Sit-Amun and Mery-Ptah studied her with disdain from their seats in the back row. Even though Sit-Amun was banished, she still had to make appearances whenever Grand Djedti snapped her fingers. My skin prickled with gooseflesh. Meket and I turned to stare. Sit-Amun removed an ebony stick from her short wig with the intricate lotus blossom crown encircling it accented by double golden gazelle heads. She toyed with the ebony stick, passing it through her fingers like a tumbling acrobat. Ankhi stood on her chair and stuck her tongue out at Sit-Amun.
I frowned and admonished the toddler. When I peeked back to see if Ankhi had incurred Sit-Amun’s wrath, The First Chief Royal Wife snapped that stick in half, warning us with her owl eyes. We all quaked.
My parents, unaware of our actions, greeted Grand Djedti Ti-Yee and Beket-Aten who had the same almond shaped eyes and broad nose as her mother, the Per Aat.
“Nefertiti, have you ordered an extra brew of beer for the tribute?” asked Grand Djedti Ti-Yee with a wrinkle of her nose. “I did not care for the red wine you chose for the vassal banquet. Try the red from my vineyard next time; you will find it more robust.”
Mother tugged her earring. “Yes, Your Majesty. I shall see to it.”
“Akhenaten, my son, you must reply to the many correspondences from Tushratta, King of Mitanni,” said Ti-Yee. “He has requested gold time and time again.”
“Yes, I apologize. I was laboring on the completion of my father’s mortuary temple, your tombs, and the ordering of the new statuary.” Netri administered all architectural duties. Although Grand Djedti pleaded for him to attend to his required political duties, my father had no interest.
The Great Per Aat Ti-Yee signaled the commencement. The Nubians beat many kinds of drums, some with their hands and others with sticks.
A group of dark-skinned drummers beat clay pots open on the bottom with thin membranes pulled taut over the tops. From behind them emerged men who clapped. At first they mirrored the rhythm of the drums but then two different harmonies flowed into three separate beats.
Oh, the joy of this. Meket and I imitated them. I glanced at Ankhi. My sister stood back up on her throne and crossed her eyes and again stuck her tongue out at Sit-Amun. A group of young women in cheerful threaded sheaths skipped forth, playing end-blown flutes called ‘nays’, which added to the festive atmosphere. Instead of enjoying the flute players, I yanked Ankhi back down into her seat. Then I sunk into mine.
I knew Sit-Amun would be angry. She hated to be mocked. Whenever the Pharaoh teased his younger sister by commenting about her large hands, Sit-Amun would fume.
Beneath my feet, below the limestone floor, a terrible rumbling emerged. Could it be the clang of the cymbals or thump of the drums reverberating within me? Then with an excruciating grinding sound, the southern wall of the Palace was ripped apart. My horror bit like an asp. The dancers shrieked, drummers scattered, hands above heads, shielding themselves from the blue faience ceiling tiles which pelted us. The colorful painting of the dancers cracked and bits of their faces or bodies crashed to the floor.
“Earthcrack. Everyone out into the open,” Netri commanded. “Come, Merit and Meket.”
He jerked us by the hand and lumbered toward the door. The earthcrack tossed us like a wave from one pillar to the next. Jolted into a stone statue, I screamed from the sharp pain to my arm.
Meti waved. “Meet us outside. I have Ankhi!” The ground heaved in ripples and hurled Mother backward. Ankhi fell to the floor and broke into hysterics. I shook free from Netri and struggled toward my scared sister. Finally, I hoisted Ankhi up and ushered her to safety while Father went back for Meti.
The courtyard, now a skirmish of madness, rose up in jagged teeth of granite. The loud snaps and the rolling movement left me seasick. A deep fissure in the limestone floor divided, causing dancers to tumble into the raw splitting earth.
A thick granite column tore away from the ceiling and swung over a huddled crowd. Then a massive stone statue of Grand Djed teetered off its base, crushing Ankhi’s tiny throne. Plaster ripped away from the walls, furniture lay in golden heaps, and the fresh painted frescos shattered. The ground opened up before us like an angry mouth ready to swallow us alive.
The earthcrack receded with the same swiftness as it had started. The ensuing quiet became deafening.
Children whimpered. For a beat of a wing, unsure if the danger passed, or if something even more disastrous lay ahead, the fear ate at me. An earthcrack.
Meket and Ankhi clung to my parents. Mothers cried out to their lost young. Confusion. Chaos. Danger.
Grand Djedti sobbed, “I cannot find Beket-Aten.”
“My son is gone,” cried out another mother with skinned knees.
“I shall find them,” answered my father.
“Wait,” I pleaded, but he disappeared into the disastrous chamber room. I fled after him jumping over the cracked floor now littered with debris. People fell and cut themselves. Through the pandemonium, I located Netri who tried to coax Beket-Aten out from underneath her throne.
She refused. A second column teetered overhead. With only the slightest jolt the child and Netri would be crushed.
“Please, Beket.” I offered a hand but she shook her head. “Come out. You can make it.” I reached toward her. “We can go together.” With her little hand in mine, we ran to the courtyard where Grand Djedti scooped her up. I looked back for Father, and saw him struggling to move a piece of fallen granite that blocked a dancer.
I ran to him. “Netri, this is too heavy for you. We will never be able to lift it.”
I glanced around for help. Sit-Amun rocked Mery-Ptah in her arms. She ripped a swatch of her gown to tend a cut on his face. Their love and desire for each other made me envious. People ran through the room in chaos. There was no one to ask for help.
Netri looked at me with great sorrow, unwilling to leave the trapped dancer. He turned to me and said, “We can use the Nubian sounds to move it. Merit-Aten, imitate me.”
Netri began with unintelligible chanting that made echoes within his mouth. I did my best to imitate the same tones. Nothing happened. I felt deflated. “I cannot do it.”
He encouraged me with his eyes and began again.
Nothing happened.
Then a slight wiggle. I worked harder to keep those penetrating sounds going. My mouth ached. My bruised arm throbbed. But with our combined intense concentration, the pillar lifted like a feather until we could push it aside and free the petrified dancer.
“Your ankle is only twisted. We can heal this,” he said to her, and helped her limp to safety.
Together we attended to the injured Sesh strewn like rag dolls across the hazardous palace floor. White dust filled the air. We rushed to avoid the plaster and tiles that rained down from the ceiling.
I dabbed the blood from the forehead of a wounded drummer. “Netri, I think I know why the earth cracked,” I said.
With his robe, Netri wiped the dust away from a child’s face. “When the Great Mother within the earth grows weary of being curled up, she stretches and the land must shift to accommodate her.”
“No, Netri, Sit-Amun did it. She snapped a stick to warn us of the earthcrack.”
Father’s eyes teared. “Merit-Aten, I am not sure what you saw, but this earthcrack means that we failed to protect the Ben Ben.”
“Will it get worse?” asked Meti with a chirping sound of desperation that a mother bird uses when protecting her young. She fiddled with her right earring.
Grand Djedti nodded and frowned. “Many times worse.” She clasped her blue scarab necklace.
My stomach would not quiet down. I kept readying myself for another earthcrack. With no warning, cries of anguish besieged us again from outside in the courtyard.
Netri yelled, “What is happening?” He pulled himself up on the broken chair to investigate.
“The sky darkens. Thick clouds billow above the city,” a drummer answered.
“Look, it is raining hard.” A dancer pointed. “Isis and Osiris have mercy upon us.”
We crowded to the balcony. Indeed, terrifying clouds raged over the once clear sky. The afternoon sun refused to shine through the gloom. The acrid smell of burnt sulphur filled the air. Ankhi, Meket, and some of the elders coughed.
Grand Djedti ran her finger over the dense material on the railing, “Ash from the sky.”
“How could that be?” asked Meti. She drew my two sisters to her hips and protected them within the wings of her cape.
“A bad omen,” bawled the guard. “The Deities are angered.” He stared up at the sky and his body shook as he shouted prayers.
Grand Djedti clapped her hands, “Enough. Back to your post.”
The guard stared at her horrified. “Your consort has only just wested. The Deities are not pleased that they have been chosen.” The guard thrust his finger at my parents.
Grand Djedti pointed. “Guards, seize this man!”
“It is a curse! Nefertiti usurped Sit-Amun as the next Per-Aat, and now Amun has damned all you Atenists.” The guard roared this unholy accusation at my Meti.
Some of those gathered in the room whispered and pulled out magic amulets, pleading with Amun for forgiveness.
Before they could catch him, the guard now crazed with hysteria ran toward the doors and crashed through them. Meti shook. Her perfect face contorted. She coughed in a great fit. Ash covered the floors like a thick rug.
“Get inside,” Netri ordered. We rushed to the safety of our chamber. Deep in thought, my father rubbed his chin.
Tears spilled down Meti’s cheeks. “What does this ash mean?” She pulled Meket to her to comfort her hacking cough.
“It could be what the ancients called a volcano. Those would spew ash into the sky,” replied Grand Djedti. “It is when a mountain bursts like a boil.”
Meket coughed harder. “Will we catch on fire?”
“I need to convene with the Council of Twelve,” said Netri. “We must correct the energetic matrix so that one disaster will not lead to another.” “We can bring in the bedding. Everyone can stay here, should we need help,” said Meti.
The attendants rushed to assemble straw mats upon the floor. The young and the elders rested so those still of able body could tend the wounded. The Atenists and the Amunites gave aid to each other regardless of whom they worshipped. Men held children and sang while women made bandages out of their sheaths. A flautist played a brooding melody as a drummer added a beat. The torches made the fire dance and cast shadows upon the walls. The orange flames beckoned me to surrender to sleep. I dreamt the earth cracked again. I felt the rumble and struggled in my dream to run.
“Run away. It will consume you,” shouted a dark shadow that chased me. It caught me and shook me. I tossed and turned and tried to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth.
“Merit-Aten, wake up.” Meti shook me. “Another earthcrack. We must get out into the open.”