We relinquished all desire for revenge on the madman and his wife and those who remained loyal to him.
Amun's followers hurried to the temples after their long deprivation. The nightmare had ended and life began to resume its normal course. As for the heretic, when madness had consumed him, he fell ill and died, disappointed in his god and hopeless of the hereafter. He left behind him his wicked wife to endure loneliness and regret.
The high priest gazed at me silently for a long while. Then he said, “We are still healing. We need time and serious effort. Our loss, inside and outside the empire, was beyond estimate. How did it all happen? How could such a mad, distorted person stir up such agony?” He paused for a moment then concluded, “That is the true story. Record it faithfully. Do carry my sincere greetings to your dear father.”
Ay
Ay was the sage and former counselor to Akhenaten, and father of Nefertiti and Mutnedjmet. Old age had settled in the furrows of his face. I met him in his palace overlooking the Nile in south Thebes. He told me the story in a serene voice without letting his face reveal any emotion. I was in awe of his solemnity and dignity, and the richness of his experience. “Life, Meriamun, is a wonder,” he began. “It is a sky laden with clouds of contradictions.” He contemplated a while, surrendering to a current of memories. Then, he continued.
The story begins one summer day when I was summoned to appear before King Amenhotep III and Great Queen Tiye.
“You are a wise man, Ay,” the queen said. “Your knowledge of the secular and the spiritual is unrivaled. We have decided to entrust you with the education of our sons Tuthmosis and Amenhotep.”
I bowed my shaven head in gratitude and said, “Fortunate is he who will have the honor of serving the king and queen.”
Tuthmosis was seven years old, Amenhotep was six. Tuthmosis was strong, handsome, and well built, though not particularly tall. Amenhotep was dark, tall, and slender, with small, feminine features. He had a tender yet penetrating look that made a deep impression on me. The handsome lad died and the weak one was spared. The death of his brother shook Amenhotep and he wept for a long time.
One day he said to me, “Master, my brother was pious, he frequented the temple of Amun, received his charms and fetishes, but still he was left to die. Master and Sage, why don't you bring him back to life?”
“Son,” I replied, “one's soul is immortal. Let that be your solace.”
That was the beginning of our many discussions on life and death. I was sincerely pleased with his insight and understanding in spiritual matters. The boy was clearly ahead of his years. I often found myself thinking that Akhenaten was born with some otherworldly wisdom. Even in secular subjects, he quickly mastered the skills of reading, writing, and algebra. I said to Queen Tiye, “His abilities are so extraordinary that he is beginning to intimidate his master.”
I looked forward to lessons with him and wondered what his mind would produce when he reigned over the empire of his forefathers. I was certain that the greatness of his empire would surpass that of his father's.
Amenhotep III was a great and powerful ruler. He was merciless with his enemies and those who disobeyed him. In peaceful times he indulged himself with women, food, and wine. He became so thoroughly consumed by those pleasures that he soon fell victim to all kinds of ailments, and spent his last days in agony, suffering excruciating pains. As for Queen Tiye, she came from an honorable Nubian family. She proved to be a woman of such power and wisdom that she outshone even Queen Hatshepsut. Because of the death of her eldest son and her husband's infidelity she became very attached to the young Amenhotep. It was as if she were his mother, his lover, and his teacher. She was so passionate about politics that she sacrificed her feminine heart to nourish her ambition for power. The priests falsely accused her of being responsible for her son's perversity. The truth is that she wanted him to be abreast of all religions. Perhaps she wanted Aten to replace Amun and become the deity to whom all others owed allegiance, for Aten was the sun god who breathed life everywhere. His subjects were united by faith and not merely by force. She hoped to use religion as a political instrument that could bring about the unity of Egypt. It was not her intention that her son believe in the religion and not the politics, but Akhenaten refused to put religion in the service of anything. The mother had contrived a clever political scheme, but the son believed in the means, not the end. He devoted himself to his religious calling, jeopardizing the country, the empire, and the throne.
Ay remained silent for a while. He tightened the sash around his shoulders. His face looked rather small under the thick wig. When some time had passed in silence, he continued.
I am still amazed at the young boy's intelligence. It was as if he had been born with the mind of a high priest. I often caught myself arguing with him as though he were my equal. By the time he was ten, his mind was like a hot spring, sparkling with ideas. His weak body harbored such a strong will and perseverance that I took him as living proof that the human spirit could be stronger than the most exercised muscles. He was so devoted to his religious instruction that he spent no time preparing himself for the throne. He would not accept any idea without questioning and argument, and he never hesitated to express his doubts about many of our traditional teachings. I was taken aback when, one time, he said, “Thebes! A holy city! Isn't that what they claim? Thebes, Master, is nothing but a den of rapacious merchants, debauchery, and fornication. Who are those great priests? They delude people with superstition, and take from the poor what little they have. They seduce women in the name of the deities. Their temple has become a house of harlotry and sin. Accursed Thebes.”
I was greatly concerned when I heard him speak these words. I could see accusing fingers pointed at me, his teacher.
“Those priests are the foundation of the throne,” I replied.
“Then the throne is built on lies and dissolution.”
“Their power is no less than that of an army,” I warned him.
“Bandits and thugs are powerful, too.”
It was clear from the very beginning that he disliked Amun, who reigned in the holy of holies. He favored Aten, whose light shone throughout the world.
“Amun is the god of priests, but Aten is God of heaven and earth.”
“You should be loyal to all deities.”
“Should I not trust my heart to show me the difference between right and wrong?” he asked.
“One day you will be crowned in the temple of Amun,” I said in an attempt to persuade him.
He spread his slender arms and said, “I would rather be crowned in the open air, under the light of the sun.”
“Amun is the deity that empowered your ancestors and gave them victory over their enemies.”
He remained quiet, thinking, then said, “I cannot understand how a god could allow anyone to massacre his own creation.”
I grew more worried but continued my efforts to dissuade him. “But we, the subjects of Amun, cannot always understand his holy wisdom.”