The Amarnan Kings, Book 4: Scarab - Ay

by Overton, Max

  "The king is in the temple?" Horemheb asked.

  "No, he is in the palace. However, I am the commander of the God's own legion, so I will give thanks for our safe return. Wait here. I will not be long."

  "I will come with you."

  "No, Lord Horemheb," Nakhtmin said. "You will not." He beckoned to one of his officers. "Huyt, you will place a detail of your men around Lord Horemheb. He is not to move from this spot--for his own safety." Without waiting for comment, he turned and entered the temple precincts.

  Horemheb snarled incoherently and started to follow Nakhtmin. Huyt immediately ordered spearmen to stand with crossed spears, blocking his way. As Horemheb tried to walk around them, more arrived and turned him back. "Troop commander," Horemheb barked. "Do you know who I am? I order you to let me pass."

  Huyt saluted respectfully. "Yes sir, I know you. I cannot let you pass, sir."

  "Curse you. I outrank any mere legion commander."

  "Yes sir. I cannot let you pass, sir."

  "I will have you flogged, you insolent son of a whore." Horemheb's face darkened and the veins in his forehead throbbed.

  Huyt saluted again but his expression was stony. "Yes sir, but until then I cannot let you pass."

  "Paramessu, get into the temple and keep an eye on Nakhtmin."

  "Yes sir, but why?"

  "Because I said so...sorry. No, I need to know he is not up to any trickery."

  Huyt had been listening to this exchange. He coughed and said, "I don't think I can let you pass either, sir."

  "Your commander did not prohibit me," Paramessu pointed out.

  Huyt flushed and stared over the men's heads. "That is true sir, but in this case I must try and interpret my commander's meaning. I believe he meant for you both to wait until he got back."

  Unable to do anything else, they waited in the hot sun. Horemheb withdrew into himself, thinking his own thoughts and Paramessu counted to himself, his lips barely moving. He had reached a thousand, counting off the hundreds on his fingers, before Nakhtmin returned.

  "All done," the Amun legion commander said affably. "It really is a pleasure to approach Amun in prayer."

  "I would not have thought you particularly interested," Horemheb growled. "I thought your allegiance lay with Min."

  "Well of course, but Amun is the family god of the dynasty and as I am now a member of the family..."

  Horemheb stared. "You're making yourself royal? Are you claiming to be the heir?"

  Nakhtmin smiled. "That's not for me to say. However, I am the son of my father the king and Amun has given me the ineffable glory of speaking to me."

  "Men often think the gods speak only to them," Horemheb muttered. "And it's amazing how often the gods say what they want to hear." Louder, he said, "Then lead me to your father and let's get this sorted out."

  "If you would follow me..."

  The Amun legion turned left and marched along the broad road of Amun's Way toward the palace. Again they halted and Nakhtmin called out Huyt's men again to guard Horemheb. The guard detail, armed with spears and swords, enclosed the two men from the north and ushered them through the halls and corridors of the palace to the Hall of Justice.

  Horemheb had expected to be granted a private audience as Ay must surely know what was on his mind. Alone together, the two men could have thrashed out their differences amid a bare minimum of formality and perhaps he could even have persuaded the old man to give up his mad scheme. Instead, Ay waited in the huge Hall of Justice with its throne on a raised dais and room for hundreds of observers.

  The path from the doors to the dais was a long one with every eye in the Hall turned toward him. Horemheb strode with his head high and back straight, Paramessu to his right and a pace behind. Nakhtmin followed on the other side. He was halfway down the long aisle before he raised his eyes to the throne. He missed a step and he frowned at the sight.

  Ay sat on the golden throne of Nebmaetre Amenhotep in full regalia, his linen so white it gleamed, the double red and white crowns towering above him and the crook and flail of kingly authority held in his hands. A massive gold and glass chip pectoral covered his otherwise scrawny chest, bowing his shoulders slightly under its weight. The false beard of the kings of Kemet jutted out arrogantly from the old man's chin. Behind the seated figure of the king, filled with self-importance, stood two high nobles of the Upper Kingdom, bearing great ostrich plume fans that they held over their king. The room was in silence, watching their new king and his old enemy. Horemheb advanced to the foot of the dais and stood staring up at Ay, anger on his face.

  Nakhtmin, beside him, fell to his knees and held his arms out in supplication. "Great King Kheperkheperure, I come before you in obedience to your command. I have delivered Lord Horemheb so that he may be judged."

  Paramessu bowed his head, trying to appease both his Tjaty and the new king who was looking more regal by the minute, but neither man paid him any attention.

  Horemheb looked down at the kneeling Nakhtmin and sneered. "I have not been delivered; I came of my own free will because I am concerned for Kemet. As for judging, Lord Ay, who is going to do that? You?"

  Cries of horror and anger arose from the ranks of nobles. Ay held up a hand and silence cut through the hubbub like a sharp bronze sword.

  "I am no longer 'Lord Ay', Lord Horemheb, but King Kheperkheperure Irimaat Ay. Were you not informed of this change?"

  "I was, but I did not believe it, and seeing you seated there like a painted ape, I have to wonder if you have taken leave of your senses."

  "Have a care, Lord Horemheb," Ay said. "I am willing to forgive you many things for the sake of the services you have performed for the Kingdoms over many years, but you go too far."

  "And what of your word, freely given, Lord Ay? Or can a man who calls himself a king insult the gods?"

  The nobility erupted into cries of horror and outrage once more. Several called out to the king to silence this traitorous voice. Horemheb looked around at a few of the more vociferous ones, his brow knotting in concentration as he committed their names to memory. He swung back to face Ay.

  "Well? What say you? Can the king insult the gods?"

  Ay raised the crook to silence the angry audience. "I am a god," Ay replied calmly. "I became a god on earth when Bakt anointed me with the holy oil and blessed me in Amun-Re's name. Being one of them, how can I insult them?"

  "Ah, now we approach closer to the mark. Bakt anointed you but Bakt also administered the sacred oath that bound you. If you claim to be a god because this priest anointed you, then this same priest has undone you. Tell these nobles gathered here of the oath you took."

  Ay looked hard at Horemheb. "Is that what all this is about?"

  "Do I need more? Step down from that throne, Lord Ay, or I will reveal your deceit and the righteous anger of the people of Kemet will sweep you from your place into the dung heap."

  Ay waited again as indignation swept the Hall of Justice once more. At last, he raised his hand and the sound died. "Let Bakt, Hem-Netjer of Amun, come forward."

  The crowd parted and fat Bakt, completely shaved down to his eyebrows and dressed in the formal linens and leopard skins of a priest of Amun, came slowly forward. Accompanying him was a bevy of junior priests who strutted, full of self-importance. Bakt knelt and bowed his head, as deep an obeisance as his bulk would allow, then at a gesture from Ay, his priests raised him up with some effort and prostrated themselves.

  Horemheb's heart sank. If Bakt kneels to him, then Amun has forgiven Ay his sin .

  "Bakt, Hem-Netjer of Amun," Ay said. "Tell the persons gathered in my presence what transpired a month ago when you met with Lord Horemheb and me in the temple of Amun."

  What is he doing ?

  "Yes, Lord King." Bakt almost turned his back on Ay before catching himself. He edged sideways until he could face at least part of the Hall. "Our Great King Kheperkheperure, who at the time was Lord Ay, Tjaty of Ta Shemau, bade me gather together the sacred reli
cs of Amun-Re and place them in a chest of camphor wood in the innermost sanctum of the god's abode. To this place, with all due reverence and humility came Lord Ay and Lord Horemheb. There, in the presence of the god, Lord Ay swore on the sacred relics that he would wait for Lord Horemheb's return from the north so that together they might decide on the succession to the vacant throne of Kemet."

  The echoes of Bakt's voice died away into an utter silence. Then slowly, a buzz of disbelief arose from the nobles, an excited hum of anticipation. Into the swelling uproar Horemheb stepped, his arms raised to quell the disturbance.

  "Bakt," he asked, "Answer before the god, were the holy relics of Amun truly in the camphor wood chest? Did Lord Ay swear an oath upon them?"

  "Yes, Lord Horemheb."

  "Then that man," his finger stabbed out at Ay, "Is foresworn before Amun and has held the gods in contempt by making himself king."

  Clamour erupted in the Hall again, dying away slowly as, at a signal from Ay, Nakhtmin started calling for silence.

  "Bakt, tell everyone what happened the night before the funeral of King Nebkheperure," Ay said quietly.

  "On the morning of the funeral, Lord Ay came to me with a downcast eye and trembling for he had had a dream in the night. He asked me to interpret it. This is his dream." Bakt cleared his throat before beginning. "Lord Ay said, 'I dreamed I was on my estates to the north, an old man enjoying the bread from my fields, the meat from my herds and the fruit of my vines when a great wind came from the south and in it I saw a bright light and in the light I saw four gods. The first approached me; I saw the form of Nebkheperure Tutankhamen, and he handed me a reed and a papyrus stalk. Then the next one drew near, in the form of Djeserkheperu Smenkhkare and he handed me a threshing flail, bidding me fight the enemies of Kemet. A god in the form of Neferkheperure Waenre Akhenaten came next, and held out a shepherd's crook, bidding me guide the people of Kemet. Last of all, a huge golden god approached and I saw it was Nebmaetre Amenhotep, husband to my dear sister Tiye. He showed me the assembled gods of the Two Kingdoms and bade me bring all men back to the worship of the gods.'"

  Bakt looked around at his rapt audience, noting looks of fear and awe on the faces of the nobles. "Lord Ay asked me to interpret the dream for him, for he feared what it might mean. I went into the presence of Amun-Re in the innermost sanctum where the god himself resides. I rubbed precious oils into his limbs, clothed him in fresh raiment and offered him the choicest meats from the morning offerings. Then I prayed for his wisdom that I might interpret Lord Ay's dream. This is what the god said to me: 'The reed and papyrus are the Two Kingdoms; the flail and the crook the symbols of kingship. Only a king can lead his people back to true worship. Lord Ay has served four kings selflessly and with passion. The gods now call Ay to take his place among the gods. Let him open the mouth of the dead king and then take his place on the throne.' I heard this in fear and trembling," Bakt went on, "For I recalled the oath Lord Ay had taken here in the presence of Amun. Gathering my courage, for the face of the living god is awesome and majestic indeed, I reminded Amun of it. He said, 'He made the oath in good faith but the gods decide who will be king. I release him from his oath.'"

  The only sound in the great Hall of Justice was a susurration, a rhythmic sighing as hundreds of men and women heard the words of Amun through his priest Bakt. Nobody dared break that silence, the silence of the god, with the mere noise of humanity. Horemheb looked around the Hall, seeing the awe in every face. He looked at Bakt, saw self-satisfaction and self-importance, and knew that the priest had lied. He looked at Ay and saw amusement in the hooded eyes, a faint smile creasing the wrinkled face, and he knew the old man had won.

  Nobody will believe me now. He has beaten me . Suddenly he felt very old and tired. Horemheb faced the throne and sank to his knees. A moment of two later, Paramessu joined him, and the two men stretched out their hands in supplication.

  "The god has spoken," Horemheb said. "King Kheperkheperure, I offer you my service."

  Ay's smile became one of triumph. "Do you, Lord Horemheb? And you, General Paramessu, do you also? Unreservedly?"

  "Yes, Lord King," each of them said in turn.

  "I should have you executed for your insults to my person." Ay sat and regarded the two kneeling men, drawing out the moment. "However," he said at last, "A king should be merciful and I am mindful of the services you have performed for Kemet. General Paramessu, you have followed the orders of your lawful superior and no blame can attach to you. Rise and return to your Northern Army. I confirm you in your position.

  "Lord Horemheb, I know the ambition that drives you but it will cease from this day. You are no longer Tjaty of Ta Mehu, as my beloved predecessor Nebkheperure saw fit to make you. I see now that the power was too great for you. You will take up once more the post of General of All the Armies of Kemet and safeguard our beloved country against foreign invaders.

  "The position of Tjaty of Ta Mehu and Ta Shemau, will be held by my son Nakhtmin, who from this moment is my heir and crown prince."

  The Hall erupted into cheering. Horemheb rose to his feet, pale and unsmiling. He bowed, and accompanied by Paramessu, left the chamber. At the door he looked back and saw Ay embrace Nakhtmin and lead him to a position to the right of the throne.

  The two generals started back toward the entrance with the intention of finding the Sept legion and returning north. They remained silent for the most part, each absorbing the disintegration of their dreams. The hallways were almost deserted, many of the palace staff caught up in the celebrations ensuing from the announcement of the king's heir, but as they passed the corridor leading to the Queen's apartments, they heard the sounds of raised voices, male and female, and stopped to look. In a room close by a woman demanded that a man step aside, and he was equally adamant that the king had prohibited it.

  "That is the Queen's voice," Horemheb said.

  "Forget it," Paramessu advised. He pulled at his superior's arm. "We are in enough trouble as it is."

  Horemheb shook himself free. "She was a traitor. I want to know why." He strode forward and threw open the door.

  Ankhesenamen looked up startled, over the shoulder of a burly man who faced her. "Horemheb, thanks be to the gods. I must speak with you."

  The man turned and confronted the two generals. "You have no business here. The king has..."

  "Mentopher, is it not? Ay's steward? You have no power over the Queen."

  The burly man laughed. "You think not? I take my orders from the king, not from any disgraced general. Be off before I call the guards."

  "Paramessu, remove this man--by force if necessary."

  "Yes sir." His sword was out and at Mentopher's throat before the steward had time to react. "You. You heard the General. Out. Now." He pushed the man into the corridor and closed the door behind him, bolting it. They heard the sound of the man running and shouting for the guards.

  "He will be back soon, with many men," Horemheb observed. "Say what you have to, your Majesty."

  "Why did you desert me, Lord Horemheb? Why did you not return and protect me from Ay like I asked?"

  "Why did you ally yourself with the Hittites?"

  Ankhesenamen looked at Horemheb carefully. "Is that why you forsook me? Did you think I was to be your wife? Your pathway to the throne?"

  "No madam. It was because you betrayed the Kingdoms. You asked for a barbarian to come and be your husband, to be king over loyal Kemetu. That I could not stomach."

  "It was not to be like that. He would have been king only through me." She shrugged. "So you sided with Ay to make him king." The Queen shivered and hugged herself tightly. "He will not let me live, you know."

  "The gods' will has been done. Ay is the king now and none can undo that."

  Ankhesenamen laughed bitterly. "You believed that foolishness about the dream? That was carefully thought out days before, with the priest and Nakhtmin."

  "I suspected as much."

  "And yet you went along with his
schemes? How much has he promised you?"

  "Your Majesty, you do my General an injustice," Paramessu broke in. "He has not been rewarded but has had his title of Tjaty stripped from him."

  The sound of running footsteps came from the corridor outside. Ankhesenamen stepped closer to Horemheb. "What will you do?" she asked in a low voice. "Will you oppose him?"

  "Madam, like it or not, he is the king. I cannot defy the gods."

  "You fool. The gods did not set him on the throne. He does not even believe in them but bends men to his will through their fear of divine retribution."

  "I know the gods had nothing to do with his elevation. It was not of that that I spoke. He is still anointed and therefore the king. The king's body is sacred. I cannot plot against him."

  "The king's body is of an old man and smells. It is hardly sacred. If you will do nothing, then go and leave me to my fate. I will be dead within the year."

  Hammering started on the panels of the door and voices commanded it be opened. Horemheb did not look at Paramessu but ordered him to obey the command. To Ankhesenamen he said just one thing more as the guards swarmed into the room. "Remember you are the Queen and of royal blood. Ay cannot be king without you. You are safe."

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  Chapter Twelve

  The tent city of the Khabiru surrounded the eastern part of the walled city of Zarw, its tents arranged haphazardly in meandering rows, leaving gaps that by usage became streets. Scarab, clad in the light wool robe she had been given by the Shechites, stood at the edge of the bustling city and drank in the sights. It had been six years since she had trodden these earth roads, brushed past the throngs of foreigners where a Kemetu man was a rare sight, a Kemetu woman even rarer. Already people were staring and making pointed remarks in a language they thought she could not understand, so Scarab slipped the hood over her head and hurried into the crowd.