemed to me as we all came down the river, and this morning as we rode in our chariots (so much gold, so many jewels, so many beautiful things I now have, to own and wear! It is
wonderful
!
)
onto the plain, that there was a note of hesitation, almost of puzzlement, when my new husband (it still seems strange to me to say that. I think I shall just call him Naphuria as we always have)—when Naphuria and Nefertiti appeared. There seemed to be almost a coolness.
Everyone in the party pretended this was not so, and they acknowledged the greetings with the rest. In fact, they were much more open about it as our procession approached the great altar stone. Nib-mua-ria and Queen Tiye remained solemn and stately, but Naphuria and Nefertiti suddenly began smiling and waving very informally—almost in an undignified way, I thought, it was so open and natural and not at all like the style of the others. I am not sure the people liked it. It was then, it seemed to me, that I noticed the little hesitation, the puzzlement—almost, one might have said, the doubt. It was as though the people thought their young Pharaoh and his Chief Wife were
too
friendly—as though they wanted them to remain remote and not come down, so to speak, to the people’s level.
But everyone in our party pretended this was not so, and everyone continued as they were, Nib-mua-ria and Tiye and Aye and the rest being very solemn (I did my best to be solemn, too. It is not easy at fourteen, but now I am a Queen of the Two Lands and I must learn. I think I did very well, really), while Naphuria and Nefertiti grinned and went on like two peasants on the banks of the River Nile. It was odd, in a way, and rather disturbing. I suppose their motives were all right, but I must admit it puzzled
me
somewhat, too. It seemed to me that they carried it so far that at moments it became almost hysterical. It didn’t feel right, somehow. It was as though they felt differently inside, maybe tense, and were going too far the other way, as a result.
Anyway, we have arrived now at the big stone, which Sitamon whispered to me was intended to be an altar to her brother’s new god, the Aten. It is not at all like the altars of the king of the gods, whose name is Amon-Ra. His altars are hidden away at the end of long, dark corridors. Altars to the Aten—which is a funny-looking sun disk with a lot of thin arms—are out in the open where their sun-god Ra can shine down upon them. I like the Aten’s altars better, though I already sense there is some big argument going on, in the Family and in Kemet itself, between the two gods. I probably should not offend the priests of Amon, who I can tell are pretty powerful, by showing any favoritism. I expect I had better just watch and keep my mouth shut, at least for a while.
Now we are all taking our places in a big space in front of the altar that has been cleared by the troops of Kaires. Kaires looks somber and tense as he goes about giving orders, and now that we are nearing the moment for the ceremonies to begin, the young Pharaoh and Nefertiti look somber and tense too. In fact, all the Family and all the court officials look the same way. Everybody seems afraid of something, and suddenly I feel afraid too, though I am a stranger here still and do not yet understand Kemet and its many mysterious ways.
I wonder why I should feel afraid.
Because I do.
I really do.
Now their sun-god Ra is reaching his peak, he is standing almost directly overhead. The shadow of the altar stone has almost disappeared upon the sand. It is very hot today; we are all very thinly clad.
Naphuria, who with Nefertiti and their two little daughters has not stepped down from their chariot, but has waited while we all disposed ourselves to listen, gives his horses a sudden thrash with the thong tied to his wrist. They start and leap forward to the center of the space before the altar. He yanks them roughly to a halt, then yanks them to the right. They turn and spin about, Nefertiti clinging tightly to her girls to steady them, until he and his family are facing directly out upon the enormous throng.
Suddenly and deliberately, he and Nefertiti raise their hands to their shoulders, unhook their golden garments, and let them fall.
Naked, she in her beauty and he in his strange ugliness, they stand before us.
A great silence falls.
Suddenly I am dreadfully excited. Nothing yet in all of Kemet has been as exciting to me as
this
!
In his high, thin voice, which now is descending almost to a croak under the great emotion he obviously feels, he begins to speak. At my side Amonhotep, Son of Hapu, who is wise in all things including languages, kindly translates.
***