The Egyptian rose
1341 BCE
Chapter 11
"He still needs to know," Amisi said quietly, running her fingers
inside his hand, stroking his palm affectionately.
"But why? Everything was fine without the truth being let out," Khenti
sighed, not wanting to go back to the argument before she had kissed him
and all his frustration was let go.
"Everything wasn't fine, Khenti. He always talked about wanting a son."
"Well he had a strange way of showing it! He never agreed with anything
I said or did and he always argued over little details, as if nothing I
did was to his satisfaction!"
"Did you ever think that maybe he was afraid to admit to himself that
you were right?" she asked, looking up at him from where they lay on his
bed.
He tried not to sound surprised when he answered her. "He always seemed
dissatisfied with the way I handled being in charge."
He looked down at her and she smiled, shifting her body so she was
leaning on his shoulder. Grabbing his hand again, she laced her fingers
around his and brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it gently. When
she finally spoke, she made sure she had his full attention, looking
deep into his eyes.
"Kam admitted something to me that I think you should know." Without
waiting for a response, she continued. "He had watched you grow up among
the group and felt that if anyone could be his son, it would be you."
Khenti did not want to believe her but her eyes spoke the truth. They
had both lived around the same people for so long, it was only natural
for Kamenwati to consider him a son, especially since he had no visible
children of his own. But so did so many others in the group. There were
too many people, men and women, who had come and gone from his life for
him to believe that this man wanted to be his father.
"I find that hard to believe," he mumbled.
Amisi sat up on her elbow and used her hand on his chest for leverage,
leaning over him as she spoke. "It's not hard to believe. He makes a
great father!"
"Easy for you to say. He's always loved you like you were his own!" he
stated, sighing heavily.
"Khenti," she soothed, "just try to give him a chance. I'm sure he would
do the same for you."
"That's just it! He's never given me a chance!"
"I know," she rubbed his chest affectionately. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. It's his! He never treated me the same as
he treated you. So I guess there's no reason to tell him the truth."
Amisi sat straight up and looked him in the eyes. "He's going to die,
Khenti! That's what they do to prisoners! And he's going to die without
ever knowing you're his son!"
* * * * *
Mahu paced in front of the cell before stopping to give a lecture. "Kam,
please, just one name. All we need to know is who is in charge of the
rallies and riots and you can go free. We all want this to stop and the
only way we can do that is if you work with us and give us a name. If
you can't give us that name, we can't let you go. It's up to you—a
name for your freedom."
"If I have to give up a name it won't be for my freedom. If you wish to
barter then let us talk terms before I give you any names," Kamenwati
smiled, playing his own game with Mahu.
Mahu did not reply but instead grabbed a chair from the other side of
the room and placed it so that he was in the direct line of vision of
the older man. Only bars stood between them. Kamenwati stood up from
where he was sitting and brushed himself off, attempting to keep control
of his temper and the situation. He eyed Mahu with contempt but did not
scold the younger man for his sudden burst of authority, after all the
man was doing his job.
"Mahu, I have lived almost double your lifetime and I have seen a lot
happen. These riots, these rallies, will all go on long after you or I
are gone because what happened to these people still lives in their
hearts. You were one of us back then. Your father owned a spot in the
marketplace and you frequently helped him sell his, jewelry, was it?"
Mahu simply nodded as Kamenwati continued.
"I had a son once—he'd be about your age now—and a beautiful wife as
well. None were as beautiful as her. They both were killed under the
fall of the old temples, the centuries of prayer to the gods gone with
them. It was your king who had those temples destroyed even as
people prayed in them!"
Mahu leapt from the chair, knocking it backwards and startling both men
with the echo. "Now you listen here, old man! You know nothing of my
life as a boy! My father was poor. It was his dream to see me
achieve great things and this, my friend, is better than any marketplace
I've ever seen!"
"Look at you, Mahu! You have forgotten who you are and where you've come
from! You've forgotten your poor mother, who comes to each and every
rally, praying to the great Isis, hoping your illness will be cured and
you'll come home!"
"My mother? But they told me she was dead!" Mahu stood there, mouth
agape, unable to process what he had just been told.
"They lied to you," Kamenwati replied solemnly. "Listen, Mahu, the gods
have spoken in your favor. I can reunite you with your mother if you
give me that freedom."
"I… I can't do that."
"Yes you can! She misses you and needs to know you are all right. We can
only tell her what we see of you and Baruti has done a fine job of
keeping her abreast of your whereabouts."
"Baruti?"
"Yes. He has become a surrogate son to her. It was your father's wish.
But she always asks about you and she's always praying for your return."
"The king doesn't want anyone praying unless it is to the Aten," Mahu
announced stubbornly, ignoring the comments about his mother.
"The king has no right to tell us who we can pray to! The gods are angry
with him."
"The gods don't matter! Only the Aten matters!"
"Your mother should matter more!"
"She has Baruti now! She doesn't need me anymore!" Mahu argued
profusely.
"You bite your tongue! I have had to watch your mother cry every time
she prays for your return! I have had to be the one to hold her hand at
rallies when she recalls the times she had with you as a boy! I was the
one who comforted her when your father died!"
Mahu's eyes shot up to the old man behind the bars. "When did my father
die?"
"Let me out of here and I'll bring you to his grave!"
"I can't do that!" Mahu declared.
"Mahu, she needs you. And I'm sure Baruti misses his best friend as
well."
"I will lose my rank as chief if I let you go, without getting a name."
"You will lose your mother if you don't!"
"I already have!"
* * * * *
Akhenaten was seated in the thrown room next to his wife with his head
in his hand. Only once did he lift his head to eye her suspiciously,
before speaking harshly to her. "You did this!" he whispered angrily.
"Me?! Why am I to blame for the stoning of our child?" she questioned
defensively.
"It is your fault she's a girl! If she had been a boy none of
this would have happened and this matter would have been taken care of
already!" he growled, leaping from his chair and heading for the door.
"I'm going to the North Palace to think. Don't follow me!" And he was
gone.
Queen Nefertiti leaned back in her chair and sighed. "Believe me, I
won't," she murmured under her breath.
King Akhenaten had never openly expressed his anger about his eldest
daughter before this day and it hurt to be blamed for her sex. Two tears
ran down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away, not wanting anyone
to come in and see her upset or weak. Her daughter was being put to
shame for a war that had begun before she was even born. She was being
punished because they had forced all of Egypt to change.
As much power as she did have, Nefertiti still could do nothing to stop
her husband from any of the decisions he made. Not only did he have
their temples destroyed and their lands burned, but their hopes and
dreams were decimated as well. She had watched helplessly as Akhenaten's
quest for domination changed their lives forever. And as much as she had
attempted to maintain her demeanor, she still felt sorrow for those
people.
"Your daughter has escaped," a guard entering the thrown room
interrupted her thoughts.
"When did she become a prisoner?" she questioned.
"I'm sorry. I thought you knew." She simply shook her head in response.
The guard quickly continued. "The king ordered her to be locked in her
room. But now she has escaped and no longer on the grounds."
Nefertiti just smiled. It was amusing to her that Meritaten had escaped
from her father's imprisonment. For some reason, she was beginning to
believe her daughter over her husband. If Meritaten was not lying to
her, the king had more to fear from his Vizier than his own daughter or
his people. She never trusted Nakhte and the way he had timelessly
spoken about her daughter made her fear his capabilities as well as his
intensions. If he laid one hand on her child, he would have to answer to
her and she knew the upper hand would be hers, since no one came between
her and her children.
"Should we go find her?" the guard interrupted her distracted thoughts
again.
"No, let her be. Her father will find her when he realizes she's
missing. It is not our place to interfere with the king's plan," she
replied nonchalantly.
He nodded in affirmation and bowed out of the room. Nefertiti was left
to her own thoughts again. She wondered what their lives would have been
like had they not changed Egypt into what it currently was—if they had
left it alone. She fondly remembered the first time she had laid eyes on
Thebes before her marriage to the king and was in awe of its splendor.
Large columns, beautifully carved with Egypt's history, rose to the sky
from the mountain-face. Every temple to the gods beaming with life and
light; every marketplace filled to capacity with merchants selling their
wares.
She recalled the first time she met him—Amenhotep IV. He was regal and
proud, standing next to his father in the great thrown room in the
capital city. Amenhotep III never swayed her and she never feared the
union because felt protected by his son's presence. What she felt for
her husband was not just admiration or comfort, but perhaps love as
well. In that one moment of meeting him eye-to-eye, Nefertiti knew she
had met her destiny—and her equal. That was also the day Amenhotep IV
became enchanted by his bride-to-be and has never left her side since.
It was not until after their marriage, the subsequent changing of his
name, and the relocation of the city, that Nefertiti began to feel the
pressures of being Pharaoh's Great Royal Wife. She had agreed to these
changes but only if he promised her the ability to rule alongside him—not below him—something a Great Royal Wife rarely did. When he had
chosen to appoint Nakhte as his Royal Vizier, all that he had given her
had changed as well. As much as she tried to hold onto her power, Nakhte
continued to put her in her place and slowly convinced her husband to do
the same.
Effortlessly the pieces started to come together as she sat in silence.
If her daughter was telling the truth and Nakhte had kidnapped her
himself, it was all playing out right into his hands. He had
deliberately hurt her daughter, a princess of Egypt, in order to gain
the trust of the king. He had a signed decree to allow him more command
over his southern jurisdiction, an area of Egypt that up until that time
she had been allowed to govern. Everything that had occurred with
the people of Egypt was a direct result of Nakhte's ability to
manipulate the king. She sighed heavily, realizing that one man had
single-handedly taken Egypt from the great Pharaoh himself.
Looking around her in the great thrown room, she carefully eyed the
specially painted hieroglyphics on the walls and columns surrounding
her. Each one told a story of how the city was built and how Pharaoh
'rescued' the people of Egypt from the wrath of the gods. She raised
herself from the chair and walked over to one of the walls, running her
fingers across it, looking closer at the words and pictures, almost
chuckling to herself as she went along. When she reached the far wall
she stopped and stared.
There was the prophecy written in stone. She saw the destruction of the
old world—the city, the gods, the temples—everything. The words
spoke of a new life, a new religion and a new age of the Pharaohs. There
were pictures depicting herself and her six daughters. She sat there
facing her husband, with her youngest on her lap and the others seated
at her feet, all facing the Pharaoh. Akhenaten was seated next to them,
a large bright halo shining above his head—the Aten. And there next to
the family portrait, was a picture of a female figure standing over the
king, with the ceremonial flail and crook in each hand, the crown of
Egypt on her head.