When Akhenaten became king, the path was clear before him. He could have taken the same course as his forefathers and walked it peacefully. But the mouse fancied himself a lion. Therein was the catastrophe. He lacked the wisdom and power of his predecessors. He was haunted by his natural weakness, his ugliness, and his womanliness. Such malice and deception can only come of weakness and jealousy. Thus he decided to get rid of all the priests in the country and claim sole power for himself.
He declared himself the only god with no partner but an illusory god that he used as a mask for his ambition. In the beginning we heard news about the miracles of the young lad who had matured beyond his tender years. Then came the story of the new god who revealed himself to him and asked him to renounce all other deities. That day I said to the high priest, “It is a conspiracy that must be killed in its cradle.” He did not seem convinced. I continued, “I suspect that Queen Tiye and the sage Ay are behind all this. The boy is merely a tool.”
The high priest said, “The queen is partly responsible, no doubt. But her mistake is one of bad judgment. That is what I hold against her, not a conspiracy. As for Ay, I think he is no less alarmed than we are.”
I believed him, for the high priest is infallible. “Then the boy must be possessed by the spirit of Set, god of evil. He must be slain immediately.”
“Have patience, Toto,” the high priest said. “I believe it is not beyond the king and queen to put things right.”
I was convinced that our hesitation would prove to be very costly. I prayed to Amun:
Toto continued with events I had heard about before- the crown prince's tour of the empire, his return, and his succession as pharaoh of Egypt.
Men declared their faith in exchange for high-ranking positions. They dropped their dignity and swarmed like flies around the heretic. In time his venom poisoned the entire country. Treason. That is what it was, treason beyond any justification. They are all responsible for the destruction that came upon us.
“There is no crime without punishment,” I said to the high priest. “We must take Akhetaten and kill them all; the heretic and his wife, Ay, Haremhab, Nakht, and Bek.”
“The country cannot bear any more destruction,” the high priest replied.
“Only blood will quench the thirst of Amun,” I insisted.
“I believe I know more of what would satisfy Amun.”
I said no more, but the flames of rage continued to burn inside me. I believe that the absence of punishment encourages crime and breeds evil among people. They begin to question divine justice. It pains me to see people without honor enjoy the peace and comfort that belongs to those who do have honor. Why should we protect those who contributed to our own destruction?
Toto went on to tell me about the building of Akhetaten, the exodus to the new city, and Akhenaten's rising fervor in spreading his religion through the country.
In Akhetaten I worked in the heretic's chamber. As I heard more of his ravings I realized the extent of his madness. He should have been a poet or a singer. Instead he was king of Egypt. Catastrophe! He concealed his weakness behind a veil of mystical inspiration. Some believed him, and others decided it was sheer madness. It was neither piousness nor hallucination; it was the shrewdness of a man humiliated by his own weakness, a man with no other power than deception. It was by deception that he monopolized the rule of Egypt. He had an aching desire to prove that even without military conquests and physical strength, he was still more powerful than Tuthmosis III. He created a fantasy world, with ludicrous laws and customs; even the people in it were his own fabrication. Akhenaten was master and god of an illusion. It is no wonder then that his kingdom tumbled down with the first winds of reality, and the mob of cowards he had gathered fled at the first sign of danger.
People marveled every time the heretic went into a trance. They talked endlessly about the remarkable, unearthly words that flowed from him like a stream of magical melody. I witnessed some of these trances myself. As I reviewed the epistles before him, he would suddenly yield to a gush of intense sentiment, gradually withdrawing from the bounds of awareness to fade into the unknown. Eventually he returned to his senses. “God will persevere,” he would say. At those times I would steal glances at Haremhab, Ay, and Nakht, and wonder if they really believed him. As for me, I thought it was an obscene mockery of everything we held sacred. And in truth, none of them believed him either. Their faith in his god was a means to an end. Ultimately, they abandoned him, and so demonstrated that their only loyalty was to their inexhaustible ambition.
Toto told me about the corruption of the civil servants, the suffering of the citizens, the spread of rebellion, the attacks on the borders of the empire, and the tragic death of Egypt's most powerful ally, Tushratta, king of Mitanni.
“I was consumed with fear for the future of Egypt,” he continued. “I made a plan to have him killed, to save the world his evil. It was easy enough to find someone eager to do it. I arranged a hiding place for him in the palace garden where the king retired to be alone. The man would have succeeded in his mission if it was not for Maho, chief of guards, who saw him at the last minute. By killing him Maho earned the eternal curse of the deities. Finally, I resorted to sorcery. That failed, too; most likely it could not withstand the counter-spells of the heretic and his men.”
Toto then told me about the visit of Queen Tiye to Akhetaten, and the extraordinary meeting between the priest of Amun and the men of Akhenaten.
When the king learned that the priests were claiming the throne for Tutankhamun, thus pressuring him to abdicate, he declared his brother Smenkhkare co-regent. But his entire world fell apart when Nefertiti left the palace. That was the end of evil; only by that time the serpent had injected its venom. Akhenaten's union with Nefertiti was a grave misfortune for Egypt. Nefertiti was undeniably a strong, capable, and wise queen. And a very beautiful one indeed. But, like her husband, ambition plagued her. She claimed that she shared Akhenaten's faith in the One God. In reality she only shared with him his wickedness and deception. She never loved him. She could not have loved him even if she wanted to. Her single true passion was for absolute power. Perhaps Nefertiti was a final proof of the role Ay played in the tragedy; she was the product of her father's flaws. I remember how Ay and his wife sat grandly on the terrace of the palace during public ceremonies, receiving gifts of pure gold. At the end of the ceremony, slaves carried large baskets filled with these gifts to the sage's palace. It is hard to imagine, nevertheless, how a seemingly reasonable woman like Nefertiti would be so blind to the grave repercussions of her husband's policies. Did she really believe in the god of love and joy? I find that hard to swallow. I believe Nefertiti made an error in overestimating the influence of the throne on the people of Egypt. She was under the illusion that she could use the throne like a magician's wand to justify the most appalling deeds. Perhaps she realized her mistake early on but was reluctant to voice her concerns for fear of losing her husband's trust. When the men decided to leave Akhetaten, Nefertiti abandoned the king, desperately hoping that her lovers would not betray her. I believe Haremhab tried to convince the high priest of Amun to allow her to return to Thebes, but his efforts were to no avail. Eventually the heretic died. Nefertiti still lives in her prison, bitter and regretful.