‘If you are Yusuf you’d better come in.’
Yusuf and Asenath entered the Great Hall. At the end of the room was a dais and on the dais was the Horus Throne; catching the sun’s rays it shone like the Aten. The throne was empty but the room was full with priests and courtiers. Soldiers stood every ten paces around the room, all with gleaming spears in their hands, shiny ornate swords by their sides. The orderliness of the soldiers was in stark contrast to the seeming chaos which appeared in front of them. Kenamun, the steward, pushed his way through the throng. He disappeared behind the throne, leaving Yusuf and Asenath standing before a statue of Horus.
A door opened. Two heralds walked in, one banging a ceremonial spear on the floor and announcing the arrival of the King. As King Amenhotep entered, everyone in the room dropped to their knees, placing their hands in front of them on the floor; foreheads dropped to the tiles. Yusuf copied them. Excitement and fear coursed through him. The room was silent. Then the slight sound of movement, several pairs of sandaled feet crossing the room a short distance in front of him. Stillness returned. Time seemingly suspended, interminable seconds or minutes elapsed before the herald spoke, suddenly shattering the silence. Yusuf couldn’t make out what he said. Asenath touched him on the shoulder; he realised he was meant to rise. Face reddening, he did so.
The King looked at Yusuf, his unsmiling expression impossible to read, but which conveyed neither threat nor anger. Beside him sat an old lady, his mother, the Great Royal wife, Merytre-Hatshepsut.
Seeing the elderly queen, Yusuf thought back to conversations with Ipuki when they shared the prison cell. ‘She is the true Ruler of Kemet,’ Ipuki explained. ‘King Amenhotep does her bidding. I could tell you stories about her. Anything that’s needed to get what she wants, she’ll do; deceit and even murder. It’s neither coincidence nor lucky chance that Thutmose III’s true heir, Amenemhat, and his royal mother Satiah, died suddenly and inexplicably.’ Ipuki had told many stories. Most would get him hanged if overheard by the wrong ears.
‘Can you interpret my dream?’ the King asked Yusuf directly, bringing the young man back to the present.
‘I believe I can, Majesty,’ Yusuf said.
‘Well, let us hear it.’
Yusuf explained what he thought the dream meant. How Kemet and its people were in danger, not from war but from famine. He set out what he considered necessary to prevent such disaster. The King listened attentively. Occasionally his mother spoke softly in his ear and he nodded. When Yusuf had finished, the dowager queen whispered to her son at length, after which the King spoke.
‘Very well. I need to speak with my counsellors. Leave us, I will send for you if I need you again.’
Yusuf bowed, and left the room, followed by Asenath.
*
‘His counsellors?’ Ipuki roared with laughter. ‘The only person allowed to give him counsel is his mother. She created the monster, Kenamun, to make sure no one else gets near her son. Even his own wives have to make an appointment.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Yusuf.
‘Kenamun has hundreds of titles and they’re increasing in number every day, all designed to ensure that anyone needing to see the King has to go through him first. He chooses what he wants to be taken further. He speaks with Queen Merytre and, between them, they decide on the matters to be brought to the King’s attention. The King is ignorant of much that is happening in the Two Lands. He is treated like a fool.’
‘You’re talking wine-inspired treason, Ipuki.’
‘Probably, but I care not. The mighty Kenamun, the eyes and ears of the King and the keeper of his secrets, can kiss…’
They were interrupted by a young herald.
‘Yusuf, you are required in the private audience chamber, immediately. Follow me.’
Yusuf went as instructed.
The King sat on a small, gilt throne, his mother beside him. His scribe was there, together with the High Priest of Amun and other advisers. A young man, about Yusuf’s age, stood on the dais.
Dropping to his knees, forehead touching the floor, he waited for permission to rise. It was given, then the King introduced those present. The young man was Crown Prince Thutmose, heir to the throne.
‘I have discussed your interpretation with my advisers and priests; they have agreed that you have proposed a realistic, sensible interpretation.’
Yusuf flushed.
‘With the coming harvest, plans along the lines of your interpretation will start to be organised.’ The King paused.
‘I need someone who understands the true nature of the problem, to take control. Despite your youth, you have authority. People listen to you, they take heed. My son, Prince Thutmose, will work with you. You both will report directly to me. Yusuf, you have no need to go through my steward, Kenamun, but speak to my scribe and I will see you immediately.
‘Majesty, what can I say? I am overwhelmed.’
‘You should say nothing. There is one additional matter which needs to be addressed. You will be acting on behalf of the King of Kemet, Lord of the Two Lands. I cannot allow a man with a heqa-khasut name to travel my realm, bearing my seal. From this moment you shall be known as Yuya, Overseer of the King’s Granaries, is that understood?’
Yusuf, now Yuya, knew the history of this land in which he had been enslaved. He knew how his own countrymen had been thrown out of Kemet by King Ahmose and he accepted they were referred to, by the people of Kemet, as ‘sheep herders’ or much worse. Heqa-khasut – Rulers of Foreign Lands – had over the past one hundred and fifty years been reduced to just ‘heqa’ by many. It completely lost its original meaning and was used as a grave insult. His name change was understandable.
‘Yes, Majesty. I shall be proud to represent you with that name.’
‘Is there anything you require to do this work properly?’ the King said.
‘Yes, Majesty. It’s important I can trust those working closest to me. There are such men who have shared my time in captivity; I know them as if they were my kin.’
‘You are asking me to free thieves, robbers and murderers?’
‘There are no violent criminals amongst them, my Lord. Some, I believe to be totally innocent of the crimes for which they are awaiting judgment, others stole food to feed their families. They are good men. I trust them and believe they will make a strong team to carry out the duties needed to prepare Kemet for the times to come.’
‘Do you trust them enough to stake your life and the lives of their families on their complying with my instructions?’
‘I would happily risk my life to vouch for them. I know they’d never do anything which might harm their families.’
‘It is a strange request, Yuya. Somehow, we trust you. If you vouch for them, then I won’t deny this. But they will have to prove themselves before I grant unconditional release. Until I am satisfied they are loyal and trustworthy I command their immediate families to come under my direct and close control. You can inform the prisoners that if any one of them transgresses my law, all of you will be returned to prison and may be executed and their families enslaved. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, Majesty.’
‘In that case, accept this ring and necklace as badges of your station and authority.’
Crown Prince Thutmose approached Yusuf, who kneeled. A golden necklace with a red disk and sun rays emanating from it, was placed over his head; a gold ring bearing the King’s seal on his finger.
‘Good. Now we are finished here,’ said the King. ‘Speak to Prince Thutmose about the arrangements. You’re dismissed.’
‘Thank you, Majesty.’
*
The sound of raised voices, wooden keys inserted in locks, cell door opening. The rotund shape of the chief guard blocked the doorway, the view behind him impenetrable for the eight pairs of eyes staring at him.
‘Is it Yusuf?’ asked Kha.
‘No,’ came the growling response. ‘Of him, there’s no sign. What we do have is a contingent of the King’s guard to escort each and every one of you from here to the place of judgment. In that place your fates will be decided. Pick up your possessions and go. I hope I never see any of you again. Come on, move.’
Addaya handed the senet box to Kha.
‘Keep this safe. You, or we, might be in need of it if we go to another prison or to the slave traders.’
Kha took the box, his eyes wide with terror.
‘Slave traders? Is that possible?’
‘Everything is possible Kha.’
The men filed out of the prison, surrounded by guards, spears at the ready in case anyone tried to escape. They walked down to the river where a military barge was waiting for them.
‘Does anyone know where we’re going?’ Kha asked.
A guard glared at him; Kha didn’t expect an answer. He would ask no more questions.
‘You stink, the lot of you. Get into the river to bathe; you can’t face the justices smelling worse than pigs.’
They obeyed without question. Each given a clean loin cloth, they boarded the barge in silence and sat where they were told. They hadn’t been tied, which had come as a surprise to Kha, but he thought that swords and spears were a sufficient deterrent against fleeing. He was grateful for the free movement of his arms and legs and the ability to fill his lungs with fresh air. Having bathed for the first time in a month he felt better, but was still worried.
They sailed down river and docked beside a large building. Soldiers stood guard at the entrance. The prisoners were herded off the boat and through the gates. As they marched into a courtyard, a group of people turned to watch the arriving soldiers. Exclamations of surprise rose up, confusion confronted Kha, who was near the end of the line. As he entered he scanned the throng. Then he saw them; Merit with Djoser in her arms.
As Merit caught sight of him, she turned and smiled. The joy that beaming face brought to Kha was indescribable. Ignoring the shouts from the guards to stay together with the others, he ran towards her; they kissed.
‘What’s going on? What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘We don’t know. I received a summons. It was brought by a soldier to make sure I obeyed. We’ve been told to wait here and all will be explained. Now you arrive. Have you been released? Are we going home?’
‘I don’t know, my love. We were told we were coming to the place of justice to hear our fate. I don’t understand. You’ve done nothing wrong. You should not be here.’
Beside Merit stood a young woman, maybe fourteen years old, beautiful but frail. Kha thought an embrace would snap her in two.
‘Kha, meet Ahmose-Nefertari,’ said Merit. She’s been sent to assist us and all the families.’
‘Please, call me Asenath, everyone else does,’ the young woman said.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Asenath. Do you know why we are here?’
Kha looked beyond her. His cellmates were in huddled conversation with others. Khety and Addaya with their parents, Kha guessed, given the age and appearance of their companions. Others were with children, wives, brothers, sisters. Asenath was about to answer Kha’s question, when a sheneb sounded and all cast their eyes in the direction of the sound. A herald appeared.
‘Follow me, all of you, to the Great Hall, where the one who will decide your fate awaits.’
They trailed the herald, entering a large chamber. At the front, on a dais, was a writing table and, behind that, three ornate chairs. On the desk lay a number of rolled papyrus scrolls. A tall figure walked in. Asenath left Merit’s side and walked over to the new arrival. He stood at the front of the group, Asenath at his side.
‘I hope that Asenath has been caring for all your families’ needs.’
Kha knew the voice instantly. He hadn’t been prepared for the physical transformation that met his eyes.
‘Yusuf?’ he exclaimed.
‘The King has decreed you must all now call me Yuya. Yusuf no longer exists. I told you not to worry and that we would meet again Kha, and here we are.’
Yuya was dressed in a new, long-sleeved, linen robe, covering him from his neck to the floor. His face and head had been shaved, his eyes kohled. Around his neck lay a golden sun disk necklet. He had the appearance of nobility.
‘Who is that?’ asked Merit.
‘Yusuf, I mean Yuya. He was, until the other day, a prisoner in our cell. I’m confused. What’s happening?’
Yuya spoke again.
‘It’s good to see you here with your families. Don’t be afraid; you’re here for a purpose.’
A sheneb sounded three loud and shrill blasts. The Herald stood in front of Yuya.
‘Pay homage to the Prince of Kemet, son of the living god Amenhotep-Akheperure. His exultant successor to the throne of the Two Lands, Crown Prince Thutmose.’
All dropped to the floor, foreheads touching the ground, arms bent, palms down. When they were told to rise, Yuya was sitting on one of the chairs behind the table. In the middle there was a man of similar age to Yuya but dressed, it appeared, totally in gold. He still had the side lock of youth, but an air of aloof authority. The third chair was occupied by a court official. The Prince spoke.
‘My father has decreed that this person, shall henceforth be known as Yuya, Overseer of the King’s Granaries. You will work for him and he will report to me. I have here a scroll, bearing the seal of the King, for each of you who have come today to face justice. It is a conditional pardon.’
There was an audible gasp from the gathering.
‘If any of you steal, or commit any offence against the King’s laws, all of you will be punished, as will your families. We will organise longer term accommodation but until then you will stay within the confines of these quarters. Each of you must ensure the others do not transgress the terms of this pardon or it may mean death for you and slavery for your families. I hope this is understood.’
He rose. All fell to their knees. When they raised their heads, he was gone.
Yuya, as he must now be called, stood. He raised his arms to quell the rumbling of conversation which the Prince’s words had ignited. He looked at each one of the men in turn, all of them suspected thieves. He knew their stories as well as he knew his own. He felt they had become friends. He believed in their innocence or else understood the reasons behind their actions.
‘Please my friends, don’t be afraid. Your freedom is assured. Let’s eat, I will give you all more information. Follow me.’
They left the hall and walked into a courtyard in which an enormous canopy was erected. Women were laying tables with cheese, fruit, cucumber, meats and dates dripping with honey. Ipuki was there shouting out orders to men carrying wine and beer.
‘Today we’ll dine like royalty,’ Yuya said. ‘Prince Thutmose has generously provided us with food enough for at least two weeks, after that we are expected to provide for ourselves. One more thing, we have another guest to join us.’
As he said this, Perneb came from the direction of the Great Hall. Beaming, he stood beside Yuya. Gasps of surprise turned to cheers.
‘Thank you once again, Kha for your gifts. Thanks to the gods and Yuya, I won’t need them just yet. I’ll treasure and keep them always; on the day my journey to the afterlife begins, I’ll take them with me.’
Kha had never experienced such a feeling of joy. He tucked the senet box under his arm and went to sit next to his wife and child with a renewed spirit.
chapter three
‘That wood’s precious. Don’t waste it.’
Khety was enjoying himself, supervising the construction of a new boat Prince Thutmose had commissioned. A gift for Yuya to assist in his work, it was built from the finest cedar wood available in the King’s ship yard at Ineb-Hedj. Almost 65 cubits long it had taken
only 17 days for the King’s carpenters to get to this “almost ready to sail” stage.
‘Bring the statue. Careful. That’s a gift from the King, don’t damage it; the Overseer of Granaries will have you flogged if the god is harmed in any way.’
Khety knew Yuya would do no such thing but he revelled in saying it.
The ship was to be named ‘Osiris of the Fields,’ after the god of farmers and agriculture. Khety was organising the placing of the statue of the god, the size of a man, on the prow of the ship, facing forward. The deity wore the White Crown of Lower Kemet; hands crossed over his chest, he held a golden crook and flail.
It was unimportant that Yuya didn’t associate different gods with different facets of life. The people in the country did. He’d need all the power he could wield to achieve his aim; to feed the people of Kemet, when the inundation failed.
*
‘She’s ready for you to inspect now Yuya.’
‘Careful Khety, if your chest puffs out any further we won’t be able to walk past you,’ said Perneb, also present for the boat’s launch.
It had taken several months for Yuya and Prince Thutmose to plan, and put into operation, their scheme to increase grain capacity and to be ready to store excess amounts for future use. Kemet’s population required vast amounts of the two staples in their diet; beer and bread. Both of these required wheat. Wheat was the standard currency in Kemet and a man’s worth was based on the number of khars of wheat he received each month. This boat was going to be vital in their task, enabling Yuya to travel up and down the river with ease.
In the months that followed, work was underway everywhere.
‘Are you happy with the new plans for the grain stores, Kha?’ Yuya asked as they sailed the ‘Osiris’ towards Waset.
Kha had been tasked with designing the new grain stores to be constructed along the length of the country.
‘Not entirely, Yuya. Ventilation is still a problem. I have spent weeks with farmers in the delta. One thing is clear, keeping grain as cool as possible is essential to stop mould and insects destroying it. I think we need to raise the roof on higher stilts and insert more aeration holes.’
The Awakening Aten Page 3
