us, still half asleep, and Khety and I carried the younger ones on our shoulders, lolling in and out of their sweet, strange dreams. Akhenaten shuffled along looking down at the dark, arid ground. Ay’s guardsmen followed behind us at a little distance.
Nefertiti chose to return to the North Palace, the family’s countryside retreat set apart from the rest of the city and its suburbs. It was not well fortified, and it lacked a resident barracks, so the security would be weak. But she said she had her reasons, and besides, its isolation was an advantage. Then Meretaten and Meketaten chimed in, suddenly awake, insisting also on the North Palace so that they could visit their pet gazelles.
From a distance, all that could be seen of the palace was an endless high mud-brick wall which seemed to enclose a vast area of land running down to the bank of the Great River. There were no windows in the walls, and when we arrived we found the solid timber gates shut tight. I knocked as loudly as I dared. The sound seemed to travel far and unnaturally loud in the pre-dawn quiet. Eventually I heard a rattling and a groan, and then the small gate window opened. An old man blinked cautiously, then, recognizing the early callers standing in their dusty royal robes with a start of wonder and awe, began praying loudly. There was more fear than reverence in his eyes. I had no patience for this, and thumped on the heavy doors until he opened them. He prostrated himself and continued praying, so we stepped over him and moved into the palace precinct. He got up and followed us, telling us that the place was empty but being defended, single-handedly and with honour, by him alone. ‘I am the only one remaining here, all the others have fled, but I knew, I
Sand had piled up against the walls in the courtyard, and all the internal doors and windows remained shuttered. The Queen walked ahead, opening doors and passing through columned reception halls, deserted and echoing. Khety and I kept ourselves alert, for I could not be certain there were no hostile forces here, perhaps Horemheb’s. But we found no trace of anyone.
Ay’s guards had stayed at the gates, so Khety and I stood guard in the main courtyard while Nefertiti took the children into their chambers to rest and prepare themselves for the coming day. Akhenaten sullenly followed them. We observed the last stars retiring, and soon dawn’s high blue light began to fill the dome of the sky. Slowly the moon sank into the Otherworld. Dogs barked across the landscape, and the ceaseless chatter of the birds in the riverside trees began. Life was reasserting itself.
Then Akhenaten appeared at the door. He looked at his god, the Aten, now a sliver of red, as it appeared just at the rim of the eastern cliffs. But there was no jubilation or celebration in his expression. He raised his arms in silent adoration. It looked futile and mad. We averted our eyes, as respectfully as we could, hoping not to have to emulate him.
‘Come, I wish to show you something.’
He turned and shuffled back into the dusty hallway, and I followed, leaving Khety to remain on guard. We walked for some time until eventually we came to a splendidly carved double door. He threw it open, and insisted I enter first. I found myself in a tall, square chamber. It was open to the sky, and had only three walls on which an artist had recreated a vision of the Perfect Life. Kingfishers were depicted in mid-flight, their black and white wings scissoring the still air as they dived in and out of the ringed, lucid water; or alighted, momentarily but for ever, upon the nodding heads of the great papyrus stalks twice as high as a man. And then a strange thing happened: with a brief shrill cry a shape darted, on a flash of brilliant wings, into the chamber and vanished, just as suddenly, into the wall. What had I seen? I could not believe my eyes.
Akhenaten clapped his hands and laughed with childish pleasure at my amazement. ‘Nesting boxes, hidden in the walls! You see, even birds can be fooled by the greatest art. They believe they are in a real river!’
He was delighted with this make-believe world, but for me it was proof that his perfect city of paint and mud and light and shadow was just an illusion. I had seen the wrong side of it, I had seen how it worked, and I understood above all that it was built not for beauty or even for power, but for fear.
‘This is not all, there is more,’ he said, taking me by the arm, his eyes brimming like a lonely old man in an asylum.
The chamber opened on to a secret green world: a park full of fruit trees, plants and water channels. Like the Otherworld, it seemed to have no beginning and no end. In a penned area, young gazelles waited by long, carved feeding troughs. The troughs were empty. No-one was feeding these abandoned animals now. I found a store of grain and quickly filled the troughs, although to what purpose I had no idea. Surely these beasts would not survive for much longer amid this dereliction. I watched Akhenaten stroke the feeding animals with some deep need, talking to them quietly.
We moved deeper into his green world, and with his gold staff he pointed out all the beasts and the birds, reciting their names as if he were their creator. Then, suddenly, he was furious. ‘I created this world,’ he shouted. ‘This city, this garden! And now they will destroy everything!’
I nodded. There was nothing to be said.
The sun was moving into the House of the Day. I bade him farewell. He gripped my arm, stared me in the eye, and said, ‘May you breathe the sweet wind of the north and go forth into the sky on the arms of the Living Light, the Aten, your body protected and your heart content, for ever and ever.’ It was a blessing from his heart, and I was moved, more than I expected. Then he waved me away and disappeared slowly into his green world. That was the last I ever saw of him.
43
Nefertiti rode ahead in her chariot of gold. The older princesses rode behind her in their own smaller chariots. Their red and gold scarves flared out, fluttering like rare birds in the soft morning breeze. Khety and I followed them, flanked still by Ay’s guards and their silver arrows. The day, paradoxically, was exceptionally beautiful, as if the storm had polished the natural world, restoring it to its pristine state. The waters sparkled and the birds sang. The river glittered here and there beyond the trees. But as we moved onwards through the city, the human world looked very different. Fires had destroyed sections of the suburbs, leaving charred ruins. One area of storage buildings was still ablaze. People wandered aimlessly, their faces grey with ash. Dead bodies lay untended in passageways. I saw soldiers throwing corpses on carts, one on top of the other, without care or respect.
A troop of Horemheb’s soldiers controlled access to the central city, and had set up barriers across the way. But when they saw the Queen, and Ay’s men, they stepped aside, and we passed unchallenged.
Along the Royal Road, small crowds began to accumulate. People stopped what they were doing-sweeping up debris, or tending improvised little fires around which they had gathered against the terror and darkness of the night hours-to stare blankly at the sight of the Queen in her chariot. As she passed, some rose and made profound gestures of respect and worship; others cried out in desperation, their hands clenched in supplication. She acknowledged them.
As we approached the temples of the central city we saw Horemheb’s troops in their uniforms standing guard on all corners, while others herded straggling groups of people-the uncertain remains of visiting parties from all over the Empire-from one place to another. Improvised encampments had grown up literally overnight. A well had been cleared, and long lines of people holding jugs and jars waited to receive fresh supplies. Some bread stalls were selling, no doubt at inflated prices, to orderly queues of people. Everywhere, people looked shocked and terrified, unsure about what was happening to their world, amazed and daunted by the swift changes of fortune. They stumbled about, or suddenly stopped walking, as if they had forgotten where they were going, and why.
But when they saw Nefertiti passing on her chariot, everyone’s faces lightened, as if here at last was something they could believe in; something they had lost and now found again. She slowed her chariot and acknowledged the cries and calls of support and approval as they grew. The people, forgetting their fear of the soldiers, now pushed and surged to line the sides of the Royal Road. Theirs was not the well-orchestrated and insincere enthusiasm that had greeted Akhenaten in worship; their cheers were cries from the heart. Something in the Queen’s spirit rose to meet their call. I too believed, at that moment, that she could, after all, save something from this. My spirits lightened a little. What surely lay ahead suddenly seemed less intractable.
To the overwhelming accompaniment of roars and prayers of support in a chaos of languages, and a fanfare of trumpets from the assembled troops, we turned through the gate and into the vast courtyard of the Great Palace. It had been swept and restored to order. The great stone statues of Nefertiti and Akhenaten lined the huge open
