For some time we faltered between our faith in the holy man and the peculiarity of his prophecy.
“Perhaps one of us will be first and the other will be her successor,” I laughed.
For some mysterious reason Tey was not pleased with what I said. “Shall we forget about this prophecy and leave the future to the gods?” she said sharply.
We tried to forget. But every so often the prophecy seemed to cast its shadow upon us, until things began to take an unexpected course and it was fulfilled before our very eyes. The first time I heard of Akhenaten was through my father, when he was appointed tutor to the crown prince. Father used to speak of Akhenaten's wisdom and maturity during our family gatherings.
“Akhenaten is an unusual person,” he once said. “He criticizes the priests and the deities and no longer believes in any god but Aten.”
Unlike my mother and sister, I was rather intrigued and drawn to what I heard. For I, too, loved Aten and was awed by his domain that comprised both heaven and earth, while other deities abided only in the darkness of the temples.
“The prince is right, Father,” I replied innocently.
My mother and sister were not pleased with my remark. Father said with a smile, “We are preparing you to be a wife, Nefertiti, not a priestess.”
I cannot deny my love for motherhood and other earthly pleasures, but the truth is, I was also born to be a priestess. Eventually my father told us the news of the new god, the Sole Creator. There was an uproar and the prince was the subject of stinging talk.
“What do the king and queen think?” my mother asked.
“There is so much turmoil in the palace. I am not sure what anyone thinks or believes,” my father said gloomily.
“I fear that they will blame you, as his teacher.”
“He is their son. They know that he will never follow anyone, no matter how grand they are.”
“He is insane,” Mutnedjmet said. “He will lose his throne. Is there another heir?”
“He has only one sickly older sister.”
As they talked I felt such emotion that I was afraid I would faint. To me, the crown prince represented an irresistibly attractive, fabulous story. But I did not come to any particular conviction then. One evening I overheard my father secretly reciting one of the hymns of the new god:
The words became imprinted in my heart forever, and I was elated with joy. I repeated the hymn and let its sweet nectar infuse my soul. Its words attracted me as a butterfly is drawn to light. And like the butterfly, I was burned by that light. I was filled with faith. What a beautiful and peaceful feeling it was! “My Only God,” I whispered, “I believe in you eternally.”
I presented myself to my father and sang the hymn.
“You were listening,” he said with a frown.
I ignored his gentle reproach. “Father, what do you think of the voice he heard?”
“I do not know,” he replied cautiously.
“Can he be lying?”
He thought for a moment, then said, “He never lies.”
“Then it must be true.”
“Perhaps what he heard was a dream,” he said reluctantly.
“Father,” I confessed, “I believe in the One God, the Sole Creator.”
Suddenly he became pale. “Beware, Nefertiti!” he cried. “Keep your secret in your heart, until I can rid your heart of it.”
Then we were invited to the palace for the Sed festival. Tey saw in it an opportunity for her daughters to meet eligible suitors. “You must be seen in the most beautiful dress,” she said. But I was only anxious to see one person-he who had shown me the light of the truth. In the grand hall of the palace I met people with whom I later walked the path of life, with its sweetness and its bitterness-Haremhab, Nakht, Mae, and many others. That night, however, my heart saw no one but Akhenaten. When I first saw him, I was taken aback by his strange appearance. I had pictured him a token of perfection. Instead, he was thin and feeble. His appearance called more for pity than admiration. I admit that I was rather disappointed. But it was a momentary disappointment. I saw beyond his strange features and feeble body a spirit that was singled out by God to receive his divine love, and I secretly vowed my loyalty to this frail creature. He was seated to the right of his father, observing the dance without enthusiasm. My eyes never left him. Indeed, many people noticed that he was the focus of my attention. I shall never forget what Mutnedjmet said to me, suffering the sting of jealousy: “You have set your goal, Nefertiti. Now you will stride toward it.”
I wished that he would see me. And he did. He glanced in my direction and our eyes met for the first time. He almost looked away, but his eyes moved back and he fixed his gaze upon me. I believe he was rather startled at this young woman who regarded him so intently, and with so much longing. I looked at the Great Queen Tiye and saw that she was looking at me. My heart pounded quickly, and my dreams soared in the highest sky. But I never anticipated what followed.
I returned to our palace heaving with excitement and vague desires. Mutnedjmet, however, was sullen.
“I am quite sure now,” she said when we were alone in our room. I asked her what she meant, and she continued, “He is sick and insane.”
“You have only seen him from outside. You know nothing of what is in his heart.”
The next day, when my father returned to the palace he told me that the Great Queen had asked to see me. His announcement shook the entire family, and we looked questioningly at each other.
“I suspect,” my father continued proudly, “that the queen will appoint you one of her maids of honor.”
I went to the royal palace in the company of my father. I was ushered to the queen's resting place overlooking the garden. I bowed before her until she called upon me to rise and sit on a sofa to her right.
“Your name is Nefertiti?” she said. I nodded and she continued softly, “Nefert-iti, The Beautiful One Has Come, a well-deserved name indeed.” I blushed with joy. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen years, my Queen.”
“You look more mature.” She paused for a moment then continued, “Why do you think I summoned you?”
“A fortune beyond what I deserve.”
“Well said, young woman,” she smiled. “Have you acquired some education?”
“Reading, writing, poetry, history, theology, algebra, and home-making,” I replied.
“What do you think of Egypt?”
“Egypt is the mother of the world, and its pharaoh the king of kings.”
“Who is your most cherished deity?” she asked. I detected a keenness in her question.
“Aten, Your Majesty.” I was compelled to hide the truth.
“What about Amun?”
“Amun protects the empire, but Aten circles it every day.”
“One cannot control what the heart loves, but you must realize that Amun is the master of all deities.”
“Indeed I do, Your Majesty.”
“Tell me in all honesty,” she continued, “has your heart ever known the love of a man?”
“No, Your Majesty,” I replied without hesitation.
“Have you had any suitors?”
“Many asked for my hand in marriage, but my father did not consider them suitable.”
She scrutinized my face for a while, then said, “You must have heard what is said about the crown prince's peculiar ideas regarding Amun and the deities. What is your honest impression?”
For the first time I was not able to reply. I remained silent until she continued in a voice laden with authority, “Speak only the truth.”
“What is in the heart belongs to the heart. But the traditions established between the throne and the priests must be preserved.”
“Well spoken!” she said. She appeared relieved. “Speak to me of your dream man. What is he like?”