Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,171
attacked in the street by hungry people flinging dung. In the beginning it was dung; later it was stones. They needed the dung for fuel.
So the royal funeral was hurried and secret. I saw Akhnaten’s sarcophagus packed away with Smenkhare’s in a tomb originally intended for their great mother.
We had buried the Widow-Queen Tiye in a splendid tomb decorated with the most beautiful frieze of fishermen, and she had her eyes on the Book of Coming Forth By Day which was inscribed on her walls. She was supplied with everything we could think of, including an army of shabti, the answerers, little model people who would do her bidding in the Field of Reeds.
By contrast we spared only the basic funeral furniture for Akhnaten. He had not believed in an afterlife, so why should we impoverish the people by providing him with goods for which he would have no use?
The people were impoverished enough.
The state of Egypt was evil, but as Horemheb said, they were used to being governed. Tutankhaten had changed his name to Tutankhamen, and his sister-wife was now called Ankhesenamen. The priests of Amen-Re would doubtless enjoy resuming their own power, their old temples, and their old position, and here was a chance to make sure that the power of the three arms of government—the temple, the crown and the army—were in balance again.
The people would enjoy having their old festivals back, which had given shape to their lives and their father’s fathers back to the reign of Khufu. Preparations were already in train for Opet next month, when Amen-Re would go back to his wife Mut, having been away from her for so long. I expected that the gods would be very pleased to see each other again. The temple of Isis was gathering its lost priestesses and digging up its buried manuscripts. Isis would wail for Osiris again, and time-honoured Horus contend with ever-evil Set.
I visited my old office in the palace. There I saw soldiers leading Bakhenmut away in fetters. General Horemheb was watching with grim satisfaction, stroking his ceremonial jewel-of-office with his broad, blunt fingers.
‘What is happening?’ I asked the soldiers.
‘He’s under arrest for taking bribes,’ they told me, and one look at Bakhenmut’s hanging head told me that it was true. The General drew me aside.
‘Ten judges and thirty-six scribes,’ the General told me. ‘All guilty of peculation and theft and extortion. We shall have no judges left, soon. The Pharaoh gave me the power, Ptah-hotep. Do you want your old title back?’
‘I? No, I resigned it, I am just Ptah-hotep now. If you want my advice, though, General, might I suggest that you split the office? My scribes Khety and Hanufer have worked here for many years. If they have not taken bribes during the reign of the heretic then they never will. I cannot choose between them. Khety is still, I guess, rather impulsive and Hanufer rather stolid. Together they will make one very good Great Royal Scribe.’
‘Done,’ said the General, towering over me. ‘Scribe Khety?’ he bellowed into the office. ‘Scribe Hanufer?’
Both of them jumped, but I saw no signs of guilt on their faces, just the wary countenances of anyone who lived through the Amarna regime where an unwise word could be fatal.
‘Are you willing to jointly accept the position of Great Royal Scribe?’ yelled General Horemheb into the room.
They both said, ‘yes’ in stunned voices.
‘Good. Commence immediately. Report to the Pharaoh tomorrow morning for your orders.’
‘General,’ I ventured, ‘you put great trust in my advice.’
He gave me a big grin from his wide face and clapped me on the shoulder so that I staggered.
‘First thing a commander learns, Ptah-hotep,’ he said. ‘Find out who you can trust, and trust them. Widow-Queen Tiye-Osiris, the red-headed woman, she trusted you. Mutnodjme is a remarkable woman. I trust her. She trusts you. That’s sufficient for a simple soldier. Come along with me, if you will,’ he added.
I fell in beside him. It was very hard to disobey Horemheb; he had the habit of command.
We walked together through a palace humming with activity. The households of several high officials were being evicted with bag and baggage into the court of the Phoenix, to await transport to their Nomes of origin. There were soldiers everywhere, not just the red feathers of the Pharaoh’s guard but the blue of Horemheb’s men and the green of the Hermotybies. I had never seen so many soldiers. I said so.