Tut and his sisters stood up and cheered their mother’s triumph along with the crowd. It had been years since Nefertiti had seen her children so excited and happy. The joy it gave her, however, needed to remain hidden from the eyes of the Amarna people.
“I am Smenkare, your pharaoh!” she kept repeating out loud.
The crowd hushed as she stepped in front of the double throne—the finish line of the race.
Meri-Ra brought forward a black bull calf adorned with flowers and jewelry. He said a prayer over it before leading it to Nefertiti and handing her a dagger to cut the fruit for the bull’s consumption. She rubbed its head to gain its spirit and recited aloud the words from the scroll.
“It is you, the great Apis bull, that will regenerate and ordain me the pharaoh of Egypt with a long and prosperous reign. With this offering of food, you accept and honor my request.”
Nefertiti cut open the fruit, and when she attempted to feed it into the bull’s mouth, it refused by turning its head away. The more she tried to force the feeding, the more the bull resisted, its mouth closed tight and jerking its head away from her grasp. The queen remembered how the animal had refused to eat the offering from Akenaten’s hand and how it had turned out to be a bad omen and curse for him. She could not allow it to happen to her. If the bull would not partake of her food offering, then she would partake of the bull.
In a streak of rage, Nefertiti took hold of the dagger she’d used to cut the fruit and shoved it deep into the bull’s neck. As the blood gushed from the wound, she carved a chunk of flesh from the animal and consumed it in front of the stunned crowd.
“I, Smenkare, the pharaoh of Egypt, have captured the power of the Apis bull. I am your god, the son of the Aten!” shouted Nefertiti, with a growl unlike anything her children had ever heard.
The bull collapsed to the ground with its jugular severed. Nefertiti stood over it so that the upward spray of blood saturated her garment. She appeared intoxicated by it, and smeared the blood all over her face until it was covered in a hideous mask of red. Senpaten and Tut gasped at the sight. This was not the mother they knew. The children watched her toss the dagger to the ground and abruptly leave the pavilion while the villagers cheered her new name, “Smenkare! Smenkare!”
Three days after the Sed-Festival, Nefertiti called on Maya, the city treasurer, to her chamber to answer for the state of Amarna’s affairs. There was something urgent she needed completed and only Maya would know if Amarna had the resources to help her achieve it.
“You have yet to give me a report on the state of affairs of this city. Why?” asked Nefertiti.
Maya was surprised.
“My pharaoh, are you not aware that we’re still experiencing grain shortages and famine here in the village? The state of affairs hasn’t changed,” replied Maya.
“You’re the keeper of the taxes, are you not? Raise them if you have to.”
“Pharaoh, I have raised the taxes six times already. They have nothing more to give.”
“I’m not concerned about grain. What quantities of gold do we still possess? I have commissioned Bek for a solid gold statue in honor of my husband to be placed at the foundation marker of the city.”
“There are no gold reserves. There are barely any grain reserves left. I’m not sure we can even sustain the people through the flooding season, my Pharaoh. We need the help offered from Thebes. Perhaps we should consider what General Horemheb proposes and return there before more die here from the disease,” said Maya.
“No one is leaving Amarna. The Aten will cure us in time,” replied Nefertiti. “Send a messenger to Thebes with my orders that Horemheb deliver more talents of gold here to our city.”
“But, my Pharaoh, he has explained to us many times that they have no more gold reserves in Thebes either. Without Pharaoh Akenaten’s consent, he had no authority to wage war against the Nubian’s and the Libyans for their gold tributary.”
“I am the pharaoh now. Tell him he has my consent to wage war against whoever he chooses as long as he delivers the gold to me quickly.”
“Thank you, my Pharaoh, thank you. You’ll see it was the right decision. Your wisdom will save the people from starvation. I’ll send a messenger to Horemheb immediately,” said Maya, stuttering in his excitement as he rushed out of her chamber.
Agreeing to war against Akenaten’s wishes overwhelmed Nefertiti with guilt, but she saw no other way Amarna could survive without giving in to Horemheb’s lust for combat and his bullying coercion of tributes from weaker kingdoms. War was abhorrent to Nefertiti as it was to Akenaten, but in this case, it was necessary. Gold had become scarce in Egypt, a place where it once was abundant. The only way to acquire it now was to take it by force.
Her reversal was not an acknowledgement that she had completely abandoned her faith in the Aten god’s ability to sustain Amarna, only that she was helping to speed up the process. After consuming the flesh of the Apis bull days before, she had taken in the power of a god. By delivering the people from their curse of pestilence and famine, Nefertiti desired to prove that she was as powerful as any male pharaoh of Egypt. If the Aten could not deliver Amarna in the necessary time period, then the gold and her divinity would.
That night, Nefertiti awoke to find her twelve-year-old daughter Senpaten standing over her.
“Senpaten? What are you doing here in my private chamber?”
“I can’t sleep, Mother, I’m afraid.”
“Go back to your room. I’ll send Halima to watch you while you sleep.”
“I don’t want Halima. Can I sleep here with you in your chamber?”
Nefertiti was inclined to refuse her. For the good of the people she had vowed to maintain her new identity as a stern male pharaoh even to her children. Her desire to quell her daughter’s anxiety deadened (for the moment) the spirit of Queen Hatshepsut, and Nefertiti surrendered to her need to comfort her child.
“You may, but only for this night,” Nefertiti replied.
Senpaten eagerly climbed into her bed.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of,” said Nefertiti.
Senpaten was silent. Nefertiti sensed her daughter was in deep fear, withholding a secret she longed to reveal.
“You can tell me, Senpaten. Why are you afraid? Is it because of me?”
“No, Mother, it’s because of Ay.”
Nefertiti sat up in her bed. It was not at all what she expected to hear.
“Ay? Your grandfather?” she asked.
Senpaten looked terrified at the mention of Ay’s name. She finally nodded her head.
“My precious daughter, why are you afraid of your grandfather? You must tell me now.”
Ashamed, Senpaten closed her eyes and answered her.
“He touches me in a way a husband touches his wife, and when I refuse him, he says that I’m insulting the will of the Aten. I do love the Aten god and I would never intentionally insult him, Mother, but Grandfather is an old man, a husband of your stepmother, Teyla.”
Nefertiti took a deep breath and exhaled—a reaction intended to keep her calm. First it was Akenaten who tried to have relations with Mayati only days before his death, and now to discover her own father had attempted the same with her youngest daughter was painful and infuriating. Ay had no illness. There was no sound reason that she could think of, or blame for her father’s depravity against her daughter. Nefertiti’s maternal instinct to protect her child was ignited. She had to be careful of making Ay’s indiscretion appear as egregious to her daughter as it truly was for herself.
When Nefertiti looked at Senpaten, she displayed no signs of anger. Instead, she spoke to Senpaten soothingly. “It’s good to tell me these things,” she said. “Whatever it may regard, you can come to me.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Your grandfather Ay, will never touch you again in that way, I promise you. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Nefertiti kissed Senpaten’s forehead and rubbed her braided locks of ony
x black hair.
“It’s safe here, my daughter,” she whispered. “Sweet and happy dreams to you.”
The queen waited for Senpaten to drift off to sleep before she left the bedchamber. She strode the corridor with a dual purpose in mind. First, to confront her father. Second, to pray for forgiveness at the Aten temple for what she had planned to do to him.
It had been three months since King Suppiluliumas’s army invaded Mitanni, and the Hittite king finally entered the city to inspect what they had conquered.
Shattiwaza greeted him at the fortified walls unable to conceal his distress and irritation at the king’s much delayed arrival.
“We have been sitting here counting birds while this city goes to ruin without a king to shepherd it,” said Shattiwaza.
“It’s your homeland. Shepherd it,” replied King Suppiluliumas.
“You must be aware that if I’m not ordained king by you, it means nothing to the other kingdoms, nor to these people.”
“Where’s he imprisoned? I would like to have a word with your father before I ordain you.”
“He’s dead,” replied Shattiwaza.
Suppiluliumas pursed his lips in an attempt to holdback his temper. “And why is he dead?”
“That’s a question you’d need to ask of your guards. They’re the ones that killed him.”
“My guards are wise enough to know that you don’t murder a king no matter how treacherous he might be. You capture and imprison him,” replied Suppiluliumas.
“Perhaps your guards are not as wise as you think, my king.”
King Suppiluliumas searched Shattiwaza’s eyes for deception. He saw nothing there but emptiness. “Was there a witness to Tushratta’s murder?” he asked.
A voice emerged from behind him. “I saw the slaughter of Tushratta, but the assailants ran away before I could catch a glimpse of their faces, however it was clear they wore Hittite uniforms,” said Ornus, as he walked forward and stood next to Shattiwaza.
“And who is this?” asked Suppiluliumas.
“His name is Ornus. He’s an experienced military captain of my Mitanni army,” replied Shattiwaza.
Shattiwaza gave Ornus an approving glance cemented with a smile that made King Suppiluliumas suspicious of them both.
“Take me to where you’re keeping his body,” Suppiluliumas ordered. “I’ll perform the coronation there.”
The king followed Shattiwaza as he walked through the palace corridor into King Tushratta’s chamber.
“Now that we have conquered Mitanni, it’s only natural that our next conquest will be the great land of Egypt,” said Shattiwaza.
“You have conquered no one,” said Suppiluliumas.
“But I helped you, my king, by giving you their secret trade route.”
“And I’ll tell you again, the route is of no use. I have no intentions of war with the Egyptians.”
“None I’m sure you would want to share with me,” replied Shattiwaza. He reached into a pouch that was hidden beneath the bedcover and tossed the contents at Suppiluliumas. With a quick reflex, the king caught it and peered inside. He was aghast to see it was a severed finger with a king’s ring on it.
“What is this?” asked Suppiluliumas, his face painted with disgust.
“It’s what it appears to be: my father’s royal ring,” replied Shattiwaza. “You didn’t expect me to keep his entire bloated body here on display for three whole months did you?”
“I would expect you show some display of reverence for the spilled blood of your father,” Suppiluliumas answered.
He pulled the ring off the severed finger and handed it to Shattiwaza. “With this ring I ordain you king of Mitanni under the laws of our treaty.”
Suppiluliumas turned and walked away down the palace corridor. Shattiwaza followed behind him confused. “So that’s it? Where is my blessing from your Storm-god?”
Suppiluliumas stopped in his tracks and faced him. “How could I be so foolish as to forget your blessing?” Suppiluliumas said as he patted Shattiwaza on the shoulder. “My daughter and her maidservants will arrive here within the next eleven days for your wedding. If you humiliate her in any way, I’ll slit your throat myself. That is your blessing from our Storm-god. Welcome to our family, son-in-law.”
Tut was awakened in the middle of the night by his sister Senpaten shaking him. When his eyes adjusted to the light in the room, he saw the panic in her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find Mother,” Senpaten answered.
“She’s not in her chamber?”
“No. I was with her in her chamber and now she’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere.”
Tut and Senpaten awakened Mayati and together they informed the guards, who immediately searched the palace grounds.
After hearing of his daughter’s disappearance, Ay instinctively went to the Aten temple. Only he was aware that Nefertiti was defying the traditional laws and would pray directly to the sun-disk itself. And it was exactly where he found her, cold to the touch, lying dead in front of the statue of the sun-disk.
In a state of confusion, Ay picked up her lifeless body and carried it out of the temple without shedding a tear. The royal guards were shocked to see their queen was dead, but dared not ask Ay a word about it. They assisted him in placing her body in the royal chariot for the short ride back to the palace.
Tut, Senpaten, and Mayati looked perplexed at the sight of their mother being carried through the palace. Ay instructed the guards to lay her body on the bed in her chamber while he returned to the corridor to address her children.
“What’s wrong with Mother?” asked Senpaten, on the verge of tears.
“Is she sick? Does she have the disease?” Mayati continued.
Ay remained silent.
“Grandfather tell us! Why is our mother being carried?” shouted Tut.
Senpaten grabbed Mayati and Tut’s hands and they were all staring at Ay, afraid of what his answer might be.
“I am so sorry, your mother has died from the disease,” said Ay. “My beloved daughter is dead.”
Senpaten’s scream pierced Tut’s heart. “No, she can’t be,” he said shaking his head in disbelief.
Tut released his sisters’ hands and stepped toward his mother’s chamber, but Ay pulled him back.
“How could she die from the disease when she never had the mark on her?” asked Tut, trembling.
“I was with her the whole night,” cried Senpaten. “She was never sick.”
“Most likely the mark was even hidden from her,” Ay replied.
Senpaten and Mayati were crying profusely, holding onto each other for strength when Tut took hold of their hands in an attempt to console them and to hide his own fear. His sisters’ grief was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he suppressed it to appear strong in the presence of his grandfather.
A messenger approached them and Ay instructed him to ride to Thebes to inform Horemheb of Nefertiti’s death and to request ferryboats for the people of Amarna. Then Ay turned his attention back to the children.
“Heed my warning,” he said. “We have little time. General Horemheb and the mayor will be here within days to return us all to Thebes.”
“Noooo! This is our home!” Mayati shouted.
“Mother and Father would never want us to leave Amarna,” said Senpaten.
Ay focused a stern gaze at Tut.
“Your sisters will be judged and punished for blasphemy if you do not have them do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?” asked Ay.
Tut didn’t respond. The thought of returning to Thebes was frightening.
Ay firmly grasped Tut’s shoulders. “I asked you a question, do you understand?”
Tut wanted to refuse his grandfather, but knew his mother, above all things, would want him to protect his sisters; they were all he had left. “I do,” he answered reluctantly.
“Good. You will renounce the Aten as your god and we will return to the worship of Amun. You must dedi
cate yourself now to the Amun god. Never will you mention the name of the Aten again. The Aten god is dead. Amun lives forever. All of you, repeat it back to me,” ordered Ay.
“Why must we abandon the Aten?” asked Tut. “The Amun god knows nothing about us, nor do we know anything about it. The Aten has always been our god. Why do we need to pretend that he’s dead?”
“If you defy me Tut, the Amun priests will see to it that your sisters are punished, and it will be all because of your stubbornness. The Aten god is dead, Amun lives forever. Repeat it. All of you” demanded Ay.
Tut perfunctorily repeated it as he looked Senpaten and Mayati in the eye, leading them to do the same.
The next morning, Tut accompanied Ay as he gathered the people of Amarna under the Window of Appearances and told them of Nefertiti’s death, informing them that they would be returning to Thebes and from that day forward would once again worship the many gods of Amun. Ay brought Tut onto the balcony so the citizens could see him. He was petrified and intentionally looked over their heads so they wouldn’t see the fear in his young eyes.
“Prince Tut is the heir to the throne of Egypt and he himself has proclaimed that you, the people of Amarna, should follow him back to Thebes, where there is no curse, and many gods that can bring you food, prosperity, and relief from the disease!”
Everything was happening so fast for Tut. He stood there, still and afraid, praying to the Aten for the moment to be over. When Ay finally released him and he was out of sight of everyone in the palace, including his sisters, Tut went to his bedchamber where he cried for his mother and for the return of his father from the afterlife.
Ay took Nefertiti’s body to the embalming tent so that Meri-Ra could begin the process of her mummification. When he returned the following day, the priest revealed that he and the physicians had all examined Nefertiti’s body and found no bruises or marks of the disease. Meri-Ra confessed to Ay that Nefertiti’s death appeared suspicious.
“You more than anyone should be familiar with the magic of the Amun priests,” Ay responded. “As you once told me yourself, Meri-Ra, ‘one should not be fooled by what you can or cannot see,’” he said.
VALLEY OF THE KINGS: The 18th Dynasty Page 26
