“It is the sorcery of the priests of Amun,” Nefertiti cried. She repeated the same words every time she bore a daughter and the chance of a male heir was lost once more. Akhenaten shared her pain.
“Bento,” he asked, “can you help us bear a son?”
“I try my best, Your Majesty.”
“Do you believe in the sorcery of the priests?”
“We certainly should not underestimate it,” I replied reluctantly.
He meditated for a moment. “God will persevere, and his joy will fill the universe. But we, his humble creation, shall never be rid of our little sorrows,” he said mournfully. Because of his faith he was always able to elevate himself from grief to the summit of the holy truth where the brilliant light of God inundated his soul.
When the tension grew inside Egypt and on its borders, the high priest of Amun sent me a secret messenger.
“Can I trust you with saving the country from the dreadful fate that looms over it?” he asked, after reminding me of my vow in the temple of Amun.
I realized instantly that the high priest wanted me to use my role as the king's physician to kill him. I replied, “My profession does not condone treachery.”
I met with Maho, the chief of police, and asked him to step up security, particularly among the cooks in the palace.
Bento was silent for a while, seeking some rest from these wearisome memories. I remembered some of the conflicting reports I had heard about Akhenaten's sexu ality, but doubted that Bento would allude to it. Since I was very curious, I had to ask. “Akhenaten's body and features had the attributes of both male and female,” he said. “But, as a man, he was capable of loving and procreating.” Then my lips trembled with a pressing question. After a moment of hesitation I mustered up all my courage and asked, “Have you heard what they say about his relationship with his mother?” Bento scowled and said, “Of course I have, just like you. But I always dismissed it as malicious fabrication.” He stopped for a moment, looking increasingly troubled, then continued, “The fact is that Akhenaten was a very special being, far too good for any of us to understand. He was a visionary, promising a paradise irreconcilable with human nature. He confronted people with their mediocrity and provoked their deepest fears. So they pounced on him with animal anger and desperation.”
Encouraged by his openness, I continued, “What do you think of Nefertiti?”
“A great queen who has earned her greatness.”
“And how do you explain her desertion of Akhenaten?”
“I have only one explanation. She could not endure the blows that poured down on them; she felt helpless and took flight.” Then he continued.
The tragedy came to a terrible end when Akhenaten's men decided to abandon him. I asked Haremhab to let me stay with him as his physician. He told me that the priests would send their own physician to tend him. But he allowed me to examine him for the last time before I left. I went to the palace at once. It was empty apart from him and a few slaves and guards that the priests had appointed.
I found him in his usual solitude, praying, singing gently:
When he finished his prayer, he looked at me and smiled. I looked away to hide the tears in my eyes.
“How were you able to come, Bento?” he asked.
“Haremhab gave me permission to examine you before I left.”
“I am in excellent health,” he said calmly.
“All the loyal ones were forced to leave,” I said, my voice tremulous with feeling.
“I know who was forced and who chose to leave.” The smile never left his face.
I bowed down and kissed his hand. “It pains me that you must remain alone.”
“I am not alone. Have faith, Bento,” he said calmly. Then he continued with an invigorating determination, “They think that my God and I are defeated. But he never betrays nor does he accept defeat.”
I cried so much that when I left the palace my eyes were like firebrands. I was certain that the physician they sent him would kill the most noble soul that has ever inhabited a human body. Since the time I left Akhetaten, I have been immersed in inescapable loneliness.
Nefertiti
I was allowed to enter Akhetaten only with special permission from General Haremhab. There were security checks at short intervals all along the bank of the Nile. A soldier escorted me across the northern quarter of the city from the harbor to the palace of the imprisoned queen. I was barraged by a host of emotions that left me stranded between sadness and wonder. The once glorious streets of Akhetaten had disappeared beneath heaps of dust and the dried leaves of withered trees. The grand doors of the palaces were closed like eyelids on tearful eyes. The palaces were collapsed, the fences fallen. The gardens had lost their colors and were left with the remains of trees shriveled like mummies. A heavy silence covered the city. In the center were the ruins of the temple of the One and Only God, where once the sweetest and holiest hymns were sung.
It was early afternoon when I reached the far end of the northern quarter. The queen's palace towered in the distance, set in a lush and colorful garden. My heart pounded when I glimpsed the only open window in the palace. It was the middle of autumn and the Nile was still in flood. Its mud-red water had filled the palace lake. My heart beat faster as I approached the end of my journey, as though the entire purpose of my quest was to meet this woman in her solitude.
I was ushered into a small, elegant room. The walls were inscribed with holy texts. In the center of the room there was an ebony chair with golden arms and legs, each sculpted in the form of a lion.
Finally I saw her, a vision, coming toward me gracefully in a white, flowing dress. She was elegant and beautiful. Her back was unbowed by forty years of grief and misfortune. I waited until she was settled in her chair, then she gestured to me and I sat before her. The beauty of her serene eyes was overcast by a shadow of weariness. She praised my father, then asked me bitterly, “And how do you find the city of light?”
I realized that I had been staring at her, captivated by her beauty. Abashed, I lowered my gaze, and remained silent.
“You must have heard a lot of tales about Akhenaten and me,” she said. “Now you can hear the whole truth.”
I grew up with a passion for true knowledge that was nurtured by the learnedness of my father, Ay. I lost my real mother when I was only one year old. But I did not feel that loss, for in Tey I found a compassionate, loving mother, and not merely a stepmother. She gave me a splendid, happy childhood. Even after she had my sister Mutnedjmet, her feelings toward me did not change. She was a wise woman. At first, Mutnedjmet and I were loving sisters. Because I was better at most things than Mutnedjmet, she became jealous and built up a fair share of resentment. But that only became evident much later. Tey, however, remained impartial, at least on the surface. I was quite grateful, and when the time came for me to reward her I appointed her the queen's matron and gave her the status of princess. One day, my father returned home with a holy man, one of those who are endowed with the gift of foretelling the future. He read both our fortunes, my sister's and mine.
“These girls shall sit on the throne of Egypt,” he said.
“Both of them?” said my father, astounded.
“The two of them,” the man assured him.