A God Against the Gods

by Allen Drury

  We had to leave without him: how sad.

  I see in my brother-in-law’s carefully veiled eyes and tensely held posture as he steps ashore, smile fixed and eyes straight ahead while he takes back his crook and flail from Ramose and prepares to follow me into the temple, that his worry is now beginning to consume him.

  My eyes do not meet his, I make no slightest gesture, no smallest sign of my own worry lest the venture go awry. I cannot afford to indicate by so much as the flicker of an eyelash any knowledge, any concern; and really, why should I?

  I am supported by the right, after all. It is not I who tried to pick a quarrel with Amon-Ra.

  ***

  Tiye

  The new god fights to be born: Bes and Hathor are helping him. Amon’s priests, doctors, nurses, stand twittering about. What are they to me? Bes and Hathor and I will do it all, as we have done it twice before with Sitamon and Tuthmose, and as we shall do it again many times, until the House of Thebes has so many princes and princesses that not even Amon will dare attack us then.

  Aiee, it hurts! But it is the new god, and I will stand the pain.…

  I would stand any pain for my husband, any pain for the House of Thebes, any pain for the land of Kemet, which I love. Nothing shall defeat the House of Thebes. Nothing shall betray the land of Kemet. I, Tiye, say so. I, Tiye, shall see that it is always true. I do not wear the Blue Crown but I am of the mettle of those who have. I could do it if I had to. I, Tiye, could rule, for I am as strong as Hatshepsut (life, health, prosperity!), as strong as Tuthmose I (life, health, prosperity!), as strong as Tuthmose III (life, health, prosperity!).

  I am stronger than Amonhotep III (life, health, prosperity!) though he is my husband and to him I owe much, for he has made me great.

  I give good measure for it. The Great Wife Tiye does not accept her honors without keeping her part of the bargain. I give him children. I give him counsel. I give him love. I give him strength. I know now, after twelve years in his bed, that I have sufficient strength to give him what he needs and still keep within, in some secret place known only to me, enough more to meet for us both whatever the gods may bring. I am not weak. I am stronger than he. This I know now.

  I did not know it when we married. Then I was as shy as he, pushed forward by my parents, Yuya and Tuya, and by my aunt Mutemwiya, when there was no sister he could marry, no heiress to the throne. We were ten, and pawns.

  We are not pawns now.

  At first it was a children’s game: Kemet loved us, we were taken everywhere, for months we were on constant display. Of Kemet’s five million people, probably two million at least came out to see our triumphal progress up and down the river, from Nubia to the Delta. Everywhere we went, all day, all night, crowds lined the banks of the Nile on both sides: the cheering never seemed to stop. Even when we were sleeping, when we were in our private quarters, when they could not see us, it continued. We were their dolls, two little figures clad in gold who held Kemet in our hands.

  So do we hold it still.

  Then came growing up. The marriage became real, passion woke, we were lucky: real love followed. In commemoration he gave me the small cartouche of royal blue porcelain, bearing on both sides his given name, Neb-Ma’at-Ra, which I wear always on a gold chain around my neck. The dolls were dolls no longer. The Good God began to take more and more power unto himself. My aunt the Queen Mother Mutemwiya, my parents Yuya and Tuya, aided by those court officials whom they trusted, aided by the priests of Amon who then were friendly to our House, gracefully yielded authority into his hands. They perceived that he was growing into a clever boy who could handle it. They perceived that I, Tiye, could handle it too. They perceived more than that: they perceived that I was becoming as astute at statecraft as he. They did not object when he raised me to be always at his side, when he published scarabs in my honor, when he listed my titles with his on our monuments, temples, palaces, such as had almost never been done before with a Great Wife in all of Kemet’s history—such as had never, ever, been done with a commoner Queen.

  They knew he needed me. They knew that without Tiye, the Great Wife, he might weaken and falter. They knew I would keep him strong, because I am strong.

  Our first child came, Sitamon the laughing and happy: another doll for Kemet. He married her immediately, with my acquiescence, indeed at my urging, for thus was the royal succession established once and forever, beyond all challenge. Relieved of his worry about that—for until then, in the eyes of the people, he was somehow not quite legitimate, though they loved him—he loved me more. The great years began. And presently, too, began the struggle, and the pain.

  We could understand why our House needs a strong priesthood at its side, we knew the history of Amon-Ra and how he had become so entwined with us. We could not understand that he should be our equal, that he should own as much wealth as we, that he should attempt sometimes to override our wishes and flaunt our orders, in ways silent, secret, subtle, apparent to us if not to the people. We made clear our displeasure in ways as silent, secret and subtle, but unmistakably. A mutual hostility was born. Presently we could imagine another such intervention as had lifted Tuthmose III from obscurity and toppled his father Tuthmose I (life, health, prosperity to them both!) from the throne. We did not see where the threat might come from, for no one else had the royal blood, but we felt that Amon might be ready and capable, should the chance arise. Then the God brought me to bed again, and this time we had a son, Tuthmose. Now there was a Crown Prince. Now Amon had his weapon.

  But so, of course, did we.

  Aiee, aiee, aiee! May Bes and Hathor help me! I shall not cry out, I shall not let them see my face! I shall be strong. I shall be … strong.…

  Tuthmose is a sunny child, like his sister yet with an instinctive gravity that indicates awareness of his position, which we have explained a little, in simple terms. We have educated him at Memphis as much as possible, using as our excuse the fact that many of the Pharaohs have been educated there when they were princes. To placate Amon, and—he foolishly thought—to give our House control of his priests, my husband decided to name my next older brother, Aanen, to be Priest of Amon, second only to Pharaoh himself, in the temple at Karnak. It was perhaps the only time he ever went directly against my advice: some instinct told me to beware of this dour, impatient older brother. The Good God disagreed, but within a month he knew, too late, that I was right

  Aanen liked the power of Amon. He became loyal to it. Never quite daring to oppose us openly, he nonetheless took the side of the god. He became a threat; and now his nephew, our son, was the pawn.

  We could not turn to Mutemwiya, growing somewhat vague as she becomes older, or to my parents, retired now and living in our ancestral home of Akhmim, capital of the ninth province of Upper Kemet, near the Nubian border. It was a problem we must solve ourselves. Soon I saw the way.

  For centuries the Aten, the sun’s disk, has been a secondary deity, one of the many forms of Ra. In the past hundred years our House has raised him gradually to a greater prominence. The purpose of the Good Gods before us has been the same as ours: not to eliminate Amon but to balance him.

  This is our only purpose.

  We have no quarrel with Amon: it is his grasping priests who concern us.

  We ordered a temple built to the Aten near the temple of Amon. At first my husband wished to make it huge and grand, “a message they cannot miss.” Both I and my oldest brother, Aye, who is very wise and very close to me, cautioned against this. Pharaoh scaled down the plans, made it more modest: even so, the message, as Aye and I had known, was not missed.

  My husband gave me the “lake” at my favorite town of Djarukha. He decided to publish a scarab. I suggested that it show him riding in a barge to open the dikes of the Nile to flood my land and bring me wealth. “What shall I name the barge?” he asked. I laughed: “You know.” He nodded and smiled with sudden comprehension. Radiance of the Aten sailed the Nile. We built other small temples to the Aten,
as far north as the Delta. We built Malkata on the west bank of the Nile, bringing life to the land of the dead where no Pharaoh, defying Amon, had ever dared build a palace before.

  Four months ago Aanen appeared before us both in the throne room. Aye was also there. It was a frightening conversation, for Aanen wanted nothing less than our son.

  “The Crown Prince,” he began cautiously, “is now six years of age.”

  “Yes?” my husband said, an ironic puzzlement in his voice. “We, his parents, are aware of that.”

  “It is time,” Aanen said, “that he should be brought more fully into the life of Kemet.”

  “Is that not something for us to decide?” Pharaoh demanded sharply; and my brother Aye added quietly, “Surely, Brother, you presume too much when you seek to instruct the Good God and the Great Wife on how they should handle their son.”

  “He has been too long at Memphis,” Aanen said stubbornly. “He should be here in Thebes.”

  “Why?” I asked. “He will come to Thebes in due time.”

  “The people want him here,” Aanen said, and my husband snorted.

  “Are you saying they do not want him in Memphis? I am told he is enormously popular there. Why should he be brought to Thebes right now? He is not educated yet. He is just beginning scribal school, he has much to learn.”

  “Cannot your favorite Amonhotep, Son of Hapu, teach him?” Aanen asked, not bothering to conceal his sarcasm. “I thought he knew everything.”

  “He may not know everything,” my husband said with a dangerous quietness, “but he is wise enough not to defy Pharaoh.”

  “I am not defying Pharaoh, Son of the Sun,” Aanen said with a sudden obsequiousness that fooled no one. “I am only telling Your Majesties what Amon hears the length and breadth of the land: the people would like the family reunited.”

  “I know what the people think as well as Amon!” my husband snapped; and for just a second there was a sly, sardonic amusement, instantly banished, in my brother Aanen’s eyes.

  “We do not dispute that, Majesty,” he said with a sudden gravity. “But if you know, then you know that the people also wish the Crown Prince to spend more time with Amon. He has reached an age when he should be included in our ceremonies here. It is time for him to pay his respects to Amon-Ra and take his rightful place in Amon’s house.”

  “And what is his ‘rightful place in Amon’s house’?” Pharaoh asked, again the dangerous quietness in his voice; and again my brother Aye followed softly with, “Yes, Brother, what is it you are proposing here?”

  “I propose nothing,” Aanen said quickly. “I suggest only that if”—and he dared say this, not using our son’s title as he should have—“if my nephew is to be brought down to Thebes, then in addition to his other studies he should rightfully take his place among the acolytes in the temple of Amon. And he should be given, as befits his rank, a suitable title and suitable duties there.”

  “And then, I suppose—” my husband began angrily—and then he stopped. But suddenly in all our minds was the same picture: the golden statue of Amon leaning down a hundred years ago to touch a priest in the ranks named Tuthmose III and raise him thereby instantly to the throne at the expense of his father.

  For a moment no one said anything further: it was as though Pharaoh and I could not draw breath, so vast and fearful was the abyss that seemed to open at our feet. But the insolence of my brother Aanen had not yet run its course, for presently he shifted a little and asked softly:

  “Surely, Son of the Sun, you do not fear that Amon will mistreat or mis-educate your son? Surely you know that we will treat him as tenderly as you yourselves, during those hours when he is with us? On what grounds can you object?”

  Again there was silence while my husband and I, too astounded and dismayed by such effrontery and such danger, sought vainly for words. My brother Aye came to our rescue.

  “On what grounds do you insist?” he asked our brother Aanen, a sudden harsh bluntness in his voice: and now it was time for Aanen to give way, which he did at once, smoothly and with just the right degree of affronted surprise.

  “I do not ‘insist,’ Brother!” he exclaimed. “How could I possibly ‘insist’? I make a suggestion only, one so obvious and natural that it is desired by all reasonable people who have at heart the welfare of the Good God’s throne and the House of Thebes. And that means all the people of Kemet, and the Empire as well. What is so treasonous about that?”

  “No one said anything about ‘treasonous,’ Brother!” Pharaoh snapped, recovering speech and determined now, as we all could see, to end this ominous conversation. “We are pleased to hear your suggestion, we shall consider it, but I do not think I can promise you that anything will be done about it.”

  “Amon and the people will be disturbed and puzzled,” Aanen said in an elaborately aggrieved tone.

  “I would not advise Amon,” my husband said in a remote and chilling voice, “to disturb and puzzle the people too much, Brother. That might lead to trouble. And none of us wants that.”

  “Oh no,” Aanen agreed hastily. “None of us wants that, Son of the Sun.” He bowed low and began to back out. He paused at the door. “Am I to tell Amon, then, that for the time being the Crown Prince will not come to do him honor?”

  “You may tell Amon,” my husband said, and his voice grated with anger, “that the Crown Prince does him honor daily in his temple at Memphis, and that there the Crown Prince will remain until such time as the Great Wife and I deem his schooling to be sufficiently advanced.”

  “Very well,” Aanen said, his voice a regretful sigh as he left us. “Very well, Son of the Sun, if that is your desire, and my sister’s.”

  After his ostentatiously worried face had disappeared and the curtain of beads across the door had ceased to sway from his elaborately humble departure, there was silence again in the room.

  Pharaoh broke it at last in a firm and decisive tone.

  “I see,” he remarked to my brother Aye and me, “that we are going to have to move much sooner than I had thought. Your sister has an idea about this, Brother. Tell us what you think of it.”

  And so three months later Tuthmose became High Priest of Ptah at Memphis, and in Amon’s temples my brother Aanen and his friends muttered and were furious. But it was done, and we had captured the pawn, not Amon.

  Ah! Ah! Ah! Aiee, Bes and Hathor, help me! I will be strong! I will be strong! Bes! Hathor…! help … me … ahhh …

  But now I worry. And Pharaoh worries. And Aye worries, though he has worry enough, with Hebmet in her usual difficult labor scarce half a mile from here, across the Palace compound. May Bes and Hathor help her to safety, too, and give them a healthy child to serve our House.

  Why is Tuthmose not here? Why have we not had word this day from his party? All was well yesterday, they were making good time, our son was well and happy, excited by the journey. Where is he now?

  I will not imagine that he is not well. I will not fear Amon. I will think only that there has been some natural delay. Perhaps a barge has run aground, there may have been a small collision, often these minor accidents happen on the river. Or the current is proving stronger than they thought, and the slaves are tired from rowing upstream against it. Or … There are many things, all natural, all innocent. I, Tiye, will not worry.

  I, Tiye, am too strong to worry. And besides, Bes and Hathor and I have business here.

  I will not worry about Tuthmose. He is well. He is safe. He will be here soon, and so will his brother.

  But I wish he were here right now, though I, Tiye, will not worry. Soon Bes and Hathor will visit me again, and I think this will be the final time, and then I shall be beyond thought for a while, until the new god is born.

  This may be just as well, although I, Tiye, am strong and will not worry.

  ***

  Amonhotep,

  Son of Hapu

  The moments pass. The crowd grows restless, then subsides. Inside the temple, the m
ysteries proceed. I know what they are, for I have been privileged to attend them many times since I entered the service of the Good God. Today he did not invite me, for today is perhaps too intimate a matter, involving the future of the House of Thebes itself. I do not mind: it permits me to stand here, just outside the temple door, and gauge the temper of the people as they await the re-emergence of the God.

  The temper of the people is, as always, loyal, worshipful, awed, and adoring. They love Pharaoh, as they love the Great Wife Tiye; and today their love is about to find a new reward in another son to strengthen Pharaoh’s hand. At least Amon says it will be a son, and who doubts Amon? Certainly not I. I am in no position to do so.

  Yet.

  Though the day may come.

  Something moves within the House of Thebes. I watch respectfully, I listen, I wait. Presently it will become clear to me, though I suspect already what it is. Pharaoh is displeased with Amon, and seeks a way to lessen his power. Amon also is displeased. Out of such displeasure, who knows what things may come for the land of Kemet?

  I watch, I listen, I wait. This morning I saw the Priest Aanen, that creeping man, fling furiously away from his brother-in-law the Good God. This morning I saw the Good God for a second look profoundly worried, profoundly sad. Just now when he passed, I, who know him very well by now, saw behind the frozen smile and fixed, official aspect of his face something else, some trouble deeply hidden, deeply felt. Things appear to be nearing crisis. I watch, I listen, I wait

  Such is the advantage of the scribe, and such is the advantage I am arranging for my young friend Kaires, who bounces beside me like a puppy, yet beneath his outward innocence carries the weapon of an extremely intelligent mind becoming daily more shrewd and skilled in the ways of Kemet. There is some mystery here too. He appeared suddenly from nowhere, suddenly was assigned, with no explanation to anyone, to work with me in the Palace of Malkata. At first I resented this, was cautious, withholding; then his natural charm won me over—and something else. I suspect he has sponsorship from somewhere very high. I suspect he is here because someone sees him as a potential future actor in the game we all play in the Palace. Much that they never dream goes on behind the golden spectacle that awes and delights the people. I suspect it will be well for me to be his friend. So I have become, and quite genuinely, too. The charm and innocence still predominate: the shrewd intelligence and carefully analytical mind, potentially ruthless, potentially hard, come now but cautiously and rarely to the surface. But they are there, if he ever needs them. And as the years spin out for the House of Thebes, he may.