Return to Thebes (20 page)

Tutankhamon
(life, health, prosperity!)

My wife and I understand fully now what is expected of us in Amon’s temple, and as we dismount inside I bow gravely to the masked priests who dance their rituals around us. They chant. Ankhesenamon and I respond. We move through the stations of the temple, making at each its proper oblation. In our wake the others dutifully copy.

Finally I proceed alone to the inner sanctum, the holy of holies.

There he is, eyes hooded, the single ray of sunlight falling through the slit in the roof, the solid gold of his figure glowing softly in the gloom. He is standing in a new Sacred Barque, only four years old but polished and rubbed and hand-worked every day until it now has the look and patina of the original: one would think it had been there for centuries.

He looks at me, I look at him. Again we understand each other, though those at my back see only my dutifully bowing figure. “The enemy of my life,” Akhenaten called him once, to me.
Beware, O Amon,
I tell him privately now,
lest brother follow brother and you find yourself with enemy again.

He gives no sign, but our eyes hold for long as I lift my head and stand before him proudly and unafraid, staring up as sternly as he stares down. We almost enter into a trance together, it would seem, until presently outside I hear a murmuring amongst Aye, Horemheb, Hatsuret, Nakht-Min. I shake my head as if to rid it of some heavy burden, which indeed I have begun to feel pressing down upon me almost physically in the last few seconds, and turn solemnly to lead them out.

Ankhesenamon keeps me company at my side, behind us Sitamon walks alone, head held as high as ours. I realize with a sudden rush of love for my big sister that she is our ally and our friend in a world that holds very few. After her come my uncle, my cousins and Hatsuret. We return through the columns and statues, we emerge again into the long processional way flanked by priests, we come again to the landing stage, we turn to the left and enter the field beside the temple. A platform has been set up. I intend to say some words to my people upon this my formal day of return. I shall then be taken in triumphal procession through all Thebes, worshiping at Luxor as well, going across the Nile to visit my father’s mortuary temple and there worship his memory and my mother’s, and all my illustrious ancestors’ back to Menes (life, health, prosperity!) of the First Dynasty, two thousand years ago.

Then there will be great rejoicing, drinking and roistering all over Thebes, far into the night. By then I hope my wife and I will be soundly asleep in Malkata with Sitamon. By then we shall be thoroughly exhausted by the day’s ceremonies.

But those who roister, and my uncle and Horemheb as well, will, I hope, have reason to pause and think of me sometimes as the day and night wear on. For in what I will speak from the platform now I am about to give them what my brother used to call “wonders.” I do not call them wonders, because for me there is no wonder about it: they are simply the things that in fairness (and for the protection of my crown) should be done. It is well I have waited for this moment, because it will not be easy to challenge me now.

I think the journey from Akhet-Aten has been very good for me. Somewhere along the way I seem to have found a sudden new confidence, the confidence I must have if I am to be a good King and Pharaoh to the Two Lands. I think it began with my facing down of Hatsuret in the village: I was so angry with his bullying of innocent peasants that I did not even stop to think of the fears that used to hold me silent in his presence. It continued to grow in my argument on the boat with my uncle and Horemheb. I perceived that when Ankhesenamon and I really stood firm—my anger apparently continuing to give me strength—it really cowed and frightened them. They did not argue back, they slunk away. For quite a while thereafter we were too excited to sleep, but lay side by side in our golden bed reviewing all that had been said. I told her how it began, of my friend good Amonemhet in the village, and all that followed after. We congratulated one another that we had won a significant victory. From now on they will begin to obey. From now on we will not be afraid to assert ourselves and do what we think is right for Kemet. The love we have received everywhere from the people confirms us in this.

What is right, I think, is the restoration of a balance. I think I let Horemheb persuade me to go too far in my “restoration stela.” He gave it all back to Amon and, being only nine, naturally I was unable to think it through very clearly or do anything about it if I had. I was their prisoner in Akhet-Aten—in fact, I still felt myself to be so just a week ago on the day we left—and I submitted easily to Amon then. It is different now. It is amazing how fast one’s feelings can change as one grows older. I no longer feel their prisoner today.

I think it is time for Amon once more to be brought to heel—Hatsuret represents him well, as Ankhesenamon and I commented to one another when we saw that arrogant figure swinging along so confidently before us into the temple. It is time to make it walk humbly again. I took his measure in Amonemhet’s village and I won. I feel now that I will continue to win.

We reach the platform, take our places. The Family, Hatsuret and the rest sit in a row of gilded chairs along the back, Ankhesenamon and I side by side on our golden thrones in front. (The back of every chair and the backs of our thrones carry carvings of the head and enormous double plumes of triumphant Amon. There, too, I think I will restore a balance.) I am continuing with Ankhesenamon the custom of my father with the Great Wife, of Akhenaten with Nefertiti: my wife is my partner and almost, as nearly as tradition permits, my equal. We love one another and we will share our power for all the years we are given to rule the Two Kingdoms. This will be very many, for we are young and long lives stretch ahead for us in the service of our beloved Kemet.

The trumpets give a final blast, there is a final long roll on the drums—and silence. It is time for me to speak. I rise and move to the edge of the platform. My people stretch as far as the eye can see. I begin to speak and, happily for me, my voice seems to have stopped cracking with the unexpectedness of youth. (Maybe my voice has grown up in this past week too! I hope so, for it is embarrassing to be steady one minute and squeaky the next.)

“My beloved people of Kemet!” I cry. A great roar of love comes up in response. Then they are swiftly silent, listening intently to what I have to say.

“It gives Her Majesty and me great pleasure to be back in Thebes again!”

Another roar of approval, another quick silence.

“Here and in Memphis will we re-establish our capitals, but it is particularly here that our hearts will rest. For this reason I am this day adding to my titles the words ‘Ruler of Southern No,’ ‘Ruler of Thebes’—and I am restoring to Thebes her ancient name of ‘No-Amon,’ City of Amon, which lately has been known by another name. [My brother’s “No-Aten,” of course—“City of the Aten”—but I am determined not to name him or blame him.]

“These changes, signifying my close friendship with Amon, do I, Neb-Kheperu-Ra Tutankhamon, decree.”

There is another great shout, including applause from Aye and Horemheb, who knew I intended this, and approve; though I think they are uneasy concerning what I may do next. I will show them.

“People of Kemet,” I continue while all fall still again, “you know what I have done and am doing for Amon, here and everywhere in the Two Lands. You know I am restoring his temples, replenishing his wealth, returning his priesthood to its ancient glory. You also know I am doing the same for all other gods. You have read my Restoration Stela and with your own eyes you see everywhere about you in Kemet the living truth of it. I am doing as I have promised, for my word is good and I do what I say I will.”

Once more, approval, loud and fervent. I turn for a quick downward glance at Ankhesenamon, who gives me an encouraging smile: we are no longer afraid of my uncle and Horemheb, or of anybody. So I proceed to jar them a little—not too much, I think, but enough so that they will know that Neb-Kheperu-Ra lives—and rules.

“Though I return to Thebes and to Memphis,” I resume—and suddenly it is very still indeed, particularly behind me—“I do not wish to destroy or take vengeance upon those who in recent years have sought some other faith than Amon.

“I wish my rule to be one of conciliation, of happiness and of peace. I wish to bring all of you, my dear people of Kemet, and all our great gods, together once again in harmony and love. I wish to restore
ma’at
and do justice to all, in all things.”

A little uneasily, for they do not know what to make of my frank reference to the Aten and to recent unhappy years, my people applaud me. Aye, Horemheb and Hatsuret are listening very intently now. It is exciting to know that in their eyes the child King has become truly Pharaoh at last. Suddenly I am someone who can make things happen, and to whom they must listen because he is the Living Horus and sole ruler of the Two Lands. I like this.

“So that all may know that peace and conciliation are my purpose, I wish it known that I do not desire the destruction of the temples of the Aten at my city of Akhet-Aten, nor do I wish punishment to be visited upon any who may still wish to worship, in the privacy of their own homes or in his temples, that particular god.”

I sense a tense, uneasy stirring at my back. But I go firmly on.

“It is my desire that the Aten shall resume the honored place he had before recent unhappy years came upon us. [Again I refuse to name or blame my brother, who was always kind to me.] The Aten shall not be supreme, neither shall he be inferior. He shall not dominate, neither shall he be dominated. He will return to his rightful and traditional place among the gods, and we will continue to honor him as we honor Amon and all other gods. This, too, do I, Neb-Kheperu-Ra Tutankhamon, decree.”

Applause and approval come, but thinner and more uncertainly now, as many eyes look past me to my uncle, to Horemheb and to Hatsuret. I, too, turn and look at them. Their faces are a study in many things, but sternness is the chief. I stare at them with equal sternness and presently they look away. Suddenly I
know
I can do everything I wish to do to make Kemet a happy and prosperous land again.

“My beloved people,” I resume, and in the silence that has returned my voice rings clearly across the vast crowd, “in addition to the preservation and maintenance of the temples of the Aten at Akhet-Aten, for which I shall dispense suitable funds from the coffers of Pharaoh, it is my will that the temple of the Aten here at Karnak shall be enlarged and extended, so that it may be suitable for the god as he resumes his rightful place among us.

“To you, Amonhotep, Son of Hapu, builder and maker of so many great things for the House of Thebes, do I give this responsibility. And you, Tuthmose, chief sculptor to Pharaoh, do I charge to assist him in this task.”

There is a murmuring, an uneasiness. But I am only being fair and restoring justice. I continue unperturbed.

“I charge you also, Tuthmose, to make for me another set of scepters, a golden crook and flail similar to these I carry”—and I raise and show them to my people, for these are things they regard with an awe almost as great as that with which they regard my own person. “These bear the name of Amon. I wish the second set to bear the name of the Aten. Thus will Amon and Aten both be served, and confirm me in my rule.”

Again the uneasiness. They do not know whether to applaud. They know they cannot protest.

“And finally do you, Tuthmose, build for me a second golden throne, equal in size to this one on which I sit today. And do you place on the back thereof pictures of Her Majesty and me, and do you place above, blessing us, the sign and cartouches of the Aten, so that in this, too, we may restore balance and
ma’at
to the gods.”

Once more, murmuring and uneasiness. I do not look behind me at my uncle, my cousin and hateful Hatsuret, for I do not wish to be distracted by what I assume to be their disapproving stares. I am doing exactly what is right: I am not threatening Amon, I am not exalting the Aten: I am in fact reducing the Aten. If I am still keeping him great enough to give Amon pause, well, then, so be it. Ankhesenamon and I are agreed that this is the only way to restore the health of the Two Lands.

“My beloved people of Kemet!” I conclude solemnly, and now the whole world seems hushed and listening. I have their attention forever now. Never again will the King be considered just a boy, I can tell that, and I am glad of it, so that happiness suffuses my whole being though I do not discount the difficulties and do not fool myself that my path will be easy.

“It is my desire that from this time forward the Two Lands and all their gods shall truly be united again in love and tolerance for one another. It is my desire that you shall live together, one with the other, forever and ever, for millions and millions of years, in harmony and joy. It is my desire that all our gods shall live together, one with the other, in this same way. Thus, and only thus, can our beloved Kemet be whole again.

“Join me in this, I say to you, people of the Two Lands! Join me in this, I say to you, great gods of Kemet! And together we will enter upon a new day when old bad things are swept away and the land sings again with happiness and peace!

“So do I, Neb-Kheperu-Ra Tutankhamon, decree it!”

And I bow low to them and turn to Ankhesenamon, who rises and comes forward to stand beside me. Now the great shout of love and loyalty wells up again. I have puzzled them a little, made them think, convinced them, I hope, that they must forget the past, be compassionate with one another, move forward together for Kemet’s sake. I may even have disturbed them a little—certainly I know I have disturbed my uncle, Horemheb and Hatsuret, who have other ideas. But now all is forgotten in our physical presence before them, our living proof that the Good God and the Chief Wife are with them and working for their welfare always, which we truly are. Their love for us engulfs the world.

For many minutes their shouts go on, until at last we turn away to prepare for the great procession. First we shall return to the temple to relieve ourselves and eat a hasty bit of food to sustain us during the long afternoon. Then we shall remount our baldachins and the procession through Thebes, across the Nile to my father’s mortuary temple, to the Valley of the Kings, and so finally to Malkata, will begin.