“My daughter, please. We have to prepare him,” said Ay.
Nefertiti looked past her father. “He’ll come back into his body, you’ll see. Just give him more time,” she replied. “He will come back to me. He’ll return to his children.”
“Time has run out for him, daughter, he has begun the transition. As it is written, you have to let the priests prepare his body for mummification, or he won’t complete his journey into the afterlife.”
“No, he’s coming back.”
“If you don’t release his body to the priests, you’ll anger the Aten and cause even more harm to this city. Allow Akenaten to make the journey so he can live again!” yelled Ay.
His shouting shook Nefertiti from her trance, and life began to return to his daughter’s eyes. He reached his hand out to her, and she took hold of it. Nefertiti rose from Akenaten’s bed and covered his pasty gray face with the bedcover. “All he wanted was to see the city he dreamed of completed. How could the Aten deny him of that?” she said. Ay embraced his daughter, and she cried there on his shoulder.
Horemheb’s ferryboat arrived on the shore of Amarna seven days later. Ay was suspicious of the timing because the general’s visits aligned with the death of royalty. First, Queen Ty and Kiya, and now Akenaten and Meketa.
Ranefer escorted Horemheb and his brother Kafrem to the Amarna palace where Ay sat at a table inscribing the pharaoh’s death proclamation, to be sent out by messenger to their tributaries.
“General, your visit here again is unexpected. I assume you’re surprising the queen with shipments of gold,” said Ay.
“It’s impossible to give you what we don’t have,” replied Horemheb. “The queen was informed some time ago that there would be no more shipments of gold until the pharaoh grants me the authority to wage war against our enemies.”
“Then why have you come? No such authority has been given.”
“We’re concerned about the stability of Amarna,” replied Kafrem.
“Your concern should be for Thebes,” said Ay, “not Amarna.”
“We know of the famine in this city and the lack of grain supplies,” said Kafrem. “The disease has killed many citizens here, has it not?”
Ay was annoyed at being questioned about Amarna, especially by Kafrem. “You may be a mayor in the city of Thebes, and a brother to the general, but here you are irrelevant.”
Ay dismissed Kafrem and turned to Horemheb.
“We have adequate grain supplies here and the spreading of the disease has slowed. Amarna is grateful for your concern general, however, it’s not needed. You’re welcome to return from where you came,” said Ay.
Horemheb stood his ground. “Is the royal daughter Meketa dead?”
Ay paused, not sure how he should answer. Nefertiti would be outraged to know that Horemheb’s motive for coming to Amarna was not to bring gold or supplies, but to spy on their city. Still, Ay had no choice. The general would find out soon enough.
“Yes, Meketa has died,” said Ay.
“Was it the disease that took her life?” asked Kafrem.
“Possibly.”
“I want to speak to the pharaoh now,” demanded Horemheb.
Ay looked at the general skeptically. “You’ve heard no rumors about the pharaoh?”
“What rumors? Take me to him.”
“That’s beyond my ability to grant,” Ay replied.
“I am the general of his army, and I’m ordering you to take me to him.”
Ay put down his reed brush and rose from the table. “Very well, as you wish, general. Follow me.”
Ay escorted Horemheb and Kafrem outside the palace to an elaborate tent adorned with jewelry and precious stones. An enormous image of the Aten sun-disk was drawn with red and black ink onto the fabric. Ay stopped at the entrance.
“What is this?” asked Horemheb.
“This is where you will find the pharaoh,” replied Ay. “I’ll wait.”
Horemheb and Kafrem entered the tent and were at once confronted with Akenaten’s naked, bloated body laid out on a platform. Horemheb was speechless.
As they looked on, the lector priest, Panhessy, continued performing the embalming procedure, inserting a long wire into one of Akenaten’s nostrils, while a viscous fluid drained out from a hole in the back of the pharaoh’s head.
Horemheb ignored the smell and stepped closer to examine the dark purple bruises that covered the pharaoh’s body.
“It was the disease that killed him,” Horemheb said to Kafrem, turning back toward the entrance.
“The city of Thebes will celebrate the heretic pharaoh’s death, and welcome you in his place,” whispered Kafrem as they left the embalming tent.
Ay was still waiting patiently outside the tent’s entrance. He searched Horemheb’s stoic face for a reaction. Nothing.
“Where is the queen?” asked Horemheb.
“Queen Nefertiti has left explicit instructions not to be disturbed until after she speaks to the people of Amarna today.”
“We’re dying to hear what she has to say,” said Kafrem.
Ay led them to the northern side of the palace below the Window of Appearances where it was noisy and crowded with villagers who anxiously awaited the queen’s arrival.
The murmuring of the crowd penetrated Nefertiti’s palace chamber. Outside her door, the anticipation of her appearance caused pandemonium among the citizens. It confirmed that what she had planned to do was necessary to save Amarna. Tut was too young to succeed his father as pharaoh, so instead of becoming her son’s co-regent as Queen Ty had done with Akenaten when he was a child, Nefertiti opted for a permanent solution.
In order to calm her Amarna citizens and give them a god they so desperately needed, Nefertiti sacrificed her identity for one who would be more like her husband, the son of the Aten. A transformation would be the only way she could assert and align her authority with an image that the people could recognize as strong and formidable.
Seated in front of the mirror, Nefertiti handed Halima a trapezium shaped razor and she cut off the locks of Nefertiti’s shoulder length hair until only stubble remained. Halima heated a mixture of sycamore juice, crushed bird bones, oil and gum, and applied the warm concoction over Nefertiti’s head. After the mixture cooled, Halima pulled the hardened layer from Nefertiti’s scalp, removing the hair stubble and leaving her scalp smooth. She used a copper razor to shave Nefertiti’s eyebrows completely off.
Halima assisted Nefertiti in attaching a false beard to her chin. Made of goat’s hair and plaited like a braid with the end jutting forward, the beard fastened around her head with a cord.
Nefertiti dressed herself in a masculine kilt and Halima placed the pharaoh’s striped nemes crown on her head. Her reflection in the mirror cast an identical image of the only queen of Egypt ever known to be a pharaoh in her time—Queen Hatshepsut, the great queen of Egypt who had transformed herself into a male-god of great power and wisdom over a hundred years before.
Before her accidental death, Nefertiti’s mother had told her the story of Queen Hatshepsut. Though the inscriptions of Hatshepsut’s reign as pharaoh were erased by her stepson, the women of royalty passed down the story to their female children, keeping the queen’s memory alive throughout generations.
When Nefertiti stepped out onto the balcony of the Window of Appearances holding a flail in her hand, the crowd quieted. It was the first time she had appeared there without Akenaten by her side. The initial contact frightened her. Conquering her fears would be part of her transformation.
Horemheb and Kafrem were as amazed with her appearance as the enormous crowd standing around them. Not until she spoke her first words did the people accept that it was their queen, Nefertiti.
“Don’t despair my people because of his death. My husband, the pharaoh of Egypt, the great Akenaten, has embarked on his journey into the afterlife. Be jubilant for him. His transition to the Aten will be successful and his return to the living world expedient. Praises t
o my beloved Akenaten,” Nefertiti declared.
The people exploded with applause and. Nefertiti waited until they calmed before continuing.
“Look at me and behold. I am no longer your queen, Nefertiti. Just as my appearance has been renewed by the Aten, so has he renewed my name. I am Smenkare, the vigorous soul of the Aten. I am now a male and your pharaoh, and in the coming days before the setting of the sun, I will prove my vitality at the Sed-Festival. I welcome all to come and witness the strength of your pharaoh Smenkare at the Amarna pavilion. Praises to the Aten,” said Nefertiti.
The crowd prostrated themselves, bowing and raising both their hands in the air toward her feet. Nefertiti glanced at the crowd, her face expressionless and her eyes empty. Despite her own self-doubt, she would have to remain impenetrable so that no one would discover her one vulnerability—her concern for her children.
Immediately after Nefertiti’s appearance, Horemheb and Kafrem pushed themselves through the crowd, and with the approval of the pharaoh’s guards, entered the palace.
“Either the people here have become severely ill from the disease, or their worship of the Aten has driven them all mad to the point of no return. No citizen of Thebes will accept a woman as pharaoh,” said Kafrem as they walked down the corridor in search of Nefertiti.
“It’s obvious that Thebes is not part of her plan,” replied Horemheb.
Nefertiti’s guards directed them into her chamber where she was conferring with her father, Ay, who had not had a chance to warn his daughter of their arrival.
“Queen, we share your grief on the loss of the pharaoh,” Horemheb said. “If we had known of his death before we left Thebes, we would have brought preparations and gifts for his funeral.”
“That’s surprising general when oddly you appear to know the timing of every major event that happens here in Amarna. My father was just informing me yet again of your timely visit, and that you have once again come empty handed. What really brings you here?” asked Nefertiti. “I assume you haven’t come all the way from Thebes to offer condolences to a pharaoh of the Aten, a god you and your Amun priests despise.”
“I have no allegiance to any priesthood. My allegiance is to Egypt,” Horemheb replied, getting to the point of his visit. “We can help you prepare for your return to Thebes.”
Nefertiti sneered.
“There will be no such return,” she said. “This is the city built by my husband and chosen by the Aten god itself. I and the people will never abandon Amarna.”
“For your own good and the lives of the people here, we ask that you reconsider,” said Horemheb.
“Have you lost your hearing? I am the pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt, from the desert sands to the banks of the Great Sea. I have made my intentions known, and the people have chosen to remain here in Amarna with me.”
“The people are dying from the disease,” Kafrem interjected. “Thousands of them are stricken with it. It’s likely you yourself are afflicted.”
His accusation riled Nefertiti, but her anger was quelled by the startling entrance of her sister Mundi.
Mundi had accompanied Horemheb on his voyage to Amarna, and had agreed to stay on the ferryboat until he returned to escort her into the palace. She found it impossible to wait any longer to see the sister she had not seen since the day Akenaten had taken her from Thebes. Mundi wholeheartedly embraced Nefertiti, shedding tears of joy. She suppressed her confusion at the sight of her altered appearance.
“My beautiful sister, I’ve missed you so much,” she cried. “Please, save yourself and the people here. Return with us to Thebes; it’s the only way. If you don’t, you’ll die here from the disease. Please, Nefertiti, the gods of Thebes will forgive and bless you. They will give you the life that you deserve.”
Nefertiti freed herself from Mundi’s embrace and slowly stepped back from the sister she had loved dearly since her childhood. It had to be her marriage to Horemheb that had changed her. How else could she become like an enemy spouting offensive things? Nefertiti thought.
“If the gods of Thebes are so powerful and benevolent to their people,” said Nefertiti, “then why have their fertility gods Hathor and Bes not made you pregnant, Mundi? My god, the Aten, has given me daughters and a son, and his name is Tut. You are still barren, and you’ll remain that way in your corrupt city of Thebes.”
Mundi stared at her sister in disbelief and left the room. Nefertiti words were meant to cut her sister through the heart, and for just a moment she was satisfied that she had succeeded. Though the urge was resilient, Nefertiti remained determined not to betray weakness in the presence of men by going after Mundi and consoling her. It could never be known she still had the heart of a woman.
Her new found masculine identity did not sway Horemheb. He approached her and stood only an arm’s length away from her face.
“Without the mercy of Amun, the disease will kill everyone here in Amarna. He will not even spare you if you don’t return to Thebes.”
Nefertiti wanted to close her eyes to the reality of the disease and how it was ravaging the city; yet, the possibility of losing another child left her conflicted. Would the Aten god remove it from the city before it spread to the rest of her children? She questioned her faith, but not enough to abandon the promise she had made to Akenaten—that she would never leave the boundaries of Amarna, and that she would keep the people safe from the tyranny of the Amun priests of Thebes. Nefertiti’s expression turned to stone as she moved in closer to the General, now only a finger’s length from his face.
“Get out of my palace and leave my city,” she said chillingly calm and firm.
Horemheb and Kafrem followed her orders and returned to their ferryboat where Mundi awaited. As Horemheb prepared the boat to depart from the Amarna shore, a crowd of villagers gathered in front of it, curious to why the general of Egypt had come to their city. From the deck, Horemheb took the opportunity to spread his warning.
“Listen, you must tell everyone, your families and even your enemies: if you, the people of Amarna, return to Thebes and to the worship of its gods, Amun will forgive and wipe away the disease from your body. Amun can cure you. The Aten is powerless!”
The crowd started to mumble. A fraction of them yelled at Horemheb to leave, while others stepped closer to his boat, swayed by his proclamations. Meri-Ra stood in the midst of the crowd infuriated with a counterargument.
“I am the high priest of the Aten, the god of all gods. Neither Queen Nefertiti nor our beloved Pharaoh Akenaten would ever dare to forsake the Aten or its city of Amarna. Don’t listen to him; it’s a trick to deceive you! The Aten god itself will remove the disease from us in due time. We must remain patient and loyal to him,” said Meri-Ra, “and he will reward us.”
Though tempted, Horemheb refused to challenge the priest in a shouting match. Mundi needed her husband’s comfort more than ever after reeling from distress of her and Nefertiti’s confrontation. Aware their presence would not be welcomed at Akenaten’s funeral procession, Horemheb and Mundi left the shores of Amarna.
Nefertiti interred Akenaten at the royal Wadi tomb in the river valley. She and her daughters, Senpaten, and Mayati stood together as Tut led the Opening of the Mouth ceremony on the seventieth day after his death. Panhessy slaughtered two bulls and cut off one of their legs and handed the severed bull’s leg to Tut. As instructed by Meri-Ra, Tut touched the mouth of his father’s mummified body with it while repeating the incantation for his return:
“You are young again, you live again forever.”
At the conclusion of the ceremony, Meri-Ra and Panhessy recited a prayer from the five sacred scrolls. Akenaten’s mummy was then moved into a solid gold coffin where Nefertiti placed a fitted gold mask over his face. Jewels were inserted between his linen cloth wrappings and his coffin lowered into a yellow quartzite sarcophagus and sealed shut.
CHAPTER
32
THE TIERS OF THE PAVILION were only half filled to capacity. A
third of the Amarna citizens had died or remained at their homes still sickened by the disease. Nefertiti appeared in front of the subdued group dressed in the traditional attire of male royalty: a pleated kilt and a knee-length cloak. No matter how scarce in attendance, the Sed-Festival would be her way of proving to the people that she was accepted by the Aten as more than a queen, that she had made the complete transformation into a male-god pharaoh.
From the front row tier, Nefertiti’s children waved at her. Aware that the audience scrutinized her every move, she nodded at her children in return, void of any expression of emotion.
Nefertiti glanced up at the weary faces of her citizens. They were her devoted ones who traveled to the pavilion in support of her ascension, even though many of them were weak and broken. Nefertiti’s children dominated her thoughts and to keep them calm, she tried her best to appear confident of completing the run. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tut kiss his father’s Aten amulet that he now wore proudly around his neck, hoping it would bring her luck.
Meri-Ra recited a prayer to the Aten and handed Nefertiti the royal scroll. Her children grabbed a hold of each other’s hands, anxious for what was to come.
Nefertiti scanned the opposite side of the field where the double throne of Egypt stood. At the first beat of the drum, she bolted toward the boundaries of the field holding the scroll tight in her hand. Her gait was quick and her agility high, owing to her slender frame and muscular calves. Nefertiti’s adrenaline surged and she inhaled and exhaled at the same erratic pace of her heartbeat. Images of Akenaten running in the Sed-Festival flashed in her mind: the moment he collapsed, her rushing across the field to hand him his walking cane. But unlike, Akenaten, Nefertiti remained strong on her feet, and Meri-Ra’s prayer was answered when she touched the third and final marker with the scroll after running the course the required seven times. Nefertiti was drenched in sweat, exhausted and gasping to catch her breath. She had completed the run victorious.
VALLEY OF THE KINGS: The 18th Dynasty Page 25
