Finally, after eight days and nights of sailing, Teppy’s vision was illuminated at the first sign of dawn. He opened his eyes and witnessed it again—the same vision the Aten had revealed to him before they embarked on their journey. Above the flatlands in front of him, the sun was rising between two mountains: a testament that they had arrived at the divinely chosen destination. He raised his hands to the sky in praise of the Aten.
“You appear beautiful in the horizon of the sky, oh living sun disk,” Teppy shouted at the top of his lungs. “When you rise in the eastern horizon, you fill every land with your beauty. You’re the beginning of life, beautiful, great, resplendent, and exalted over every land. Your rays encompass the lands to the extent of all things which you have made. You bring them all and make them subject to me, your beloved son. This is the horizon of the Aten!”
The massive fleet of ferryboats and barges anchored along the eastern riverbank. Over twenty-five thousand of the pharaoh’s followers disembarked onto the fertile land that stretched beyond their range of vision, anxious to explore its hidden gifts from the Aten. With excitement and fanfare, servants carried Teppy and Nefertiti off the boat on the royal litter with their children. When Teppy’s bare feet touched the ground, the spirit of the Aten surged through him. Its rays of sunlight shone upon his face and he was overcome with gratification. Teppy had merged and become as one with his father, the Aten. There was one god and one mission: to construct and build what would be called the city of Akhetaten, known as Amarna, the new capital city of Egypt in honor of the Aten.
The first challenge was to protect themselves from the elements. In the days that followed, hundreds of tents were set up around the proposed construction site. Architects drew plans of the city’s layout based on Teppy’s vision and presented them to him for his approval. The foundation of the city was to be established within fourteen markers that he set forth upon the cliffs on both sides of the river.
To speed up the construction, most of the buildings were to be made from mud-brick and then white washed. The Royal Palace and the Great Temple of the Aten would be the only exceptions, faced with limestone and granite and the first structures to be completed. Over a hundred scribes drew hieroglyphics on every standing structure while more building supplies were brought in from Thebes.
After two years of diligent construction, only the foundations of the Aten city had been completed. Yet in Teppy’s eyes, Amarna had been born, and even in its unfinished state, it shone as a glorious place, grander than the city of Thebes could ever wish to be.
One day, while strolling near the entrance of the Great Temple of the Aten, Teppy gazed upon the two unfinished statues of himself that stood on either side. Bek, the royal sculptor, was busy instructing his workers on the carving of the pharaoh’s image into the stone. The statue had a muscular chest and shoulders not bearing the least resemblance to Teppy’s thin, womanly body. The next day, he summoned Bek to his chambers.
“The likeness you have carved of me is deceptive,” Teppy said.
“I don’t understand. The depiction is muscular and strong. My only wish is to honor you, my Pharaoh,” Bek said, cowering under the pharaoh’s accusation.
“We are no longer in Thebes, Bek. You can honor me by not hiding my true features. As the royal sculptor of Amarna, you will sculpt exactly what you see or what I tell you. My physical appearance is perfect the way it is.”
Bek studied Teppy’s appearance and nodded. “It is, my Pharaoh, my apologies. I will do as you wish.”
Months later, Nefertiti was mesmerized as she observed Bek put the finishing touches on the new version of her husband’s statue. This one now included Teppy’s perfect deformities that mirrored the shape of a god: his elongated head, neck, and fingers, his newly formed potbelly and wide feminine hips—differences that set him apart as the true son of the Aten. Though Nefertiti and his daughters did not have his physical features, she ordered Bek to sculpt her and the children’s images in the same manner, so they all would appear as part of her husband’s god-like appearance.
Throughout the city of Amarna, engravings and statues of the pharaoh and the royal family were depicted with the same wide hips, elongated heads, drooping breasts, and sagging abdomens, perfect deformities from Teppy, the descendant of a god.
After three years of construction, the royal family celebrated the inauguration of the city with an appearance in front of the people of Amarna.
From the palace balcony, the pharaoh’s family could peer out over the people and greet them on special occasions. They called this balcony their “Window of Appearances,” and on that day of inauguration the crowd applauded and roared when the royal family stepped out and waved at them. When the cheering abated, Teppy spoke directly to all his Amarna citizens.
“We are here in this magnificent new land, given to us by the only true god, the Aten. I am his only son, and I am the only way through to him. Any tributes of worship will be made to me and the royal family to please the Aten. No tributes or taxes will be paid to the Aten priesthood, only to me through Maya, our treasurer. The Aten god—the sun-disk—is the only god of Amarna and anyone harboring a statue or object of any other god from Thebes will be severely punished. You are part of a great revolution. You are the chosen ones, blessed to live in the glorious light of the Aten for eternity.”
Teppy paused for a moment before he made the next announcement. He touched Nefertiti and each one of his daughters’ faces so they would know that what he had to say next was meant for them as well.
“There is no more Teppy; my name has changed. From this day forward and into the afterlife, I will be known as Akenaten, a name that represents my devotion to the Aten. I make an oath to you today that neither the royal family nor I will ever leave the boundaries of Amarna. This is our capital city, and we will reside here forever, even when we return in the afterlife. I am Akenaten.”
The applause and cheers soon changed to roars and then chaos when Nefertiti tossed gold bracelets out to the people one-by-one. In mass hysteria, the crowd screamed and pushed one another about trying to catch them.
After leaving the Window of Appearances, Ay and Teyla took the children on a chariot tour of their new city. Akenaten wanted his daughters exposed to the people and the animals, never to be confined behind the palace walls as he had been as a child in Thebes. He had built the city of Amarna for his family so they would thrive and live forever under the sunrays of the Aten.
SINCE THE YEAR that Akenaten had become pharaoh, Egypt had not seen one day of war. There had been threats brewing from the land of Kush, Libya and even the Hittites, though no motivation for combat existed until after the third year following Akenaten’s exodus from Thebes, when General Horemheb heard reports of raids and sneak attacks posed on Egypt’s borders. He sent letters to Amarna informing the pharaoh of the threats and had never received a response. Akenaten had closed his eyes to it and left the task of war to his god, the Aten.
The pharaoh’s refusal to allow Egypt into war did not halt Horemheb’s stringent military training schedule for his young warriors. At the military camp, the boys trained incessantly every morning until sundown, led by the hand of Horemheb and his military captain, Salitas. Egypt would be ready and prepared with formidable warriors whenever the pharaoh returned to his senses.
Horemheb was teaching an archery class of one hundred and fifty boys when his brother Kafrem walked across the field and approached him. The general stepped away from his students to learn the reason for his brother’s visit. Kafrem met him half way, glancing at the warriors training on the field and running the track.
“Why do you even bother with this? He’s not going to give you your war,” said Kafrem. “You’d be better off at home making beer.”
“What do you want?” asked Horemheb.
“I want you to stop procrastinating and do something before our country is taken over by foreigners. We must have the gold tributes. How else are we to make trade for the wood we need
and the lifestyle we’re accustomed to?”
Horemheb was irritated by his brother’s response. Even his mere presence on his training grounds irked him.
“Leave. I have work to do,” said Horemheb, before turning and walking away. Kafrem followed him across the field.
“The people want a pharaoh they can see. You control the army; you should be their pharaoh. Why are you allowing him to make a mockery of Egypt?” said Kafrem. “If you destroyed Amarna along with the pharaoh and his queen, Thebes would become the capitol again and you would reunite—“
Before Kafrem could finish his thought, Horemheb turned around and punched him in the nose so forcefully that he was lifted off the ground, catapulted backwards and dropped flat on his back.
“We are not a family of traitors,” said Horemheb. “The pharaoh will come around soon enough.”
Kafrem got up and walked over to where his wig had landed in the sand and placed it back on his head. His nose bled and he covered it with his hand to stop the flow. “You said he would come crawling back to us. It’s been three years. He’s not coming.”
Horemheb watched his brother tear a piece away from his garment and use it to absorb the blood from his nosebleed.
“If you don’t do something,” warned Kafrem, “Sia and the Amun priests will. They have already discussed separating upper and lower Egypt where they will rule the lower portion, and Teppy the upper. The decision will be made without you.”
SHARING A RARE MOMENT alone away from the children, Nefertiti poured herself and Akenaten both a jar of pomegranate wine to relax their senses. Nefertiti drank a generous portion, but it failed to relax her, and Akenaten sensed something was occupying her thoughts.
“The wine cannot help you hide what’s clearly there for me to see, my love,” he said.
Her face blossomed in a loving smile.
“You know me all so well. There is news, great news.”
“Tell me.”
She gently stroked his hand. “I am with child.” she said, beaming with joy.
Those words—the same four words she had told him three times before, were no less beautiful than the first time she had uttered them. Akenaten kissed her forehead and held her close to his body.
“The Aten has blessed me twice today.”
Nefertiti pulled away, curious. “What other blessing have you received?”
“Kiya came to my chamber this morning to tell me of her own pregnancy,” said Akenaten.
An uneasiness spread across Nefertiti’s face.
“Why didn’t you tell me of this earlier?”
“I thought you would become jealous, but now there’s no reason to be.”
“Why would there ever be a reason I should be jealous of her, when she is insignificant to you, as you say. On the contrary, Kiya has many reasons to be jealous of me,” said Nefertiti.
Akenaten had been right to expect her adverse reaction to Kiya’s pregnancy. Yet, their pregnancies fulfilled his dreams of more beautiful children. For Nefertiti, it would be a race between which wife would bear the pharaoh’s son first, insuring to one, the most coveted position for a woman of royalty—mother to the heir of the throne of Egypt.
CHAPTER 22
King Suppiluliumas was a physically imposing man; a warrior king that stood a cubit taller than the tallest Hittite and weighed almost twice as much. His massiveness was due to the excessive amount of food he would devour and the muscle he acquired from lifting stone and iron daily. He had a receding forehead with a prominent curved nose. His black hair was gathered into a long pigtail behind his back, and the king spoke with a strong jaw and slightly slanted eyes. His face was hairless as it was with many Hittites until they reached the age of sixty-six, when it would be acceptable to grow a lengthy beard. Suppiluliumas was proud and confident, and he raised his sons to be the same. They were known as the three princes of Hatti: Telipinus, Piyassilis, and Mursili II. The eldest was Telipinus, who was sent with an army by his father to contain the rebels in the lands of Eber-Nari with his brother Mursili. To prove his loyalty to King Suppiluliumas, Shattiwaza, the banished prince of Mitanni, accompanied the two princes on their campaign and now all three had returned to the Hattusas palace in Hatti to a grand celebration of their conquest.
“Shattiwaza, I have to admit, I see you much differently than I had before,” said Suppiluliumas.
“I’m pleased to hear that, my king. I hope someday you’ll see me as a son-in-law,” replied Shattiwaza.
“A daughter of a king should marry a king. Why should I allow my only daughter to marry you?”
“Carranda loves me, and I believe it’s quite obvious that I love her. Second of all, I’m only one barrier away from being a king. With your help it could be eliminated.”
Suppiluliumas chuckled. “I thoroughly enjoy observing your absurd ambition.”
“And this coming from a king that has schemed and conquered every country in the vicinity except Egypt.”
“I have no desire to conquer Egypt,” replied Suppiluliumas.
“I think your desire would awaken if you knew of a way to do it. I, my king, can help you, if you’re willing to help me.”
“Help you overthrow your own father? Was not your uncle enough?
“Both were traitors to the legacy of Mitanni, and because I wouldn’t go along with their treachery, I was banished from my own country,” said Shattiwaza. “If your Hittite army overtook it, how simple it would be for you to install me as the new king. I am, as you know, the rightful heir prince of Mitanni.”
Shattiwaza’s exile from his own country intrigued King Suppiluliumas. When the Mitanni prince was first captured crossing over Hatti’s borders, he was thrown in the Hittite prison to await execution for trespassing.
There he was given only a ration of bread and water three times a week. His cell was dark and wet from the excessive rainfall that would drain down into the prison barracks, flooding it every thirtieth day. Fighting to keep his bread from the rats was part of his daily struggle to survive the most miserable conditions a son of a king could fathom. His Hittite captives had not spoken a word to him until one day in the tenth year of his captivity, a guard appeared and unlocked his cell door.
“You're free to go,” he said and tossed a small pouch at him.
Shattiwaza caught it and looked inside. The pouch was filled with gemstones. Shattiwaza stood up from the floor, suspicious of this sudden act of kindness. It must be some kind of trick, he thought.
“What is this?”
“Carnelian. Take it and go,” said the guard, holding the cell door open for him.
“Go where? I can't return to Mitanni, They’ll kill me.”
“That's none of our business.”
“I want to see king Suppiluliumas,” demanded Shattiwaza.
The guard laughed. “Now why would the king agree to see you?”
“I am a Mitannian prince. I know secrets about the Egyptians that king Suppiluliumas would find immensely valuable. More valuable than this,” said Shattiwaza as he tossed the pouch of carnelian jewels back to the guard.
After he bathed and was given a clean garment to wear, Shattiwaza was brought before king Suppiluliumas in his Hattusas palace. The king took a glimpse of Shattiwaza and went back to eating his evening meal without saying a word to him.
“I want to make a trade with you,” said Shattiwaza, breaking the awkward silence.
“Your voice is whiny like a pregnant woman. Speak up!”
Shattiwaza took a step closer to the king and lowered the pitch of his voice. “I said I would like to make a trade with you.”
"I don’t trade with Mitannians I kill them, and if it wasn't for the fact that you’re a Mitanni prince that conspired and killed your own king, you certainly would be dead and returned to dust by now,” said Suppiluliumas.
“I’ve been withering away in your ghastly prison for ten years. It took you that long to discover I had confessed the truth about who I was and what I did?”
“Actually it took only two, I threw in the extra eight for good measure,” replied Suppiluliumas with a smile
Shattiwaza noticed a woman dressed in a red silk garment standing at the entrance staring at him.
“Come Carranda, sit and share a meal with your father,” said Suppiluliumas.
The woman kept her eyes locked on Shattiwaza as she took a seat opposite Suppiluliumas. She wasn't particularly attractive, but there was something about her that intrigued Shattiwaza—most likely her relation to the king.
“I can reveal to you every secret trade route the Egyptians are using through the Ugarit valley including the entire Eber-Nari if you allow me asylum here in your country,” said Shattiwaza to the king.
“Or I could just torture the information out of you then slice off your head,” Suppiluliumas replied. “It would be so much simpler.”
“And foolish,” Shattiwaza snapped. “I’m more valuable to you alive, and I would bet my life you’re not a foolish man.”
“We have a peace treaty with the Egyptians. Why would you think we’d want their secret trade routes?”
“Every king wants the Egyptians’ secret trade routes,” answered Shattiwaza.
In the end, the Mitanni prince had successfully bargained with King Suppiluliumas and was granted asylum in the Hittite country.
Now, in the two years since his release from their prison, Shattiwaza had ingratiated himself to Suppiluliumas and his sons, even volunteering to assist them on their excursions of war in neighboring kingdoms.
His wife Tawanna entered the room hand-in-hand with their youngest son, Zenanza. The little four-year-old bolted from his mother’s side and climbed onto his father’s lap.
“Father, I want you to play a game with me,” he said.
The boy held a ball made of leather skin, filled with dried papyrus reeds and tied together with string. He handed it to Suppiluliumas, who regarded it with disdain.
Valley of the Kings Page 17
