by Overton, Max
On the actual day of Heb-Sed, the king led the hymn of praise in the Great Temple at dawn, as usual. The congregation of common people, clutching their loaves of still-warm bread and jugs of beer, fidgeted, waiting for the services to finish so they could enjoy the day's festivities. The hymn wound down to its drawn out conclusion as Akhenaten spontaneously added a few more verses. He then proceeded to intone a complex litany of prayers written by acting-Tjaty Ay, adapted from the old foundation rituals that praised the false gods. The old Tjaty Ramose was in bed, the court physicians attending to him, though it was not expected he would survive the day.
The ritual of foundation closed and Akhenaten walked through the throngs of cheering citizens to the great columned portico of the temple. A huge gilded throne stood twice the height of a man, its base pierced with wooden poles. Eighteen stalwart Nubian soldiers stood by the poles, their faces impassive and their oiled muscles glinting in the morning sun as they flexed their arms before lifting. The king stepped onto the base and mounted the steps to the throne, seating himself.
Maya, the royal chancellor, followed his king up the steps to the throne and placed the double crown of Kemet upon Akhenaten's head. Ay came next after Maya descended and placed the crook and the flail of pharaonic authority in the king's hands. Descending once more, Ay called out to the soldiers.
"Take your places...ready...lift." With a fluid motion, the throne swayed up and onto the soldiers' broad shoulders. "Advance."
Ay led the way into the broad Avenue of the Aten and turned north, walking slowly as the eighteen-man team of soldiers lurched and stumbled under the weight of the throne before settling into a steady slow march along the thronged street. Men and women shouted and cheered, many of them holding up their free pots of beer in a salute. Children ran and ducked between the legs of the adults, packs of pariah dogs yapping and snarling as they got caught up in the excitement. A company of court musicians walked behind the swaying throne, striving to make their music heard above the roar of the populace.
The procession reached the North Palace and turned away from the river toward the new housing and the streets that ran parallel with the main thoroughfares. The gaudy banners and fresh new gaily-coloured paintwork of the Avenue of the Aten was left behind and they entered an area of fresh new white-washed mud brick houses. Akhenaten looked at the new houses with interest, nodding his satisfaction with the way his beautiful new city was taking shape. Fewer people lined the streets here but the noise was no less as hundreds followed the procession, pushing and shoving to be close to their strange young king.
As they left the area of new housing, Akhenaten sat back in his gilded throne and stared straight ahead, his back stiff and head held high, maintaining a very proper regal dignity. Above him the morning sun blazed, growing in intensity by the minute, drying every hint of the morning dew from the foliage in the parks and in pots outside the wealthier buildings. Dust, churned up by the milling feet of the following crowd, drifted in an acrid cloud over the procession, sticking to the oiled bodies of the Nubian soldiers and turning them pale, almost paler than the bronzed men and women lining the route.
The procession entered the business district to the southeast of the palace and temple complex that was the heart of Akhet-Aten, moving past shops and storefronts, where trestle tables laden with examples of the manufactured products of the city's trade lay exposed for the king to see. Akhenaten looked straight ahead, seeing neither the prepared display, nor the minor riot that started as some of the poor peasants from the countryside started to loot the stalls. Mahu led his policemen into the throng, their wooden clubs rising and falling. Within minutes the disturbance was quelled with only a few broken heads and limbs as a result. The king did not see the blood spilled behind him either.
The cattle yards lay to the south of the city, tucked into the entrance of the broad valley that pierced the surrounding desert cliffs. Beyond, the track led to the quarries that supplied the building stone for Akhet-Aten, but today the focus of attention was the broad expanse of beaten earth surrounded by a painted barricade. Around this expanse, several hundred cattle milled and lowed in small enclosures, churning up another great cloud of dust. The stink of dung hung heavy in the air, the valley walls deflecting the pleasant breezes that blew through the city. Above the bellowing of the cattle and the happy chatter of the crowds, a muted thunder gathered in the valley, generated by a myriad of flies drawn to the rich fare of cattle dung.
Ay signaled the lowering of the dais and the throne swayed downward. Akhenaten dismounted, maintaining his dignity with a little difficulty as he came down the steep steps. He walked over to the raised platform erected in front of the cattle yards and seated himself on the broad divan. Behind him, fan-bearers held aloft broad ostrich feather parasols to protect him from the growing heat of the day. A minor official sat just behind the king with a fly whisk made from the tail of a giraffe, waving it to keep the flies off his monarch. A table set with delicacies and drinks stood to one side and servants hurried to supply the king with anything he should need. Setting aside his crook and flail of office, Akhenaten accepted a cooling cup of citron mixed with wine and regarded the spectacle in front of him with a small moue of distaste.
The crowds that had followed from the city spread out on both sides of the viewing platform, chattering and pointing at the herds of cattle in the small pens around the central expanse. The dust hung low over the whole area, mingling with the rank smell of sweat and dung. The Nubian soldiers formed a line behind the platform, waiting stolidly until their services were required again. Servants brought them refreshing draughts of water, some of which was used to wash the dust from their limbs. They murmured to one another in the tongues of their homeland, the sight of the cattle bringing back memories of an earlier life.
Mahu and his police force spread out in a ring, pushing and shoving the crowd back, allowing the king an unobstructed view of the proceedings. The first pen was opened and twenty fine black bulls trotted out into the open, several naked herdsmen with whips maintaining the cohesiveness of the herd. The bellowing from the other pens reached a crescendo as the excitement of the herders transferred itself to their beasts.
The Overseer of the King's Herds, Wakare, consulted a papyrus scroll and leaned over to whisper in Ay's ear. Ay nodded and cleared his throat.
"Neferneferure Waenre Akhenaten, Lord of the Two Lands, King of the Land of the Nine Bows, Ruler of the Land of Sin, Syria, Kanaan, Lebanon and Asia; we present to you the wealth of Kemet, the noble and countless herds that are your property, that you might acknowledge that your humble servants are performing their duties." He bowed low to the king before resuming his recitation of the facts being whispered to him by Wakare.
"From the sepat of Men Nefer in Ta Mehu, the kingdom of Lower Kemet, come twenty fine black bulls representing the royal herds of two thousand, one hundred and eleven beasts."
The herdsmen urged the bulls close to the barriers where they stamped and bellowed belligerently, threatening the herders with their wickedly sharp horns. One raised its tail and splattered the barrier with its dung. The king clapped a perfumed cloth to his nose and waved at the flurry of flies that rose from the ground in a black cloud. Ay signaled them away and the herders ushered the bulls back to their pen with some difficulty. They were replaced by another small herd of cattle, this time red-brown beasts with large pendulous dewlaps and upturned horns.
"From the sepat of Khensu in Ta Mehu come twelve milk cows from the royal herds of the pastures of Ausim. They represent seven hundred fine beasts belonging to the king."
The cows were herded closer, the beasts ambling amiably forward, their dewlaps swinging. They lowed loudly at the king and at Ay's nod, were herded back to their enclosure. The process went on, new animals being herded forward to be presented to the king, followed by a recitation of the sepati or governing districts and the numbers of beasts they represented.
The morning wore on, Akhenaten becoming increasing
ly uncomfortable with the stink and the flies. By the time the presentations were halfway through the sepati of Upper Kemet, he was no longer paying attention but lolled on the cushioned divan, his eyes closed and the perfumed cloth held firmly over his nostrils. The double crown of Kemet lay on its side by the divan, stimulating several of the court officials to make the now outlawed gestures to the old gods to avert the evil omen.
The crowd was becoming restless too, standing out in the hot sun, so Ay hurried the proceedings along, bringing some of the smaller herds out together, not worrying if the beasts mingled or were herded back into the wrong pens. The sepati of Atef-Pehu and Maten brought forth their cattle for presentation and accounting. Ay sent them quickly back and announced the grand total of all the king's herds. Akhenaten opened his eyes and stood, picking up his crown, crook and flail before walking with unseemly haste back to his carrying throne. The Nubians hoisted him once more on their shoulders and the procession started back toward the city.
When the procession cleared the confines of the lower valley, the heat, dust and stink of the cattle yards blew away on the sweet moist breeze that came from the river. The mood of the crowd lightened once more at the prospect of the midday meal and refreshment out of the glare of the hot sun.
The king's throne arrived outside the king's palace next to the Lesser Temple of Aten and Akhenaten dismounted. Waving to the remnants of the fast-disappearing crowd, he entered the cool, shady colonnades of the palace, together with his entourage of court officials.
Ay trotted up beside his fast-walking king. "My lord Akhenaten. The census of the royal herds took rather longer than anticipated. We should move immediately to the Great Temple for the donning of the Sed cloak and the royal procession."
"I am hot and I stink of cattle. I am going nowhere until I have had a bath and a cold compress put on my head." He turned into the royal apartments. "Where is the queen? Send for her at once. And the maidservants. I will bathe immediately."
Ay withdrew, noting the edge of petulance in his ruler's voice. He drew Maya and Sutau aside. "Change of plan. We are already running behind schedule and everything must be complete by sundown. Bring the Sed cloak to the palace and shorten the route of the Sed procession. From the temple north then back again on the main Avenue. End it at the Great Hall. The procession will start and end there instead of at the Temple."
The chancellor and treasurer hurried away to give the required orders. Ay grabbed a servant and sent him scurrying to find food and drink, walking through into the Great Hall of the palace while he waited. The servant returned with the food and Ay went carefully over the decorations and seating arrangements, a pot of beer in one hand and a roast goose leg in the other. He nodded in satisfaction, handing the empty pot to the servant and wiping his greasy hand on the man's kilt. "Find the chancellor and bring him to me, then find out if the king has bathed," he ordered.
Maya entered a few minutes later, the Sed cloak over his arm. "The priests are upset at the change in plans," he observed.
"They'll live with it," Ay grunted. "You have the cloak?"
Maya held it up. It was of fine white linen, stiffened with papyrus fibers around the neck to make it project above the shoulders, fastening in front with an ivory clasp. Against the chancellor, the cloak extended nearly to the marbled floor but Ay knew that on the king it would not even reach to his knees.
"Good. Fold it over the back of the throne." He looked round as the servant re-entered the Hall. "Has the king bathed?"
"Yes, my lord Tjaty," the servant said, bowing low. "He is presently with the queen, dressing."
"Very good. Bring me word when he is dressed."
"Yes, my lord Tjaty. Er...there is another matter." Ay raised an enquiring eyebrow and the servant hurried on. "The envoys and ambassadors, Tjaty Ay. They were shown into the Chamber of Foreigners as arranged, and supplied with meat and drink but they grow impatient. The...the Hittite ambassador is threatening to leave Akhet-Aten unless he is paid the honour due to him."
Ay cursed under his breath. "I will see him. Maya, you will accompany me?" Without waiting for the chancellor's reply he left the Great Hall in the king's palace and hurried toward the ambassadors' quarters. The rooms set aside for foreign dignitaries lay at the end of a long corridor within the king's palace. Despite Akhenaten's trust of everybody, especially of foreigners accused by his own governors of fomenting rebellion, the rooms were well guarded.
Paatenemheb, on his previous visit to Akhet-Aten a few weeks before had lost his temper when he saw the security arrangements of the palace. A lesser general might have suffered for his outburst, or a stronger king have imposed a penalty against the rudeness of a subject; but Akhenaten had merely smiled and nodded, asking Paatenemheb what he thought of a new mural in the Audience Chamber. The general controlled himself with difficulty, dismissed the king-appointed incompetent officer in charge of security and imposed his own system, manned by picked soldiers from his finest legion.
The ambassadors' quarters were effectively isolated from the rest of the palace. Fully armed men unobtrusively guarded every doorway and ground level window, ostensibly to prevent citizens importuning the important visitors, but in reality to prevent any foreigner from coming near the king unattended.
Ay and Maya passed the unofficial checkpoints in the corridor with a nod of recognition from the officer on duty and hurried into the large Chamber of Foreigners. The room measured nearly a hundred paces in length, a forest of sculpted pillars supporting a high ceiling. Despite the time of day and the presence of large open terraced windows on this upper floor, the room was dim and flickering torches cast moving shadows within the columned interior. As the doors opened, several robed men turned toward the sound, their faces set in expressions of anger and determination.
Mutaril, first minister of King Shubbiluliuma, the Hittite, scowled at Ay as he entered; his eyes dark and glittering in his beard-covered face. Long woolen robes hung about him despite the heat of the day and his forehead glistened with sweat.
"Why am I kept waiting, Tjaty Ay? Does your king seek to insult me?"
Ay bowed; a pleasant smile on his lined face. "Rest assured, minister, king Akhenaten has nothing but high regard for you and your king."
"Then why am I...and these other high-ranking ambassadors," he waved an arm negligently toward the other dozen or so men in the room. "Why are we kept waiting? I was informed that your king would listen to king Shubbiluliuma's words this morning."
"Regrettably, minister, the Heb-Sed festival follows a strict schedule and the events of the morning took somewhat longer than anticipated. The king is bathing and will shortly don the Sed cloak and show himself to the people. Following this ..."
Muratil's complexion darkened. "I am kept waiting while the common peasants command his attention?" He balled his fists and took a step forward.
Maya interposed himself smoothly, stepping between the two men. "My lord minister, in Kemet, particularly at the Sed festival, the king attends to matters in order of increasing importance. This morning he inspected his cattle. Next he shows himself to the common people, followed by the governors of the forty-two sepati, then last of all to your Excellencies. No insult is intended, rather it is a compliment."
"Then your customs are backward, as are your people."
"Come, minister," Ay encouraged. "I hope that you will change your view of us before the day is out." He walked past Muratil to face the other robed men in the room. Very few actual governors of the Kemetu cities were present, Ay noted, but most, even those of the blockaded ones had managed to smuggle a representative out and send him with pleas for help to the king's Heb-Sed festivities. Mingled with these were envoys from hostile states--Mitanni, Babylon, the Amorites and the Hittites.
"Gentlemen, I beg you to be patient," Ay said, smiling reassuringly. "King Akhenaten will shortly be showing himself to the people of the city, followed by the presentation of the sepat governors. In no more than two hours, you will be in
vited to the throne room where you may greet the king and offer up such gifts as you have brought, and receive the king's bounty in return. Naturally, the occasion is more of a ceremonial nature than a working one, but you may rest assured that all your petitions, your letters and concerns will be dealt with in the days ahead. In the meantime, I urge you to refresh yourselves and prepare for your audience with the king."
The envoys and governors nodded and murmured to one another, starting to move off into small groups as servants hurried in to offer wine in fine goblets and trays of appetizing foods. One of the governors' representatives, Iduma of Hazor, coughed loudly, his hand up over his mouth.
"Can you send one of the court physicians, Tjaty," Iduma asked, his breath wheezing as he spoke. "I really am feeling rather unwell."
"I will see to it at once, Excellency." Ay cleared his throat to regain the attention of everyone. "King Akhenaten invites you to follow his procession to the Great Temple after the audience that you might see for yourselves the glories of his god Aten, and the love that his people have for his son."
Ay bowed low again to the assembled dignitaries and once again to Muratil before leaving the chamber with chancellor Maya.
"What is the king thinking?" Ay muttered. "Those men are not friends of Kemet. They are wolves waiting to rend the carcass of our beloved land."
