“But the young boy will grow, and he will retain within him the ideas of his childhood.”
“He is but an innocent child seeking wisdom wherever he thinks he might find it,” Tiye said.
“Soon he will begin his military training and learn his true calling,” the pharaoh added.
“We have no need of more countries to add to our empire. What we need is the wisdom to keep what we already have,” Tiye said.
“My glorious Queen,” I argued, “the safety of the empire relies on the blessings of Amun and the exercise of power.”
“I am surprised that a wise man like yourself should undervalue the role of wisdom in such a manner,” said the cunning queen.
“I do not deny the importance of wisdom,” I insisted, “but without power, wisdom is nothing but chatter.”
“In this palace,” the pharaoh interjected, “there is no question that Amun is the master of all deities.”
“But the prince has stopped visiting the temple,” I said anxiously.
“Be patient,” the king replied. “Soon my son will fulfill all his obligations as crown prince.”
I returned from the palace with no solace. Indeed, after hearing the king and queen come to the prince's defense, my fears were even stronger. Then I heard about a conversation the crown prince had with his parents and I became convinced that within the prince's frail body was an abyss of evil power. One day one of my men asked to see me. “Even the sun is no longer a god,” he said. I queried him and he continued, “There are rumors that a new god has revealed himself to the crown prince, claiming to be the one and only true god and that all other deities are spurious.”
The news stunned me. The fate of the older brother who died was more merciful than the madness that had descended upon the crown prince. The tragedy had reached its climax.
“Are you certain of what you say?”
“I am merely reporting what everyone says.”
“How did this so-called god reveal himself to the prince?”
“He heard his voice.”
“No sun? No star? No idols?”
“Nothing at all.”
“How can he worship what he cannot see?”
“He believes that his god is the only power capable of creation.”
“He has lost his mind.”
The chanter priest, Toto, said, “The prince has gone mad and is no longer fit to take the throne when the time comes.”
“Quiet,” I said. “That the prince is an infidel does not change the fact that Amun and our gods will remain the only deities worshiped by the people in the empire.”
“How can a heretic take the throne and rule the empire?” Toto asked angrily.
“Let us not be hasty. We will wait until the truth is clear, then we will discuss the matter with the king,” I continued, my heart heavy with gloom. “It will be the first confrontation of its kind in history.”
When the crown prince married Nefertiti, the eldest daughter of the sage Ay, I held by the last of all hopes- that in marriage, the prince would return to his senses. I summoned Ay to the temple. As we talked, it became clear to me that the sage was extremely cautious in what he said. He was certainly in a predicament, and I sympathized with him, saying nothing about the prince's unbelief. Before he left, I asked him to arrange for me a private conference with his daughter.
Nefertiti arrived promptly. I looked at her keenly, and saw beyond her captivating beauty a roaring torrent of strength and power. I was instantly reminded of the Great Queen Tiye, and hoped this power would work with us and not against us.
“I grant you my blessing, my daughter.”
She expressed her gratitude in a sweet, pleasing voice.
“I have no doubt that you are fully aware of your duties as the wife of the crown prince. But it is also my duty to remind you that the throne of the empire is founded on three fundamentals: Amun, the master of all deities; the pharaoh; and the queen.”
“Indeed. I am fortunate to be granted the honor of your wisdom.”
“A sensible queen must bear with the king the burden of protecting the empire.”
“Dear Holy Priest,” she said firmly, “my heart is filled with love and loyalty.”
“Egypt is a country of timeless traditions, and women are the sacred guardians of this heritage.”
“Duty, too, dwells within me.”
Nefertiti remained wary and reserved throughout her visit. She spoke, but revealed nothing. She was like a mysterious carving with no inscription to explain it. I could extract no information from her words, nor could I express my fears directly. Yet her wariness meant that she knew everything and that she was not on our side. Her position did not surprise me in the least. By a stroke of luck capable of turning the strongest head in the country Nefertiti had found herself a future queen. Her primary concern was neither Amun nor indeed any of the deities-she craved only the power of the throne. I said a prayer of mourning with the other priests in the holy of holies, then related to them the proceedings of my meeting with Nefertiti.
“Soon there will be nothing but darkness,” said Toto the chanter. When all the other priests had left, Toto said, “Perhaps you can discuss the matter with Chief Commander Mae.”
“Toto,” I replied earnestly, recognizing the danger in his allusion, “we cannot defy King Amenhotep III and the Great Queen Tiye.”
Meanwhile in the palace, tension was rising between the mad prince and his parents. Thus King Amenhotep III issued an imperial mandate ordering the crown prince to tour the vast empire. Perhaps the pharaoh had hoped that when the prince became acquainted with his country and subjects he would see the reality of things and realize how far he had strayed from the right path. I was grateful for the king's attempt, but my deep fears continued to haunt me. Then, while the prince was still away, some grave events took place. First, Queen Tiye gave birth to twins, Smenkhkare and Tutankhamun. Shortly after, the pharaoh's health deteriorated, and he died. Messengers from the palace carried the news to the prince, for him to return and take the throne.
I discussed the future of the country with the priests of Amun, and we came to an agreement. Immediately I took action, and asked to meet the queen despite the mourning and her preoccupation with mummifying her husband's body. Even in her grief, the queen was powerful and enduring. I was determined to speak out at any cost.
“My Queen, I came to speak my mind to the rightful matriarch of the empire.” I could tell by the way she looked at me that she knew what I was about to say.
“My gracious Queen, it is well known now that the crown prince does not respect our deities.”
“Do not believe everything you hear,” she replied.
“I am prepared to believe all that you say, Your Majesty,” I said readily.
“He is a poet,” she said. I was not satisfied with her answer but remained silent until she added, firmly, “He will fulfill all his duties.”
I mustered up all the courage I had within me and said, “My Queen is surely aware of the consequences that would befall the throne if the gods were offended.”
“Your fears are unfounded,” she replied irritably.
“If necessity calls we can entrust the throne to one of your younger sons; you will be the guardian regent.”
“Amenhotep IV will rule the empire. He is the crown prince.”
Thus did the wise queen yield to the mother and lover in her. She wasted the last chance for reparation, and armed destiny with the weapon that dealt us a fatal blow. The mad, effeminate crown prince returned in time for the royal entombment.
Soon afterward, I was summoned to appear before him in his formal capacity as the future pharaoh. It was the first time I had seen him closely. He was rather dark, with dreamy eyes and a thin, frail figure, noticeably feminine. His features were grotesque and disturbing. He was a despicable creature, unworthy of the throne, so weak he could not challenge an insect, let alone the Master Deity. I was disgusted but revealed nothing; instead I called to mind the words of wise men and great poets, words that inspired me to keep my patience. He fixed his gaze on me, a look neither hostile nor friendly.