The Forgotten: Aten's Last Queen (6 page)

“Ankhesenpaaten, now you are thinking like a baby. Aten gives us what we need, but we have to do a
little
work. Surely you cannot expect Him to hand-feed every person in the city? He gives us grain for our bread, but only the best bakers mix in the honey to make it a food worthy of Aten Himself.”

“So what… now we’re just ingredients?”

“No, we are
given
the ingredients. We can make so many great things from Aten’s provisions. You just need a little creativity is all,” Meketaten finished with a sigh.

“You sound like Father,” I whispered to myself.

Thou bringest forth as Thou desirest

To maintain the people
.

“Perhaps I will be a priestess,” I said, slightly on the defensive now. I could almost feel Meket’s overconfidence and my own frustration in my lack of understanding poking me.

“That’s funny. You had better pay better attention in classes, then.”

I grunted. “Sometimes when the teachers are speaking, my mind wanders to other things. They will say one thing, but it will make me think of something else. So many pieces of the world seem connected. Perhaps I’ll ask lots of questions when my mind begins to wander. I’m sure our teachers will like that. And then I won’t spend class time trying to figure things out myself because I missed what was said.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when we were learning our symbols, I kept looking at the mouth glyph thinking it looked like a fish mouth. Then I would think how sometimes when we swim underwater and we see the fish move their mouths, it looks like they’re trying to speak to us! But what, for Aten’s sake, would a fish talk about anyway being underwater? I would assume their gossiping would be about who was last eaten by a bigger fish. So then I would make up a fish language in my head creating stories they would make up about crocodiles with their long snouts and their sharp teeth. But who could hear them? They’re underwater. Do they speak bubble language or something? Of course, by that time in class, we had started on vultures and vipers, and I missed how they were made! My thoughts are always so busy. They keep swirling about me like a great storm.”

Meketaten sat up. “I’m getting hot. Wanna play again? I’ll be chaser.”

She clearly had not been paying attention, “I don’t want to. You always win.”

“Fine,” retorted Meketaten, jumping back in with a hearty splash. “I’ll remember that when I am queen, stubborn baby sister.”

“You can order me around then. But you can’t now.” I said, kicking up water with my feet at her. She swam away. “And I’m not a baby! Stop calling me that!”

I lay back down and tried to forget Meket’s words. In the background of my thoughts, I could hear Mother and Father singing again, tasting their words, finding them either worthy or unworthy praises.

The Lord of every land, rising for them
,

The Aten of the day, great of majesty
.

I felt sprinkles of water touch me again. I looked up, expecting Meketaten. Instead, a heavily muscled, dark-skinned man with curly black hair was watching me. The only thing about him that was not forebodingly dark was his eyes. These were blue like the sky. It was my mother’s most trusted guard, her “guard familiar.” Wherever she was, he would be too without fail.

“Are you well, Princess?” He asked. His voice was thick and deep like a rich candy rolling around on the tongue.

“I’m sick of swimming, that’s all. Why are you here?”

“Anything that concerns your mother’s happiness concerns me,” he answered softly. His eyes darted up to her lithe form and then back to my eyes.

I closed my eyes again, pondering why mother’s guard would notice me. I was not important enough for my mother to notice herself. Instead, her guard showed more concern. I could feel his shadow for a few more beats of my heart, and then his form swam away through the waters and back around to where my mother was. I peeked an eye open and looked over to where his raft was. He had climbed aboard and had picked up his staff used for warding off predators. He met my eyes again. I could see dimples deepen in his cheeks as they puffed out in a smile directed at me.

I closed my eyes sharply in a frustrated huff. What was he so happy about? He was basically a slave to my mother, always standing over her and waiting for her call at all times, day or night. So what would make him smile? If I wanted anything, I could ask for it. If I was hungry, my food was served to me. I could do whatever I pleased. I was royalty. I was the one the god favored.

So why couldn’t I bring a smile to my lips?

*****

1338 B.C.

*****

Meketaten was right about Merytaten, and she liked to remind me of it. Sometimes she’d chase me down, pull at my youth lock, and prattle on about her smartness loudly in my ear. Such is the life of a sister.

Merytaten’s training had begun. She was to become the next ruler for the City of Light. Mother was determined to raise a daughter to the Horus throne. If my father was upset by this behavior, he never let it show, and I did not see my sister growing up much. She became very serious. She stopped playing with us and often accompanied Mother in the temples for offerings and prayers and public appearances.

Merytaten looked most like Father. She had a long thin face with a chin that came to a point. Her nose was small with a sharp end to it. Her lips were large and full. Her body had thicker curves in her hips and chest than the rest of us sisters, but her waist was very small. Tailors often had to take in their garments to fit the small of her belly. She had elongated fingers and toes. The one likeness that she inherited from my mother was her wide almond-shaped eyes. She loved to darken them up with kohl and make them more dynamic. It gave her a menacing stare that made us girls keep our distance. We were slightly frightened of the power she was inheriting. We weren’t even sure half the time if she liked us with those eyes of hers piercing at our flesh.

Schooling for us princesses changed once Merytaten became the sibling in line for the throne. We still had morning lessons and lunch, but the afternoons were split up between more physical activities, like horse and chariot riding, or studying from the Book of Instructions. I know the boys of the noblemen were surprised to see us in their afternoon groups. Anything to take me away from memorizing sums made me happy, but the Book of Instructions was usually saved for the male heir to the throne. It gave rules for a balanced life in society. It taught lessons in honesty, justice, wisdom, obedience, humanity, and restraint. It also spelled out the role of Pharaoh and various office workings which helped support Pharaoh, the reason for the other boys’ attendance. Merytaten studied heavily from the book while the rest of us learned basics from it.

School reminded us what was expected from us. Affectionately called The House of Life, it was located to the east of Father’s residence. Usually we were brought there by chariot, but I enjoyed when we found the time to walk. Life did not feel so furious on foot. Once we arrived, my sisters and I would gather ourselves in the front. The other children left us alone. I don’t think I could name more than four other students.

Our teachers treated us like every other child from the city but at the same time held us to higher standards. We read and wrote and
read
and listened and studied until our heads ached. We learned math, history, astronomy, science, and a little medicine. It amazed me that the things around us which looked simple were actually very complex. Everything had multiple layers to learn about. Some days, life was too diverse for me to comprehend.

I loved when we could copy literature or poetry. Sometimes our teacher would call in a lute player and singer to put music to the stories, combining both our music and writing lessons. Through stories, I dreamt of what my life could be. I knew that in reality, I probably would never find the type of love that inspired the poets to write and the singers to sing. My fate would be what was best for our people. It was my responsibility given to me by Aten. If there was ever a question, I was only allowed the answer that kept our people’s needs satisfied and not the one my heart wished for. We had learned this at an early age, but something inside of me didn’t want to accept that. Maybe it was because Meket would constantly tease me about being more responsible. But for a few moments when the musicians came and the books were sung out of, the stiff confines of schooling became magical. It made me think of what the earliest times must have been like when the gods and people lived closely together and everything existed peacefully.

There are some stories that remain with you all of your life. I had some favorite stories I would keep copies of and read aloud at home. I remember one afternoon when a male and female singer came with a lyre player. When they opened their lips, I realized I had never heard anything so beautiful. Even my mother’s voice paled in comparison. The woman did not look like the performers at Father’s banquets. She was dressed plainly without any jewelry. Her hair was tied back, and her face had no paint on it. There were a few healing cuts on her cheeks and arms from some type of manual labor. But she was enchanting. The man next to her was lithe in body but strong in voice. Their voices swam around us, innocent as a baby, thick as ink, yet sweet as sugared dates. They harmonized as if their voices were husband and wife to each other, a perfect match of highs and lows, the final pieces of a puzzle placed together. I felt my ka lift from my body, so dreamy was their melody.

She sang:

“Thou beautiful one! My heart’s desire is you.”

He responded:

“I wish I were part of your thoughts as a husband.”

Together they sang:

“With your hand in mine

Your love would always be returned.”

He led:

“You have changed me by your love
.

Thus I say in my heart
,

In my soul, at my prayers I say
:

“I lack my commander tonight
,

I am as one dwelling in a tomb.”

Together we rest side by side everlasting.”

She took the melody:

“May you stay eternal in health and in strength
,

For you are
my
health and
my
life in your lasting breath.”

Together they entwined the words:

“And the nearness of your countenance sheds delight
,

By reason of your well-being
,

Over a heart, which seeks you with longing.”

Looking at my sisters afterwards, I knew they were touched by what we had heard too. Like mine, their eyes glistened with emotion. Our hearts were filled with a shared beauty. Instead of princesses, we were just girls with hopes, dreams, and imagination. In these things, anything was possible, even love.

Tales woven by words would spin pictures in our minds like a seamstress working a loom. Details were added and depth was drawn out by the telling. By the end, a beautiful tapestry was clear, unique to each person, but each person’s image was linked to the other by the emotions. Looking in my sisters’ eyes on this particular day when a poor man and a poor woman sang to those being bred to rule over them, I knew we would always have this song, this emotion binding us as one. It was the internal beauty of our subjects and not just the outward creations crafted from their hands that were truly magical. We marveled at creations of the heart.

Walking into a palace for the first time, a person is instantly mesmerized by the glories of man’s creation. Vibrant colors and delicate details give the illusion that the pictures could come alive at any moment. Pillars and doorways stand so tall it is as if they were made for giants. Carvings are so intricate they feel soft to the touch instead of sharp from the hundreds of fine lines in such close proximity. But seeing these sights every day spoils the wonder. Living in beauty can dull your appreciation for such things.

Palace walls were confinement. Everywhere outside of them, children could go as they pleased, meet whomever they wished, and go where their feet dared. Inside walls, feet only had so far to go, eyes only so many things to see. Albeit most of the rooms did not have a roof on them, but even dreams could not soar inside four walls.

That’s why the best days in the palace were when people from foreign lands would visit. There were no daily walks (or chariot rides) to and from the House of Life over and over. Instead, life came to surround us as it teemed with excitement for the possibilities we offered. So many people blessed by Aten would emerge and share their excitement with us.

Families from the city would gather to barter for goods with people from all different lands. Together, we would eat and drink the hours away until the last man was passed out in his dining hall seat.

Leading up to these events, the artisans would come to freshen up the wall paintings and carvings, plan out new sculptures, and bring all sorts of clothing and jewelry to sell. Father had his favorite merchants and artists who were helping to create a new vision in his new city: a vision of mortals who loved their god and who were loved in return. There were carvings of our family hugging and kissing, the likes of which had never been portrayed before. Our features were exaggerated, though, and even Father’s features were more rotund than normal. Only in busts would you see our true likeness. Father wanted everything to be different and fresh. He was creating a new era, and the artistry of old bored him. Our bodies were very different in these pictures, and to me, it made us look more like bloated beasts from the world of the dead. Maybe it was different for adults. Maybe that’s why people were willing to accept this new worship at first. They did not fear us as gods but felt closer to us as flawed mortal shells worshipping the god above, imperfect but faithful. I could only imagine what those from another land thought of these representations.