by Tom Holland
‘No,’ Tyi cried out, ‘no, no, that was Seth!’
Inen laughed. ‘So it is taught. But do you truly think that we who guard the wisdom of the gods would betray our deepest and most ageless mysteries, and reveal them to the ignorant prying of the masses? No, for were the truth to be wholly understood, then all would be immortals, for all would eat the flesh of the line of living gods, preserved and dismembered as the rituals have taught us.’ He gazed down again at the corpse within the chest. ‘Food for the gods, formed from the gods.’
King Amen-hetep gazed at him impassively, then stared down into the chest. ‘And all my forefathers,’ he asked softly, ‘you have served in this same way?’
‘As I said,’ answered Inen, ‘the ritual demands it, that the bodies be preserved within the coffins for seventy days, and then dismembered into fourteen parts.’
‘So that was why you broke into my father’s tomb. Yet why have you been disrupting the other Pharaohs’ tombs?’
‘To remove the bodies and replace them, so that no one would ever know they had been taken. Yet now it matters little, for they have all -- save this one -- been safely transported.’
‘To where?’
‘To an older temple, far within the desert, which marks the place where the gods first arrived from the stars. Do not ask me for its location, for I shall never reveal it, nor will you ever discover it for yourself
‘Yet why do you need so desperately to flee there?’
‘Because, O great Pharaoh, we feared what you might do. You may take it’ - he inclined his head -- ‘as a compliment. Yet do not think’ -- he paused, to gaze again into the chest -- ‘that we shall never return, for in time you will grow to be a withered, ancient thing, a breeder of monsters like your own father here. Until that moment, as the rituals demand, we must leave you to rule upon the throne of your forefathers -- and yet in the end,’ he smiled, ‘do not doubt that I shall feed upon you. Yes’ -- he glanced at Tyi - ‘and upon your living flesh as well.’
‘Yet still,’ said Tyi slowly, ‘you are not immortal after all.’
Inen breathed in deeply as though suddenly winded, and gazed at her silently through narrowing eyes.
Tyi smiled; she turned to her son. ‘Pierce his heart. Then you will see him die.’
For a long time no one spoke. ‘Is this true?’ said King Amen-hetep to Inen at last.
Inen met his stare; then he looked away.
King Amen-hetep smiled crookedly and, shielding his eyes, raised his gaze up to the sun. ‘I am sworn,’ he murmured, ‘not to slay any living creature.’ He glanced back at Inen. ‘Not even you.’
Tyi gazed at her son in disbelief. ‘You will set him free?’
‘Cruel, to live for ever with a face marked like his.’ King Amen-hetep gazed at his uncle’s noseless face, at the still bleeding wounds where the ears had been, then turned back to Tyi. ‘Even crueller, O my mother, to live for ever without love -- to live for ever without you.’
Inen bowed low, and seemed almost to spit with contempt. ‘Yet not so cruel, O Pharaoh, as to live with the knowledge of what must happen to you.’
King Amen-hetep gazed again into the brightness of the sun. ‘All things, we must trust, are possible to the All-High.’
‘It may be. And yet the solution lies before you already, in this chest.’ Inen reached for a portion of the withered arm. ‘Eat it,’ he whispered, brandishing it slowly before both Pharaoh and Tyi. ‘It is not too late. You may both yet be saved. It does not need your god in the sun to help you now’
Tyi gazed at the flesh with a sudden desperate longing, and Inen smiled as he interpreted the gleam within her eyes.
She turned to her son. Even he, she realised, seemed filled with an eager, wavering doubt; then, as she watched him, he reached out for the morsel of flesh. ‘And yet . . .’he whispered suddenly. He stared up at the sun. ‘If we eat this, what a curse we may prove to be to man. Dangerous enough, even as we are -- yet how much more so if we never wither or decline. No!’ He placed the portion of flesh back in the chest. ‘Take it away! We cannot endure the temptation of its presence here.’ He paused, then gazed down at the severed portions of his father. ‘See how he proves what he always said - that the world is nothing but a pattern of destruction. And yet I vow -- I pray -- that all shall be reversed.’
So saying, he turned and walked away, leaving Tyi for a moment standing rooted by the chest. Her eyes met Inen’s; then she too turned and left. Neither looked behind as they rode down the path, but continued on their way until they came into the temple. Once arrived there, they passed into the innermost sanctuary and then beyond, past the pool and into the darkness. Set far back in the wall there was a tiny door, and beyond the door one further, final room. A statue stood there with the crown and robes of Isis, and a form that Tyi could recognise by glancing at her son; and yet, in truth, the statue seemed barely to have a mortal form at all, so hideous, so deformed the sculptor had made it, more loathsome than anything that Tyi had ever seen.
‘No wonder,’ King Amen-hetep whispered, ‘that they kept it hidden in this place of darkness. For it is dangerous for mortals to endure such a sight.’ He paused a moment -then heaved at the statue, which toppled and shattered into fragments on the floor. King Amen-hetep trampled the pieces into dust beneath his feet.
It was later that day that Kiya gave birth. The child was a boy, and it was not stillborn. He was given the name of Smenkh-ka-Re.
It was also on that same day, when King Amen-hetep lay down to rest, that he saw in his dreams a burning image of the sun.
But at this point, Haroun saw the approach of morning and broke off from his tale. ‘O Commander of the Faithful,’ he said, ‘if you would care to return here tomorrow evening, then I shall describe to you the nature and the fruit of King Amen-hetep’s dreams.’
And so the Caliph did as Haroun suggested; and the following evening he returned to the mosque.
And Haroun said:
Every night the dream would be the same, a vision of a blazing, infinite sun, of a brightness impossible for mortal eye to bear; yet King Amen-hetep found that, as the months began to pass, so the brilliance of the light grew easier to endure. He would imagine that he was starting to see, almost imperceptibly through the wheeling golden rays, the outline of something else, something other than the sun. ‘O Divine Lord of all,’ he would cry out in his dream, ‘mighty living Aten, grant me the strength to glimpse what is veiled’; and then he would stare into the very heart of the sun. But the brightness would fade, the dream melt away; and King Amen-hetep would wake alone in his bed, as the dawning of the true sun filled his room with morning light.
How he would long then, in the bitterness of his disappointment, for Kiya, his Queen, to be again by his side. He knew, though, that he could not permit it - had not permitted it, indeed, since that afternoon when he had first learned the full truth about his state. What other hope did he have, after all, of destroying the curse, of damming the ages-old flow of tainted blood, save by being the last of his long line to bear it? Already he had a son; and when he gazed upon Smenkh-ka-Re, suckling at Kiya’s breast, or lying asleep, he would dread to think that even such a child, so lovely to behold, and so innocent, might bear poison in his veins. Sometimes King Amen-hetep would seek to put the terror from his mind; yet he knew, in the end, that he could not afford to do so, for it was that terror alone now which served to keep his will alive. Without it, he knew he would have slept with Kiya each and every night, for his desire seemed to grow the more his body came to change, flickering and scorching through his limbs like a desert fire -- urging him, taunting him to put the flames out.
So it was that he came to hate the very sight of Kiya, as the reminder of a happiness forever lost; and he banished her from his presence, and lived with her no more. And so it was that he grew to hate all his favourite pleasures -- the calm of the lake where he had once sat with his grandfather, the walks through the fields to see the blooming of the f
lowers, the voyages along the stately curving of the Nile, where the wealth and the beauties of life lay spread before him -- all that he had ever valued and most adored; for everything now seemed as though turned into dust. Desperate were King Amen-hetep s prayers to the Aten -- but ever looming the temple of Amen still rose. For all that he had toppled the idol in its heart, King Amen-hetep feared to touch that vast edifice of stone -- in dread, perhaps, though he would not admit as much, that the power of the Aten was indeed an illusion, that nothing could succeed against the ancient, deathly gods. As though it were a veil of sands upon the winds, scalding the fields and the cooling lakes, the temple’s shadow spread wide and dark across Thebes, so that King Amen-hetep imagined it even in his soul.
Yet still there were his dreams; and in those the blaze of the sun remained undimmed, and with it, perhaps, a token of the power of the Aten. So at least King Amen-hetep prayed, for as time slipped by so the glimpse of some vision beyond the blazing sun, seeming to grow stronger with each succeeding night, tantalised the dreamer with a gnawing sense of hope. He began to distinguish, still faintly, a crescent of cliffs framing what appeared to be a dusty plain of sand. Soon, as the vision grew clearer, he saw that a river was flowing by the plain, very wide, with a fringe of reeds along its bank, and he knew when he awoke that such a river could only be the Nile. In great excitement he summoned his uncle, Ay, and described to him the vision of the scene from his dream, then ordered that men be sent along the Nile, to the reaches of both Upper and Lower Egypt, to see if such a place might indeed be discovered. Impatiently King Amen-hetep waited, for still, every night, the scene grew clearer in his dreams, and he was certain that it could only be a message from the heavens, filled with a strange and terrible promise. Then it happened at last that a messenger returned and, having bowed low before King Amen-hetep, looked up at him with joy. ‘O happy King,’ he cried, ‘for many days I did as you commanded, and followed the river as it flows out to the sea. I saw how, all along the eastern bank, the cliffs rose up sheer and inhospitable, and I despaired of discovering the scene you had described. But then it happened at last that the cliffs curved away, and I saw a plain in the shape of a circle cut in two, and marshes fringing the river bank.’ And King Amen-hetep, hearing this, raised up a prayer of exultation; then he left that same day upon his barge down the Nile, until at length he arrived at the place found by his servant, and he knew, as he gazed at it, that it was the place from his dreams.
He stepped ashore and ordered his tent erected, and when he fell asleep that night, he dreamed once again. He imagined that he saw the cliffs and the plain still before him, but transformed into a scene of wondrous beauty, for now there rose a city filled with gleaming towers and walls, bird-thronged gardens and fish-stocked pools, palaces and houses of unparalleled splendour, and above all of them a temple open to the sun. Gazing at the vision, King Amen-hetep felt a sense of rapture so bright that it seemed to blaze within his heart, and the very streets, he could see now, were filling up with light. ‘Some great wonder,’ he thought, ‘is presaged by all this,’ as the pleasure in his heart still soared and grew more bright, and the city seemed to shimmer and rise to meet his joy. It was then that he awoke; yet like the distant echoing of music, the pleasure still remained, though faint and deep within his heart, and as he felt it, he knew what it was he had to do.
Returning to Thebes, he summoned his Court and described to them the vision of the city in his dream. ‘That same city,’ he proclaimed, ‘we must now attempt to build, for I am certain that, if we succeed, some great blessing will be afforded by the grace of the All-High.’ These words were greeted with wondrous acclamation, and the news was spread throughout all Egypt and beyond, so that the world’s finest craftsmen and architects and artists, eager with a passion to fulfil Pharaoh’s dream, gathered at the site of the crescent plain, and a city was raised up from the sands into the sky. When all was completed, the news was brought to King Amen-hetep; and he prepared in great hope to embark for the place. First, though, he journeyed to the temple of Amen, and he ordered the roof to be torn down from its walls, so that the light of the sun could purge its rooms of mystery and melt, so he trusted, the darkness of its secrets. ‘Let the weeds grow across its floors,’ he proclaimed, ‘and let its pillars be haunted by jackals and owls.’ And then, to illustrate how the past was henceforth to be abandoned, he announced that his name was no longer Amen-hetep but instead Akh-en-Aten -- which meant, in his language, ‘the glory of the sun’.
So it was that when he landed on the crescent plain, his heart was already filled to overflowing with hope; but when he first saw the city conjured up upon the sands, he cried out in rapture and approbation, for it seemed the very image of the city from his dream. Remembering the brightness which he had also witnessed then, and the emotions of joy which had seemed to presage some great wonder, King Akh-en-Aten stepped into his chariot and drove towards the city; and as he neared it so he prayed for a miracle, a sign. Then all at once, borne upon the breeze, he caught the perfume of an infinite number of sweet flowers, and he saw, when he gazed about him at the city, how lotuses were suddenly blooming on its pools, shady arbours were sprouting lushly by its walls, and fragrant-leaved trees were bending low above its buildings and its roads. From their boughs rose the songs of brightly coloured birds, in a chorus louder than any which King Akh-en-Aten had ever heard before, and he gazed about him in astonishment, for it seemed that every beauty of the living earth was emerging there to greet him, risen up all at once from the dust.
Then at the same moment, from amongst the crowds which had gathered by the roadside, there came a sudden murmuring, and then gasps of astonishment, and King Akh-en-Aten saw that they had turned to gaze into the distance. He shook out his reins and rode his chariot on, and as he arrived by the gateway to the city so a messenger, panting and covered in dust, came stumbling forward to kneel down in the road. ‘O mighty Pharaoh,’ he cried out, ‘a blessing and a wonder is drawing near to greet you! Upon the road which leads into the far side of the city, a litter is approaching, veiled, so it seems, with golden light. Behind it is a train of every kind of beast, lions and leopards, and gambolling panthers, deer of a slender and marvellous grace, spotted cattle and gleaming white bullocks, all perfectly tamed, as though by the beauty of that peerless Princess, fairer than anything, fairer than life, who rides in splendour high upon the litter -- for in truth, O happy King, she seems to put the very sun to shame!’
‘Not the sun,’ answered King Akh-en-Aten, suddenly shuddering, ‘do not say the sun -- for there is only One who may do that.’ But even as he spoke he turned to stare ahead, and his words were suddenly frozen on his tongue, for now he could see, borne high upon a throne of gold, the Princess, and at once he was filled with a brightness of rapture, such as he only ever remembered feeling in his dream. Numbly he stepped down on to the road to receive her. Drawing near, the princess ordered her litter lowered with a gesture of her hand, and stepped down likewise; and then she stepped forward into the light of the sun.
King Akh-en-Aten realised now that the messenger had not been exaggerating. Never before had he seen such mortal beauty. The Princess’s figure was perfect, as slender as a reed, her breasts seemed like twin fruit of ivory and her feet and hands were deliciously small. Her hair was the colour of deepest night, and hung in seven tresses far below her waist. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips bright red and her teeth like delicate and lustrous pearls. Beneath her long, silken lashes her almond eyes were black, and their gleam seemed as bright as that of an angel. King Akh-en-Aten watched as she angled her head upon her neck, which was long and slender and bejewelled with gold, and lowered her painted eyelids to hood her gleaming eyes, as though with fascination at her first sight of him. King Akh-en-Aten longed to speak to her, to say anything at all, but he found that her presence had struck him utterly dumb, for he could only think that the messenger had spoken less than the truth. The Princess was indeed more lovely than the sun, and more lo
vely than the moon, and more lovely than all the infinite number of stars, for indeed it was as though their fire had been stolen from the heavens, and their radiance enshrined within the beauty of her form; and as he stared at her, the King felt that he too was being somehow enveloped by the light. And when he met her gaze, he found it languid with a tender and captivating passion; and he knew himself dazzled and overwhelmed by love.
Almost without an awareness of what he was doing, he brushed the softness of her lips with his own. He took her slim hand and led her towards the Palace; and all the crowds who were watching shouted out in wonder, giving to the Princess the name of Nefer-titi, which in their own language meant, ‘She Who Comes in Beauty.’ And King Akh-en-Aten, barely conscious of anything save the presence of the Princess, nevertheless heard the cries of this name; and when at length they had left all the crowds far behind and stood alone together within the gardens of the Palace, he turned to his companion and, discovering his tongue, he too addressed her as Nefer-titi.
She smiled at this, and gently stroked his cheeks. As she did so, King Akh-en-Aten felt himself once again consumed by soft flames, and as she reached out to kiss him he broke away, for he was desperately attempting to stay true to his resolve - yet he sensed how that too was being burned up by the flames. He met her lips and felt his body melt, so that he lost all sense of time, all knowledge of place. Then King Akh-en-Aten felt the Princess’s lips break from his own; and he stared at her, blinking, as though trying to wake up from a dream.
‘Who are you?’ he whispered softly. ‘What is your name?’
She smiled at him again. ‘Let me be known,’ she answered, ‘by the name which you have called me, for in truth, before this time I have borne many names.’
‘Why,’ King Akh-en-Aten frowned, ‘how can that be?’ He took a step backwards, suddenly fearful. ‘Where are you from?’
