Authors: Allen Drury
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Mythology & Folk Tales, #Historical Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #fairy tales
Return to Thebes (28 page)
I returned to my room and resumed my patient vigil at my niece’s side, so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. But I knew I must keep them open until she awakened so that we might talk of this and decide what to do.
Another hour has passed since then. Now at last she stirs and opens her eyes. They wander, then focus: she knows me. Abruptly her eyes fill with sadness and terror as she remembers.
“
My husband!
”
she says, and begins to cry. Patiently I wait until she remembers something else.
“And the Crown Prince?” she asks. And then we cry together as I give her, as kindly as I can, the second blow the gods have decreed she must accept.
We do not cry for long, however. Into her eyes there comes presently a cold and steady resolve. She is not Nefertiti’s daughter for nothing. She smiles, wanly but gamely.
“I am hungry, Aunt,” she says in a weak but steadily strengthening voice. “Have them feed me, and then we will plan what must be done.”
“Yes, Niece,” I agree thankfully. “He has not defeated us yet.”
“No,” she says, not bothering to ask who I mean because she knows. “Nor will he, while I am Queen and Lord of the Two Lands.”
***
Aye
Two days have passed since the horror. Hatsuret’s body has been burned on a traitor’s pyre, his ashes thrown into the Nile. Neb-Kheperu-Ra lies in the House of Vitality, the long process of embalming begun. We have sixty-eight days in which to decide the kingdom.
It is only now that I have begun to think clearly again. I know that I must, for Kemet’s sake, and I know that I will. I have suffered great regret, great anguish, great despair, in these past two days: many times I have not known whether I would come through with my sanity intact. It has been a terrible ordeal for a man of seventy-six. But I have survived and now it is time for me to move on, since someone must. More than ever, I believe, Aye is the only element of stability that stands between the Two Lands and chaos.
Ankhesenamon and Sitamon summoned me two hours ago to Sitamon’s heavily guarded palace, to whose protection I have added substantial numbers of my own household troops. They told me of their plan, which is unknown in our tradition: but these are not traditional times. At first I demurred, aghast: never before has such a thing been done in all our history.
“I will not order you to support me, Grandfather,” Her Majesty said, “but it will be much easier for me if you do.”
I said I wanted to think and they were silent and let me think. Finally I began to understand their idea in all its clever ramifications. At first uncertainly, then wholeheartedly, I endorsed it and pledged my support. With her first genuinely happy smile since the horror, my granddaughter embraced me, called a scribe, dictated her will that I should hold the title, powers and privileges of Co-Regent until the burial of Neb-Kheperu-Ra and told me to publish it immediately from the Delta to Napata.
Scarcely had I returned to my chambers here in the main palace than my son came to me with his own ideas for the future. They were more conventional and in their vaulting ambition hostile to the careful compromise that must be worked out. They were also personally repugnant to me, as I know they would be to my granddaughter. He wished my support. I temporized, which angered him. He was angered even more when I told him I was Co-Regent, but there was, for the moment, nothing he could do. He went away planning, no doubt, further things.
Instantly I called in a team of scribes, dictated a proclamation announcing my appointment as Co-Regent, announcing that I will remain so until Tutankhamon is buried, announcing further that Her Majesty will not choose a husband to be successor to the King until that day. Then I dispatched many horsemen and many river craft (for I am taking no chances on how many Horemheb may be able to stop when he learns of their departure) to carry the proclamation throughout the Two Lands.
I then sent word to my granddaughter and Sitamon, repeating my pledge to co-operate fully with their plan and telling them that I have already, in fact, sent word to him who is the key to it, so that he may be swiftly on his way.
No doubt Horemheb will wish to kill us all when he learns of it. But I am still the Co-Regent Aye, last remaining link with the golden age of the Eighteenth Dynasty; and my niece and my granddaughter still guard between them the legitimate right to the Double Crown; and not even he, I think, would dare.
***
Amonemhet
Now all is sadness in the land of Kemet and all is fear here in my village of Hanis which I have led faithfully and well for His Majesty since the night five years ago when he made me Chief and Headman. I have sent him many gifts of food and grain, he has sent me and the village many gifts in return, doubling our gifts with his, protecting us from hunger and guarding us always, as his friends.
Now His Majesty lies dead in Thebes, scarce eighteen years of age; and it is given out that he was murdered by the priest Hatsuret, that evil one of Amon, “in a fit of madness that took him suddenly at the sight of His Majesty.” We do not believe this in the village, nor is it believed by any of our friends in the other villages, nor, I think, by anyone in all the Two Lands. The rumor that runs along the Nile says he was murdered at the orders of his cousin the General Horemheb, that crafty, glittering one who stood beside him that night in all his array of pomp and power; and great is the fear that we feel now for what will happen next in the land of Kemet.
No one, however, knows the fear I know, because apparently I have been chosen to play a part in what is going on in Thebes. I do not know why, unless it be that I was His Majesty’s friend and was known to those he trusted in the Great House as another he could trust. Never did I go to him with the ring he gave me to ask help, though he told me I might; and never did he send to me for help, though I would have left all else and gone to him at once had he so requested. But now his ring has been sent to me secretly together with four fine horses (hidden in the safe place we know on the edge of the Red Land), a bag of gold, two rolls of papyrus, and a letter from the Co-Regent Aye. Imagine me, the peasant Amonemhet, receiving a letter from the Co-Regent Aye!
I cannot read it, of course, but my oldest son, who is studying to be a scribe, says he will read it to me. So now I sit in my hut as in a daze, while before me the two rings gleam side by side on the table in the flickering light of the taper, and against the wall my wife and our other eight children huddle together and stare at me with frightened eyes while my oldest son clears his throat importantly and begins:
“‘The Co-Regent, Councilor and Divine Father-in-law Aye, in Thebes, to the Headman Amonemhet, in his village of Hanis, greetings. May all go well with you and with your village, which was ever dear to the heart of Neb-Kheperu-Ra, may he live forever young and happy in the afterworld!
“‘The Co-Regent Aye is empowered by Her Majesty Ankhesenamon, Queen and Lord of the Two Lands, to request the Headman Amonemhet as follows:
“For the love you bore His Majesty and the love and duty you bear Her Majesty, the Queen and Lord of the Two Lands, Her Majesty desires that you take these four horses and this bag of gold, together with one other you can trust to assist you, and ride secretly at once to His Majesty Suppiluliumas, King of the Hittites. Go at your greatest haste for her sake. Take with you this ring of His Majesty which I send you, and show it to them that guard the borders of Suppiluliumas to prove that you truly come from the Great House. Present to them also the roll of papyrus bearing the ribbon of blue. This is Her Majesty’s commission to you. It names you as her envoy and requests safe passage be given you to her royal brother, Suppiluliumas of the Hittites.
“‘When you have been brought safely to the presence of His Majesty Suppiluliumas—’”
“But there is war with the Hittites! What if his border guards take the ring and kill you and you never see the King!” my wife wails suddenly, and our five girls dutifully start mewling along with her like a nest of kittens.
“Silence!” I thunder, very loudly, for I, too, of course, am quite aware of all the possibilities: but they don’t have to make me more frightened than I am, with their caterwauling. When silence has been restored I say as firmly as my trembling voice will allow, “Now be still and let our son proceed!”
“‘When you have been brought safely to the presence of His Majesty Suppiluliumas,’” he resumes, his voice also shaking with excitement and fear, but striving to maintain that grand detachment they teach him as a scribe, “‘do you deliver to him the second roll of papyrus, that which is bound by the ribbon of gold and sealed with Her Majesty’s seal. Her Majesty wishes me to trust you by telling you that this is a letter from Her Majesty to King Suppiluliumas. You are not to read it, but you are to guard it with your life and see that it gets safely to his hands alone.
“‘Then do you wait upon King Suppiluliumas for his answer; and do you then return at your greatest speed to Thebes and deliver his answer directly to Her Majesty, who will be awaiting you anxiously each day and praying constantly to the gods for your safety.
“‘Her Majesty and I know this is a long, hard and dangerous journey, full of many perils for you. But we know of His Majesty’s love for you, and yours for him, and we remember well that he often told us what a brave and loyal subject you are. Therefore Her Majesty trusts you with this great mission, upon which rests the fate of the kingdom of Kemet and the ancient glory of the Two Lands.
“‘Go with the gods, good Amonemhet! Go with our love! Perform your noble mission bravely and successfully, and Her Majesty and I will give great rewards to you and your family!
“‘This do we swear upon the name of him who loved you, faithful servant, and whom you loved, Neb-Kheperu-Ra Tutankhamon, he who has gone to live forever young and happy in the afterworld, forever and ever, for millions and millions of years!
“‘So speaks the Co-Regent Aye, in Thebes, to the Headman Amonemhet, in his village of Hanis.’”
My son stops reading and an awful silence falls upon us in our little hut (somewhat larger now, though—we have been able to add two more rooms as the family has grown. I have prospered as Headman of the village.) For a long time no one says anything; we just stare at one another and at the two gleaming rings, like birds hypnotized by the cobra. It is my son who finally speaks.
“Father!” he says, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “May I go with you?”
“
No!
”
his mother wails. “You are the oldest, we need you to help us if—if—”
“Silence!” I thunder again, I am afraid not a very convincing thunder, for they all start shouting at once, even the baby beginning to scream in the midst of the chaos. “
Silence!
”
Eventually they obey me and I try to speak as calmly as possible, though I too am seized with fear, excitement and also—yes, because the honor and the danger and the challenge are all beginning to work a powerful magic upon me, I must admit it—with a sort of terrible eagerness.
“I will go,” I announce flatly. My wife and the girls sob, the boys look solemn-eyed with fright. “Young Amonemhet”—I pause as they watch me fearfully, all save he, the scamp, who I can tell regards it now as a great lark—“will go with me because—
because,
”
I go on firmly over my wife’s anguished cry, “I am an ignorant, unlettered man, and he is young and clever and learning to be a scribe, and he can help me if I have to read anything. He can also help me with the border guards and, yes, even with His Majesty, King Suppiluliumas, if need be. His brother is almost fifteen and already a fine, sturdy lad. He will be a good guardian to you all if—if—”
I pause as my second son stands up, happy, proud and confident. I almost choke with the sudden emotion that sweeps me as I realize how much I love them all, and love my village, and how it may be that I will never see any of them again, for this is great danger into which we go.
“So let there be no more squalling about it. Wife! Children! Get food and water ready for us at once! We leave immediately on the mission of Her Majesty, in the memory of him who loved us and whom we loved, Neb-Kheperu-Ra Tutankhamon, Lord of the Two Lands, may he live forever young and happy in the afterworld, for millions and millions of years!”
And so presently we are on our way under cover of Nut the night, whose grasp still lies firm upon the land. It will be several hours yet before Ra’s first faint fingers begin to mark the eastern sky.
We are muffled in heavy wraps against the winter cold. Our horses, loaded with water and food hidden under piles of straw, are muzzled so they will not whinny. In careful silence we skirt the village, keeping to the edge of the Red Land as we will do every night of our journey at other villages. During the days we will travel the public road like any other peasants bound on normal business, so ordinary in appearance that I think not even the great General Horemheb will find us among Kemet’s millions. And when we get to the border of the Hittites—well, I will think about that later when we have to meet it. I am frightened enough as it is, right now.
But bound against my body I carry the rolls of papyrus, wrapped in old rags so they look like nothing; and on a leather thong around my neck the bag of gold and the ring, resting warm and snug against my chest; and in my mind’s eye a small golden figure, head held high and eyes filled with love and kindness for me and my village, defying his evil cousin and the evil priest—bright and brave and young and good, as he will always live in our hearts, even as he lives forever in the afterworld.
And I know that I will give whatever is asked of me, even life itself, to help her whom he has left to keep the kingdom, if she can.
***
