Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,91
‘Hail, lord of brightness!’ they cried, tripping over one another and elbowing their way to the front. ‘Hail, most favoured child of the Aten!’
‘What a spectacle,’ said Tiye, who had joined us. Her voice was indulgent. ‘He always wanted to be worshipped,’ she added. ‘And this is probably the only way that it could be managed.’
‘We should have been told about this,’ I was worried. ‘Is someone trying to make us commit blasphemy?’
‘No, no women can worship the sun in its full splendour,’ said Merope. ‘Or so Huy the Chamberlain told me. He said that it would defile the Aten’s worship if we were to go out into the courtyard. We are allowed to watch from the windows, provided we are pure at heart and have not had intercourse with a man the preceding night.’
‘That must sort the sheep from the goats,’ said Tiye, chuckling. ‘But luckily we are all ritually pure,’ she said, and then she clutched her forehead as if her head hurt.
‘What is it, lady?’ Merope embraced her.
‘The only man I have ever wanted to sleep with is dead,’ snapped the Widow-Queen. ‘I have no other sorrow, but that is enough.’
We had no more to say, and ate the rest of our meal in silence. Then Sahte sent in a group of musicians, who began to play such sad melodies on pipe and drum that they comforted Tiye, or roused her, and she bade them play music to which one could dance.
And Merope and I danced, to and fro in the painted rooms, on the floor tiled with pictures of baboons, to a tune which had once been called, Hathor takes pleasure of Horus.
Ptah-hotep
I was allowed to join the worship of the Aten at noon, which argued that the King was pleased with me. It was very hot in the square, and I am fair though I am a child of the common people. I knew that I would be coloured if not blistered when the season advanced and the Pharaoh held his outdoor worship at noon, and wondered if his preference for pale ladies had led to the prohibition on women attending the service.
I had no need of gold bracelets, so I did not strive to get close to the King as he threw his usual largess to the crowd.
I was worried about a letter from Tushratta, King of the Mittani.
Khety, who spoke various languages easily, had become my foreign advisor. He was given the letters and messages as they arrived, and I was responsible for bringing such matters as the King needed to know to the royal attention. So far, acceptances for the sed festival had come from most of the surrounding kings, including the three most important: Niqm-adda the Third of Ugarit; Tushratta of Mittani; and Suppiluliumas, the new and rather touchy king of Khatti. The kings, naturally, would not travel themselves—it was never safe for kings of the barbarous nations to travel far from their capital lest they be overthrown in their absence—but each would send a son or other person, on which a kingship had been conferred for the purpose of the event. This was common practice and in view of the King’s poor manners—he had yawned at the recital of a messenger from vassal Rib-Adda, who was reporting that the city of Sumur was assailed—it was fortunate. I felt for Rib-Adda and I could not see any chance of relief for him, though I would try once again at the next audience for foreign visitors.
King Tushratta, however, was powerful. The Mittani occupied a lot of the border and were a proud people with profoundly foreign ways. I had talked to Menna and Harmose, the old scribes whom I had brought with me to Amarna, and they had told me that Tushratta had actually asked Amenhotep-Osiris for an Egyptian princess as a concubine.
No Egyptian princess could ever be given to a foreign king, for in them resided the kingship. No Egyptian princess had ever been given to a foreign king. But apparently it had taken two stiff letters and a severe visit from a messenger to explain this to the barbarian. He was still writing, but now he was demanding gold; which was easier because Amarna had a lot of gold.
‘Tushratta,’ murmured Khety beside me as we walked away into the grateful coolness of the palace.
‘I know,’ I groaned. ‘But what can I do? If Pharaoh won’t listen, he won’t listen and I can’t make him!’ I was beginning to feel dizzy,