The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

Following the parades and ceremonies, Pharaoh Akhenaten took his little daughter, who was not yet two years old and walked in baby steps, to the temple of Aten. He let the princess stand next to the Babylonian ambassador in the temple, and the priests broke a jar between them as is the custom. This was a great moment for it confirmed the friendship between Babylon and Egypt and removed many frightening future shadows. At least we thought it would remove shadows — we who regarded ourselves as knowledgeable and well-versed in international affairs through wise conversations. Had we held any suspicions, would the sour expressions on the faces of Aziru’s envoy and the representative of the land of Hatti have removed them and strengthened our joy. No one wanted to harbour suspicions that day, for we believed what we wished for.

The Babylonian ambassador bowed deeply and raised his arms before the little princess since, from that moment on, the princess was now a royal consort of Burnaburiash, his master, though she was only a small child. Having thus bowed before the princess in the Egyptian way, he also bowed in the Babylonian way by touching his forehead and chest with his hand. I have to say that the little princess behaved very well throughout the ceremony, and when it was finished, she bent and picked a jar shard from the carpet to her little hand and watched it curiously. Those present saw this as a good omen.

After the holy ceremony, strong emotion overpowered Pharaoh Akhenaten’s mind for he loved his little daughters, and he was blinded by the glitter and wealth of his own power so that he ever stronger believed in his visions. Therefore he spoke in the temple of Aten to foreign ambassadors, to Egyptian nobles and to wretched soldiers standing guard against the festival plan — and he spoke from the bottom of his heart, and the grey weariness and pain of his face disappeared, and blood rushed to his head. He spoke in a high voice praising Aten and said how he saw that day as a flaming sunrise above the world — a sunrise after the long night of ignorance, superstition, fear, hate and war. He dedicated all Egypt’s power and wealth to the service of Aten and urged foreign envoys to take the message to their own countries and before their own Kings so that light would remove

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darkness from their minds. He spoke so much and so beautifully that the Egyptian nobles started moving their feet awkwardly, and the foreign envoys did not dare look each other in the eye since everyone thought he was mad, due to his behaviour that was against good custom, and due to his excitement that was unbecoming to Pharaoh’s dignity, and also due to his words that were nothing but a violent burst of madness in their ears.

But while Pharaoh Akhenaten spoke in the temple, bitterness occupied my mind; and I felt my hands and knees that boiling pitch had burnt in front of the walls of Gaza, and the wounds had yet to heal. I thought it was easy for Pharaoh Akhenaten to talk for he did not need to smell the reek of corpses in front of the walls of Gaza nor hear the cries of tormented women in the woollen tents of the men of Amurru. It was easy for him to talk for he lived in a lie and only smelled the good fragrances of Akhetaten, and from dawn till dusk the priests’ songs praising Aten sang in his ears. It was easy for him to talk for golden sand in plaited baskets was before him and ostrich feathers were waved before him while the emaciated people ate spotty grains and children died from typhus and gripes. Thus while Pharaoh Akhenaten spoke, Akhetaten’s spell died within my eyes, and I did not wish him well any more — and the glory and wealth of Egypt around him wasn’t in my eyes the light of sunrise but the glow of sunset, stronger than the glow of burning fires; for when the sun sets behind the western mountains before the dark, it spreads a stronger glow over the world than at sunrise, but this glow is frightening and full of blood and death.

While Pharaoh Akhenaten spoke, I studied his faithful with cold eyes, and they listened to him with their mouths open, and blood rushed also to their heads, and they believed his words. But Queen Nefertiti, her cheeks narrower, looked at him, and her gaze was sharper than a knife, and the bitterness in her eyes was colder than death. She had hoped to crown the thirty-year festival by finally bearing a son to Pharaoh, but she had only given birth to her fifth daughter, and this had muddled her mind so that bitterness had conquered love in her heart, and she became cold to Pharaoh and blamed him for everything like women do. From then on, they started arguing and often exchanged violent and pungent words so that the artists of the new art, who loved the truth, pictured them with arrows flying between them, thus trying to playfully mediate their quarrels without understanding how deep Queen Nefertiti’s bitterness had corroded in her.

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