“This is the new Gem-Pa-Aten. I must give these signed requisitions to your father,” said Grand Djedti.
Hoards of workmen unloaded sandstone bricks in great piles, while others trimmed the blocks. Workers atop high scaffolding adhered gypsum plaster to the top rows, creating a neat crafted wall of alternating headers and stretchers. The Northern, Southern and Western walls were already whitewashed and prepared for designs. Pentu, the Physician, insisted my father drink something.
“Netri!” I yelled.
I thought the Malkata Palace was grand, but here I felt minuscule. The heat of the massive limestone pylon and entrance rose through my sandals. This edifice nearly scraped the heavens and took my breath away. A brilliant white stone temple offset the azure blue skies and the openness and light felt vibrant.
“Greetings,” said Father, lifting his cup.
Per Aat Ti-Yee inspected the etchings with a scowl. “You call this art? Where are the scenes showing the Pharaoh smiting our enemies or the carcasses from his royal lion hunts?”
“I wish to portray how life under the Aten touches everyone,” said Father. “See the shepherds herding their flocks, artisans creating sculptures in their workshops, and brewers gathering hops and rye for our daily beer? When I rule, I shall no longer force the Nubians or Asiatics to be subservient to the Khemitians.”
“Father, may I be on your walls?”
“Do you wish to learn the sacred rituals to Aten?”
“I do.” I hoped they were magical so that I could keep the red ram away.
“Then you will be taught next month when you reach your fifth year,” said Netri. “The Gem-pa-Aten will be completed before the Opet Festival. It will mark the first time the offerings to Aten will be allowed by the Amun priesthood. We must make a glorious presentation.”
“My son, I fear there are not enough artisans to complete this temple in time,” said Grand Djedti Ti-Yee, wagging a finger. “Every change and embellishment takes both time and gold. I never ask from which coffer you take but even the legendary riches of Khemit can be exhausted.”
“The Hanuti have offered me as many craftsmen as I need,” he said. “Why would they?”
Father winked. “Perhaps the Ever-Loving Aten has warmed their hearts, and they are willing to embrace our differences.”
“Take heed in accepting gifts from them,” said Ti-Yee. “All gifts come with a price. You are my only son.” In a rare moment of softness, she gazed up at him. “Now, I wish to show Merit-Aten Karnak and go see your uncles.” She stiffened and resumed her royal stance.
We rode the palanquin toward the two towers heaving skyward in pristine rawness from where the sun rises and sets daily. Entering through the glorious pylons into an open courtyard paved in electrum, I detected the rosy copper mixed into the silver and gold street. Like a colony of white ants, hundreds of white-robed men and women poured out of the Temple.
They stumbled into each other when they saw the Per Aat standing beneath the portico.
Grand Djedti appeared indifferent as she marched toward a red granite spear in the distance. Upon recognizing the Per Aat, they prostrated themselves. Unknowing priests tumbled over each other. I giggled at the chaos she invariably created by her presence.
The lower priests purified themselves for Amun in the sacred lake. While chanting their prayer texts, they shaved all hair from their bodies.
“Why do they do that?” I asked, raising my voice.
“To achieve a state of cleanliness and purity, just as you will do one day,” she said. “It happens four times a day.”
I wrinkled my nose.
Why anyone would want to bathe in cold water that often?
I kept my eye upon that red spike, which grew larger as we got closer. “Grand Djedti, is that the Hwt Ben Ben?” I asked. Hep-Mut had told me about the talking red tower. That was where Sit-Amun beheaded her servants. I quaked, hoping their bodies would not still be there.
“Indeed. Where your uncle told us to meet him,” she said as we approached the sleek red granite slab. “The Mycenaean barbarians call it an
ob-e-lisk,
or the needle of a Deity. But if this is the needle, then how big is the hand? Stay here while I meet first with Anen and Ay.”
I squatted in the shade, shuddering at the thought of Sit-Amun’s cruel torture of hanging her wested servants upside down. A young girl brought a basket of fresh bread, a jug of morning sweet beer, dried fish, and fresh fruits. The guards ignored me. From the courtyard pranced a fine-boned feline as whitewashed as the temples. This little cat had blue Nile eyes, which made me think of
Asgat
or water.
I tempted the white ghost with a bit of fish. “Come.”
Two younger soldiers begging for war stories yapped like pariah dogs at the captain.
Was it grand to fight for the glory of Khemit? Had he driven a chariot in the Nubian battle? How did he smite the enemy?
One paw, two, the cat stepped toward my unexpected offerings. She appeared to be an unwelcome guest, judging from the thinness of her shoulders compared to her pregnant belly. Those watery azure orbs intrigued me. I could swim in her feminine energy.
“Come closer, I will not hurt you. Take it from my hand,” I said, kneeling in the dust.
Bring it here
, she responded in thought which I could hear.
She jumped back.
No, you come here.
You come to me, or I shall make my way to the sacrificial square strewn with debris.
The tip of her tail tapped an impatient song while her large ears twitched.
You are so impudent.
That’s what Hep-Mut would call a disobedient attendant.
The cat yawned.
It is not impudence you object to, but freedom. I have freedom. You do not. You two-legged creatures have so few choices. You are kept in tighter cages than I shall ever be.
I dropped the fish. What could she mean? I was in line to the throne.
All of KMT would be my inheritance. I would be free to rule any way I pleased.
The cat breezed forward like a sail and stole her prize.
I have to find a quiet hole to deliver my litter.
The apparition floated away. I wanted to run after her, but the verbosity of the young guards startled me. They begged with puppy eyes for juicy bits of news the gruff captain threw to them like a bone.
He stood outside their circle, bragging about the spoils of war, how much bounty he claimed from his enemies, and how he had captured their women for his household slaves.
“Captain, is it true the Amun priesthood cut off our wages to build more temples?”
The captain draped his thumbs over his heavy bronze belt. “It is. We have been reduced to royal babysitters.” He tilted his head at me.
My face burned. His insults felt as sharp as a stick. I was no longer hungry.
“Captain,” I said, imitating the authority of Grand Djedti Ti-Yee and surprising the broad-shouldered official.
Bowing at the waist, he made sure his small battalion watched his mockery. “My Lady, how may I serve you?”
“Finish my basket of food.” I slid it toward them. The soldiers probably had no more than bread beer this morning.
“We have plenty to eat.” He patted his stomach. “We brought extra rations.”
“Show me.”
The captain chuckled. “I have been caught in her net like a fish.” Yellow plumes of irritation billowed from his belly, showing his true passion was power and authority over others.
“Finish it or I shall throw my food to the swine!” Hep-Mut admonished me this way when I hadn’t finished a meal.
“Do not throw it out.” The boys split the loaves, chugged the ale and fought like wolves over the fish and fruit.
“It is a wise woman who knows that the heart of every soldier is by way of his mouth. We give thanks,” said the Captain. “If you feed the legion, then you have our loyalty.” He bowed and nudged the others.
“What title do you have?” I asked.
“Horemheb.” He saluted.
“Big News of He Who Comes to the Feast.” I imagined a large party announcing his arrival.
He sniffed. “An eloquent title for a cheese maker’s son from
Khepert
. Certainly not titled royalty. I am a lowly servant of the House of the Pharaoh.”
“Merit-Aten, they will see you now,” said Grand Djedti. I followed her through the hypostyle hall toward a dark room with a stone altar. She bolted the door to the Holy of Holies. “We will be safe to discuss all matters.”
An imposing statue of Amun with a strand of lilies draped about his neck stood in the center of a mysterious room. Precious jewels decorated his golden fingers. This man of metal’s vacant eyes stared into nothingness. Khyphi incense filled the room with a pungent aroma of death. Our Aten Temple is filled with light, yet these Amunites worshipped in darkness. I peeked around for the red ram.
At Amun’s feet were offerings of plates of steaming meats, cooked vegetables, freshly baked bread, and bowls of grain. This time I didn’t touch the food.
Ay, the father of my HeMeti, wore the golden multi-jeweled collar of a titled man.
He bowed. “Merit-Aten, Hail to you, golden child of Ra.”
I allowed him to honor my royal standing, and then kissed him.
“Ay, Hail to thee, Royal Fanbearer and Father of the Deity incarnate.”
I hoped this pleased Grand Djedti that I addressed him by his titles. Anen was one of the highest-ranking priests of Amun, as signified by the black panther pelt draped over his frame. The black cat’s fur was painted with golden stars to denote this man’s expertise in astronomy.
“Hail to thee, beautiful lotus of the Nile.” The greeting lacked warmth.
“Hail to thee, Chief of Sightings.” I didn’t kiss him because he despised the familiarity of touch as much as Grand Djedti.
“I wish to seek your appraisal of Merit-Aten. Does she have the qualities to rule?” asked Grand Djedti Ti-Yee. “My son is determined to commence the worship of Aten. Two paths could help us succeed. Advise me of the wisest course. Nefertiti desires to build the lineage through her children’s children, but I am not so sure.”
Anen stepped closer. “I hear that you are capable of more than five senses. Show us.”
I felt shy and unaccustomed to being questioned by a man other than my instructor.
“That is no way to address Merit-Aten. She is in line to the throne.