Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,167

my female parts. I ignored her. For the first time in my life, I had Mother Tey in a vice.

On my advice, she had gone to Thebes and prayed for healing in the disestablished temple of Hathor, lady of music, and then in the remains of the temple of Isis. She reported that there were still some priestesses there, living in what had been the servant’s quarters at the back of the compound, and they had given her a potion and told her to pray to Isis nine nights in succession. She had done that and had been healed. Either the physicians had been mistaken in their diagnosis, and nothing was more likely, or Isis had healed her. Presumably Isis had some use for her, though I could not think of one, except to assist in punishing Egypt for its apostasy.

So now she was alive, which was something of a pity as she encouraged Divine Father Ay in his greed, but I held her life in my hand, knowing that she had appealed to forbidden gods.

She was probably right about my ability to carry children. I seemed to conceive easily, but the child would not stay with me. I could have visited the temple of Isis myself, and seen Ptah-hotep, but somehow there were always things in the house to be done, and somehow the general was always away when I thought of going, and somehow I never got there, and the years passed.

I never loved the general like I loved Ptah-hotep, never felt that strange feeling of being twinned by the night and the gods, but he was a good man, fair and just and kind, and I liked him well.

I was putting ointment on Kasa’s skinned knee—the clumsy child had become a clumsy man—when I heard trumpets blowing. I walked to the window. I had not heard such a clamour for years. The general woke up, sitting up in mid snore.

‘Those are battle trumpets,’ remarked Ipuy, picking up his wood-carving knife. Our soldiers had sprung to attention and grabbed their weapons. Horemheb summoned them to form a guard around us as we went out into the court of the Aten. Either an army was attacking or some amazing announcement was to be made. All the people in the palace had poured into the great court.

All eyes were on the Window of Appearances. The royal family filed out.

There was Akhnaten may he die in his most extravagant cloth, a parody of an army uniform. Long contemplation of his god, the Aten, had damaged his eyes and now he had to squint to see a hand’s span in front of him.

There was Smenkhare in the wig and jewellery of Great Royal Wife; worried and maternal Ankhesenpaaten with her little brother Tutankhaten holding her hand; and Divine Father Ay, along with Pannefer and Huy, all smirking.

‘People of the Aten’ announced the King. ‘I have called you together to hear my words.’

‘Hail sweet child of brightness,’ called the crowd, hoping for their usual ration of gold trinkets. “Hail to the Aten!’

‘Misery is upon the land,’ said the King.

I was astounded that he knew anything about what was happening in Egypt. He never left the city and he did not listen to anyone but his own dishonest ministers.

‘In my own household, three of my daughters are dead and the Beautiful-One-Who-Is-Come is gone into flame. The Phoenix has not risen.’

This was true. However, the sacrifice which he had designed to bring the Phoenix had not been properly made, though I had no intention of telling anyone that. After a year of watching on the walls to sight the first flock of birds escorting the Firebird, the cult had fallen into disfavour.

‘Hail to the Phoenix!’ cried a few voices, and were hushed.

‘Therefore I consulted with my priests.’ The king looked on Divine Father Ay.

‘Why is the Aten angry with us? Why does the river Nile not flood? Why has the Aten punished us?’ the king asked.

He was even untrue to his own theology, I thought with disgust. His Aten had no compassion, no justice, no mercy, no personality. He had constructed it as pure life-force, creating and created. It had no incarnation, unknowable and unknown, a primeval thing-which-is-all. Therefore the Aten could neither punish nor reward. As well ask the sun not to burn skin, or the water not to wet it.

‘I have communed with godhead,’ the King yelled, blinking at the crowd. ‘We have been lazy, accepting all the gifts of the Aten without