VALLEY OF THE KINGS: The 18th Dynasty

by Terrance Coffey

  The Sacred Women of Bes were summoned to the palace. Despite their reputation of promiscuity, the voluptuous women were also known as spiritual fertility healers throughout the city because of their powerful magic rituals in child birthing. They were rushed into Senpaten’s chamber dressed in their traditional blue-beaded fishnet dresses with their tattooed breasts exposed and their lips painted bright red. All four of them carried a sistrum in their hand: a musical instrument formed like a stick. The frame had small metal disks attached that shook and rattled as they circled Senpaten.

  The queen breathed heavily, bearing down as hard as she could to help push the child free from her womb. One of the sacred women placed an amulet over Senpaten’s neck to secure divine protection of her unborn child. The women danced around her in a circle, shaking their sistrums at her belly and repeating an incantation:

  We will fill her womb with male and female children. We will save her from miscarrying and from giving birth to twins. Bear down, Senpaten! Bear down!

  Senpaten screamed from the labor pain as she tried to follow the women’s order to bear down. Mayati held her hand as Mundi wiped the sweat from her brow. One of the women handed Mundi an ivory wand and instructed her to touch Senpaten’s belly with it. While she touched her with the wand, the women repeated another incantation:

  Come down, placenta, come down. I am Horus who conjures in order that she who is giving birth becomes stronger than she was before she delivered. Look, Hathor will lay her hand on her with an amulet of health. I am Horus who saves her and the child!

  After the fourth repetition, the child’s head appeared. Exhausted, Senpaten pushed one last time as hard as her body allowed, and the newborn girl slipped out from her womb into Mundi’s arms without a scream nor a cry.

  Ramose, the pharaoh’s butler, rushed to the entrance of the healing temple anxious and distressed. Ay cornered him before he entered.

  “If you’re here to see pharaoh Tut, I can tell you he’s not in any condition to speak to you,” said Ay.

  “I’m aware the pharaoh is ill, but it’s imperative he hears what I have to report to him,” replied Ramose.

  “And what is that?” asked Ay.

  Ramose paused.

  Ay found it insulting that the pharaoh’s butler was reticent.

  “I am the pharaoh’s manservant and confidant, Ramose, a position more significant than yours as a butler. If there’s anything of urgency, he would prefer you make me aware of it so I can prepare him. What is it?” Ay asked again.

  Ramose handed him Tut’s Aten amulet.

  “I believe this belongs to the pharaoh. As it is a symbol of the Aten, I trust you will keep it secret from the Amun priests until you can return it to him,” said Ramose.

  “Certainly,” said Ay as he placed the amulet away in his garment.

  “Also,” Ramose said leaning in and speaking more quietly, “I have evidence of someone replacing the pharaoh’s chariot bolts with inferior ones. It would seem to be the cause of his accident. Inform him he should be very cautious of his surroundings until I find the one responsible,” said Ramose.

  Ay nodded and Ramose mounted his horse and sped away.

  There existed a conspirator in the pharaoh’s royal court. If anyone was keen enough to discover his identity, it would be Ay, but he had no intention of informing Tut of Ramose’s warning nor returning his Aten amulet.

  When he arrived at Tut’s bedside that evening, his condition was critical. Gangrene had spread from his wounded leg up to his hip and he couldn’t move the lower extremities of his body.

  “My pharaoh, please let the physicians remove the infected leg so that your life will be spared,” said Ay.

  The fever clouded Tut’s vision, yet he recognized the sound of Ay’s voice.

  “What kind of life would that be, Ay? It will never be written that I, Tutankhamun, a pharaoh of Egypt, became a one-legged pharaoh. I could never bring such shame against my father. You of all people should know that about me.”

  “It’s true. I have watched you grow from a timid boy to a courageous king, my Pharaoh. Then at least allow me to give you the cure so that it will ease your pain.”

  “With the cure I feel no pain, but what’s worse is that I feel nothing at all,” Tut replied. “I need to feel something. Where is my Senpaten? Why hasn’t she or even Mayati come to me?”

  When Ay hesitated to answer, Tut knew he was withholding information. “Ay tell me! Where is Senpaten?”

  “Queen Senpaten is very ill from childbirth. The physicians are trying to heal her. Mayati is there by her side,” said Ay.

  “My child is born? Where are they? Why did you not tell me this before so I could be there for her?”

  “My pharaoh, you’re incapable of standing on your feet. I didn’t want to sicken you more.”

  “I have to go to them now,” Tut replied. He tried to sit up in bed. The slight movement wracked his body with pain, and the pharaoh shrieked from the torment.

  Ay helped Tut recline back into a lying position. “You must rest, my Pharaoh,” said Ay. “The physicians are with Senpaten. Let them heal her.”

  “Promise me, Ay, that you’ll care for my Senpaten. Tell her I’ll come to her soon.”

  “She is my granddaughter, and I love her as much as you do. Of course I’ll take care of her.”

  “What about our child? Is it a girl or a boy?”

  “A girl.” He paused for effect. “I’m sorry, my Pharaoh, the infant was stillborn,” said Ay.

  His words stunned Tut into silence. His child was dead. Why? She did nothing wrong. Even if the Amun god had heard his prayer to the Aten, the child was innocent. What god could she have offended?

  “I want to see her. Bring me my daughter,” Tut commanded.

  “The infant is dead. It would be unclean to bring her here, my Pharaoh.”

  “I don’t care if it’s unclean. I want to hold her. Please, bring her to me, Ay.”

  At risk of being caught and exposed by the Amun priests, Ay retrieved the body of Tut’s daughter from the embalming tent and brought her to him. Tut rocked her in his arms as if she was sleeping. Her face was beautiful like her mother’s, a shade of shiny copper without a single blemish. Tut kissed her tiny forehead and sang a lullaby to her as his father had often done for him. It was agonizing to return his baby daughter to Ay. The pain of knowing she would never open her eyes and see how much her father loved her was a thousand times worse than the gangrene that was devouring his body.

  The moment Ay left his bedside, Tut wept for Senpaten. If he could just see her face one last time it would bring him so much joy. To touch her perfumed skin and feel her embrace might offer him contentment in this last hour of his life.

  When Ay and the physicians returned days later to forcibly amputate Tut’s leg, it was too late. The muscle tissue had decomposed to a state of putrefaction and the odor from it overwhelmed the chamber. The infection had entered Tut’s bloodstream and spread throughout his internal organs. In his desperation, Tut offered one final prayer to the Aten that the sun god show mercy for his dear Senpaten and keep her safe. It would be his last thought as a living mortal.

  News of Tut’s death had not yet reached General Horemheb because of his prolonged journey to Amarna. It had taken years before he had the resources to return to the land of the Aten with his guards and destroy what was left of the blasphemous city. Horemheb stared indifferently at the sight of the colossal statues of Akenaten and Nefertiti tumbling to the ground in the darkness of the night, and his eyes glowed in the flame as his men set about torching every building and monument until the entire city, with its thousands of homes and farms, was set ablaze.

  CHAPTER

  36

  TUTANKHATEN, the only son of the pharaoh and Queen Nefertiti, husband and brother to Senpaten, the love of her existence, was dead. What made the pain unbearable was that he had died alone, without her there by his side to kiss his lips and hold his hand. She hadn’t been able to
tell him how much she truly loved him, nor comfort him before he embarked on his journey.

  The times they had spent together sailing the river and sharing their most intimate thoughts and fears she would never forget. It was only a small part of how he had made her life meaningful and worth living. His untimely death pained her more than the stillborn birth of her child just days earlier. Why should I remain alive? What sort of life is left for me? She wondered.

  Her heart fractured and bled for her husband and child. She wept alone, without her best friend and protector, defenseless and vulnerable to those in Thebes who secretly despised her because of her father’s worship of the Aten god. Senpaten was now the queen of Egypt, and dubious about her unknown future. The memory of her mother’s courage gave her the strength and inspiration she needed to continue.

  Of the immediate royal bloodline, only two were left, she and her sister Mayati. Senpaten took refuge in her sister and sought her help as she entombed Tut and their infant daughter for their journey into the afterlife. After seventy-two days and nights, the bodies were mummified and prepared for The Opening of the Mouth ceremony.

  As Tut’s only male relative, Ay led the funerary procession. Eight pallbearers were chosen from the best warriors of Horemheb’s army and they carried Tut’s sarcophagus deep into the Valley of the Kings. His tomb had been hastily prepared because of his untimely death, and as a result it was much smaller than the other royal tombs that were built for pharaohs.

  They carried his body through the stone-carved entrance and descended a stairway made of limestone. The inside walls were plastered, and a picture of a jackal with nine slaves that represented Tut’s royalty was embedded into it. Farther into the tomb, an antechamber was stocked with hundreds of objects: baskets, chests, stools, beds, statues, and three animal head couches made of wood and gilded in gold that would follow Tut into the afterlife.

  The treasury room contained fourteen boats as well. The boats were intended to float Tut through the twelve hours of night and darkness before the sun would rise again. These were all the necessary items the pharaoh would need in his daily existence.

  The funerary procession came to a standstill at the burial chamber. Two life-sized statues of Tutankhamun stood guard at the entrance. The statues were black and positioned facing each other. They were dressed in golden head caps, sandals and kilts. The walls inside the burial chamber were colored a vibrant yellow and painted with a colorful mural depicting scenes of Tut with the gods Osiris, Isis, Anubis and Hathor, and ending with the scene of Ay performing the Opening of the Mouth ceremony on him. Dressed in the garment of an Amun priest, Ay raised a wand over Tut’s mummified body and touched his mouth with it while reciting the words, “You are young again, you live again, you live again forever.”

  Tut’s mummy was then placed in three staggered coffins nested inside one another with the innermost coffin made of solid gold. Tut’s golden death mask depicted the young pharaoh wearing the striped nemes headdress and a false beard that connected him to the image of the Amun god, not the Aten, the god of his father that he truly revered. It rested directly on the shoulders of Tut’s mummy inside the innermost coffin.

  Lying next to Tut’s coffin sat a miniature one containing the mummy of his stillborn daughter. After the lids to both coffins were closed and sealed, Senpaten placed a wreath and a lotus flower on both. Her grief suddenly overwhelmed her, and she collapsed to the ground. Mayati grabbed her by the arm and helped her back to her feet.

  “Senpaten, you have to be strong like our mother,” Mayati whispered in her ear.

  It was the bit of encouragement Senpaten needed.

  She regained her composure and placed Tut’s favorite bow in the tomb with a hundred arrows so he could hunt and practice as much as he wanted. He would need his walking canes too, so she placed those inside as well, along with the throne he had used when he was just thirteen years old. Senpaten had every possession that Tut cherished put into the tomb for his enjoyment in the afterlife. Ay filled the remaining space with hundreds of objects of gold and valuable jewelry, things that were never important to her husband.

  Tables were set up outside the entrance of the tomb covered with platters of geese, breads, fish, goat, and wine: a ritual last meal for royalty and palace officials. After they consumed the feast, the servants broke the dishes with mallets and placed the fragments along with scraps of food into storage jars that were then carried inside the tomb. After Horemheb followed with Tut’s disassembled chariot and his cheetah-skin shield, everyone departed and Tut’s tomb was officially sealed.

  Senpaten returned to her palace bedchamber in deep mourning.

  Before she could even have a day alone, Ay appeared at her door.

  “I saw you speaking with Ramose during Tut’s funerary rites,” he said. “What has he told you that has caused you such anguish?”

  Senpaten sat up from her bed alarmed at Ay’s sudden intrusion.

  “The anguish I suffer is because I mourn the death of my husband and child. I would prefer the next time you enter my chamber you announce yourself first by one of my maidservants.”

  “Why should I have to be announced at my own granddaughter’s chambers? What has changed in you?” asked Ay.

  Senpaten got up from the bed and handed Ay what Ramose had given to her at the funeral—Tut’s broken chariot bolt.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Ramose suspected sabotage? He says Tut’s chariot was tampered with by someone in his royal court.”

  Outraged, Ay hurled the bolt across the room. Senpaten cringed as it clanged against the wall and fell to the floor.

  “Because it’s nonsense! Countless chariots are damaged in war. Of what significance is a broken chariot bolt?” Ay replied.

  Senpaten looked terrified of him. So, Ay shifted to a softer tone when he approached her. “I kept silent about it,” he said, “because I was thinking of your health and how I could help you overcome your mourning for Tut.”

  As he spoke, Ay caressed Senpaten’s face with his hands. His fingers across her skin felt like the legs of a spider crawling on her.

  All of a sudden, he lowered his head as if to kiss her. The move startled her, and she backed away from him before his lips made contact.

  “Get out of my chamber or I’ll have my royal guards arrest you!” said Senpaten.

  Ay remained standing, ignoring her command for a moment before finally leaving her alone in her chamber.

  Once she was certain he was gone, Senpaten went to her ablution tank and washed her face, arms and hands. Ay’s attempt at intimacy sickened and repulsed her. Her next inclination was to call on her sister to tell her of the encounter, and when she went to the door to leave, she found Ay standing behind it. She gasped. There was an awfully frightening glint in his eye as he walked Senpaten slowly back into her chamber.

  “Seventy-two days is more than enough time to mourn anyone,” Ay said to her, grimacing.

  Fearful as she was, Senpaten found her courage. “How dare you. Leave my chamber,” she commanded.

  “Listen closely, Senpaten. Today the mourning for Tut will end, and you and I will marry. I will become your husband and the pharaoh of Egypt. Royalty must remain in the bloodline; it’s the right thing to do,” said Ay cowing her with his stern and unrelenting gaze.

  She had been right to fear her grandfather all those years. It was a premonition of what he had been planning all along. A chill went through Senpaten as she recalled the day she had told her mother about her fear of her grandfather, and how when she awoke the next morning, Nefertiti had been found dead. Ay was poison, and she would have to do everything in her power to get away from him.

  “I will never marry a servant of mine,” said Senpaten, returning his stare as best she could.

  “I am not your servant. I’m the father of your mother. Either you’ll marry me and continue our bloodline, or the Amun priests will strip you of your right to be queen and have you judged and punished for your secret a
llegiance to the Aten.”

  To show he had proof, Ay produced Tut’s Aten amulet.

  Senpaten’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you doing with his amulet? How did you get it?”

  “Either you marry me or I’ll expose you with this to the Amun priests. The choice is yours, Senpaten.” said Ay.

  “You are a servant. You’re not worthy of the throne of Egypt,” she replied.

  “Worthy? You are the one with no true knowledge of what you’re speaking! For three generations I have remained silent as the pharaohs of Egypt ruled successfully because of the actions I took on their behalf. From Pharaoh Amenhotep down to your precious Tut. They all relied on my direction and advice because they were too weak and incompetent to rule on their own. Because of my divine wisdom, Egypt has flourished for over forty years. The one not worthy to lead Egypt was your Tut—a helpless boy.”

  Ay had finally betrayed the contempt he harbored for Tut. He had kept secrets, many secrets from everyone his entire life, patiently waiting years for the right moment to take what was due him. Senpaten was saddened as much as she was shocked at her grandfather’s poisonous secret disdain for her brother and husband. But, as Mayati had reminded her, if she wanted to survive, she needed to be strong and to contain her emotions like her mother.

  Senpaten yearned for Ay to continue his confession, so she could hear what she had always suspected but could never prove.

  “Since you’re now confessing the truth of what was in your heart, Grandfather, tell me: What did you do to my mother?”

  “Who has whispered such absurdities in your ear? It’s well known my daughter died from the disease.”

  “The disease leaves bruises on the body. There were none on hers. She’s dead for no proven reason and my husband’s chariot sabotaged. My heart tells me you’re aware of what happened to them.”