Ramesses
I have never known him to be so intent, so silent, so secretive about his plans, his purposes, his feelings. Always up to now Horemheb, my dearest friend and most trusted comrade in arms, has confided all to me, things he would never confide even to Sitamon, to whom he has been husband in all but name these many years. I have known him myself for thirty years, ever since the day of Akhenaten’s birth when I brought to Thebes the news of the murder by the priests of Amon of his older brother, who was the then Crown Prince Tuthmose V. We were young scribes together, young soldiers together, traveled the length of Kemet and from there north to Mittani and Naharin, south to Nubia and wretched Kush, in the service of His late Majesty Amonhotep III (life, health, prosperity!). In the past fifteen years we have faithfully served (though with many profound misgivings which we have expressed only to one another) Nefer-Kheperu-Ra Akhenaten. Horemheb has been a part of my family, he is godfather to my son Seti, who now stands tall and sturdy beside us, ready for whatever the future may bring. He and I might be brothers, even twins, so closely have our lives, our thoughts, our hearts run together: and even I do not know what inner pressures move him now.
I do know that something must be done. I say this bluntly and without embellishment, for I am not a clever man, I admit it. I am simply a fair scribe and a very good soldier who does not concern himself overmuch with policy. But policy is everyone’s concern now. Nefer-Kheperu-Ra has made it so.
The Empire is almost gone, the Two Lands slip away into chaos and confusion. Robbery and corruption, murder and mayhem fill the cities and plague the villages. The temples of the gods stand ruined and deserted; the priests who helped administer government are dispersed, dead or in hiding. Many civil officials cannot be trusted unless they are directly supervised by the army. Even in the army itself Horemheb and I must be constantly on the alert to guard against corruption and betrayal. Men look only to their own self-interest: the love of Kemet wanes because the heart of Kemet no longer beats. Akhenaten is the heart, and he is no longer interested in Kemet. Sad days haunt the kingdom because of this.
Horemheb and I do what we can. Together with Horemheb’s half brother, the Vizier Nakht-Min, we strive to keep all on even keel while Akhenaten lives in his dream of the Aten and Ankh-Kheperu-Ra Smenkhkara plays at directing the government—an easygoing, empty-headed boy of twenty, for such a task! It would make one laugh aloud were it not so tragic. But what to do about it? There we are frustrated and do not know.
I know there are some who whisper that there are plots within the Family against the two Pharaohs, that the Great Wife, the Councilor and Divine Father-in-law Aye, Horemheb, even Nefertiti, may be planning some action looking toward their removal. I do not believe it, for how can it be done? They are the Sons of the Sun. It would violate the eternal laws of Kemet. It would desolate the very ka and ba, the very soul and essence of the country would be destroyed by it. I, a simple soldier, would go mad with the rending of the world. So would most of our five millions of people. We would be lost and wandering in the eternal darkness of the universe and Ra would no more smile upon us. It could not be.
And yet—and yet … we must be relieved of this burden. Somehow the Two Lands must be restored to their glory. Somehow the people must be protected from the corrupt, the murderous, the avaricious and the hurtful. Somehow the Double Crown must regain its splendor in the hands of decent and honorable men. Somehow the gods must be restored.…
Horemheb asked me to return with him to Akhet-Aten from Memphis, where we were seeking to strengthen the hands of a few faithful servants in the northern capital. He did not tell me why, except to say, as he always does, “Because I need you with me—I must have one man I can trust at my right hand.” I do not know his plans, his purposes, his feelings: but I know, as always, that I must be here to help him in whatever he intends.
He tells me there is some argument over paintings in the tombs of Huy and Meryra. Akhenaten wants them one way, the Great Wife and Nefertiti want them another. Evidently there are deep feelings aroused in the Family about this. I sense, though he does not tell me, that Horemheb considers it to be a major issue; though being a simple soldier, I do not really see why.
I asked him as much.
“Because it is time,” he said. And that is all he would say.
I cannot believe it will change things. How could it? The Living Horus, Son of the Sun, cannot be toppled by such a paltry thing. The people would not permit it, unhappy and fearful though they have been made by the strange misrule of Nefer-Kheperu-Ra and Ankh-Kheperu-Ra. And how could any of us who love Kemet lend ourselves to so dreadful an overturn of all her traditions that hold us together?
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