The Awakening Aten

by Aidan K. Morrissey

  ‘She’s magnificent,’ the High Priest repeated. ‘Please come.’

  The three visitors entered the holiest of holies, the sanctuary. The room, now lit by a myriad of lamps, the smoke and smell of incense, almost overpowering.

  Djoser was immediately overcome by a sense of peace. Vivid memories filled his mind. He was young again, running to his mother after he had fallen and cut his knee. His mother wrapping her arms around him to comfort him. He was returning home after a hard day’s work, his wife greeting him with a smile, a kiss, his favourite seat and a cup of beer. He was lying in bed in the morning, his wife beside him talking, her sweet voice taking away all worries and cares. In this place he now felt as if the goddess herself had wrapped herself around him, protecting him, nurturing his soul and increasing his inner strength.

  He was almost in a trance when the High Priest opened the small door placed half way up the wall and, with the help of other priests, produced a golden statue about one and a half cubits tall. Perneb and Nofret gasped.

  ‘I told you she’s magnificent,’ said Meryhathor with pride. ‘She arrived this morning, a gift from Queen Tiye herself.’

  Magnificent was too small a word to describe the statue, a glittering example of the best workmanship to be found in the Two Lands. From its obvious weight, made of solid gold, the goddess had a red sash of precious stones around her waist, extending down her right side. She wore a nemes headdress, the horizontal bands made from gold, with stones matching the sash. The nemes curled behind the sacred ears of the goddess, classically shaped like those of a cow. The flaps of the headdress passing over each shoulder and stopping on her breasts.

  The horns above her head were real horns and the sun disc in the middle was the same bright red of the sash and nemes. This depiction of the goddess was truly the most sumptuous and impressive imaginable.

  With some difficulty, the priests manoeuvred the statue towards a barque, resting on the floor.

  ‘The Queen, graciously, also had this sublime barque made so the goddess can be shown to the public on special feast days and on her birthday.’

  Everyone in the Two Lands knew Hathor’s feast day, regarded as her birthday, was the day on which the brightest star in the heavens, Sopdet, first appeared in the sky. This day was of vital importance as it was a sign of the coming inundation, the annual flooding of the river which sustained the country and its people for another year.

  The barque was itself a noble, glittering sight, made of wood, covered in gold foil. The front bore a carved image, the head of the goddess with a nemes matching that of the statue but not wearing the horns or sun disc. The barque, decorated with the same red stones, a perfect match for the statue.

  ‘We’ll be eternally grateful to Queen Tiye for this elegant, lavish and beneficent gift,’ said Nofret.

  ‘Indeed we will,’ said High Priest, Meryhathor. ‘Indeed we will.’

  Djoser was in a dream on the walk back to the house. Not like that of a few days ago, which changed his destiny, but a gentle heart-warming dream.

  His thoughts went back to happier times, to his wife, his three daughters when they were young. He had seen his wife this morning in the sun framed form of Takhat. He didn’t know how much longer he would be alive, but during whatever time was left, he would be grateful to Takhat for that moment. He would always be a little in love with her too.

  Takhat would never know she had brought him both a momentary, powerful shock and brief, blissful happiness. He could now face his death, whether this came in the next few days, or later, happily knowing his wife was waiting for him in the afterlife.

  chapter twenty

  Barratarna and his guards were still some distance outside Iunet when the broken nosed guard said they would stop for the night. He would need to arrive at the garrison tomorrow, but would arrange to do so as late as possible. The officers might be off duty and not pay any attention to them or the prisoner. A change of guard and different duties for the soldiers would be very welcome. He was tired of the stench, which was getting worse, as was the treatment meted out on the wretched man inside the cage. The prisoner was inactive. Mostly staring, unblinkingly, into the distance.

  ‘It needs a poke with my sharpened stick to get a reaction,’ Broken-Nose said. ‘You’re a worthless hippopotamus, begat of Set,’ the guard would repeat as he used the stick to draw blood.

  The prisoner was notably weaker. The guards all doubted he would live to end the journey as he was supposed to; the soldiers voiced their concern to their leader.

  ‘Not our concern after tomorrow,’ he said gruffly. ‘Not our fault if the next lot can’t keep him alive; it will be them for the gallows, not us. We’ll be warmly tucked up with beer and girls, not a care in the world. It’s possible the people of Iunet will be the last to see him alive –we’ll put on a big show for them. I know Iunet well; there’s a big square which will be just the place for hippo baiting.’

  Barratarna heard all of this but didn’t feel close to death. His suffering would go on much longer. It would be starvation and lack of water which would eventually kill him. He had begun refusing food, attempting to try to bring about the end sooner, but he needed some water occasionally. How long would it take him to die without food? A few days? Weeks? Months? He didn’t know, but he was determined to find out and the sooner it came the better for him.

  *

  Blissfully unaware of the horror in the cart, heading towards their town, Perneb, his family and guests were enjoying breakfast. The dignitaries from the fifth sepat, that of ‘The Two Falcons,’ arrived by boat later in the afternoon. They were to stay tonight and tomorrow, join the Royal party for the dedication of the Temple, attend the formal banquet then leave during the morning after. The Royal party would stay one further night.

  ‘I will speak with Yuya after the other guests have gone,’ Perneb told Djoser.

  No feeling of apprehension touched Djoser.

  ‘Whatever comes, I’m ready.’

  The vision of his wife, when he saw Takhat on the landing, was a good omen. This, combined with his visit to the Temple and the sight of Hathor, made him accepting of whatever fate Shai, and the other gods, had in store for him.

  The evening meal was pleasant but formal. Perneb and his family were excellent hosts but there was little in common between them and the Two Falcons’ Governor’s family. The latter were of noble stock. Three generations ago the ancestor of the incumbent Governor was a child of the nursery of Thutmose III. He distinguished himself in battle with the King and was rewarded with the Governorship of the sepat closest to Waset. This had passed from generation to generation. With each changing Governor, the self-importance of the family grew, as the distance from the Royal family increased. The present generation were disdainful of Perneb’s background and jealous of his connection with the Royal family. They knew whilst they were tolerated by the Royal family and always treated with respect, Perneb had a special place in their affections, particularly of the Queen’s parents.

  The meal was concluded without incident and the guests, excluding Djoser, all departed to their bedchambers early.

  ‘I know they were impressed by the flowers on the landing, it was in their eyes, it wouldn’t have hurt them to say so,’ lamented Takhat when she was sure they had gone.

  ‘There will be praise enough tomorrow Takhat,’ said Nofret, ‘even if it’s only from me. Anyway isn’t it Djoser who should be praised?’

  ‘Don’t bring me into this,’ laughed Djoser, ‘Takhat says she had the original idea which I just tinkered with. I believe her and am more than happy for her to take all the praise.’ Takhat smiled at Djoser, his heart sang.

  ‘Pihuri, take Djoser to see his new outfit; fit for him to meet a Queen,’ Takhat said, taking her husband’s hand to pull him to his feet.

  ‘Where is it?’ asked Pihuri.

  ‘I asked the servants to p
lace it in his chamber. I think it’s time for us to retire anyway.’

  ‘Takhat is right,’ Djoser started to say.

  ‘She always is,’ retorted Pihuri.

  ‘She learned that from your mother,’ said Perneb.

  They said their ‘goodnights’ and headed in different directions. As Pihuri and Djoser walked towards Djoser’s quarters the older man turned to Pihuri.

  ‘You know you’re very lucky to have Takhat in your life Pihuri, treasure her always. We never know what the gods have planned, when they may take the people we cherish away from us.’

  ‘You’re right Djoser; I am a very fortunate man to have found such a person to share my life. It was difficult at first. I wasn’t sure how my parents would react. I shouldn’t have worried, they welcomed her and my mother helped her to be the person she is today. Djoser, what you probably don’t know, is Takhat is related to your wife. She’s your wife’s sister’s daughter and like you, we fell in love when we were seven years old. You’re more a part of this family than you realise, uncle Djoser.’

  ‘That explains a lot. Maybe I’m being looked down on from the heavens with grace,’ he thought.

  *

  Even before the start of Ra’s journey through the day, trumpets sounded to rouse everyone. Today was a momentous occasion; everything and everyone must be ready. The advance boat of the Royal party was expected at any time and look outs were already posted along the river bank to send signals as soon as it was sighted. The stewards who were on board would be scrupulous and hard to please. Everything would have to be precise, or appear to be, nothing left to chance.

  A weary Djoser got out of bed. Servants helped him bathe, massaged him with oil, carefully applied kohl to his eyes and dressed him in the finest gown he had ever seen. He assumed it had originally been made for Perneb or Pihuri and had been altered slightly. It was embroidered in a way Djoser had never seen, with multiple coloured threads and even gold woven into the fabric. He was not accustomed to this life. It made him feel uncomfortable.

  He breakfasted, but couldn’t remember exactly on what or when. Everything was a blur. He was not in control. Events were beginning to unfold around him; his fate would soon be sealed. Despite all of this, his thoughts were still almost entirely taken up by the memories of the fleeting sight of his beloved wife and the visit to the Temple of Hathor. He would go into the next two days, the most significant of his life, with courage and a serene preparedness for whatever lay ahead.

  *

  A few miles away, Barratarna was not feeling the same way. He hadn’t slept, but weariness came, not from lack of sleep, but from the life he now had. Death would be his best friend. He spent every moment trying to think of ways. He had grown so accustomed to the pain, it no longer held any fear for him. If only his guards would leave a blade in his reach it could be over quickly, a vain, impossible hope. For this group, the journey would soon be over. He had heard them talking about the changing of his guard. Maybe the next group would be more amenable.

  The soldiers stirred around dawn. Amid much swearing, noise and confusion, they had eaten, toileted and dressed. Broken-Nose came over with his stick and began stabbing the supine, chained body on the floor of the cart.

  ‘Wake up, wake up you piece of shit. It’s time for you to meet your public. Today you will visit the great provincial city of Iunet, the earthly dwelling place of the goddess Hathor. The people await, you need to be ready,’ he said as he urinated on the prisoner. He laughed as he turned away and shouted at the others, ‘Come on you lazy shower. Get this ugly lump of excrement onto its feet. Tonight we’ll sleep in a real bed and with a real woman, or maybe two.’

  As a diplomat, it had been a part of Barratarna’s job to learn about the important gods in the Two Lands. He knew about Hathor, he had visited Iunet on official duty some years before. He remembered the Governor and his family had been kind to him. A visit to the Temple had been arranged, an ancient, simple but good Temple building. The Governor (he wished he could remember his name) had said it was to be replaced with a more modern Temple.

  Barratarna was getting used to the morning ritual, hauled to his feet and chains fastened. He learned how to move his body to reduce the pain. Today he started to add prayers to Hathor. He didn’t believe in the religious edicts of this country but felt it could do no harm. He prayed, a repetitive short prayer, he felt a numbness come over him. The next thing he realised, he was standing in his usual upright position with all chains attached and the cart was moving.

  ‘Perhaps there is merit in the religion of this area.’

  With nothing else to do, he continued to pray to the goddess and explained his situation to her.

  *

  At the Governor’s residence the royal stewards arrived and were checking everything. Pleased with most things, they believed they would be failing in their duties if they found no fault.

  ‘Are those guards going to stand in exactly those positions each side of the portal? They should move slightly further from the entrance. They don’t want to appear to be blocking it,’ said one.

  ‘Are you sure that is enough meat for the Banquet?’ another said to the chief cook.

  However, there was nothing major; Nofret and Takhat were relieved.

  ‘We must compliment you on a very well run household,’ the chief steward said.

  A series of trumpet blasts, heralding the arrival of the main guests, were heard. Starting faintly in the distance they quickly moved closer and closer. Perneb and Nofret went to the landing. They would be the first to greet the new arrivals, followed by the Governor of the fifth Sepat and his wife, the High Priests, first of Amun, then of Hathor. After them, Pihuri and Takhat, the sons of the visiting Governor and their wives, senior military figures and finally, at the end of the line, Djoser.

  ‘I shouldn’t be here,’ he had said to Perneb. ‘There is no need for me to be in the official welcoming party. I’m out of place here.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ his host cajoled. ‘Which of us is the diplomat?’

  He didn’t wait for a response.

  ‘I am. So please let me do my job and decide who will be here and who will not.’

  The tone in his voice made it clear. This was not a decision to be argued with. So Djoser stood in line trying to make himself as small and insignificant as possible.

  The first boat to dock was the one containing the Guards. The local military commander went to greet the Officer who was to disembark.

  ‘Welcome in friendship, Comrade-in-Arms,’ he had said in accordance with the present etiquette for formal greetings. ‘Those whom you protect, your noble self and those under your command are safe in this place. This is a pledge I make in the name of my commander, the Lord of the Two Lands and on pain of my own death I swear to honour my duty. You and your men are welcome to retain arms and go about your duties without hindrance.’

  This last sentence was not always included in greetings to other troops. At the Royal Palaces only the King’s own bodyguard and those guarding the Palace would be allowed to bear arms.

  In theory, the Officer who had just disembarked from the ship was superior to the man now standing in front of him. However, in this place it was the local Officer who took precedence for the welcoming ceremony.

  ‘Thank you my friend,’ said the Royal Officer, ‘permission to bear arms is a great honour for my men,’ he stretched out his arm and the two officers clasped the elbow of the other and pulled each other in close.

  The Royal Officer whispered, ‘Is the beer here still as good as ever?’

  ‘Yes,’ came the hushed reply, ‘and there’s plenty of it.’

  Smiling, the two officers separated, one returned to his place in the line, the other walked to the edge of the landing stage. The remaining soldiers disembarked quickly, in orderly fashion. Each dressed in their court uniform carrying spears. Six stood behind th
eir officer. The remainder marched to the portal where they were greeted by another soldier who, after a short welcome, turned and they all marched through to form a line with the local guard by the entrance to the building.

  The soldiers’ boat moved off. The second boat, the largest in the group, came alongside the landing. As was tradition, before the party disembarked, Perneb and Nofret went on board for a few minutes of quiet conversation with the honoured guests before they met the full welcoming party. Djoser could not see anything but he did hear two men’s laughter coming from the boat. There were, however, no signs of smiles as Perneb and Nofret returned to the landing and turned to bow as the first and most senior of the guests disembarked.

  ‘So, this is Queen Kirgipa,’ thought Djoser.

  Kirgipa, in her late twenties, was covered from neck to foot in a white robe with gold embellishment throughout. She wore a gold belt, necklace and amulets. Her head was adorned with a golden crown on top of the royal wig. Her eyes heavily kohled. The black kohl lined in blue and shaped around her eyes and onto her temples. As Perneb and Nofret rose, the Queen smiled and took Nofret’s arm. They walked along the line, Kirgipa greeting the dignitaries, after a brief introduction from Nofret. She stopped a few moments at each one and exchanged dignified pleasantries.

  Djoser, his attention focussed on the tall man following after the Queen, heard nothing of the pleasantries exchanged. This was the man who would decide his fate. The man who now controlled his life and almost certainly the manner of his death. He hardly noticed the increasing nearness of the Queen and Nofret until the soldier beside came to a quick attention.

  ‘It is my honour to protect you my Majesty,’ he heard him say.

  ‘And finally we have another honoured guest. This is Djoser, Takhat’s uncle who decided to visit us after many years.’

  The introduction from Nofret as a member of the family increased his importance, something for which Djoser was not entirely grateful. He was out of his depth; he wanted to escape to his quarters. He forced a smile and bowed.