The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten

by Overton, Max

  In the twelfth year of the reign of Neferneferure Waenre Akhenaten, Lord of the Two Lands; the king felt quite overcome by the feeling of power that was engendered by the death of his father Amenhotep and the abounding wonders of his intimate relationship with the Aten. He decided to celebrate Kemet's birth into a glorious new future by holding a Heb-Sed festival in Akhet-Aten.

  Akhenaten's announcement caught everyone by surprise. Although there was nothing to forbid an early celebration of Heb-Sed, this festival usually marked the thirtieth anniversary of a king's accession to the throne. It was a celebration of the king's health and strength and by extension, of the Two Lands. It served as a reassurance of the continuing fitness of the king to rule over the nation. The recently deceased king Amenhotep had celebrated Heb-Sed three times, in the twenty-sixth, thirtieth, and thirty-fourth years, though the last festival was in name only as Amenhotep was unable to rise from his bed to attend it. It was unusual therefore, if not unheard of, for a king to hold a Heb-Sed as early as his twelfth year, particularly as all twelve years had been spent as co-ruler rather than sole king. However, Akhenaten was undoubtedly king, and if he chose to celebrate his reign early, it was his prerogative.

  More uncertain was the form the celebrations would take. Traditionally, the gods Ptah, Min and Wepwawet were honoured, and in past festivals Amun of Waset figured prominently. However, under the new regime, the overthrown and toppled gods could scarcely be asked to bless Akhenaten and the land of Kemet. The king made it quite plain that it did not matter; the Aten was the only god that would feature in this Heb-Sed festival.

  The people of Akhet-Aten did not especially care either way. For them, a festival was a time of full bellies, of entertainment and a little licensed debauchery. The capital city was well supplied with bread, vegetables and beer and if there was only one god in his many temples instead of several gods, well--that was the king's decision.

  The people of the rest of the Two Lands were less sure. For them, the overthrow of the gods had produced nothing but trouble. As well as being unsettled in their minds and unsure of what would happen to them after death if the gods were not there to protect them; the fall of Amun had released vast tracts of land from the control of the priests and delivered it into the ownership of thousands of people who had no knowledge of how to farm or herd cattle. Crops rotted in the fields because city-dwellers were ignorant of their culture and failed to harvest them; herds strayed, sickened and died for lack of care, and the grain already harvested succumbed to mold and mice in the temple granaries now uncared for. As a result, only months after the great change, starvation loomed on the horizon for a large part of the city population.

  The economy of the land changed. Artisans of every sort derived much of their livelihood by creating beautiful objects for the temples or the tombs--from figurines, pots, jewelry and furniture, to statues, tomb reliefs and paintings--all tied to a worship of many gods. The market for these things collapsed and apprentices were laid off. The rich still had silver and gold but the middle classes, the shopkeepers and artisans lacked the means to earn a living. The poor fared worst of all. As businesses struggled, as trade decreased and increasing numbers of soldiers found themselves out of a job, the poor drifted more into crime. Mobs rioted, thieves operated in broad daylight without fear of retribution, prostitution increased and grave robbing became blatant. Without gods to hold people accountable, everyone did as they pleased, without thought for the rights of others.

  The wealth ceased to flow and prices rose. Discontent grew and the police forces of the city, as the army was steadily weakened, found its resources strained as it tried to keep the peace and uphold law and order. Ma'at, the holy balance of Kemet, crumbled. The priests did not help. Out of work and unsupported by the confiscated wealth of their temples, they roamed city and country whispering, complaining, and stirring discontent. They found willing listeners as more and more people talked openly about the Heretic King.

  In Akhet-Aten though, King Akhenaten remained blissfully unconcerned with Kemet's problems. He was not ignorant of them. Scarcely a day went by without Ay or one of his court officials coming to him with some pressing problem or other, but the king just smiled and changed the subject, asking the official what they thought of the new hymn he had composed in praise of Aten, or showing them some new painting or sculpture one of the court artists had just produced.

  It was different when the subject turned from governing his lands to the organization of Heb-Sed. Here Akhenaten showed great interest, though his ideas appalled the more conservative elements at court, of which there still were a few.

  "No, I have told you before; I will not go beyond the boundaries of Akhet-Aten. This is the city of the Aten and every good thing is found here. I have no need to leave it, for anything."

  "It is customary," Ay murmured. "The initial rituals ..."

  "Will take place here, in the Great Temple," Akhenaten interrupted forcefully.

  The mayor of Akhet-Aten, Neferkhepruhersekheper, wrung his hands anxiously. "Your majesty will still inspect the building works? And the herds? These things are always part of the festival."

  "The buildings, certainly. I am most anxious that the Aten's glorious city should be finished as soon as possible. As for the herds, talk sense, will you. I told you I will not leave Akhet-Aten and I am not having a herd of smelly cattle pollute my lovely clean city."

  "But your majesty, a census of the cattle and an inspection is essential. Cattle are represented by the Apis bull which your majesty will run with later in the ceremony and ..."

  "Have the herds counted and bring a selection of the best animals to the city. I will inspect them here--but I will not be running with any bull, Apis or not."

  Maya, chancellor and fan-bearer on the king's right hand, stirred in his chair. "My lord Akhenaten, it is not enough to examine a selection of beasts. Cattle are sacred to Ptah, himself represented by the Apis bull."

  The king stared at his chancellor for several long moments. "Who?" he asked coldly. "I do not recognize this Ptah."

  Maya gulped and glanced across at the mayor's impassive face. "I...I just meant to say that...that cattle are...I mean ..."

  The overseer of the Treasury, Sutau, cleared his throat softly. "I fear chancellor Maya has not expressed himself well, your majesty. I think what he was trying to say was that many people in Kemet still hold to mistaken and out-dated beliefs in false gods and will look askance at this festival unless the truth of the Aten's changes are made plain. That is what you were trying to say, wasn't it Maya?"

  Maya flushed. "Er, yes, that was the gist of it."

  Akhenaten inclined his head. "Then we shall have to make sure the people understand why I...why the Living Aten changes the festival. See to it Maya. I charge you with this matter."

  "There will be no problem adjusting the ceremonies to cater for the Aten's truth," Ay added. "We shall find the purest and cleanest cattle to present to our king as a symbol of the purity of our worship." Ay met Akhenaten's smile with one of his own. He bowed low before continuing. "Next is the procession where the king appears before the people in the Sed cloak." He held up a hand as the king opened his mouth to speak. "I have researched the origins of the cloak, my lord, and I find that there is no connection with any false god. Royal scribe Apy will bear witness to this fact."

  An old man in a creased white kilt looked up from his contemplation of a large tabby cat curled up by the window. He nodded slowly. "That is so, your majesty, though it is perhaps ..."

  "Thank you, Apy," Ay interrupted. "The appearance in the Sed cloak is the perfect time to introduce the royal family, my lord. What an example of family bliss to see the king with his devoted wife Nefertiti and his six loving daughters."

  "Yes." Akhenaten nodded enthusiastically. "They have had new robes made especially for the occasion. They are of the finest, whitest, sheerest linen imaginable. Every eye will be upon them."

  Mahu, the chief of police, grunted. "I would
not let my wife and daughter wear robes like that," he muttered, careful not to be overheard.

  "Then comes the procession. I have worked out a route, my lord." Ay held out a papyrus sketch map of Akhet-Aten for the king to see. "As you can see it covers most of the important parts of the city. You and your family will be transported in great high thrones lifted high so every eye may see your glory."

  Akhenaten peered closely at the papyrus. "What is this?" He pointed.

  Ay came around and looked over the king's shoulder at the map. "That is the Great Temple, my lord. It is where you start and end the procession."

  The king nodded dubiously, turning the map this way and that. "Then what?"

  "When you return from the procession of honour through the city where the people will praise you and sing hymns, a light meal will be served and afterward the ceremony of rebirth and regeneration will take place in the Great Hall. I have here," Ay held up a scroll. "... The form of the ceremony. I have adapted it so it involves only that which is sacred to the Aten."

  "You are a good and faithful servant, God's Father," Akhenaten enthused. He stood up and embraced his father-in-law, kissing him on the lips. "Such loyalty must be rewarded. Sutau, you will go to the treasury and find a chain of honour of one hundred deben of gold. Bring it here that I might put it about my faithful servant's neck."

  Sutau bowed. "At once, my lord." He hurried out.

  "You do me much honour." Ay bowed low, then, as the king resumed his seat, consulted his notes. "The governors of every sepat in the Two Lands will gather to pay homage, my lord, renewing their vows of obedience. So too, will representatives of every artisan guild and workers group assemble to honour you."

  "That is good, father Ay. Please continue."

  "Another procession takes place then. Your family will wait behind while you and the sepat governors parade down the Avenue of the Aten to the Great Temple where you will lead them in worship, singing such hymns as you deem appropriate."

  "I shall give the matter some thought. Go on."

  "You return to the palace where you join your family at the Window of Appearance where the common people present themselves to you for your blessing."

  "The blessing of Aten."

  "Of course, my lord. Delivered through his only son." Ay stopped and swallowed. He indicated a side table with water and wine jars and fine faience cups. "If you will permit me, my lord, I will clear my throat." Receiving the king's permission, Ay crossed the room and poured himself a cup of rich dark Syrian wine. He drank deeply then, putting the cup down, crossed back to stand in front of Akhenaten.

  "Following the presentation of the people comes the swearing of allegiance by the governors of all the vassal cities and kingdoms throughout the empire. At this time too, the envoys and ambassadors of foreign lands present themselves and offer gifts of friendship."

  Akhenaten nodded amiably. "That sounds acceptable. I will be able to show them the glories of Kemet through the truth of Aten."

  "The foreign dignitaries will then accompany you during the rest of the festival."

  "Acceptable."

  Mahu, the chief of police, got to his feet and bowed. "Rest assured, my lord, my men will be on hand to afford you protection, willingly offering up their lives for your comfort and peace of mind."

  The king frowned. "The Aten will protect me. I do not want to display any distrust of my friends from other nations."

  Mahu fluttered his hands in agitation. "My lord, not every man is a friend...or trustworthy."

  Akhenaten nodded slowly. "Not every man knows the truth of the Aten. Very well, Mahu, you may have six men near me but they are not to be armed. They can only carry staves."

  Mahu bowed low, his hands outstretched at knee level in acquiescence, though his tufted white eyebrows came together in a look of concern. "As you command, my lord."

  Akhenaten turned his attention back to his Tjaty. "What comes next, Ay?"

  "Here arises a difficulty my lord, which I hope you in your wisdom, can help me with." Akhenaten inclined his head and waved Ay on.

  Neferkhepruhersekheper leaned closer to Maya, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "Amazing, is it not," he whispered. "He plays the king like a fine instrument."

  Ay flicked his eyes at the mayor before continuing. "In previous er...pagan festivals, the celebrations of Min take place now. This raises a difficulty, my lord, as while there is no need to follow the old false ceremonies of praise; the people have come to expect the rituals that follow."

  Akhenaten looked puzzled. "What are these rituals, Ay? I don't really remember."

  "That would be because the rituals are more suited to those of, well shall we say, coarser sensibilities. As you know, Min is the...was the false god of fertility and sexuality. Part of the ritual involves the pairing off of men and women to er, copulate in honour of the god."

  "I seem to remember a certain Tjaty enthusiastically taking part last time," Maya murmured. "But then he no doubt has coarser sensibilities."

  Ay shot the chancellor a vicious look, then turned back to the frowning king. "If you decide to keep this aspect of the festival to appease the common people, you can be assured it would not be unseemly. The copulations always take place within the confines of the temple of Min."

  "We do not have a temple of Min. Even before my edict I saw no reason to have one built." Akhenaten thought for a few minutes while Ay waited patiently. "I really cannot see anything wrong with husbands and wives expressing their love together during the festival. We just need to find a better place for these conjugal activities."

  "The copulations are not between married people, my lord." Ay looked away, seeking a way to express himself that would not upset the king. "Most men are faithful ..." He ignored a snort of derision from the mayor. "... and most women too. The Min rituals are traditionally a time when men and women can, without censure, seek to quench their lusts outside of marriage. That is why it is so popular."

  "I cannot understand that. Since we were children, the queen and I have sworn to be faithful to each other, excluding all others. As Lord of the Two Lands I have many wives, yet I make love only with my queen, my beloved Nefertiti."

  "You are indeed blessed, my lord. I do not doubt that it is your special relationship with the Aten that lifts your abilities and desires far above us poor mortals."

  "Yes, I am sure that is the reason," Akhenaten leaned back on his gilded throne and made a steeple of the long fingers of his hands. His hooded eyes took on a dreamy unfocused look. "However, being at one with my father, the Aten, I can be benevolent toward my subjects. I will allow these rituals to take place until such time as the people come to see fidelity in marriage as a perpetual blessing."

  Ay bowed, a look of surprise on his face. "And the place, my lord? In the absence of a temple of Min?"

  "Let them offer up their lust to the true god of fertility, the Living Aten. Have mats set out in the Great Temple after the governors and I have paid homage to our god. They shall offer themselves in the sight of Aten, under the heavens rather than hidden shamefully away in the recesses of a dark temple."

  Ay gaped, his mind racing at the thought of the spectacle this would provide for the many foreign visitors at the Heb-Sed festival. Behind him he could hear a rising swell of concern from the other councilors. "The king has spoken," he intoned formally. "As the king commands, so shall it be." The mutterings died away behind him.

  Akhenaten inclined his head politely. "What is next, Ay? My bladder vexes me and I am tired."

  "Traditionally, the visit to the chapel of Wepwawet where you anoint the standard."

  "We Kemetus had so many gods it is a relief to only have one now," Akhenaten sighed. "Which one is Wepwawet? I do not remember him."

  "The 'Opener of Ways', my lord. Jackal-headed and the god of war and funerals. A deity not much worshiped by the people."

  "Then he will not be missed. The Aten is not a god of war but of love and peace. We will miss this part o
ut. Next?"

  "The running with the Apis bull."

  "Remove that too. I have already said I am not going to run anywhere."

  "My lord," Apy the scribe interposed. "A run, whether with or without the Apis bull is essential. It is a sign to all that the king is fit and healthy, and capable of rulership."

  "I am fit and healthy. Everyone will be able to see this at the Viewings from the Window of Appearance. As for being capable of rulership, the Aten gives me that right as the sole channel between his beneficence and this beautiful land of ours. I repeat; there will be no running."

  Ay bowed again. "The king's word is law." He straightened and consulted his notes. "All that remains is the offering of cattle to the...Aten, and the final procession through the city."

  "Aten does not require blood sacrifices, so we will do away with that also. The procession can remain. It will cheer the people up to see their king so often on this happy day. Now, if there is nothing else, you may go."

  The councilors stood and remained with heads bowed respectfully as Akhenaten left the council room. The king paused in the doorway and looked back. "Sutau has not returned with your gold chain of honour, Ay. When he does so, have him bring it to me and accompany him yourself. I will be with my wife in her palace rooms."

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  The day of Heb-Sed arrived. The city groaned with the numbers of people that packed into it, people journeying from all parts of the kingdoms to take advantage of the king's largesse, or just to see the fabled magnificence of Akhet-Aten for themselves. Bread and beer were given freely to all comers at dawn each day for a week prior to the festival, thousands thronging the forecourt of the Great Temple to the Aten to eat and drink and listen to the strange high-pitched quaverings of the king as he greeted his heavenly father at sunrise. Although any priest of the Aten could greet the sun disk, Akhenaten alone sang the great Hymn to the Aten, which he had composed. People came from all parts of the kingdoms, from all trades and walks of life save one--no priests graced the proceedings with their presence. The old gods of Kemet withheld their blessings from the Heretic King and his upstart god.