Meketa cringed and swam toward the shore as fast as her arms and legs would take her. The splashing noises awakened a slumbering crocodile and it entered the river after her. Mayati ran screaming back to her mother that the animal was after Meketa. Nefertiti turned and yelled out to Ramose—the pharaoh’s butler and master of horses who patrolled the river. Ramose ran into the water with his spear in hand. It was up to his waist as he trudged through it trying to reach Meketa. Nefertiti went into the river after her, but Ay pulled her back. Meketa swam wildly toward the shore, and in a frenzy, took water into her lungs. The sight of it terrified Nefertiti. Her daughter was only twenty cubits away from her grasp when the crocodile opened its mouth to devour Meketa’s leg. Nefertiti screamed just as Ramose appeared and plunged his spear through the creature’s snout all the way through the bottom of its jaw. The crocodile slowly sank to the bottom of the river as Nefertiti helped pull Meketa onto shore.
Unaware of what was happening to their siblings in the river, Tut and Senpaten were in the palace chamber playing their parents’ favorite board game of Senet. It had now become their favorite game and they would play it together for hours.
Most times the pair chatted while they played, but that day, Senpaten was unusually solemn. Tut was astute enough to know that something plagued his sister.
“Are you feeling sick?”
“I’m fine,” said Senpaten, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Don’t be sad, sister, it’s only a game. Perhaps I’ll let you win next time.”
The playful taunts that had made her smile in the past, failed to stir a reaction from her. Senpaten was silent, then all of a sudden—
“Are you fond of Grandfather Ay?” she asked, looking up into Tut’s eyes anxious to hear his answer.
“Yes, of course, why?” replied Tut.
“He’s old and strange, and I’m afraid of him.”
“He’s old because he’s our grandfather. Why would you be afraid of him? He takes care of us.”
Senpaten didn’t answer him.
“Senpaten, why? Tell me.”
“I see him sometimes watching me when I’m changing into my garments.”
Senpaten went silent again before meeting Tut’s eyes.
“And there was a time he even caressed me,” she mumbled.
“You mean like an embrace? He embraces all of us because he loves us.”
Senpaten looked directly at him now.
“No Tut, it was not like an embrace. He frightens me.”
“Senpaten, Grandfather Ay means no harm to you. He has always been good to father and me, and he wants to be good to you, too.”
Their conversation was cut short by the commotion in the palace corridor. Tut and Senpaten stepped out from their chamber in time to see the guards rushing out of the palace and toward the river.
Akenaten entered Meketa’s room to find his daughter sweating and shivering as Meri-Ra administered a liquid cure of aloe, honey, and dried poppy seeds. Nefertiti had informed him how their daughter had developed a fever after being nearly mauled by a crocodile and almost drowning.
Akenaten kissed Meketa’s forehead and began to thank the Aten god for saving her life. Nefertiti interrupted his prayer with questions.
“What sort of bruise is that on her arm? Could it have come from her ordeal in the river?” she asked.
Akenaten examined his daughter’s left arm, then the right. There were purplish bruises on both. It looked eerily similar to what he witnessed as a child on the skin of sickened animals.
“It resembles the mark of the—,” Akenaten caught himself before he said the word ‘disease.’
“The mark of what?” asked Nefertiti.
“It’s not of Amarna,” replied Akenaten. “It’s of the city of Thebes.”
The fear grew in Nefertiti’s eyes, and she received no consolation from the despair she glimpsed in his. Meri-Ra examined Meketa’s entire body before making his own diagnosis.
“These marks are caused by a powerful spell,” said Meri-Ra.
“A powerful spell from whom?” demanded Akenaten.
“A spell like this could only emanate from the Oracle himself.”
“It’s not possible. How could it reach Amarna?” said Nefertiti.
“Does anyone know your children’s secret birth names?” asked Meri-Ra.
“No, not even I know their secret names. Only Nefertiti knows,” said Akenaten.
“I’ve told no one, I swear. Why has this happened to her?!” Nefertiti yelled.
Panhessy entered carrying a tray with a cooked mouse on it. He fed as much of it to Meketa as she could eat, then wrapped the bones in linen. He tied seven knots over the cloth with a string and secured it around Meketa’s neck.
“Give it time to heal her,” said Panhessy, before he walked out of the room. Mayati, Tut, and Senpaten rushed past him and into Akenaten and Nefertiti’s arms. They all stood by Meketa’s bedside in shock.
CHAPTER
26
I AM YOUR QUEEN NEFERTITI,
Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt, royal wife of the pharaoh Akenaten. May all be well with you in the city of Thebes General Horemheb. I am writing to you on behalf of my husband and the citizens of Amarna. We are in need of gold and grain supplies. I am aware the storehouses in Thebes are full and have a surplus, so I am commanding you, general, to send more talents of gold and sacks of grain immediately so that the royal family and the people here will have a respite from the threat of famine that has befallen us this year. I will expect the shipment to arrive here by sailing vessel no later than nine days and nights, time enough for you to gather a competent boat crew to load the supplies requested. Be aware also that I have not heard word from my sister, Mundi, for many months now. I am worried about her well-being. Please mention my concerns to her.
Your queen, Nefertiti.
Salitas rolled up Queen Nefertiti’s letter and handed the papyrus scroll to Horemheb.
“Should we ignore her request, general?” asked Salitas.
“We’ll give the queen a portion of what she’s requesting,” said Horemheb. “But you will send it along with this message:
This shipment of supplies will be your last. There is no further surplus of gold and grain here, and unless your husband—our pharaoh—grants me his consent to wage war against Nubia and Libya for the tribute, in a short matter of time the entire kingdom of Egypt will be lost to famine and poverty. As for your sister—my wife, Mundi—there is no need to be concerned; she is well and thriving here in Thebes.
“Make sure she gets the message along with a token of what she requested, but only a token,” said Horemheb.
“I will as ordered, general. However, I find it odd that the queen failed to mention anything about the disease that has swept over Amarna. Obviously, the gold and grain shipments cannot cure it,” said Salitas as he transcribed the general’s message to Nefertiti on a scroll.
“The pharaoh is stubborn. It’s the only redeemable trait he inherited from his father,” replied Horemheb. “Neither he nor Nefertiti will concede that their beloved city is cursed.”
The disease spread throughout Amarna as if it were carried by the wind. Akenaten demanded his royal court search for the cause while he proclaimed that anyone suspected of blasphemy be brought to him for judgment and punishment. He would not allow his daughter, Meketa, to continue suffering alone because of the sins of his people against the Aten, the god that had delivered them to their glorious new land.
In Amarna’s grand courtyard, Akenaten prepared to pass judgement on a woman caught worshipping one of the Theban gods.
Nefertiti was seated on the royal tier when the pharaoh entered, leaning on his jeweled walking cane. Citizens had gathered in the courtyard to glimpse Akenaten as he lumbered to his throne and sat next to his queen.
Ramose stepped forward with the accused woman. Her shame kept her focused on the ground beneath her.
“This woman I saw with my own eyes worshiping a statuette of the
Tawaret god, my Pharaoh,” said Ramose. “I caught her in her own house prostrating herself in front of it.”
Akenaten’s mind drifted away from Ramose as he envisioned how the Tawaret god must have appeared to the woman while she knelt down before it. In his vision it was not an inanimate statuette carved out of wood, but a massive beast that resembled the hippopotamus toy he had as a child. The animal was alive and breathing, sweating profusely while it stood upright on its hind legs at over three cubits in height. It had a protruding abdomen and full voluptuous breasts with erect nipples. When the beast turned its face to Akenaten, the pupils of its eyes were like black onyx and satiated of evil. It let out a piercing squeal that jarred Akenaten out of his sinister daydream and back to the woman’s judgment at hand.
“Why would you commit this blasphemy in the presence of the Aten?” Akenaten asked the woman.
She remained silent, keeping her eyes on the ground.
“Answer me. Why did you have in your possession gods from Thebes? You must have been aware the offense is punishable by death?”
Before he could condemn her for not responding to his questions, her husband rushed forward and bowed at Akenaten’s feet.
“My Pharaoh, my wife has miscarried three times, and she was afraid for the life of our unborn child. It was for that reason only that she prayed at the foot of the fertility god, Tawaret.”
“Her first and most fatal mistake was bringing the statuette here to Amarna. What she has brought along with it, is pain and death from Thebes. For that she’ll be executed,” replied Akenaten, his voice cracking and harsh.
A silence fell over the crowd. Both the man and his wife were shocked by his declaration.
Nefertiti, surprised by the severity of the punishment herself, tried to hide it from Akenaten and the people.
“Please, my Pharaoh,” the man pleaded. “Take my life instead, but please spare my wife and our unborn child. I beg for your mercy.”
When the man received no response from the pharaoh, he turned his attention to Nefertiti.
“My queen, you yourself have given birth to precious royal children. As a mother you must have mercy for my wife’s unborn child.”
Nefertiti’s face bore a salient amount of pity, a reaction she no longer tried to hide. The man’s plea affected her, but before she could say a word in his defense, Akenaten cut her off by speaking out his final judgment.
“I have changed my mind,” he said to the man.
Nefertiti exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Instead, both you and your wife will be executed,” said Akenaten, spitting out the words in disgust.
The crowd gasped and murmured, and the woman collapsed in her husband’s arms wailing. Nefertiti shook her head in disbelief.
“Let this be a lesson to anyone who harbors statues of gods from Thebes and worships them in secret,” Akenaten proclaimed, addressing the crowd. “You will be discovered and executed immediately. The Aten is our god and there is no other. Disloyalty to him has brought on this disease—this purple death that spreads among us. Take them from my sight!”
The pharaoh’s royal guards led the woman and her husband out of the courtyard to the prison barracks to await their execution.
Inside the border of Mitanni, near Carchemish, Zenanza, King Suppiluliumas’s youngest son had led his Hittite cavalry across enemy territory. The confident adult prince spied two Mitanni guards in the distance, and without a word, gave chase. His cavalry followed as the guards turned and fled on horseback. The Mitannis’ horses were unusually fast and they easily out ran Zenanza and his troops. The young prince slowed his horse and raised his hand in the air to halt his cavalry from the chase.
“Why have we stopped chasing them?” asked the commander. “If they reach their homeland, King Tushratta will surely mount a massive Mitanni counterattack against us.”
Zenanza scoffed at his commander’s comments. “Tushratta will not send an army against us,” he said. “He’ll do as he has done in the past: send a messenger to the Egyptians and have them fight the battle for them,” replied Zenanza.
Akenaten retired early to his chamber. Nefertiti followed him into bed and caressed his shaved head. When she planted a firm kiss on his lips, he sensed her tenderness was a prelude for something she wanted from him.
“My husband, my sweetest love, I would never take sides against you in front of the people, but please, grant the woman mercy. Ten blows from the whip would be sufficient enough for her repentance. Her unborn child is innocent of this. Why would you kill them both?”
“What she has done has caused mass death here in Amarna. If she’s not punished severely, the Aten will not heal Meketa’s illness. I refuse to lose our daughter because of the vile acts of our citizens,” replied Akenaten.
Nefertiti nodded. There was nothing more she could say or do that would change Akenaten’s judgment. He remained as the queen left their bedchamber to stay the night with Meketa.
The following morning, Ay woke Akenaten to inform him that Meketa’s condition had worsened, and that Nefertiti had requested his presence.
When the pharaoh entered the room, Nefertiti was holding Meketa’s hand, sobbing. The purple bruises on their daughter’s arms had spread across her chest and her breathing was labored.
“Do something!” Nefertiti screamed at him. “Help your daughter!”
Her desperation broke his heart. There had to be others, he thought, more who were hiding statuettes of gods in their homes, angering the Aten god into holding back his healing powers. Akenaten ordered every house in Amarna searched and he determined within himself that whoever had done this to him and the royal family would be executed in front of their own children.
In Mitanni, two outpost guards burst into King Tushratta’s chamber as he was meeting with his military advisors.
“My king, we have urgent news,” said one of the guards, out of breath.
“You’re disrupting a private meeting with my military commanders,” replied Tushratta.
“This concerns the military, my king. We were nearly captured by Hittite troops in the city of Halab where we saw a remnant of King Suppiluliumas’s army slaughter over a hundred of our citizens. We narrowly escaped with our own lives.”
Tushratta stood up from the meeting table and paced the floor, then seated himself again. He and his commanders all looked troubled by the news.
“Suppiluliumas is a scheming miscreant and a traitor to his own word. He for certain has now ignored our peace treaty and has his eye set on Mitanni,” said Tushratta. “Both of you will deliver a message to Pharaoh Akenaten saying these words:
We are facing an imminent threat of invasion by King Suppiluliumas’s army. As your father, Amenhotep, did before, please send a contingent of your troops here as quickly as possible so we can defend ourselves from this Hittite madman.
The outpost guard transcribed it all on papyrus and rolled it up and placed it in his garment.
“Hurry,” said Tushratta. The two guards rushed out of Tushratta’s chamber, leaving the king nervous and frightened of what was sure to come.
Dressed in a long-sleeved cloak, with his walking cane in one hand and carrying a live rooster by its legs in the other, Akenaten entered his grand temple of the Aten with one purpose: to petition the Aten god to spare Meketa’s life. He trudged toward the altar of sacrifice, but after three steps, his cane snapped in two from his excessive weight, and he fell to the ground still grasping hold of the rooster. The animal squealed and flailed about, trying to escape his grip by pecking his hand. Akenaten tried to stand, only to fall back to the ground, igniting his memory of the feeble and helpless child he had been in Thebes, dependent upon his mother for survival.
The pharaoh dragged his legs across the floor, cubit by cubit, loathing himself for still having no control over his body. He finally reached the altar of sacrifice where he was able to brace himself enough to stand on his knees. Holding the rooster across the platform, he grabbed the flint kni
fe from the altar and slashed the rooster’s neck, decapitating the animal. He then drained the blood over the altar so that it dripped down into the pottery jar that had been placed underneath. Akenaten lifted his head toward the temple ceiling in awe of the sunrays that illuminated his blood sacrifice before bowing and reciting his prayer:
My god, the Aten, you are the one and only god of Egypt and the world. I am your only son, Akenaten, who brings you glory and a sacrifice of blood to his father. I have discovered the ones who have put a false god in front of you, and they will soon be executed for their blasphemy. I have cleansed your city of the heresy and now I beseech you to shine your power down upon my daughter, Meketa. My father, I ask you to remove this evil from her body. Silence the evil spell of the Amun priests. Meketa is your daughter, a child of a god. Heal her, I beg you, please!
With his eyes closed, Akenaten stretched his arms up toward the sun’s rays in exultation to the Aten god. The sleeves of his cloak slipped down revealing his bare forearms, and when he opened his eyes, there in clear sight was the unmistakable purple bruise of the disease.
CHAPTER
27
AT THE MEETING of Suppiluliumas’s court, Shattiwaza and the Hittite military captains gathered for a long-anticipated event—the signing of the treaty that would unify the kingdoms of Hatti and Mitanni. After years of subtle manipulation, Shattiwaza had finally convinced King Suppiluliumas to help him overthrow his father, King Tushratta. The Mitanni prince had managed to receive every concession he asked for from the Hittite king, and with the help of the Hittite army, Shattiwaza would soon replace his father as the new king of Mitanni and finally take the hand of Suppiluliumas’s daughter in marriage.
Reveling in his new powerful alliance with the Hittites, Shattiwaza eagerly reached out to attach his seal to the treaty, but King Suppiluliumas pushed him back.
“Not before I’m convinced you thoroughly understand the conditions,” said Suppiluliumas.
VALLEY OF THE KINGS: The 18th Dynasty Page 21
