The Amarnan Kings, Book 4: Scarab - Ay

by Overton, Max

  Ankhesenamen had remained aloof though plainly on edge for the last few weeks. Ay, who knew about her negotiations for a foreign husband and had said nothing of his knowledge, or of his efforts to nullify her plans, had enjoyed teasing her. He visited her as often as the duties of government allowed, hinting at their coming marriage, of Horemheb's absence, and of unusual activity reported from the court of Hatti. "What could that be about?" he asked her. "What has stirred up the Hittite king?" Ay laughed as he remembered the look of hope in her eyes. When should I tell her? Today or tomorrow? Perhaps I should wait until after I am king, and then have her brought forcibly to her marriage. Yes ...

  Ay drained his wine cup and got up to refill it. The evening was warm and the air still. He could hear the noises of the palace faintly as the huge community that serviced a single man...a single deified man...me ...continued its never-ending activity. Beyond the palace lay the city, Amun's city, where thousands of men and woman paused in the brief hiatus between seventy days of mourning for the old king and the frenetic celebrations that would herald the arrival of the new one. He poured more wine into the cup from the water-cooled jug and sniffed the rich, dark odours of his own vineyards in the north. It will be good to see my own lands once more, to walk my fields and touch the bounty of the earth. It is all mine now though, all of Kemet...or will be after tomorrow . Ay carried his wine to the window and looked out over the flickering lights of the city mirrored in the star-emblazoned body of Nut. To the north, a far-distant thunderstorm flickered on the horizon, too distant for even the faintest rumble of thunder to carry in the calm air. Horemheb is out there in the north somewhere ...

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  Horemheb had left the city twenty-five days ago, heading north to the border to intercept a Hittite prince. Whom he was or when he would come was unknown but Horemheb would wait for him because to let him pass into Kemet unchallenged was to let a foreign king onto the throne of the Double Kingdom. The danger had always been that Horemheb would accomplish his task too easily and return to Waset before the king's burial. Then there would be trouble as the two great bulls of the court went head to head over the succession. In the end, how simple it had been to manipulate Horemheb. A fast courier to the Hittite court, ahead of Horemheb's legion, had entreated the king in Dahamunzu's name to delay his prince's crossing until a specific date, on which a guard of honour could meet him and escort him to his royal marriage. Another courier had approached Horemheb's ambush from the north, carrying a letter supposedly from the Hittite king, telling Dahamunzu of the approach of the prince on that day. That date was two days ago and by now the prince was dead and Horemheb on his way back to Waset. Do I need to be concerned? Do I have anything to fear from Lord Horemheb, Tjaty of the north and General of the Armies of Kemet ? He cannot return in time to contest the coronation, but what of after ?

  Ay walked back to his desk and sat down. Horemheb did so want to be king. I have no doubt that Tutankhamen wanted him as heir, and I think Horemheb suspected it. In truth, Ankhesenamen's treason was my salvation. If she had not sent that letter, Horemheb would have stayed in Waset to contest the succession. Could I have won such a contest? Be honest . Ay contemplated what might have been for several minutes. No. He had the army behind him. Still does, when it comes to that. So what will happen when he returns to find me crowned and married to my granddaughter? Will Nakhtmin and the Amun legion be enough ?

  If I have to fight Horemheb for the throne, a dozen legions will not be enough. I cannot rely on military might. I must get the general on my side...loyalty is the key. Horemheb has an old-fashioned view of kingship. If the throne was vacant he would fight for it, but he will not contend with an anointed king. He will find me anointed and sitting on the throne...and in his eyes, foresworn. How will he regard that? I took an oath on the holy objects of Amun-Re that I would wait for him. Tomorrow I will break that most solemn oath. To me, it is nothing for there are no gods, but as king I must act as if there are, for the king is himself a god. I must come up with a compelling reason for my blasphemy that Horemheb will accept .

  The rumble of the approaching thunderstorm intruded on Ay's thoughts. He got up and walked to the window again. The body of Nut was fast disappearing behind scuds of cloud and ripples of light played across the heavens. A faint breeze came from the north, cool and moist, and he shivered apprehensively. Why now? Why tonight ? He knew he would not be the only person thinking such thoughts. Rain was so unusual in Waset that its arrival was always scrutinised by a superstitious populace looking for omens. This storm, on the night before his coronation, would be sure to excite the credulous. I could put it off for a day or two, make some excuse...but then I risk Horemheb's return . Ay drained his cup again and turned away to refill it, discovering his legs were a little unsteady. Food, I need food . He went to the door of his office and dispatched one of the guards to find a servant and bring him some supper.

  Ay pulled a chair over to the window and sat looking out at the gathering storm, a new cup of wine in his hand. So many things have come to a head these last few months, so many things resolved...but what do I do about the Lady Beketaten ? He found himself grinding his teeth in frustration and anger and forced himself to relax. She is no longer a threat . Closing his eyes, he considered the most dangerous member of the royal family, and his close relative. Beketaten was a legitimate daughter of Nebmaetre Amenhotep and his Queen Tiye, who was in turn the sister of Ay and Aanen, the former Second Prophet of Amun. Raised in the court at Waset and in the court of the heretic king Akhenaten, Beketaten had stumbled upon Ay's conspiracy to overthrow the king. Horemheb had destroyed the rebellion but Ay had wriggled out from the collapse by blaming the king's estranged Great Wife Nefertiti. She had fallen and Ay had remained, but now an implacable enemy of the girl Beketaten. When her beloved brother Smenkhkare became co-regent, he welcomed his half-sister into his counsel and had planned to marry her and make her Queen. Ay had forestalled this, forcing the king to flee for his life while Ay played kingmaker, raising the boy Tutankhamen to the throne. Beketaten continued to resist the legitimate powers of Kemet, lending her assistance to Smenkhkare's efforts to reinstate himself on the throne.

  Ay's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile as he recalled the horror on Smenkhkare's face when his scheming came to nothing and he fell beneath his brother's blade on the plains outside Waset. Only the arrival of Horemheb and the resultant battle had prevented Ay from capturing the young woman right then and putting an end to her meddling. She had escaped and compounded his problems by burying Smenkhkare's body as a king rather than just as a rebel.

  Well, that problem is solved. Beketaten--or Scarab as she styles herself--is safely locked up in the palace dungeons. Mentopher will make her reveal where she has buried the rebel. I will burn his body in front of her and then have her...no, I cannot kill her ...Ay opened his eyes and stared out into the darkness. What was she thinking? Who planted that idea in her head ?

  "My lord?"

  Ay stared blankly at the servant bearing a tray of food, his mind elsewhere. He gestured vaguely. The servant bowed and crossed to his desk, putting the tray down, bowing again and leaving the room. He picked through the offerings on the tray, selecting a sliver of fatty goose flesh, some thin slices of radish and a chunk of barley bread. He chewed and wondered what Scarab was eating tonight. I hope Mentopher gives her something--it will be her last meal . The next day, as the Hem-Netjer of Amun placed the Double Crown of Kemet on his head, the sun god would be killing Scarab in the desert. It would be kinder to have her strangled or stabbed. Her pain means nothing to me but...I cannot kill her, nor risk having a command to kill her disobeyed. What possessed her? Who gave her the idea? It is ridiculous but it is also cunning. It is beyond all her counsellors except...Aanen. It was a calculated strike at my future power .

  When Nakhtmin had captured Scarab and Aanen, he had brought them to the palace to be questioned concerning the burial site of Smenkhkare. Scarab had said nothing, so the
torturers had turned to a more rigorous interrogation of the old priest, Ay's elder brother. He had died under the knife, the fire and the crushing stones, but not before he admitted a stunning fact that changed everything--after the burial of the former king Smenkhkare, Aanen had consecrated Scarab as the next king of the Two Kingdoms.

  "Not as Queen, you understand," Ay had explained to Nakhtmin, "But as King in her own right. If she were to marry, her husband would become royal but could not rule without her. It is almost unprecedented. Even Maatkare Hatshepsut was really only regent for the heir Menkheperre."

  "So what does that mean to your plans, sir? Can you now not become king yourself?"

  Ay had stared in disbelief at his adopted son. "Are you mad? This priest and this woman may believe her ascension to be legitimate, but Smenkhkare was ousted. He was no longer king so one cannot succeed him. Nebkheperure Tutankhamen was the true king and I will succeed him by marrying his widow."

  Nakhtmin had nodded his understanding. "Shall I have Scarab killed?"

  Ay had agonised over his decision. It made sense to remove the most dangerous person opposing him. If left alive, Scarab would do her utmost to bring him down, to destroy the last vestiges of the royal family, and to set herself on the throne of Kemet. Her claim was clearly ridiculous; she was the illegitimate successor to a false claimant. She deserved death...yet...Aanen was a Prophet of Amun. He had anointed the woman with the oil of consecration, called on the gods to witness, and placed the double crown on her head, the crook and flail in her hands. Forget all else, even her gender. If this had been done to a man who then married into the royal family, his claim would be valid. By the non-existent gods, it is what I intend to do . Moreover, Scarab did not need to marry; she was born royal.

  Ay had faced a similar problem when he tried to overthrow Smenkhkare and the recluse Akhenaten to set up the boy as a puppet king. It is a god-cursed action to kill an anointed king and though Ay did not believe in the gods--or so he told himself--he still felt the cold fingers of doubt when faced with the big decisions. Rather than invite disaster by doing the deed himself, he had hired mercenaries to capture Smenkhkare while the king was on a lion hunt. There was always a chance the lion would kill him but in the event he had fled the mercenaries and been taken by a crocodile as he attempted to swim a lagoon. Except he didn't die . He survived and raised an army in exile against his half-brother Tutankhamen.

  Akhenaten was another matter entirely. The almost-blind king had been taken out into the desert and left to die. It could be argued that the action of exposing the king was an act of murder, but Ay chose not to see it that way. If there are no gods, then the act is just plain murder and will not be punished. If there are gods, then if they deem Akhenaten their chosen one, they will save him . Ay justified his actions thus and it paid off. Now all three kings were dead and the only person between himself and the throne was Scarab. If she was truly king then the same fate would have to be meted out--she would face the desert sun like her brother Akhenaten.

  Ay found himself back at the window, the bread in his hand half eaten and forgotten. The city was darker now as oil lamps burned low and the stars hid behind the clouds. Lightning still lit them from within, the flashes almost continuous now but no rain fell. A breeze brought the desert heat into the city and sweat started out on his forehead. What will it be like for her tomorrow ? Ay could imagine the strength-sapping rays of the sun and the dryness of her throat. In addition, she will be grievously injured . He had given his steward Mentopher permission to torture Scarab in the slim hope that she would reveal the whereabouts of her brother's grave. Not a chance, she is strong and favoured by the...she is lucky. Well, her luck has drained away as if water spilled on sand . Ay smiled to himself. An apt phrase . He could see the red-headed woman standing beneath the burnished bronze of the sun, the dryness ripping the moisture from her delicate skin, her strength oozing from her many wounds.

  "Hurt her, Mentopher," Ay had said. "Make her beg for mercy, but do not kill her. She must die under the desert sun. Her blood will not be laid at my door."

  Ay yawned and turned away from the dry storm over the city. The people would not have rain to feed their superstitious nonsense. They would forget it all tomorrow anyway as the pageantry of the coronation and the opening of the city granaries swept everything else from their minds. Tomorrow, Scarab will die and I will be crowned King of the Two Kingdoms. My day--long delayed--has come . Ay called for his servants and prepared for bed, well content.

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  Chapter Ten

  The great white-walled city of Men-nefer resembled an ant nest that some thoughtless boy had kicked. Men and women crowded the streets and thronged the temples throughout the city, eager for news, or desperate to intercede with the gods to stave off disaster. A steady stream of messengers had brought word from the south for the last seventy days, telling of battles, of the death of kings, and of a land in turmoil. The young Nebkheperure and his trusted Tjaty, General Horemheb had ruled the northern city for the last several years. The population felt the loss of the king very keenly and, knowing he had no obvious heir, dreaded the possibility of a civil war to decide the succession. Rumours flew that Ay had claimed the throne, that Horemheb had done so, that a mysterious queen had taken power or that an army of Hittites was marching into Kemet.

  This last rumour gained favour when Horemheb had reappeared twenty days before at the head of a small force of trained soldiers. He marched into the city, stayed long enough to replenish his supplies and issue a host of commands, before disappearing into the northeast. For a space, everyone's attention had turned to the north, but no reports came of fighting, and the news from the south was contradictory. People settled into an uneasy wait.

  Horemheb returned, jauntily confident and closeted himself in the palace. He sent for the mayor of the city, the high priests of the temples and the leading businessmen and proceeded to quash all the rumours.

  "King Nebkheperure has by now been buried. Tjaty Ay has opened the mouth of the dead king in the absence of a nominated successor to the throne, but he will not be the next king. I talked with Lord Ay and we reached agreement that the succession would be decided by discussions to take place after the funeral. Whoever is selected will marry Queen Ankhesenamen and rule as sole king. A Tjaty will be named to govern the Two Kingdoms under the king and help restore stability and Ma'at. The rumours of a Hittite invasion are false. The Hittites are not, and never have been, capable of invading our beloved land. Soon I will march south to Waset to help choose a king. While I am gone, I will leave my trusted friend and colleague, General Paramessu, to act as Tjaty over the Northern Kingdom. He will be arriving in the next few days. I know you will offer him the utmost assistance and maintain the city in peace."

  Horemheb dismissed the officials and sent for the newly arrived messenger from Waset who had been cooling his heels while the meeting was in progress. The messenger emerged a few minutes later, pale and shaken, and refused to say what news he had brought or why Lord Horemheb had uttered an incoherent bellow of rage on hearing it. Riders left for the northeast immediately to bring Paramessu to Men-nefer immediately. Other riders had instructions to mobilise all the Armies of the North and still others to put the northern Kingdom of Ta Mehu onto a war footing. These events did nothing to calm the populace and amid the unrest, Horemheb paced the corridors of the palace like a raging beast, almost shaking with the anger that consumed him. He shouted at the servants and struck a slave who could not get out of the way fast enough. Quickly, the palace staff learned to avoid him, melting away from before him as he paced.

  Soon after nightfall, Paramessu arrived, alone and on horseback. He was shown into an audience hall where Horemheb waited alone. The Tjaty had calmed down and now stood quietly as his general approached him.

  "My lord." General Paramessu advanced and knelt before his superior.

  Horemheb raised him to his feet and embraced him, wrinkl
ing his nose at the pungent stink of sweat and horse. "You could do with a bath, my friend."

  Paramessu grinned. "Your riders said it was urgent so I came fast. What has happened?"

  "Ay has been crowned king by the priests of Amun."

  Paramessu stared. "How can that be? Did you not go south with the king to oust Ay. You said he would be retired at the very least, maybe even executed for his crimes."

  "That was the intention. However, the rebel army chose that time to move on Waset. Smenkhkare arrived outside the city while I was hunting for his army in the wrong place. The brothers killed each other and as a result the throne became vacant while I was chasing rebels. Give the bastard his due--Ay makes the most of any situation."

  "So Ay is king? How can he be? He is a commoner."

  "A commoner can be a king if he marries into royalty."

  Paramessu's eyes opened wide. "Ankhesenamen? Or...or Beketaten?"

  "The widow. As you know, Lady Beketaten--Scarab--wholeheartedly supported her brother Smenkhkare. She is on the run now, hiding from Ay's men."

  Paramessu turned away, his mind working furiously. It had been six years since he had seen Scarab. Their son Set was being reared by his parents and Paramessu saw him as often as he could, but he often wondered whether he still loved the wild young girl he had known in the desert. She would be rising thirty summers now and...he became aware that Horemheb had been talking.

  "I'm sorry sir, I was considering the implications."

  "No you weren't. You were thinking about Scarab. You were quite close to her once, weren't you?"

  "Yes sir. We...we considered marriage at one time."

  "Did you, by the gods!" Horemheb shook his head. "You would have been refused then and certainly now. Put her out of your mind."

  "Yes sir, except it's not that simple. We had a child, a son. He has been reared by my family these last six years."