“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 with Suppiluliumas and his sons, even volunteering to assist them in their campaigns of war on neighboring kingdoms.
One afternoon, as Suppiluliumas was consulting with his viceroy, 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.
“The moment is approaching when there will be no time for games,” he said to his son, “only time for you to prepare to become king over a foreign land as your older brothers have done.”
Suppiluliumas crushed the ball within his palm. The boy cried out at his crushed toy. Tawanna, riled by her husband’s interaction with her son, grabbed Zenanza by the hand and took him from his father’s lap.
“How dare you! He’s still a child and will be treated as such,” snapped Tawanna.
“Within the next ten years our son will be a man and maybe a king,” replied Suppiluliumas.
“If he becomes king, it will be here on this soil as king of Hatti, not of some distant kingdom like you sent your son Piyassilis to so that we never see him again,” replied Tawanna.
“Do I need to remind you, my wife, about proper etiquette in front of the Mitanni prince?”
“My great king, please, never mind me,” Shattiwaza interrupted. “The queen is welcome to speak as though I’m not here. It makes me feel like part of this big happy family.”
Neither Suppiluliumas nor his wife found Shattiwaza’s comment as humorous as he did. Tawanna stepped up to him and stared into his expressionless face.
“Why my daughter finds herself attracted to you baffles me,” she said. “I myself can’t find one redeeming quality about you. Your character is irritating, your hair resembles the feathers of a rooster, you smell unpleasant, and your smile is so crooked it exposes your deceitfulness. Not even a cow in heat would find you appealing. Undoubtedly, you’ll be the worst mistake of my daughter’s life.”
Shattiwaza sneered at Tawanna before she turned and rushed out of the room, dragging the young Zenanza behind her.
A villager and his wife were escorted by guards inside the Amun temple to receive a judgment from Sia. After the announcement of the married couple’s arrival, Sia exited the outer sanctuary and went out to the entrance doors to greet them. The sixty-two-year-old man gripped his twelve-year-old wife’s wrist tighter when she tried to pull away from him. Her clothing was soiled as if she had been dragged through the mud. Sia cringed at the sight of their uncleanliness, and wouldn’t allow them a step further than what they had already taken into the temple. His intention was to resolve their case as quickly as possible so they would leave his sacred temple. “Stand here and tell me what’s the urgency?” he said.
“My lord, my wife committed adultery and must be condemned so that I may be divorced from her,” said the man.
The girl jerked her wrist free and backed away from him.
“I swear my innocence to you my lord before the Amun god himself,” she said to Sia. “I’m not guilty of what my husband is accusing me. It’s a ruse for him to be rid of me to marry another,” the girl replied.
“If there is no witness to the adultery, you cannot condemn her,” said Sia to the man.
“But I do have a witness my lord.”
The man opened the temple doors and Kafrem entered. “He is my witness.”
Both the girl and Sia looked astonished to see him.
“What is this?” asked Sia, dubious of Kafrem’s involvement.
“I am the witness. I’m the one she seduced into copulating with her,” Kafrem said.
The girl shook her head, bewildered. “My lord I have no idea who this man is, except that I’ve seen him speaking to my husband in the past. I have never been with him.”
“I am the mayor of this city, you know very well who I am, adulteress,” said Kafrem.
“No my lord, he’s lying and both he and my husband are conspiring together against me.”
“Give me the scroll,” said Sia.
The man handed him a papyrus scroll. Sia unrolled it, dipped a reed into red ink and wrote his proclamation, all without asking the girl questions that could verify her innocence. He then rolled it up and returned it to the man.
“You are divorced from your wife and she will have her nose cut from her face,” said Sia.
“No! They’re lying! Please, my lord you have to believe me!” she shouted.
The Theban guards shuffled her away and out of the temple as she kicked and screamed for mercy.
Kafrem and the man had just stepped outside the temple door when Horemheb arrived. The general saw the man hand Kafrem a pouch before he hurried away at the sight of him.
“Are you now accepting compensation from citizens as part of your duties as mayor?” asked Horemheb.
Kafrem stashed the pouch in his garment and shrugged. “I’m a witness to his wife’s adultery, and he offered me a token of his gratitude. It would be an insult not to accept it,” Kafrem replied.
Horemheb didn’t believe him. His brother most likely accepted gold for bearing false witness against an innocent woman, simply because a man wanted a lawful way to leave his wife for another. Horemheb knew of the scheme, but never considered that Kafrem would succumb to such heartless bribery and greed. Disgusted with his brother, he marched past him into the temple.
Sia spied Horemheb’s entrance and his march through the nave on his way to the outer sanctuary. He stepped in front of his path and held out his arm to stop him.
“This is my home—the sacred temple of the Amun god. You will wash yourself before you come any further,” said Sia.
Horemheb capitulated a
nd returned to the ablution tank at the temple’s entrance and washed his face, arms and hands. Sia passed him a linen cloth, and the general used it to dry himself.
“This will be brief,” Horemheb said. “I was made aware that you’re inciting a separation of Upper and Lower Egypt among our citizens. Is it true?”
“Egypt must move on without the pharaoh. A separation is the best way to do it,” replied Sia.
“You’re ignorant to the ways of men. Even a rumor of separation of Upper and Lower Egypt would cause every kingdom in the known world to suspect that we have a weakness in our military. It would be the most fatal mistake Egypt could make. Your rhetoric is very dangerous to this country.”
“You, general, are the one to consult for hand-to-hand combat advice. You should leave the intellectual decisions to those who have the capacity for intellect. I know what would make the Egyptian citizens joyful,” replied Sia.
“And I know what would keep them alive.” Horemheb countered. “Were you aware, Sia, that the Hittites are now encroaching on our boundaries in T’aru? Do you even know what that means?”
As Horemheb expected, Sia remained silent.
“I make it my absolute priority to be aware of every threat there might be to my country,” said Horemheb. “If king Suppiluliumas thinks that Egypt is not united, he will use it against us in a war, that at this moment, we’re not prepared to fight.”
“More the reason we should have a vote and elect a pharaoh for Upper Egypt that will make the necessary decisions for Thebes,” Sia replied. “I’m certain that most citizens along with every priest here will cast their vote for me—their lector priest.”
Horemheb stared at Sia with extreme contempt. “There are tens of thousands of soldiers in my army, alert me when you’re ready to have that vote,” said Horemheb, as he exited the temple.
In her palace chamber in Amarna, Queen Ty sat in front of her copper mirror wiping away her makeup with a linen cloth when she was once again interrupted by a loud clang—the same horrible sound of metal striking metal she heard years before in Thebes palace. What sort of curse could follow her as far away as Amarna?
She opened her door and walked down the corridor; there was no one but members of Akenaten’s royal guard standing post in sections alongside the wall.
“Did you hear the noise?” she asked a guard.
“No, my queen, I heard nothing,” he replied.
What if her son’s own guards were conspiring with Horemheb, attempting to deceive her into believing she was mad? Some were highly ranked in Horemheb’s army. It’s possible they maintained their loyalty to him and not her son, she thought. Her paranoia had risen to a point of no return and there was not a word anyone could say to her that would calm her spirit.
When the queen returned to her chamber, her door was closed. She had no doubt she had left it ajar when she went out to speak to the guards. With caution she cracked it open, and—hisssssssss—a white cat with sea-green eyes peered out from behind her door with its back arched, ready to attack. Around its neck was a solid gold collar with a ruby medallion. The queen slammed the door shut. She ran from the room and down the corridor.
The guards tried to help her, but the queen, suspicious of a conspiracy with Horemheb, refused to speak to them. Instead, she had her servant drive her the short distance to Ay’s home where she woke him and Teyla from their sleep.
“My brother, you have to help me. It won’t let me rest,” she pleaded in a quivering voice. Ay tried his best to soothe her, massaging her hand as Teyla brought her a jar of wine to calm her nerves.
“You must come to my chamber,” she said, refusing the wine. “Lupita’s cat is haunting me.”
Ay had seen the same redness in Amenhotep’s eyes many times before; it was from the effects of the cure, but since the queen dreaded her husband’s addiction, Ay assumed she would never conceive of taking it herself. He was saddened to conclude his sister was on the fringe of some other kind of madness. Still, he appeased her by following her back to the palace.
Queen Ty stood behind Ay, and the royal guards watched as he pushed the door open to her chamber and peered inside. The room was silent and appeared vacant. Ay searched it and confirmed that the cat was gone, or most likely had never been there at all. Cautiously, Ty entered after him.
“I swear to you Lupita’s cat was here,” she said pointing at the doorway. “The guards must have let him out.”
“My dear sister, as you know, Bastian died next to Amenhotep. He most certainly killed the cat before he died himself. There are many cats that roam the palace night and day. It’s possible you saw one that resembled Bastian,” said Ay.
“I know what I saw, and it was Bastian. He wore the same gold and ruby collar that Lupita put on him. One of the guards must have let him in my chamber then released him.”
“I would never accuse you of being mad. Perhaps what you saw was a mut spirit,” replied Ay.
“What is a mut spirit?”
“I learned of them when I was an Amun priest. Because Lupita could not give birth to her child, she refuses to journey into the realm of the dead. She and her cat are wanderers between this life and the afterlife, searching for a way to avenge instead of accepting their fate. You must protect yourself from such an evil spirit,” warned Ay.
“But how?”
“I’ll travel back to Thebes and consult the Oracle for you. He will give me the ingredients for the spell that I can pass on to Meri-Ra, the Aten priest, to rid you of the mut spirit.”
At the mere mention of the Oracle, Queen Ty’s eyelids fluttered. Surely, the new Oracle would know she caused his predecessor’s death. Though her life might depend on it, she would be foolish to ask for his help.
“The Oracle helps those who worship Amun. Do not consult him on my behalf,” she said to Ay.
“You’re the queen mother of Egypt, my sister. The Oracle is sworn to uphold your honor.”
“His honor is only for the Amun god. That is where his true loyalty lies. Bring me, instead, four live scorpions that I can use to represent the Oracle’s power for my own spell.”
“Spells are meant solely for the priests to cast. Should I consult Meri-Ra or Panhessy?” asked Ay concerned that his sister had indeed lost her senses.
“No, the spell is not of the Aten, but one I overheard spoken by the Amun priests.”
Ay gasped.
“My sister, it would be sacrilege against the Aten to recite a spell from the Amun priests here in Amarna.”
“Bring me the scorpions, Ay,” she barked. The queen’s menacing tone startled her brother.
Ay left the queen’s chamber uncertain of what he should do. If he brought her the scorpions, it might give in to her delusions, and she would undoubtedly recite a spell to Amun committing unforgiveable blasphemy against the Aten. Worse, the scorpions could poison her if she didn’t handle them correctly. But if he didn’t bring them to her, she would find another way to get them and have him punished for his disobedience.
That night, Nefertiti suffered from her own insecurities as her concerns over Kiya intensified. The young queen had convinced herself that she would never become jealous of a secondary wife whose beauty could not compare to her own, but now that Kiya’s pregnancy was showing, jealousy overwhelmed her. Akenaten’s interaction with Kiya appeared more loving and affectionate than it had before. The chance that his secondary wife might bear him a male heir before her was distressing. If it was determined that Nefertiti was only capable of giving Akenaten female children, how much longer would she go unchallenged by a more capable replacement? Queen Ty would be the most sympathetic to her plight, so she went to speak to her in private.
When she walked into Ty’s chamber, she made a conscious effort to ignore the queen’s pale and emaciated appearance.
Queen Ty welcomed Nefertiti with a warm embrace.
“I need your guidance, my queen,” said Nefertiti. “You have always given me invaluable advice. I pray that you can
help me.”
“You’re more than just a daughter-in-law. You’re as my own daughter. Have you prayed first to the Aten for his direction?”
“I have, but I feel the need to prove to our god that I can help myself when I am able,” Nefertiti answered.
Queen Ty invited Nefertiti to sit beside her. She accepted and held the queen’s hand as she spoke.
“I’m concerned about Kiya’s jealousy of me and her infatuation with my husband. It’s not reasonable,” said Nefertiti.
“A mistress is never reasonable,” replied the queen. “Yet, she is his secondary wife.”
“I’m aware of that, and I’m also aware that you faced the same predicament with your husband, Amenhotep, and his second wife, Lady Lupita. Kiya revels in taunting me. How would you suggest I deal with her cruelty?”
“It’s not my place to get involved with matters of the heart when it comes to my son, but I understand your fears,” Ty said. “You’re worried that Kiya will give birth to a male heir before you. And yes, you should be very concerned, my daughter. If she does give birth to his male heir first, her son will certainly grow to be king over your children, and he will banish you and make his mother, Kiya, the queen of Egypt. It’s what kings do,” she affirmed.
Nefertiti was visibly shaken by her bluntness. Queen Ty stood up and retrieved a pouch from a Canopic jar. She put it in Nefertiti’s palm and closed her hand over it.
“What is it?” asked Nefertiti.
“It’s what you need. Your instincts will direct you as to how you should use it.”
Queen Ty kissed Nefertiti’s forehead. “Go now. I must contend with my own predicaments. And when you see my son, tell him I wish to make a trip to my homeland of T’aru,” she said.
“My queen, I don’t wish to alarm you, but you appear too ill to travel such a long distance.”
“Perhaps I am, but T’aru is where I mourn my son, Tuthmosis, where I imagine all the great works he might have accomplished if he had been allowed to live. T’aru is where my husband, Amenhotep, once loved me with such passion that he built a lake for me there in my honor. Love can heal, my dear Nefertiti, even in the form of a lake,” said Queen Ty.
VALLEY OF THE KINGS: The 18th Dynasty Page 18
