Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,55

have read the account of the Battle of Kush, where it says: One came to the Lord, saying,“The foe, Kush the wretched, has planned war in his heart. The King went forth. Kush knew not this lion which was before him.”’

The King murmured along with me, as though he too knew this inscription by heart. I only knew it because I had been forced to copy it perfectly seven times in dictation or suffer the consequences. I recited:

Kush came, their hearts eager to fight, and many fell. The might of the King took them in an hour; making a great slaughter of them, their king and their cattle. They planted the harvest, but the King reaped it, mighty bull, strong in heart; great things were in their hearts, but this fierce-eyed lion slew them by the command of Amen, it was he who led them in victory.

I added the words of the viceroy, and my Lord Akhnamen knew them also.

The king’s son, vigilant for his lord, favourite of the good god, the king’s scribe Mermose said, ‘Praise to thee, good god! Great is thy might against him that affronts thee; thou hast caused the rebellious to say, “The fire we have kindled rages against us.” Thou hast slain his enemies and they are under his feet.’

‘Amen again,’ muttered the king.

I observed that the barber had now shaved both sides of his face and was sliding the razor under his chin, so I kept talking.

‘They say that the construction of the lake only took fifteen days, remarkable speed,’ I observed. ‘It is a fair place and I hope to see it when the family moves back to Djarukha after the New Year. I believe that the palace is beautiful beyond belief.’

The royal throat was shaved and the King was now free to answer. ‘It is beautiful, but not as beautiful as my new city of Amarna will be, once the canals are built and there is water. You saw the plans, Ptah-hotep, are they not splendid?’

‘Absolutely breathtaking,’ I agreed, for they were, although I didn’t think that there was enough gold in the world to build them; or enough labour.

‘Do you know your titles, Ptah-hotep?’

‘Yes, Lord.’

‘Then, Keeper of All Secrets to Whom No Heart is Hidden Whose Heart is the King’s, listen.’

‘Lord, I listen.’

As he talked, he allowed his hand to lie on my shoulder, and it was probably only my imagination which made it seem very heavy. Servants came and replenished his cup and mine, made him stand to replace his cloth, and painted his eyes with kohl, and he did not seem to notice them. The Keeper of All Secrets was going to share his knowledge with at least eight people, I estimated.

‘In the beginning was nothing,’ he said, and I seized my stylus. ‘Void. The primeval chaos before Nun the primeval ocean, before the gods, all these later pretenders in which an ignorant people believe. My father is renowned for his wisdom, is he not? And he believes in the Aten, the spirit before the beginning which made all things, the visible god who manifests himself every day to all humans, the sun-disc is his symbol, but it is not he. He is himself and no other and cannot be known.

‘Lord, I hear you,’ I said. So far it seemed a harmless mysticism.

‘My father believes in the beginning, in Aten the voice in chaos which said to the world, ‘Be!’ and it was. All men shall believe it,’ he said.

I began to feel uneasy. ‘Lord, does not your father may he live renowned for his wisdom, also say, Enquire not into another man’s gods?’

‘He said that, but he is an old man, and does not have the heart for the great work which is before us. All men shall speak to god, not through the medium of priests and their prattle and their useless rituals, but to the Aten himself by the sun-disc which gives life to all of the Black Land. I shall simplify,’ said Akhnamen the Pharaoh, making a broad gesture with his soft hands.

For a moment, I caught his enthusiasm. Without priests or sorcery or words, without the trade in sacrifice and charms and spells, a man could speak directly to the source of all goodness, to the breath of creation. He saw my understanding in my face.

‘Away with the mumbling old men of Re and the toothless old women of Isis. Away with faithless promises of an afterlife! There is no afterlife but to