At a very young age he became a burden to his father and the priests of Amun. For us he was an enigma. To question the precedence of Amun, worship Aten, then invent a god that was the sole source of creation in the universe, was beyond what we could fathom. I did not doubt his sincerity, but I was also certain that he was mistaken. He never lied, but he did not hear the voice of a god. It was his own heart that spoke. It might have been more acceptable if the one who claimed the prophecy had been a priest, but to be the crown prince of the throne of Egypt is a different matter. He began to tell people about his prophecy, about the god of love, peace, and joy. During his father's reign, Akhenaten was powerless, but he was determined to do away with all the traditional gods and their temples as soon as he was able. When he became king, the dream was superimposed on reality. The balance of life was disrupted and tragedy threatened. When he ascended the throne, he invited us to join his new religion. I was of the opinion we should decline.
“Perhaps if he found himself alone he would renounce his cause,” I said to Haremhab.
“I am afraid he would find other people, with neither morals nor experience, and they would haul the country to its destruction.”
“But couldn't the same thing happen at our hands?”
Haremhab smiled sarcastically. “He is far too weak to disregard our opinion.” Then he shrugged his shoulders and muttered, “He has nothing but words; we have power.”
And so I declared my faith in his religion. He appointed me minister of chamber and my fears subsided. I met him every day in Thebes or in Akhetaten to deliberate matters of government, finance, security, and water resources. He would remain silent while the queen and I conferred. Nefertiti's aptitude for politics was beyond imagination; she was a powerful presence on the throne of Egypt. As for the king, he spoke only of his god and his message and gave instructions that served his religion. When Akhenaten decided to abolish the traditional religions, I warned him of the consequences.
“Your faith is still weak, Nakht,” he said reproachfully.
We walked together to the terrace and stood before the crowd that had gathered in the concourse. He had the power of magic in the souls of his people. He announced his decision with a frightening determination. Cries of adulation filled the air. I felt as though I was nonexistent and that the feeble creature beside me possessed a mysterious power never encountered before. Despite Nefertiti's shrewdness, she submitted herself to her husband and enthused about his message as if it was her own. I was rather surprised by her position. This woman is either his spiritual partner, I thought, or the most insidious being humanity has ever known. I believe that what had secured such success for him from the beginning was that no one dared to contradict him but me. Haremhab did not utter a word in opposition until the crisis was at its height. As for Ay, he feigned devout ness and dedication to the new god. If I blame anyone, I would accuse Ay of deception and ill-intent. He contrived a scheme to take the throne of Egypt. As the appointed teacher of the crown prince, Ay knew Akhenaten's weaknesses. He was the one who converted him to Aten and imbued him with the idea of the One God. Akhenaten's marriage to Nefertiti was devised by Ay as a part of his scheme, despite his awareness that the prince was an impotent man. Thus he became the king's father-in-law and his counselor, known in Egypt as the Sage. He induced him to abolish the traditional gods and to appropriate their temples, in order to sow the seeds of dissension between him and the priests. He hoped that the strife would either force Akhenaten to abdicate the throne or culminate in his assassination. Ay was well aware of the considerations that made him a candidate for the throne. He was father-in-law of the king and sage of Egypt. Because of his old age, his reign would be short-lived. He therefore posed no significant threat to those who coveted the throne for themselves. Perhaps he even planned to marry his own daughter to substantiate the succession, and so that she could continue as queen of Egypt. You must understand that my opinion is not based on my personal impressions alone. I had private and reliable sources that provided me with indisputable evidence. Yet his scheme failed. There were two factors that stopped him from succeeding. First there was the people's loyalty to the pharaoh. And then, at the critical moment, the priests appointed Tutankhamun king. But I believe Ay still ruminates on his old dream.
I could not tell anyone what I thought, but I continued to offer my advice to the king.
“My King,” I said, “your God is undoubtedly the only true God. But you must permit the people to worship their own gods. Build a temple for the Only Creator in every province and he will have the last victory. Spare the country all this needless turmoil.”
But it would have been easier to move a pyramid than to move Akhenaten from his position.
“Your faith is still weak, Nakht,” was all he said.
“To defend one's faith is a right that does not counter love and peace,” I insisted.
“Even the most wicked people will yield to the power of love, for love is stronger than the sword.”
When the storm clouds gathered, I called a closed meeting with the high priest of Amun and Commander Mae.
“We must act now before we lose what is left of our honor.” They eyed me with curiosity and I continued, “Let the priests stop stirring up trouble. Then Mae will lead his forces to save the empire.”
“Move without orders from the pharaoh?” Mae asked.
“Yes,” I replied calmly.
Of the three of us, the priest was the strongest. He asked, “And then what?”
“When Mae is victorious, the king will be forced to declare freedom of worship.”
“I must disagree,” the high priest said. “That's not a good plan. The leaders of the troops might rebel against Mae if he ordered them to move without a royal decree.” Then he frowned and his face reddened. “Your loyalty is to your king, Nakht, not us. You must have learned about our success in the provinces and decided to hinder our progress with your inane proposition.”
Angered by the priest's stab, I left them. I was certain now that everyone merely wanted to serve their own purposes. Egypt was in the hands of villains. They were all responsible for the destruction of the country, whether they were with the king or against him. Perhaps Akhenaten was the least to blame. They used him for their benefit. When he was no longer of any use, they wanted to depose him and claim the throne. Because of his trusting nature he believed their lies. Then a power that no one anticipated rose up from within him and swept them swiftly along for a time, until it crashed against the hard rock of reality. Then each one headed for the life raft, leaving their visionary victim to sink alone, wondering why his God had forsaken him. They tore the masks off their faces, most of all Nefertiti and her father Ay. Each of them took a different path, but none was dealt their retribution. Except the poor heretic, and to some extent Nefertiti, when the priests did not accept her false penitence. As for Egypt, it lay sore with wounds, bleeding under the weight of our blunders.
The minister was silent for a long time. Then he mumbled in deep sadness, “This is a story of innocence, of deception, and infinite grief.”
Bento
Bento was Akhenaten's personal physician. Indeed, when I met him, he still occupied the position of personal physician of the pharaoh in Tutankhamun's palace. Bento was sixty years old, with a noble bearing and marks of Nubian descent. When I visited him in his beautiful palace at the center of Thebes, I found him to be a man of serene nature and soft voice, yet extremely energetic. His clothes were exquisitely tasteful. Gathering his memories, Bento began.