Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga)

by Merrie P. Wycoff

  “Then clearly neither of you needs me to stand in your way. From now on, I shall uphold my royal duties as I so pledged, but your dream of Akhet-Aten has just died within my heart.”

  No one greeted me the next morning when I knocked on the temple door. I slipped into my father’s palace and entered through his private door. Arriving long before the others, I resigned within my heart that this choice had indeed changed the course of my life. Sitting in this quietude, the solitary moments filled me. It was rare that I was ever alone.

  Soon, other Neophytes took their places within the two half circles facing the royal throne. I kept my eyes upon the everlasting flame that burned above, suspended in a golden chalice. Pentu-Aten emerged and gave the morning blessing. Upon completion, my father took the throne and greeted us with silence as he surveyed us. Amaret the Seer sat at his feet, her eyes closed, yet she still studied the land for invaders. Her grey shocks of hair mixed with white streaks made her an alarming sight.

  “I am now to be known as The Magistrate of Akhet-Aten,” said Pentu.

  “You all start out as Neophytes at the same level. Upon your first day it is customary for you to answer two questions. Those of you, whose true calling is within these temple walls, will already know the answers. As I have stated before, you will undergo rigorous testing to prove yourself worthy to the Aten. Without testing, how could these lessons be of value? Life as a Neophyte is like walking up an endless staircase, the higher you ascend, the more you realize that you have only just begun the journey.”

  We all nodded.

  “Now, the first question. Please, for our records, state your name and your soul purpose.” Pentu pointed at me.

  “Merit-Aten, First Royal Daughter and Beloved of Aten,” I said with a clear voice. “My purpose is to pursue the path back to the origins of the first primordial light.” It simply slipped from my mouth as I remembered my soul contract. Ego. Salvation. Revelation.

  My father’s face remained placid. Pentu pointed to the next person.

  “Keshtuat, daughter of Heshtuat, the Court Seamstress. My purpose is to write the history of this new Temple of Aten and to be a worthy scribe.”

  “Ra-Awab, son of the Royal shipbuilder’s daughter, Tiat. My purpose is to learn the inner teachings of the Atenic law.”

  “Sarawat, daughter of Sarat, the Royal wigmaker. My purpose is to embody the movement of the stellar patterns.”

  “Smenkhkare, son of the Royal Harpist, Kiya. My purpose is to humbly abide by the truth of the first solarian word.”

  “Archollos, nephew of King Alkaides of Mycenae. “My purpose is to ascend from darkness to light.”

  What? Archollos had royal blood? What did his soul purpose mean? How curious. I lifted my eyes to see if Netri’s reaction had shifted at all, but it hadn’t.

  “Abit-Hor, son of the wine importer from Kush. My purpose is to learn the rituals and serve in the temple for all my days.”

  My father’s face made a slight change. His eyes narrowed and the pointer finger on his right hand flicked twice.

  Without a word, Pentu walked into the group of eight females and seven males to tap the young man on his shoulder, signaling for him to rise. Pentu leaned in and whispered. The young man departed in utter shock. The rest of the group continued to give their names and purposes, yet I couldn’t take my mind off of Abit-Hor. Why did he have to leave? Abit-Hor’s purpose of dedication was simple yet clear. He wore the white robes as we all did, his appearance didn’t seem the slightest bit out of sort. Could that happen to any of us in any moment? What shame it would cause his family, for, like us all, no doubt believed this to be his destiny.

  “It is done,” said Pentu-Aten with his gleaming robes of the sun marking his post as The Magistrate. “Do not allow your attention to drift to what has passed. Now, who knows the Law Of the Aten?”

  “The Law of the One,” I replied. “The Unitive Principle. We are all one. The old law of Opposites is from duality consciousness and can no longer exist within this new theology. Good and bad no longer exist because the Aten has no enemies. There is no death, only eternal life.”

  “Correct,” Pentu replied. “We now all abide under the ever-loving, ever-living light of the Aten. This theology is being presented for the first time ever. It is so revolutionary that Pharaoh Akhenaten believes if every Khemitian adopts it as the living principle in their daily lives, there will no longer be fighting and chaos. We will live in the eternal peace. Do you all comprehend this?”

  The others nodded and stared with blank expressions. I rolled my eyes, knowing they didn’t. Thank the Aten that I asked for knowledge from the Celestial Lords. If I hadn’t I would be as dim as the others. Now, they all would embarrass themselves if they didn’t know a single answer. I decided I must assist their learning.

  “This is important, and it is the basis for all the mysteries of the Aten. Are there any questions?” asked The Magistrate.

  “If the Aten is only about the One, then what about all the Deities we have grown up worshiping? What will happen to them?” asked Smenkhkare.

  “This new principle of the One surpasses all that you have ever learned about the pantheon of Deities. Those Neters taught us about all aspects of ourselves and humanity. Your Pharaoh believes that we can evolve past the worship of idols and form. As you have noticed, this symbol of the sun with the rays extending like hands to touch every living being is without form. The sun never sets in unitive truth. I hope this is clear.” Pentu hesitated, then asked again, “Are there any questions?”

  No one raised their hand. Even though I grew up with my father’s vision of the One, I could see the despair on my classmates’ faces for having to forget their idols. No more invocations to Isis, no more offerings to Ptah, no more libations to Sekhmet. Gone were the days of bowing to the golden statuary that had only served to separate Khemit rather than unite our country. The lights around my classmates seemed muddled and brown.

  “Let us recite the Liturgy to Aten, and then we shall take our midday meal,” said Pentu.

  We practiced, yet many hadn’t committed it to memory. I spoke louder, hoping the others would remember or at least cover their shame.

  When excused, we filed into the small reception chamber where trays of grains, nuts, and vegetables were laid out next to a pile of earthenware pottery with Nile blue markings. Everyone took a bowl and filled it with the delicacies. I took my place at the head of the table and waited to be served.

  “Ra-Awab,” said Keshtuat as she flicked her long thick braids over her shoulder, “My mother’s mother also served as a Priestess in the Temple of Ma’at. She too was fascinated by the laws of Ma’at. Truth and Justice are her passion.” She flashed a beautiful smile and then ate her cooked spelt with pistachios.

  “The laws of life have always guided me,” replied Ra-Awab. I hadn’t been served, so how could they even consider starting their meal before I did? My frustration welled and I pushed my empty bowl toward them.

  “Smenkhkare, I have seen your mother play the harp at court back at Thebes. Her melodies are as beautiful and sweet as a meadowlark,” said Sarawat as she munched a thick red date.

  “She has played for some of the best temple dancers in all of Khemit,” answered the beautiful boy.

  “I am quite hungry now,” I added, drumming my fingers on the table.

  “There is plenty left,” replied Archollos. “Go get a bowl and try the couscous and figs,” he added, as he devoured his portion with both hands.

  “But who will serve me?” I retorted, feeling hurt. Heat penetrated the soles of my feet.

  “Serve you?” asked Sarawat.

  “I will,” said Smenkhkare with a humble nod.

  All eyes turned in disbelief to the soft-faced boy with the shining eyes.

  He shrugged.

  “She is royalty. I honor the traditions.” He filled my bowl.

  “She is not one of us,” argued Ra-Awab.

  “The Magistrate stated that
we start out as Neophytes at the same level,” said Keshtuat.

  “How can you think we are all at the same level when she is His Daughter and of Royal Blood?” asked Smenkhkare as he set the bowl before me.

  “She has two feet, two hands, and a mouth the same as we do,” retorted Archollos. “If the Aten moves within us, then it could move her to the table to get her own food.”

  The others laughed, and Sarawat nudged Keshtuat in the ribs.

  “Do you mock me?” I stood up, unused to being the target of my subjects’ ridicule. My face reddened. I couldn’t catch my breath. My hands sweated. My feet burned.

  Earlier in class, I felt great camaraderie with these kindred souls, and now they were just a howling bunch of jackals circling their prey. The stir caused the occupants at the other two tables to stop mid-conversation and focus on me. They began to whisper.

  Pentu-Aten walked into the room.

  “Merit-Aten, ah, may I ask you to attend a matter back at court?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said, and left the room. When we turned the corner, he took me by the shoulders and held me at arm’s length.

  “Your Highness, what has caused you to rise to ire? Did you not comprehend your Father’s words about carrying vile thoughts into his sanctuary? Yet, once again I find you with indignation upon your tongue like bitter wormwood.” Pentu’s tone was firm, but kind.

  “They humiliated me. I will not accept this behavior.” My feet became so hot that I hopped from one to the other.

  “What could they have said to dishonor you?”

  “When I asked for someone to attend me, they made fun of me.” I clenched my fists. “They started their meals before I had been served.”

  “While you may be Merit-Aten, First Royal Daughter and the fruit of his loins in court, here in this temple you are under the ever watchful eye of the Aten. The only way you remain here is by how much light you hold. This is of the utmost importance.”

  I hung my head. In my mind, I heard Meket calling.

  “Oh, my little one.” He hugged me like a father. “I should have realized. You have the most extensive understanding of court procedure but no experience in dealing with a situation where there is no hierarchy. I should have prepared you better in the social etiquette among your peers. Would you consider serving yourself your own food?”

  “Verily, I would not know how,” I said, admitting the embarrassing truth. First I had to learn how to dress myself; he couldn’t possibly ask me to feed myself as well.

  “If I taught you how to gather your own food at mealtimes, would you?” asked my tender physician. “Would you enjoy making friends and become confidants with them?”

  “Does it better serve the Aten if I do? Or does it serve the Aten that I remain steadfast in my royal duties now? By day, I am a dedicated Neophyte, but after my classes finish I return to the palace to assume all the responsibilities required of me. While here in class, I pretend there is equality among us, yet when night falls, I give orders to these Neophytes to serve me in preparation for the ceremonial rituals to Aten which Netri and I perform.”

  “I had not considered this, Your Highness. This does seem a paradox.” “Last night when Netri left the closing ceremony to have last words with Meti, I gave orders to Ra-Awab and Archollos to move the benches. I made sure that Keshtuat and Sarawat cleared all the flower offerings and distributed them to the palace staff and hospital. I told Smenkhkare and Rennutet to pick up all the temple clothes and headdresses for the laundress. Then I went home to review today’s duties by the housekeeping, cooking, and ordering staff and attend to my sisters.”

  “And by right, you should command respect. We do have quite a dilemma.” Pentu bowed with his hands crossed over his collar bone.

  “While I admire your tenacity, I fear you will find this path rockier than the one of parity with your peers. Can you play both roles? By day, humility to gain friendships, while at night resume authority?”

  “I shall try,” I said without conviction. “Pentu, other than your companionship, which my father relies on, I see no one else to accompany him. Yet, the Aten fills him to utter completion. Do I need more than that? I, too, trust that the Aten will fill all my needs.” Pentu nodded and said, “Your sisters need your company.”

  “Yes, I heard Meket and Ankhi’s calls within my heart. May I go to them?”

  “Indeed. Finish class with your recitation of the Liturgy to Aten, which you have already committed to memory, while the others still need practice. Then you are excused. We will resume tomorrow at the same time.”

  “Thank you, Pentu.”

  * * *

  When I entered the nursery, the twins cried as their wet nurses tried to put teat to mouth. Neither of the girls accepted the nipples. Both nurses made an effort to stand while cradling an infant when I entered.

  “Sit,” I said. “You do not have to pay tribute to me when I am here to see my siblings. Are the babies all right?”

  “I am afraid that we need cumin oil for colic, but the court supply is low,” said the wet-nurse with the green eyes.

  “And if a new order is forthcoming, then I would add some golden sesame oil for the rash on their bottoms,” added the darker skinned one.

  Meket slumped in the corner staring out the window while Ankhi threw a tantrum by kicking the wooden blocks across the room and stomping around in a circle.

  “Meket,” I said in a melodious voice. “Ankhi, would you like to see the fish in the pool?”

  “I would,” said Ankhi. She glanced at the crying babies. “My ears hurt.” Meket turned to me with red-brimmed eyes and nodded. She looked lethargic. My sisters followed me to my private patio. I threw out some crumbs from a piece of sunbread and the fish rose and snapped at it.

  Ankhi jumped up and down, clapping her hands and giggling. “Oh, how pretty.” Ankhi threw more crumbs.

  “Did Meti leave us here?” asked Meket and balled her fist. Her nails dug into her skin.

  “I want to go home,” wailed Ankhi. “I want my toys.”

  “Ankhi, I have so many toys that have been made for me unlike any treasures you have ever seen. I will share them all with you.”

  “You will?” The little girl’s tears miraculously stopped as suddenly as they had started.

  “Of course.”

  “Did she really sail home without us? asked Meket. “How could she do that?”

  “She does not feel well,” I explained. “The birth of the twins made her body very tired. Meti went back to Thebes to rest and to continue the business of the court. She will be back.”

  “She will?” asked Ankhi.

  “She kissed us,” said Meket,” but did not tell us she would be leaving. I could not find her in her quarters when I went to ask about my trunk with all my paints.”

  Meket looked so sad. My heart ached for her. I reached out and took both her hands. “Do you like to paint, Meket?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shall order all the paints and papyrus sheets you desire. We can paint together.”

  This seemed to please them, the promise of paints and toys. Things of comfort perhaps could take their minds off the troubles that lay ahead.

  What if Meti never returned? My sisters would need to be distracted.

  We ate our dinner upon the patio and I ordered Kiya, the harpist, and two dancers to entertain us. Later, the attendants took the children to bed.