The Amarnan Kings, Book 2: Scarab - Smenkhkare

by Overton, Max

  "I am glad of it, General. I believe in love, even for kings. But no," Ankhesenpaaten shook her head. "That was not what I meant. I have heard the tales but know it for the gossip of old women with too much time on their hands. But if you leave a princess unmarried she may become the object of other men's ambition. Surely it would be more...more economical to marry him to either Meryetaten, Smenkhkare's widow, or Beketaten, his sister."

  "An interesting thought, lady, but your elder sister is tainted too strongly with Atenism. She has remained a devotee of the heresy, despite her husband's attempts to restore order. Why, she even talks of returning to Akhet-Aten to be with her father."

  "And Beketaten?"

  "She is dead, lady." Psenamy forestalled the young girl's question by raising a hand. "I do not know the whys or wherefores but a messenger brought the news to me as I arrived this morning."

  Ankhesenpaaten sat silently, head bent, observing Psenamy surreptitiously, willing him to reach the right conclusion.

  "There is one other possibility," the general remarked casually. "You, my lady."

  Ankhesenpaaten fought down her triumphant expression and managed to look confused instead of incredulous as she had been trying for. "Me? But I am queen...no, no longer queen but still married to...to Akhenaten."

  "A marriage can be dissolved, my lady. Easily. Think on it. You are the sole surviving untainted princess and Tutankhaten is the sole surviving prince. What could be better than the two of you marrying and producing heirs that will rule Kemet after you?"

  "The idea has merit," Ankhesenpaaten said slowly. "But it should not be my choice, Psenamy, or yours, or even that of my grandfather Ay. A king should marry for love, or if not for love, at least by marrying the woman he chooses. Ask him, General Psenamy. Ask the king to be, prince Tutankhaten, who he will take to wife. If he chooses me I will do my duty to Kemet."

  "Nobly said, my lady." Psenamy got to his feet. "My next duty was to apprise the prince of his future. I will now ask him to name his future wife as well." He bowed low, whirled on his heel and marched from the room.

  Behind him, Ankhesenpaaten allowed herself a smirk of triumph.

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  Chapter Ten

  "You cannot remain here, my lady. I regret it deeply for the sake of our past acquaintance and the, dare I say it, friendship I enjoyed with your illustrious brother, but it is too dangerous."

  "Come on, Scarab. I told you this poxy priest was a waste of time," Khu snarled. "He is afraid and I would not want to stay around a fearful man. He is likely to betray you next."

  Scarab looked from Khu to Pa-Siamen the priest and back again. The two men stood close together, the farm lad turned Councilor and now fugitive, tall and upright, his fists clenched by his sides, his eyes blazing with contempt and anger. The priest, by contrast, stood with downcast eyes, his body slumped and weary, not meeting the hostile gaze directed at him. The room too, reflected this dichotomy of spirit, a blazon of bright sunlight through a window aperture high on one wall, a deep gloom of tinted green where the light of morning filtered through shrubbery long untended outside a lower window.

  The previous evening Scarab and Khu had come to Amun's temple, fugitives from an unseen menace and had been admitted by an old porter. Shown into a musty guest room and supplied with water and crusty bread, they passed the night in fitful sleep, afraid that at any moment, Ay's guards would come for them.

  Pa-Siamen arrived with the first light of morning, in company with his immediate superior. Recognizing the woman whom he had last seen as a small girl tagging along with her brother, he kept silent as to her true identity, introducing her only as Scarab. The elder priest passed the care of the supplicants to Pa-Siamen and took his leave, instructing an acolyte to bring fresh bread, figs and water.

  "You cannot remain here," the priest repeated.

  "I would not put you in danger, Pa-Siamen," Scarab said gently. "We shall leave at once."

  Pa-Siamen brought his head up sharply. "I am not the one in danger, Beketaten, sister of the Heretic. If anyone here guessed your identity, you might not live long enough to be taken by Ay's guards."

  Khu gave Scarab a long meaningful stare, edging between the priest and the door, a gleam of bronze showing near his right hand.

  "You are named the Handmaiden of Aten, lady," went on the priest. "Do you in fact still live up to that name?"

  "You know I do not, Pa-Siamen. I was named Beketaten by my brother but the name I now go by is simply Scarab, the name by which you knew me when my other brother, Smenkhkare, brought me here. I believe all gods should be worshiped, not just one."

  The priest scratched his beardless face. "Scarab, eh? Khepri, the sacred beetle--well, that is a good name--as is that of Smenkhkare. There is much sorrow in Waset today, much mourning that even Ay cannot suppress."

  Scarab made a surreptitious sign to Khu who glowered but edged away from Pa-Siamen, the knife disappearing back into his robe. "What do the people believe?"

  "They believe Smenkhkare is dead." Pa-Siamen shrugged. "Of course they will believe what Ay tells them, he is next to the king in power and authority. Besides, he produced evidence to back up his story."

  "What evidence?" Khu growled. "I thought a crocodile took him."

  "Has Ay produced my brother's body?"

  "No, my lady. He produced a kilt, ripped and bloodied, of fine linen such as the king wore and stained by the river mud. Also the bodies of five of the young nobles who accompanied him. They died of wounds--spear, arrow, and sword--that Ay says were inflicted by bandits."

  "Bandits? Why would they kill nobles instead of ransoming them?"

  "I do not know, but Ay says the king and one other fled from the scene of the ambush and attempted to swim the river, only to be dragged down by crocodiles."

  "And the servants that were with them?" Scarab's face took on a puzzled look.

  "All dead, my lady."

  "Then who was it that saw the ambush and the king and one other taken by crocodiles? Are we to believe the bandits obligingly reported the matter to Ay?"

  "It makes you think, doesn't it?" Khu mused. "There was no love lost between your brother and Ay. Now your brother is dead and somehow Ay knows all the details."

  Pa-Siamen looked shocked. "You are not thinking the lord Ay, or anyone for that matter, actually killed the king? Such an act is god-cursed and the wrath of Amun would be swiftly visited on such a miscreant."

  Khu snorted derisively. "Even the Heretic, Akhenaten? If someone killed him, Amun would rejoice."

  "No, Councilor Khu. Though Akhenaten cursed the gods and sought to obliterate Amun from the minds of men, he is still a consecrated and anointed king. Why, it was in this very temple that the Hem-netjer of Amun crowned him as king. The gods may exact vengeance on him after death, but no respecter of the gods will hasten his demise."

  "All right," Khu grudgingly agreed. "So Ay did not have Smenkhkare killed, but how did he know if none witnessed it? It is suspicious."

  Pa-Siamen shook his head. "You seek complexities where there are none. All in the royal party died, but men live by the river, hunting and farming. Ay says a hunter spied them from afar, too far away to come to their aid."

  "Too far to help? Yet near enough to recognise the king?" Scarab made a sour expression. "You cannot convince me Ay did not have a hand in this. He stood to gain too much."

  "More than likely, but what are you going to do about it?"

  "I don't know, Khu. There is probably little I can do. If I could find Smenkhkare's body with stab wounds in it, I could perhaps rally the nobles against Ay, but he is certain to have the army behind him."

  "That I wouldn't be too sure about. Horemheb is his own man and if nothing else he is loyal. I mean, look at his actions when Ay attempted that first rebellion. He tried hard to get Ay executed or exiled along with Nefertiti. Do you think he will support Ay if he really has had the king killed?"

  Scarab nodded. "Th
ere is Akhenaten too. Pa-Siamen, I know what you think of him, but in your own words, he is the anointed king of Kemet still. If he speaks out against Ay, the people must surely rally to him."

  "Perhaps," Pa-Siamen said. "What I do not understand is why the Tjaty would attempt this thing. From what I have heard, his daughter Nefertiti rebelled in the hope of overthrowing the Heretic--and now you say he was implicated in this. Why would he now remove the king he helped place in power, just to give sole authority back to the Heretic?"

  "Because Smenkhkare was going to relieve Ay of his position of Tjaty at the end of the month. In two days time."

  "Ah. And did Ay know of this?" Pa-Siamen asked. Scarab nodded. "Then that which was unclear, becomes clear."

  "So to get back to my question, Scarab, what are we going to do?"

  "Akhenaten first. We must take our suspicions to the king and hope that he will investigate them." Scarab picked up a ripe fig from the plate on the floor and dusted it off before biting into it. "We will stay here no longer than we must, Pa-Siamen. I would not expose you to any more danger."

  The priests head came up sharply. "As I said before, you are the one in danger, my lady. For myself I care nothing if I may serve you, but you are in great danger if you stay here."

  "Nobody knows we are here," Khu said. "Unless you have spread the word."

  Pa-Siamen gave Khu a disgusted look. "Forgive me, Councilor, but at heart you really are just a farm lad. Nobody knows you are here? What of the porter last night, of the priest Amenhotep this morning, and the acolyte? Do you think they have kept silent or perhaps might have gossiped about a young man and a young woman seeking refuge in the temple?" He started pacing in agitation. "'Seeking refuge from what?' they will ask. Then will come news that the Tjaty is looking for two of the Councilors, by coincidence a young man and a young woman, and before we know it, Ay's soldiers arrive. They may already be on their way."

  Khu looked at Scarab. "Then we had best get out of here. But where?"

  Scarab considered a few moments. "Akhet-Aten," she said hesitantly. "The first step must be to see the king, see if he can rein Ay in." Turning to Pa-Siamen, she said, "Can you get us horses? And provisions? Speed is important."

  Pa-Siamen laughed, cutting it off in a fit of coughing. "Amun may be rich, but I am not, my lady. If I tried to procure horses I would immediately attract attention."

  "It will take too long to walk," Khu said. "If you remember, we tried that once before and look where it got us."

  "There is another way," the priest said. "Though I hesitate to mention it, er, with you being a princess and the king's sister..."

  "I am Scarab. Say what you need to."

  "The First Prophet of Amun, Amenemhet, has journeyed to Ineb Hedj to oversee the dedication of the new temple...hmm; it has just occurred to me that he went at Ay's suggestion. I wonder if that means anything."

  "The other way?" Khu prompted.

  "Oh, yes, as I was saying, Amenemhet is in Ineb Hedj and Amenhotep who is second only to Bakt the Third Prophet..."

  "Get on with it," Khu muttered softly.

  "...is sending a boat down river in the morning to apprise the Prophet of recent events. Well, supplies are also being sent and some of the temple servants will be traveling too, to fetch and carry as needed. I, er, I thought perhaps you two could, er, become servants..." Pa-Siamen looked from one to the other uncertainly. "It is all I can think of," he added miserably.

  Scarab thought it over for a few minutes. "What do you think, Khu?"

  Khu grinned. "It beats walking or sitting on a horse."

  "Wouldn't we be recognized?" Scarab asked.

  Pa-Siamen smiled. "Do you know what your...let's say, Keeper of the Unguent Jars, looks like?"

  "Wa'bet? Yes, she is young, barely fifteen summers and she has a cast in her left eye. Why?"

  "All right, a bad example but let me say also, lady, that it is unusual for servants to be noticed. I have heard some say that servants all tend to look alike. If you do not attract attention to yourselves, I dare say you could walk aboard under Ay's nose and he would not see you."

  Scarab fingered her fine linen gown. "I suppose I shall have to leave this behind?"

  "Er, yes, lady." Pa-Siamen looked uncomfortable again. "The, er, temple servants are not like the palace servants. They are more, shall we say, menial and do not dress as well."

  Scarab sighed. "I shall have to walk around naked, you mean?"

  "Amun, no!" Pa-Siamen looked shocked. "Only slaves go naked. But you will only have a short kilt." He glanced at Khu. "At least you will look the part. That shock of hair you have is definitely servant class. A short kilt and you will pass for a servant anywhere. As for you my lady..."

  "I have walked the streets wearing nothing but a servant's kilt before, Pa-Siamen." She smiled at the priests upraised eyebrows. "I am sure I can comport myself with proper humility again."

  Pa-Siamen kept Scarab and Khu in his rooms that day while he found servant's clothing and some basic possessions for them. He also prowled the priests' quarters, listening to gossip, alert for the slightest hint of suspicion that the two fugitives had attracted attention. The main topic of conversation, however, was the death of Smenkhkare and whether or not the Heretic would replace him with another co-regent. The consensus seemed to be that the death of the king was, at least in some degree, a judgment by the gods. Most recognized that Smenkhkare had been a true believer, a good man and a good king, who had honestly striven to ameliorate his brother king's heresies. However, perhaps he really was tainted by Atenism which attracted the wrath of the gods. If that was true, then Kemet would not achieve true prosperity until the whole line of Akhenaten had disappeared.

  As dusk approached, the priests congregated in the great temple of Amun once more for the end-of-day ceremonies, the god's evening meal and the sealing of the inner sanctuary. Pa-Siamen excused himself, pleading ill-health and hurried back to his room with a bundle of clothing and some food.

  "Here," he said, handing over a pitcher of beer and a bag of fresh bread and fruit. "This is all I could sneak out of the kitchens without attracting attention. I've also got kilts and sandals, fairly roughly made, I'm afraid, but anything too well made will seem odd." Pa-Siamen lit a candle from a small fire-pot and its flickering glow cast swaying shadows around the bare room. "I...I also found you a decent wool cloak, my lady, so you can...er, can preserve your modesty."

  Scarab smiled and fingered the weave of the coloured cloak. "It is a very nice cloak, Pa-Siamen, but it is not the sort of quality you'd expect a servant to be wearing." She shook her head. "I must refuse it. I cannot afford to attract any attention."

  Pa-Siamen bit his lip but nodded. "It is probably a sensible decision, my lady. I will leave you for a few minutes so that you can change, then I must take you to the servants' quarters. It would look suspicious if servants came from here in the early morning."

  "There is no need to leave, Pa-Siamen," Scarab said. "It will take me but a moment and I must get used to a lack of privacy." She unhooked the clasps of her gown and let it fall to the floor. Tossing her wig down beside it, she loosened the fine linen under kilt and added it to the pile. Completely naked, she crossed to the stool and took one of the coarse brown linen servant's kilts, fastening it about her waist. She looked up to see Khu studying the ceiling intently, and Pa-Siamen tracing patterns on the stone floor with the toe of one sandal. "You can look now," she grinned. "Though I don't know why you looked away. You can be sure nobody else will. Your turn now, Khu."

  Khu disrobed and knotted the kilt around him. He blushed as he realized Scarab was watching him with a smile on her face. It was all he could do not to turn his back on her, knowing she would probably laugh if he did so.

  "I'll wager you didn't know high-born ladies were so immodest, did you Pa-Siamen?" Khu growled. "Even the queen and princesses in Akhet-Aten used to walk around naked half the time."

  "Immodest?" One of Scarab's eyebrows lifted. "Men
and women work in the fields naked, sailors are naked and so are slaves. The gods gave them those bodies so why should they feel ashamed. Besides, it is much more comfortable wearing little or nothing." Abruptly she laughed. "Your faces. You should see your faces."

  Pa-Siamen conducted Scarab and Khu to a small cottage in the servant's area as the temple grounds darkened. To any who observed, it would have appeared commonplace, a priest on an errand with two servants in train, carrying the priest's burdens and doing his bidding. He left them in the little one room cottage with an oil lamp and their bundle of provisions. In a corner lay two wrapped and bound bundles, about the length from a man's fingertip to his elbow along a side.

  "At dawn, bring those bundles to the main gate. Try and act like servants, do not speak unless you are spoken to and then merely to give an answer. Do not volunteer for any task, try and stay out of the front rank and please, my lady, you especially, do not look anyone in the eye. There is no mistaking an expectation of obedience." Pa-Siamen started to close the door, then stopped and looked in on them. "May the gods of Kemet be with you both. I will pray for Amun's blessing tonight."

  "Thank you Pa-Siamen," Scarab said. "Will we see you again?"

  "No." The priest shook his head. "I will be on hand in the morning. If anything goes awry, maybe I can help, but do not look for me. I cannot acknowledge you." He closed the door, leaving them in the dim light of the guttering, smoky oil lamp.

  Khu put down his small bundle of food and looked around at the bare room. "Makes me glad I'm not really a servant of Amun," he murmured.

  "I've seen better," Scarab agreed. "However, we will endure what we must. We should get some sleep. Are there any bedrolls in here or do we have to sleep on the floor?"

  "Gods, I hope so." Khu scuffed the dirt floor with one foot and listened to the rustlings in the palm frond thatching of the cottage. "We had a dirt floor at home in Akhet-Re, but it was never this filthy." He lifted the oil lamp and threw the shadows back a bit. "Here." Setting the lamp down, Khu pulled two stained mats from a corner and shook them out. Something small and black fell from one of them and fled chittering in outrage toward the shadows.