by Overton, Max
Ay sighed and leaned close to the boy's ear, whispering into it. "Did I not tell you to listen? Lord Mahmose has brought a suit against Lord Khefrure. Mahmose bought a hundred head of pure white heifers from Khefrure as the basis of a sacrificial herd for the temples. He has been awarded the supply contract for the Waset temples. But now the heifers are throwing calves that are less than pure in colour. Mahmose demands the matter be put right."
"How?" Tutankhaten screwed up his face as if he would cry. "I don't know what to do."
"It is as well that I am here then." Ay straightened and faced the ring of expectant faces. "May I convey the decision of the king in this matter, your majesty?" Ay asked in a ringing voice.
"Yes," Tutankhaten squeaked in relief. Recovering fast, he nodded solemnly. "Do so, Tjaty Ay."
Ay delivered a careful summing up of the case and delivered his verdict. If the decision favoured his friend Mahmose and seemed unduly harsh toward the Lord Khefrure, none commented on the fact, the parties bowing deeply to show their acquiescence. The lords retired and two more stepped to the front, and the next case started.
Tutankhaten, despite his recent embarrassment, found his attention wandering again. The day was hot and his crown was heavy. Would anyone really mind if I took it off and swung my legs ? He put a finger between his shaved scalp and the edge of the stiffened linen of the crown, easing the burden slightly. Scraping his finger along the rim, he felt the headgear shift, the square red Deshret and tall white conical Hedjet crowns move as they started to overbalance. Someone coughed sharply behind him and Tutankhaten looked round, startled, his hands darting upward to rescue the symbols of royalty.
"Behave yourself, Tuti," Ankhesenpaaten hissed. His young queen sat primly on her own throne a pace behind the king's and a little lower. The greater height of the queen and the tall feathered crown with central sun disc destroyed the intended image of the lesser monarch. Whenever the two were together, the queen dominated her boy king. The nobles and commons attending the petition sessions were in little doubt as to who ruled when Ay was absent.
Tutankhaten stuck out his tongue at his wife, but he turned back to face the assemblage with a straight back, and for several minutes refrained from fidgeting. For a while he listened to the arguments as first one man, then another spoke about the intricacies of border markers in fields somewhere he had never been. He yawned widely and looked across to where he could see a splash of azure sky through an opening high on one wall. A ray of sunlight lit the Hall through this opening and the young king thought dreamily of the dark houses of the gods in contrast to the open halls of the Aten temples.
The arguments came to a close and once more Ay made a pretence of consulting the king before announcing the royal decision. The Tjaty smiled inwardly as the lords filed from the Chamber. Early in the reign he had debated whether to let the boy do as he please and dispense justice himself, in effect ruling the Two Lands. With a pang of regret he decided against it, weighing the satisfaction of being king in all but name against the certain enmity of the nobles and above all, Horemheb. Instead, he brought the boy king to heel and made him assume his duties, then set about making his days so boring he willingly let his Tjaty make all the decisions. Little by little, Ay gathered the actuality of power to himself, while the appearance of power still lay with the young king.
"Well, thank the gods that is over," Tutankhaten said. "I thought I was going to fall asleep there at the end."
Ay bowed low to his monarch. "May I commend your majesty on your forbearance? You displayed a regal posture which did not go unnoticed. And your decisions were a wonderful balance of justice and mercy. The goddess Ma'at could not have done better."
Tutankhaten simpered. "Really? Yes, I suppose I was. That comes from being a king and a god, uncle Ay. You are not royal so you can only guess at the uplifting presence of the godhead."
"Indeed your majesty." Ay bowed again. "May I ask what your pleasure is this afternoon?"
"I think some lunch. I'm hungry. Then I will visit the god Amun in his temple. I want to tell him about some ideas I had for the additions. I suppose I should tell the architects too." Tutankhaten shrugged. "Then I might go hunting wild fowl in the marshes." He turned and took off his great double crown, handing it to a servant. As the symbol of kingship passed from his hands, he became a little boy again, not giving another thought to his Kingdoms. "Lunch. I hope they have the honeyed quail I like." He jumped down off the dais and ran across the hall toward the open doors.
Ay flicked a hand in signal and two guards raced after the king, their eyes alert for any danger.
"Why do you fill his head with that nonsense, grandfather?" Queen Ankhesenpaaten arose from her throne gracefully and came across to stand next to Ay. She handed her tall feathered headdress with its golden sun disc to a servant and shook the braided locks of her wig. "He is quite an intelligent boy when he puts his mind to it, yet you give him nothing to do. He knew nothing about what happened here today, yet you made him believe he showed wisdom. Why?"
"Because he is just a boy, your majesty." Ay sketched a bow toward his granddaughter. "Time enough for him to learn these things when he is a bit more mature."
"He is the king, Divine Father," Ankhesenpaaten said sharply. "And you treat him like a servant to do your bidding."
Ay turned and gestured for the servants and guards to leave the chamber, waiting until the double doors closed, leaving them alone. He turned back to his granddaughter. "Your husband has been crowned king, but he is not king yet. Not really. He is a boy playing at being a king. You think I seek to deprive him of his power, belittling him." Ay shook his head, his thick white hair gleaming in a ray of sunlight from the tall windows. "On the contrary, I protect him from those who would lead him astray, who would weaken him, maybe even kill..."
"Like today?" the queen sneered. "You made the proceedings so boring he lost himself in daydreams. If I had not stopped him he would have tossed his crown aside and left the Chamber."
"Yes, I saw that and I thank you for it, your majesty. I try to balance the power he has as king with a sense of duty. Today I went a little too far. I am glad you were there to stop what might have been an unfortunate loss of face and authority."
"He would have looked foolish, but what authority are you talking about? He has none. Even I hold more power in the palace."
"You hold the power within the palace, I hold it outside." Ay paused and regarded the young woman standing before him, seeing hints of the beauty of her mother Nefertiti, judged by many to have been the most beautiful woman in the world. For a moment his heart cried out to his lost daughter, somewhere in exile, only Horemheb knew where. Then the old man took hold of his emotions with a grip of bronze and put his daughter from his mind.
"You are mistaken though if you think I hold this power for myself. When Tutankhaten came to the throne on the death of his brother Smenkhkare, I would not have given a ripe fig for his chances. What happens whenever a young boy succeeds to the throne? He dies; or if he is very lucky, someone rules for him until he is old enough to rule for himself. I did that for your husband. If I had not he would have died. He still may, he has enemies." Ay paused again, feeling for a convincing argument. "You do not believe he has enemies? Why? Because the people cheer him on the streets? They do that because I release wheat and barley from the city granaries in his name. Yes, the people cheer, but it is higher up that you should look for threats."
"The nobles are always seeking favours, looking for ways to gain an advantage," Ankhesenpaaten said. "I know these men; none of them is a serious threat--except perhaps you."
"You do me much honour," replied Ay with a laugh. "But I look higher."
"Higher? There are none higher. You mean the priests?"
"I mean the other king, your father, locked away in his little City of the Sun."
"My father is not a threat to Tuti," Ankhesenpaaten said scornfully. "Akhenaten approved of him, I know, I was there."
"Of course not, child.
Your father is gentle...and weak. He could be used to gain power. In fact, it has already started. Prince Merneptah is reported to be gathering power for himself in the court at Akhet-Aten."
"Who is Prince Merneptah? I have never heard of him."
"I am not surprised. Your grandfather Nebmaetre spawned offspring on his junior wives and concubines like...like a frog in spring. This prince is the son of Mutia, one of the lesser concubines."
Ankhesenpaaten found herself smiling at the image conjured up by Ay. "He does not sound like much of a threat--a tadpole prince."
"Probably not, and my commander Khaemnum has him under observation, but there will be others. There will always be others as long as Akhenaten is there to act as a focus for power and disaffection."
"What are you saying?"
"Just that your father is dangerous. Not of himself, but of what others make him."
"So guard him from his enemies. You are still loyal to your king, are you not?"
Ay said nothing for a few moments, appearing to consider his answer. "He is the king, and I shall watch those around him diligently." His eyes met those of his granddaughter, and in the instant he exulted inwardly, knowing she was her mother's daughter. "I will watch him too for one of these days he will tire of others using him and he will act for himself."
Queen Ankhesenpaaten turned away to look across the deserted chamber, not wanting her grandfather to see her thoughts. "Would that be such a bad thing, Tjaty? Akhenaten is the king after all. Does he not have a right to rule our Kemet?"
"And what of Nebkheperure Tutankhaten? Do you think that your father, once he made the decision to pick up his crown again, would allow a sniveling brat a share of the kingdoms." Ay laughed scornfully. "No great loss to Kemet, your majesty, except..."
"Except what?"
"You would no longer be queen. Tutankhaten would be a disinherited prince, not even the co-ruler he is at present, and you would be just a wife, holding no power except over servants, no riches save those dispensed by a merciful king." Ay moved up slowly behind his granddaughter and leaned close, whispering in her ear. "What if your father takes another wife, Queen Ankhesenpaaten? It could happen, he is still not old. Imagine another woman living in your palace, commanding your servants, wearing your jewels. How would you feel?"
"My father married me once. He could do so again and I would still be queen."
Ay smiled at the tremor in the girl's voice. "You could only give him a girl child and a sickly one at that. No, he will take a strong woman for a wife, one who may yet give him sons."
Ankhesenpaaten suddenly laughed though the humor sounded strained. "There is no woman he can take to wife that would not immediately raise another family to royalty. He will not risk that."
"There is one--your aunt Beketaten."
The queen swiveled on her heel and stared at Ay. "She is dead, you told me so yourself."
Ay shrugged. "I thought so at the time, but there are rumors."
Ankhesenpaaten frowned. "She lives? Where is she?"
"Rumors only, as I said. She has been seen up and down the river from Kush to the Delta." Ay laughed. "One rumor even put her in Iunu talking to the priests of the Nine Gods."
"Is she a danger? I mean, apart from my father marrying her?"
"No. She is only as dangerous as any woman. I'd be on my guard in bed with her and I would not turn my back on her, but otherwise she is only a woman."
Ankhesenpaaten dropped her eyes, hiding the fury in them. "You think of me as harmless too? I am the queen. I could have you killed."
"Yes, you could, but your ability to do so stems from your boy-husband, the king. You do not have it in you, granddaughter," Ay took three rapid steps forward and gripped the queen by the throat, forcing her head up and back. He leaned forward breathing in her face. "Do not threaten me again, granddaughter. I made you queen, I can unmake you with a word. If you want to stay queen you will do as I say." He stared into Ankhesenpaaten's wide-open eyes, reading the fear in them. "Do you understand, little one?" he said gently.
Ankhesenpaaten nodded as much as the old man's hand allowed. "Yes," she whispered.
Ay smiled and let his hand drop. He turned his back on the young woman unconcernedly, feeling the hate boring into his back. "Hate me if you want, granddaughter, but do not forget to fear me too." Without waiting for a reply, Ay started across the chamber to the great cedar doors. Reaching them, he opened them wide, the guards outside crashing to attention. Turning back into the room, he addressed the young queen once more, his calm voice carrying without difficulty to the woman standing by the thrones.
"I shall keep you and your husband safe, Queen Ankhesenpaaten. I will act against all your enemies and protect our beloved Kemet." Ay bowed and slipped through the doors, leaving the young queen alone.
Ay walked quickly through the western palace, avoiding the area of the king's residence until he came to the set of rooms he claimed as his own. Servants scurried to obey his commands which he issued as soon as he stepped inside the suite. Food and drink were brought to his inner chambers and messengers hurried out to summon important officials to the Tjaty's audience.
By the time Ay had bathed and changed into a clean kilt, had his white locks greased with costly unguents and the barest hint of makeup applied to eyelids and lips, the first of his visitors had arrived. The others turned up by the time the servant had poured the wine and, bowing to the noble officials of the kingdom, left the room.
Ay waved the men toward the table of wine and food. "We have a decision to make and I have need of your counsel. You may speak freely; I can vouch for everyone here."
"What decision is there that could not be made at our usual meeting?" asked Maya, Intendant of the Treasury. "Are you about to declare war on somebody and need gold? If that is the case, where is General Psenamy?"
"It is not war," Ay said. "And Psenamy is sick with the bloody flux. The physicians do not expect him to live."
"Not much of a loss, if you ask me," Maya grunted. "I'm sorry if he was your friend, Ay. I know you picked him but really, the man was almost incompetent."
"I did not pick him, he was senior officer in Waset four years ago and he was eager to serve me. Nakhtmin here is my choice of General." Ay indicated the young man who stood modestly behind the Tjaty.
"Nakhtmin?" said the priest of Amun by the table, where he paused in the act of stuffing his mouth with a morsel of fatty goose. Bakt, First Prophet of Amun under Ay and Tutankhaten, had fattened considerably since his sudden rise in the hierarchy. The former First Prophet, Amenemhet, had died suddenly in Ineb Hedj at the time of Smenkhkare's demise. The Second Prophet Aanen, brother to Ay, was missing, and Bakt, with the blessing of Ay and, seemingly of Amun, had assumed the supreme position. He had used it to make himself an extremely wealthy man.
"Nakhtmin?" he repeated, "The son of Djetmaktef the landowner?"
Ay nodded. "He is a skilled warrior despite his youth. I have raised him to the rank of General of the Southern Armies."
"Which do not exist," Maya observed. "Horemheb has the Amun legion down in Kush seeking out bandits and there is only a meager force here. You have an easy job of it, Nakhtmin."
Nakhtmin said nothing, just bowed and smiled.
"A young man who knows when to keep quiet." Bakt heaved himself across the room and clapped the general on the shoulder with a greasy hand. "I like the man already."
"If I might have your attentions, I will tell you why I summoned you." Ay stared at the fat priest with distaste. "It has been four years since the heretic was toppled, though he remains under guard in his city. Tell me the mood of the people. You first, Bakt."
"Amun has grown in wealth again, which is pleasing to the gods."
"And to you it seems," Maya muttered softly.
"However," the priest went on. "The Aten is still worshiped openly and gold still flows into the temple coffers. Gold that is rightfully Amun's."
"I am surprised," Ay commented. "I did not t
hink I was that out of touch with the common man. What is the attraction of the Aten? He was always a god of the heretic. I thought once freedom of worship was reintroduced, Atenism would fade away."
"It is because the king and queen still bear the name of the Aten," Bakt said. He looked longingly at the food on the table then with an effort turned his attention back to the Tjaty. "They were crowned Tutankhamen and Ankhesenamen. Why is it they still retain their birth names?"
"They wished it," Ay said. "It makes that much difference?"
Bakt nodded, and Maya joined him. "It is as Bakt says. In the course of my duties I see many traders and land holders. They all perceive the king as supporting Akhenaten, if not openly, at least tacitly by his adherence to the Aten name. The name means 'Living Image of the Aten', Ay. What do you expect people to think?"
"Then I will persuade them to change their names."
"You will need to do more," Bakt said. "The heretic is an abomination that must be stamped out. It should have been done four years ago, then we would not have these troubles." Bakt belched, stifling it with a pudgy fist. A taste of goose came into his mouth again and he glanced across to where the fat was congealing on the roasted bird.
"You are counseling I should kill Akhenaten?" Ay asked.
"When a cobra enters the chicken coop you do not catch it and turn it loose," Nakhtmin observed quietly. "You kill it, despite it being a symbol of royalty."
"Spoken like a farm lad," Maya said drily. "But he speaks truth, Ay. We could afford to let him live four years ago, but not now. We need a king who is totally on the side of Amun."
"I will do it," Nakhtmin said. "I will rid you of the heretic."
"No." Ay shook his head. "I have a man in place that is prepared for that deed. Besides, Nakhtmin, I see great things in the future for a man of your talents. I would not have even a hint of such a god-cursed action laid at your door." The Tjaty extended his hand to the door. "Thank you, gentlemen. Your counsel has been invaluable. I will attend to matters now."
"So the heretic will die?" Bakt asked. He edged closer to the table, eyeing the roasted goose.
