Akhenaten: Dweller in Truth

by Naguib Mahfouz

  I looked forward to lessons with him and wondered what his mind would produce when he reigned over the empire of his forefathers. I was certain that the greatness of his empire would surpass that of his father's.

  Amenhotep III was a great and powerful ruler. He was merciless with his enemies and those who disobeyed him. In peaceful times he indulged himself with women, food, and wine. He became so thoroughly consumed by those pleasures that he soon fell victim to all kinds of ailments, and spent his last days in agony, suffering excruciating pains. As for Queen Tiye, she came from an honorable Nubian family. She proved to be a woman of such power and wisdom that she outshone even Queen Hatshepsut. Because of the death of her eldest son and her husband's infidelity she became very attached to the young Amenhotep. It was as if she were his mother, his lover, and his teacher. She was so passionate about politics that she sacrificed her feminine heart to nourish her ambition for power. The priests falsely accused her of being responsible for her son's perversity. The truth is that she wanted him to be abreast of all religions. Perhaps she wanted Aten to replace Amun and become the deity to whom all others owed allegiance, for Aten was the sun god who breathed life everywhere. His subjects were united by faith and not merely by force. She hoped to use religion as a political instrument that could bring about the unity of Egypt. It was not her intention that her son believe in the religion and not the politics, but Akhenaten refused to put religion in the service of anything. The mother had contrived a clever political scheme, but the son believed in the means, not the end. He devoted himself to his religious calling, jeopardizing the country, the empire, and the throne.

  Ay remained silent for a while. He tightened the sash around his shoulders. His face looked rather small under the thick wig. When some time had passed in silence, he continued.

  I am still amazed at the young boy's intelligence. It was as if he had been born with the mind of a high priest. I often caught myself arguing with him as though he were my equal. By the time he was ten, his mind was like a hot spring, sparkling with ideas. His weak body harbored such a strong will and perseverance that I took him as living proof that the human spirit could be stronger than the most exercised muscles. He was so devoted to his religious instruction that he spent no time preparing himself for the throne. He would not accept any idea without questioning and argument, and he never hesitated to express his doubts about many of our traditional teachings. I was taken aback when, one time, he said, “Thebes! A holy city! Isn't that what they claim? Thebes, Master, is nothing but a den of rapacious merchants, debauchery, and fornication. Who are those great priests? They delude people with superstition, and take from the poor what little they have. They seduce women in the name of the deities. Their temple has become a house of harlotry and sin. Accursed Thebes.”

  I was greatly concerned when I heard him speak these words. I could see accusing fingers pointed at me, his teacher.

  “Those priests are the foundation of the throne,” I replied.

  “Then the throne is built on lies and dissolution.”

  “Their power is no less than that of an army,” I warned him.

  “Bandits and thugs are powerful, too.”

  It was clear from the very beginning that he disliked Amun, who reigned in the holy of holies. He favored Aten, whose light shone throughout the world.

  “Amun is the god of priests, but Aten is God of heaven and earth.”

  “You should be loyal to all deities.”

  “Should I not trust my heart to show me the difference between right and wrong?” he asked.

  “One day you will be crowned in the temple of Amun,” I said in an attempt to persuade him.

  He spread his slender arms and said, “I would rather be crowned in the open air, under the light of the sun.”

  “Amun is the deity that empowered your ancestors and gave them victory over their enemies.”

  He remained quiet, thinking, then said, “I cannot understand how a god could allow anyone to massacre his own creation.”

  I grew more worried but continued my efforts to dissuade him. “But we, the subjects of Amun, cannot always understand his holy wisdom.”

  “The sunlight of Aten does not discriminate between people when it shines down upon us.”

  “You must not forget that life is a battleground.”

  “Master,” he replied sadly, “do not speak to me of war. Have you not seen the sun when it rises above the fields and the Nile? Have you not seen the horizon when the sun goes down? Have you heard the nightingale sing, or the doves coo? Have you never felt the sacred happiness buried deep in your heart?”

  I knew that there was nothing I could do. He was like a tree and I could not stop him from growing. I conveyed my fears to the queen, but she did not share my concerns.

  “He is still an innocent child, Ay,” she said. “He will learn more of this life as he grows. Soon he will begin his military training.”

  The pious young prince started his military training along with the sons of the nobles. He detested it, possibly because of his physical weakness. Soon he rejected the training, thus admitting a failure not befitting a king's son.

  “I do not wish to learn the fundamentals of murder,” he said bitterly.

  The king was saddened by his son's decision. “A king who cannot fight is at the mercy of his commanders,” he said.

  The crown prince and the king had several confrontations. Most likely, this strife was the seed of the malice the boy harbored against his great father. I do believe, however, that the priests of Amun stretched this fact when they accused him of avenging himself by erasing his father's name from all the monuments. He only wanted to eradicate the name of Amun. He even changed his own name from Amenhotep to Akhenaten for the same purpose. Then came the night that condemned him to a life of seclusion. He had been waiting for the sunrise in the dark royal garden by the bank of the Nile. I learned all the details when I met him in the morning. I believe it was spring time. The air was clear of all dew and dust. When I greeted him, he turned to me with a pale face and mesmerized eyes.

  “Master, the truth has been revealed to me,” he said without returning my greeting. “I came here before sunrise. The night was my companion, its silence my blessing. As I bid darkness farewell, I felt that I was rising with the air around me. It was as though I was retreating with the night. Then there was a marvelous light, and I saw all the creatures that I had seen or even heard of gather before my eyes and greet each other in delight. I had overcome pain and death, I thought. I was intoxicated with the sweet scent of creation. I heard his clear voice speaking to me: ‘I am the One and Only God; there is no God but I. I am the truth. Dwell in my kingdom, and worship me only. Give me yourself; I have granted you my divine love.’”

  We stared at each other for a long while. I was overcome by despair and could not speak.

  “Do you not believe me, Master?”

  “You never lie,” I replied.

  “Then you must believe me,” he said in ecstasy.

  “What did you see?”

  “I only heard his voice in the merry dawn.”

  “My son,” I hesitated, “if you saw nothing, that means there was nothing.”

  “This is how he reveals himself,” he replied firmly.

  “Perhaps it was Aten.”

  “No. Not Aten, not the sun. He is above and beyond that. He is the One and Only God.”

  I was mystified. “Where do you worship him?”

  “Anywhere, anytime. He will give me the strength and love to worship him.”

  Ay was silent. I wanted to ask him if he believed in Akhenaten's god, but I remembered my father's advice and remained silent. Ay, along with many others, had left Akhenaten when things were at their worst. Perhaps he had been forced to deny his faith for the rest of his life.

  I had to tell the king and queen. A few days later, I found the crown prince waiting for me in his favorite part of the garden.

  “You reported me as usua
l, Master,” he smiled reproachfully.

  “It is my duty,” I replied calmly.

  He laughed and said, “The confrontation with my father was rather interesting. When I recounted my experience to him, he grimaced and said, ‘You must be examined by Bento, the physician.’ I replied politely that I was in good health. ‘I have yet to see a madman confess to insanity,’ he said. Then he continued, this time in a threatening tone, ‘The deities are the foundations of Egypt. The king must believe in all the deities of his people. This god that you spoke of is nothing. He does not deserve to join our deities.’ I told him that he was the Only God; that there is no other god. ‘This is heresy and madness,’ he cried. I repeated that he was the One and Only God. He became extremely angry and said, ‘I command you to renounce these absurd ideas, and to honor the heritage of your ancestors.’ I did not say any more so as not to show him disrespect. Then my mother said, ‘All we ask of you is to honor and respect a holy duty. Let your heart love what your heart wishes to love, until you return to the right path. Meanwhile, do not neglect your duty.’ I left them feeling sad, but more determined.”

  “My dear Prince,” I said earnestly, “the pharaoh is a product of ancient and holy traditions. Do not ever forget that.”

  From that moment, I was sure that there were troubles ahead such as Egypt had never seen or imagined before. The great family of pharaohs that had liberated the country and created an empire was now standing at the edge of an abyss. Around that time—perhaps it was earlier, I am not quite certain of the chronology—I was summoned to a closed meeting by the high priest of Amun.

  “You and I have known each other for a very long time, Ay,” he said. “What is all this that I hear?”

  As I say, I do not recall whether this meeting took place after it became known that the prince was inclined toward Aten, or after he declared his faith in the One and Only God. In any event, I replied, “The prince is a fine, sensible young man. Only, he is still too young. At such a sensitive age, one tends to follow one's imagination indiscriminately. He will soon mature and return to the right path.”

  “How could he renounce the wisdom of the best teacher in the country?”

  “How can one control the flow of a river during the flood season?” I said in an effort to defend myself.

  “Our duty, as the elite of this country, is to put our religion and empire first.”

  I had endless discussions with my wife, Tey, and my daughters, Nefertiti and Mutnedjmet, trying to make sense of the confusion that rattled in my mind day and night. Tey and Mutnedjmet accused the prince of heresy. Nefertiti, on the other hand, had no qualms about supporting him. Indeed she liked his ideas. “He speaks the truth, Father,” she whispered. Nefertiti was about the same age as Akhenaten and, like the prince, had matured beyond her years. Both girls had completed their basic education and home-making training. Mutnedjmet was good at writing and recitation, algebra, embroidery, sewing, cooking, painting, and ritual dance. Nefertiti excelled in the same subjects, but was not content with them. She developed a strong interest in theology and logic. I noticed her fondness for Aten, and later, when she declared her faith in the One God, I was aghast. “He is the only god able to rescue me from the torture of confusion,” she announced.

  Tey and Mutnedjmet were furious, and accused her of apostasy.

  At that time, we were invited to the pharaoh's palace to celebrate thirty years of his reign. It was the first time our daughters had entered the palace, and by a stroke of fate, Nefertiti won the love of the crown prince. Everything happened so quickly thereafter. We could still hardly believe it, when Nefertiti and Akhenaten became husband and wife. I was summoned once more by the high priest of Amun. This time, as I stood before him, I felt that he regarded me as a potential enemy.

  “You have become a member of the royalty, Ay.” His voice was filled with apprehension.

  “I am but a man who has never strayed from the course of duty.”

  “Only time can prove the true merits of men,” he said calmly.

  He asked me to arrange for a conference with Nefertiti. Before the appointed time I spoke with my daughter and armed her with advice. I must say though that Nefertiti had no need of counseling—her own wisdom aided her more than any advice she received. She answered the high priest's questions eloquently, without revealing secrets or making commitments. I believe that the priest's hostility toward my daughter started with that encounter.

  “Father,” she reported, “it may have seemed an innocent meeting on the surface, but in reality we were fighting an undeclared war. He claims that he is concerned for the empire when in fact he is only worried about his share of the goods that flow into the temple. He is a crafty, wicked man.”

  When the conflict grew between the pharaoh and his son, the king called me in and said, “I think we should send the prince on a tour of the empire. He needs experience, and must learn more about people and life.” At that time, the king was enjoying his last days with a bride young enough to be his granddaughter—Tadukhipa, daughter of Tushratta, the king of Mitanni.

  “It is a sound idea, my gracious King,” I replied sincerely.

  So Akhenaten left Thebes accompanied by a delegation of the best young men in the country. I, too, was chosen to go with him on that memorable journey. In the provinces, the subjects had expected to see a powerful, invincible being, a high and mighty god looking down upon them. Instead, the crown prince greeted them humbly as he walked among them in public gardens and on their plantations. Priests and religious scholars were invited to convene with him. He denounced their faiths. What god, he asked, is so bloodthirsty that it cannot be worshiped without the sacrifice of human souls? He proclaimed his One God the only creator of the universe. He told them that God regarded all his creation indiscriminately with love, peace, and joy; that love was the only law, peace was the ultimate end, and joy was the gratitude offered to the creator. Everywhere he went he left behind a whirlwind of confusion and frenzied excitement. I became extremely alarmed.

  “My dear Prince,” I said, “you are pulling out the roots of the empire.”

  He laughed. “When will you believe, Master?”

  “You have slandered all the religions of our ancestors, religions we have learned to believe in and respect. Equality… love… peace… all this means nothing to the subjects but an open invitation to rebelliousness and strife.”

  He thought a while, then asked, “Why do wise men like yourself believe so firmly in evil?”

  “We believe in reality.”

  “Master,” he said with a smile, “I will forever dwell in truth.”

  Before we were able to visit all the provinces as planned, a messenger from the palace reached us with the news that the Great Pharaoh was dead.

  Ay recounted the details of their return to Thebes, the grand entombment ceremony, and the crowning of the prince on the throne of Egypt. Akhenaten became King Amenhotep IV, and his wife, Nefertiti, the Great Queen. As was the custom, the new king inherited his father's harem. Although he treated them kindly, he abstained from any pleasure they offered him.

  Ay then told me how Akhenaten summoned the noble men of the country and urged them to join his religion. Thus, he was able to select his men from those who declared their faith in the One and Only God. Mae was appointed commander of the armed forces; Haremhab became chief of security; Ay was chosen for the position of adviser to the throne.

  “You will hear conflicting reports on why we declared our faith in Akhenaten's god,” Ay told me. “But no one knows what the heart really holds.” Feeling that I was after the secret of his heart, he told me, “I believed in the new god as a deity to be worshiped along with all the other deities. But I also believed that everyone should have the freedom to worship whichever god they chose.”

  Akhenaten continued his reform throughout the empire. He reduced taxes, and abolished all punitive measures. “My King,” Ay advised him, “if public servants are no longer afraid of punishment,
they will soon become corrupt, and the poor will be their sorry prey.” The king shrugged and replied confidently, “You are still wavering, Ay, and your faith is not strong enough. You will soon see what wonders love can do. My God will never let me down.” Meanwhile, relations between the new king and the priests of Amun had become so strained that Akhenaten resolved to build a new city and move the throne.

  Thus we moved to Akhetaten, a city of unrivaled beauty. Upon arrival, we held the first prayer in the grand temple that was erected in the center of the city. Nefertiti played the mandolin. She was like a jewel, radiant with youth and beauty as she sang:

  O Precious Lord, Sole Creator,

  You fill the universe with thy beauty.

  There is no love greater than thine.

  Each passing day was a sweet dream, filled with happiness and love. The blossom of the new religion was growing rapidly in our hearts. But the king did not forget his mission. In the name of love and peace, the pharaoh fought the most ferocious war Egypt had witnessed. He decreed the closing of temples, confiscated all the idols, and erased their names from the monuments. It was then that he changed his name to Akhenaten. Then he toured the country proclaiming his religion. People received him with amazing love and eagerness. In the past, they had heard about pharaohs without ever seeing them, but now the image of Akhenaten and Nefertiti in their public appearances became engraved on their memories forever.

  But the dream did not last. Clouds of sorrow began to gather; hesitant at first, then quickly they broke like a fierce cataract. There was the death of his second daughter, Meketaten, the most beautiful and loved one of all his children. He was consumed with grief, and mourned her with more tears than he had shed in his boyhood after the death of his brother Tuthmosis.