Akhenaten (11 page)

My King refused to compromise. It is not that he did not care about the welfare of the country, for he, too, had his plan to avoid civil war. He had intended to confront his people and the rebels alone. He was confident that he had the ability to guide them afresh to the faith. But by then, the men were convinced that he was going
to be killed, and that if they did not leave they would soon pay the price with their own lives. Everyone deserted him. Armed soldiers came to take me. The guards who were left with Akhenaten were ordered to stop him if he attempted to venture out of his palace. Thus they prevented him from confronting people. He became a prisoner in his palace. Even Nefertiti left him. I cannot imagine that she left him willingly; she, too, I should think, was carried away by force. He was filled with grief for the faith that he had spent his life trying to plant in people's hearts. Then we received news that he was ill, and shortly after, he died. Actually, I doubt that his death was caused by illness. I believe that the foul hands of the priests of Amun had finally found their way into his pure, precious soul. He died without knowing that I never wanted to leave his side.

Once more Meri-Ra was silent. He gazed at me for a long time, then he said, “Akhenaten did not and will not die. For he has found the eternal truth. The day will come when he will be victorious. He heard the voice of God promise that He would never forsake him.”

Meri-Ra reached over to open a drawer beside him. He produced a scroll of papyrus and handed it to me. “This is a record of all his religious teachings and his songs,” he said. “Study it, young man. Perhaps your truth-loving heart will find some solace in his words. You did not start this journey for no reason.”

I went to meet Mae in Rano Kolboura on the border where he lived in a tent among his Border Army soldiers. During Akhenaten's time he had been commander of the armed forces, and had deservedly maintained his position in the new era. He was an older man, of giant stature and solemn features. He struck me as rather vain. He read my father's letter and appeared keen to talk. I suppose I had provided him with a chance to vent his feelings, isolated as he was in this remote place.

The heretic! A vile, low-born man who humbled the strongest of men by his perversity. The drums of war were silenced, the flags of glory lowered; the sound of music ascended from the throne of the pharaohs. I, commander of armed forces, was forced to remain idle as the empire was torn to pieces and gradually fell into the hands of the enemies and the rebels. When our faithful
friends and allies cried for help, I could not aid them and their cries vanished into thin air. Because of Akhenaten we lost our military honor. We became an object of derision, and an easy prey for bandits.

Fortunately, I was never one of his close friends. But duty required that I go to Akhetaten occasionally. On every visit I wondered how such a distorted creature was able to deceive men like Ay, Haremhab, and Nakht. I have always been loyal to the gods and traditions of my country, and was extremely angry the day I heard about his alleged new god. When Akhenaten ordered the closing of the temples I was certain that a terrible curse would befall us all. During a visit to Thebes the high priest came to see me in my palace one night.

“I hope that I am not embarrassing you with this visit,” he said.

“It is an honor and my palace is at your command.” He seemed astonished at my openness.

He thanked me then said, “You are redeemed, Mae. People have lost their solace. They used to take refuge in their gods, made them offerings and received their blessings. In times of trouble they hurried to the priests for guidance in life and the hereafter. Poor souls, look at them now, lost like stray sheep.”

“What good is complaining?” I asked irritably. “Is it not our duty to rid the country of his madness?”

“If we do as you advise, we shall face a crushing war,” he replied after a moment's thought.

“Is there no solution then?”

“To convince the men closest to him.”

“A far-fetched hope.”

“We must not resort to the desperate measures you propose before we exhaust all other options.”

“I can promise you the support of the armed forces when you need it,” I said.

Winning over the men in Akhenaten's chamber, however, would have required more time than we had. Civil war had already begun to threaten the country. Nothing could be done but to salvage what remained beneath the ruins.

People asked themselves why the sweet dream had turned into a nightmare. I believe that a tragedy was bound to happen, and that its secret lay in the weakness of the heretic, his weakness of mind and body. His mother spoiled him and sheltered him from the reality of his sickness. Consequently he was excruciatingly jealous when he compared himself with his more distinguished peers, like Haremhab, Nakht, and Bek. The contrast was demeaning. He concealed his shame behind a curtain of feminine meekness and sweetness, and secretly nurtured a desire to destroy every single strong figure, be it god or priest, so that he could be the sole power. Some of the men recognized his weakness of spirit, and found in it a stepping stone to their ambitions. They were quick to join his religion, not out of fear of his power or faith in his religion, not out of fear of his power or faith in his god, but out of greed. His weakness was an invitation to the greedy and the ill-willed. They sang with him in the temple, then turned around and stripped the poor of what little they had. When the people began to rebel, he sent them messages of love instead of the army. At last, when death threatened them, they abandoned him
and joined forces with his enemies, loaded with loot. That is why when the high priest of Amun wanted to negotiate, I protested.

“You must not warn them,” I said. “Do not go to Akhetaten. Let me and my forces take them by surprise and destroy them, so that justice will be done.”

Toto supported me enthusiastically, but the high priest opted for peaceful negotiations and ruled against any bloodshed. “Our losses are already insurmountable,” he said. “We do not want other complications.”

I understood the priest's misgivings. He feared that if he gave me permission to attack and I was triumphant, I would hoard the merit of saving the country, and thus have a strong claim to the throne. The high priest would then be faced with a powerful king, and would be unable to act outside the boundaries I set for him. Because of this, he decided to entrust the throne to the young Tutankhamun. Now they all circle like vultures around the throne—the high priest, Ay, and Haremhab. Nevertheless, Egypt is far better off today than it was during the heretic's reign. Akhenaten was left to die, bitter and alone. As for Nefertiti, she awaits her final day among the ruins of the heathen city.

Mae's silence announced that he had finished. “What about Nefertiti, Chief Commander? I should like to learn more about her,” I asked.

He answered dismissively, “A beautiful woman created to be a whore. Her course was charted so that she could practice her sport of seducing men, from the
throne. Do not believe what you hear about her competence as queen. If any of it were true, the country would not have fallen during her reign into that pit of corruption and destruction. She too abandoned him at the last minute, when he had lost what little power he ever had. But she failed to climb onto the other ship in time.”

I visited Maho in his village in south Thebes. He was chief of police in Akhetaten during the time of Akhenaten. Now he subsisted on farming. Maho was forty years old when I met him, well built, with coarse features and mournful eyes. When he finished reading my father's letter he put his hands behind his head and remained in that position a while, collecting his memories. “The spring of joy dried up when Akhenaten left our world,” he started. “O Egypt, may the gods forgive you.”

I was merely a guard in the palace the first time Akhenaten addressed me. For someone of my status, to speak directly to the prince was like a dream. I often saw him from a distance in the garden. One morning he approached my post curiously, as though he had discovered for the first time that I existed. I felt myself turn to
stone before him. He stared at me until I felt his gaze running with my blood and recurring with my breath.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Maho.”

“Where do you come from?”

“The village of Fina.”

“And your family's work?”

“Farming.”

“Why did Haremhab appoint you to the guards?”

“I do not know.”

“He selects his men on the basis of courage.” My heart jumped with happiness but I said nothing. “You are an honest young man, Maho.” I could hardly contain my joy. “Will you accept my friendship?” he asked.

“It is an honor I do not deserve,” I stammered, trying to overcome my daze.

“We shall meet often, my friend.”

Unbelievable as it may sound, that was precisely what happened between me and the crown prince the first time he acknowledged me. That was how Akhenaten selected his men. Indeed he spoke to me briefly whenever he saw me in the palace garden. I followed his life from afar. First I heard about his worship of Aten, then about the One and Only God. I often heard him singing beautiful hymns to his God. My heart was entirely open to him. It was as though his love was a spell that bound me to him eternally. I admit that I understood only a little of what he said. For a long time I was rather confused by this mysterious, invisible god of his, who loves people and does not punish them. I did not stop believing in
Amun, but I believed in the other god, too, because of my love for Akhenaten. He was the most compassionate of people. He harmed neither man nor beast, never stained his hands with blood, and never judged anyone, regardless of what harm they did. When he ascended the throne after his father's death, he summoned me, and said, “I shall not force you to do anything you do not wish to, Maho. You will earn a living, whatever happens. Do you want to declare your faith in the One and Only God?”

“I do, my King, and I declare my readiness to die in his cause,” I replied without hesitation.

“You will be chief of police,” he said calmly, “and no one will ask you to lay down your life.”

I was prepared to fight the priests, even though I had been taught to love and respect them since I was a young boy. Yet for all the time I worked in Akhenaten's forces, I never struck at anyone—except once, and then I acted without his permission.

“From now on,” he said to me the day of my appointment, “let your weapon be like an ornament. Discipline people with love, the way I taught you. Remember, what love cannot cure, fear will not correct.”

Whenever we captured a thief we simply retrieved what he had stolen. Then, we sent him to work on the plantations and taught him the words of love and peace. When we caught someone who had killed, we sent him to work in the mines. There, too, they learned about the new religion, when they were not working. Many times we were betrayed in return for our generosity, but
Akhenaten never lost heart. “Soon you will see the tree of love heavy with fruit,” he insisted.

Akhenaten spent his day praying in solitude, and singing his hymns at the temple. Then he spoke to the people from the terrace of his palace. He and Nefertiti rode through Akhetaten in their royal carriage. They were never accompanied by guards. Sometimes they got down from the carriage to greet the masses of people that gathered around them. The old traditions that had separated the common people from the pharaohs were no longer exercised. Wherever they went, they called for the love and worship of the One and Only God.

One morning a young man in my force reported, “I heard troublesome whispers among the elite.”

It was the beginning of the end. Corruption spread among the civil servants, the peasants suffered, and rebellion swept the empire. Deception and malice flowed with the water of the Nile. I feared how grief might affect the king, but in fact the turbulence made his enthusiasm and determination grow. He was confident of victory. He never doubted that love would prevail, as though the darkness had descended only to usher in a greater light. In those dismal days, the priests sent a criminal to take the life of the king. He lurked in the darkness of Akhenaten's retreat, and would have succeeded had I not stopped him with an arrow in his chest. My King then realized the extent of the danger. He became increasingly sullen, staring into the face of the criminal as he gasped his last breath. “You did your duty, Maho,” the king said reluctantly.

“I will sacrifice my life to save my King,” I said.

“Couldn't you have captured him alive?” he asked in the same tone.

“No, my King,” I replied honestly.

He said sadly, “The priests conspired to commit a wicked crime; they failed, and we have fallen into evil.”

“Some evil can be fought only with the sword,” I replied.

“This is what they have always said, since before Menes united the two kingdoms. But did they overcome evil?” Then he cried, as though suddenly inspired, “Await the time when East and West shall be seen in one outpouring of light.”

But the light did not come. Things continued to deteriorate. Men revealed themselves to be hollow ghosts. They fell away like dried leaves yielding to the autumn winds. They had neither faith nor loyalty. They distorted the truth and held fast to falsehood until the last minute. They abandoned him under the pretense of protecting his life.

Haremhab ordered me to leave Akhenaten with my men. I was unable to dissuade him. I was not permitted to see Akhenaten once before I left, not even to say good-bye.

I returned to Thebes with a heartache that has never left me to this very day. I was relieved of my duties, as were many of his loyal men, and returned to my village to mourn him. I received news that the king was a prisoner in his palace, then that he had fallen ill and died. I was certain that they killed him.

How could such a beautiful dream end so quickly?

Why did God forsake him? What meaning is there to life now that he has left us?

Maho gave in to his grief and remained silent. I, too, sat silently, respectful of his sentiments. When a moment had passed, I asked him, “How would you describe Akhenaten in a few words?” He seemed startled by my question. “He was the pure essence of sweetness and benevolence. But I cannot say more about him than the facts I have told you.”

“And Nefertiti?”

“She was beauty and brilliance combined.”

I prompted him after a moment's hesitation. “So much has been said about her.”

“I can tell you, as chief of police, that I did not have a single incident recorded against her. I did, however, notice the lustful looks that Haremhab, Nakht, and Mae gave her. But I can assure you that she didn't encourage anyone to overstep their boundaries.”

“Why do you suppose she left him?” He seemed bewildered. “It is a mystery I have failed to understand.”

“It seems to me that you have stopped believing in your king's god.”

“I no longer believe in any god.”