Akhenaten lounged in his tent, erected a safe distance from the unfolding carnage in the low foothills of his land’s eastern border, and watched as the Great City burned. He felt no pity for the maggots infesting it. Hopefully, the priests of Iunu and Ra were caught by surprise, allowing his warriors to be successful in their task.
Akhenaten could feel the weight of expectation and destiny bearing down on him, but he would not buckle. He knew by the time the last fingers of morning sunlight traced their way across the sands toward him, he would know of the success or failure of his plan.
Smenkhkare worked on the Ark in the quiet of the tent, making meticulous copies of the symbols that ran in lines down its sides. He asked if it would be possible to get a scribe to do this work, but Akhenaten rejected the suggestion as preposterous. He would not allow anyone but Smenkhkare and his sons to view it.
Akhenaten knew the Ark was a storage vessel for the artefacts of the First Time. After reading the Zep-Tepi texts, he discovered it was only a threat to anyone when used to imbue the artefacts with the power of the Aten. At those times, when the angels adorning its lid were consuming the Havilah gold, the Ark became a frightening object. It glowed with the brilliance of the midday sun, emitting fierce warmth, which scorched any rug on which it sat. People who mistakenly came too close to the Ark when it was working, bursting out into boils and rashes. Were it not for the vestments the documents of the Zep-Tepi instructed must be worn, he was sure he and his brother would long since have suffered the same injuries.
Even though Akhenaten read everything his grandfather discovered when he freed the Great Protector and claimed his place amongst the Gods, he still could not say he was sure how the artefacts worked. That was why, once they collected as much of the good gold as they could they would be making their way to Sinai.
The mountain that lay on the eastern end of the jewel mines of the Pharaohs was indeed a great mountain. Legends told it was atop that very mount Asar stood as the deluge raged all around.
Akhenaten read every version of the story, looking for clues about the Zep-Tepi. He was certain what was written on the Ark was the true story of the destruction of the early world. He wondered if it would match what he was taught as a boy.
In Akhenaten’s version, the Gods decided the people of the world were too powerful and rebellious. The father God, Atum-Ra, said he would destroy the world and return the lands to the primordial waters from which they were created. Asar and Isis watched the deluge from the mount at Sinai, and fearing Atum-Ra would destroy the people they loved, intervened on their behalf. Asar turned himself into a great serpent and carried a man and a woman back to the mount, allowing them to feed from the Tree of Life so they might live long and preserve humankind for all eternity.
Soon they would make their way to the temple their grandfather rebuilt and see if the strange symbols on its walls were indeed the same as those on the Ark.
“My lords!” a man shouted, from just outside the tent. “I bring word from Yehoshua.”
Akhenaten turned to see a slight, Nubian servant stood in the entrance.
“Yehoshua’s forward scouts report that all is well and minimal resistance was met within the cities.”
“This is excellent news!” said Akhenaten, happy his most faithful servant had not fallen in the attempt.
“Yehoshua does warn, however,” continued the servant, lowering his voice, “that we must ready to leave. The priests of Iunu have rallied their forces and have sent for reinforcements from the lands near the river ports of the north. Yehoshua says they will not be more than a day or two behind us.”
That was not good. Akhenaten’s main fighting force was out gathering gold, leaving him with only farmers and priests in his retinue. An army organised by the followers of Ra would crush them without trouble.
“We should make haste to the mount. We need every moment at our disposal to ensure we can complete the work there.” said Smenkhkare, his voice edged with panic.
“Prepare to leave this place as quickly as we can.” said Akhenaten, maintaining his calm. “Ensure our tent is the last be dismantled and I will speak with the priests to make sure they are ready for their duties.”
“I think it would be better that I discussed your wishes with the priests, my brother.” said Smenkhkare, bowing his head.
“Why would you say this? Why do you move to block me from speaking to our followers?” said Akhenaten, bemused by his brother’s words.
“I meant no insult, my brother. The opposite should be taken as truth. The men are not as astute as you are. They do not understand the power of your words. I am a simpler man; I can lower my language to their level.”
“Can they really not understand me?” Akhenaten asked.
“It is childish, but they fear your greatness. They see your full face and lips, and they are envious. I did not realise it was important for you to speak with them directly. I will tell them to heed your words, my brother. You should not have to be quiet, when…”
“Do not bother yourself.” Akhenaten said, with a dismissive wave of his slender hand. He had heard enough. “I do not want to waste my time explaining my mind to these insects. I have greater things to worry about. I am happy for you to do all the talking from now on, my brother. Think nothing more of it.”
“As you wish.” said Smenkhkare, leaving the tent.
Akhenaten knew his brother was obedient. Even as a child, he protected him from his other siblings, who teased him incessantly about his proud features. His brother was a valuable ally, one that made his early childhood tolerable. That was why he allowed him to live.
As soon as Akhenaten’s mother died and his father began his preparations for the afterlife, Akhenaten ensured his other siblings were systematically eliminated. It was far easier than he could have imagined. After he killed for the first time, it became easier and easier to kill again. In fact, he now derived some pleasure from the act. Killing someone was the ultimate display of your power over their life, and controlling the time and manner of their death the ultimate power over their soul.
Akhenaten remembered the day well, when he finally made his move and killed his brother, the prince Thutmose. The funeral of Smenkhkare’s mother, the beautiful Princess Sitamen, took place with all the lavish finery expected of her status. The funeral procession, now horribly depleted by Akhenaten’s actions, made its way from the grand valley to the Great City, there to begin the three days mourning traditional. After which, the princess’ soul would be lifted up into the heavens and begin its eternal rest with the Gods.
Thutmose was the eldest son and would be the next in line to lead the people after his father’s death. Akhenaten could not allow that to happen. However, stopping his brother proved difficult.
Thutmose was the head priest of Ptah from Iunu. Constantly watched and protected by his priestly staff, Akhenaten could only be near Thutmose under the supervision of his many attendants. The funeral of Smenkhkare’s mother however, provided just the opportunity needed.
With his retinue back in Iunu completing the rituals of passing from the book of the dead, Thutmose was finally vulnerable.
It was easy for Akhenaten to slip unnoticed into his brother’s chamber. It was even easier to pour the poison into his mouth as he slept and watch as he slowly drifted away. His first great mission was complete.
The next morning, the servants at the palace found Thutmose’s body, but the poison was unnoticeable. Even that detestable leech The Seer could find no reason for the death.
Akhenaten’s father said his brother died of a broken heart. That could well have been the truth. With his brother’s premature death, the last obstacle to him seizing power was finally removed.
Akhenaten hoped Smenkhkare was telling him the truth about the priests being afraid of how he looked. It would be a shame to have to kill his brother before his work was done.
Before long, the troop of priests and attendants were ready to leave their camp. Akhenaten knew the
journey eastward to the El-Khadim temple would take several days and rapid progress was required. It would take time for word of his treachery to reach the fortifications on the outskirts of his lands and this would ensure they encountered as little resistance as possible as they travelled. During his reign, he systematically drained the garrisons along their route of resources and supplies to ensure any force met during their great migration would be no match for them.
The route planned was a difficult one. They could not go by way of the sea of red to the south, as there were simply too many of them and too few boats capable of traversing it. Therefore, they could also not travel by way of the bitter lakes of the north. The only way that provided fast passage was the marshlands that lay between the two stretches of water.
The marshes were flat and tranquil, and the vast reed-lined banks looked fertile and appealing from distance. However, they harboured a deadly secret. The marshlands sat on sands that shifted so quickly, they caught out even the hardiest of travellers. Many times, caravans travelling from the far borders of their empire disappeared, lost to its tidal floods or invisible sinkholes.
As the convoy of men and beasts travelled eastward, the carriage of the Ark glowed brilliantly, pillars of fire and smoke intermittently flaring from its roof.
Akhenaten knew all too well what was happening. Smenkhkare was imbuing the artefacts. Yet, to the people who followed them it was a sign from Israel. It was a sign to follow the Ark wherever it took them.
During the day, the priests talked about the smoke being a sign from Israel to aid them in their journey and by night, those same priests said the fires were there to light their way.
Akhenaten thought of the priests as the most knowledgeable of all the men at his disposal, but he was beginning to change that opinion. He thought it strange they needed to ascribe any relationship between the smoke and the fire to divine leadership. He found it even stranger they were so desperate to write everything down, to keep for eternity the story of their escape. It appeared they were just as confused as the other people of his lands, lost in a vain attempt to make order from the chaos raging around them.
Akhenaten was once the same, adrift in his desperate battle with mortality. He always clung to the hope the sacred texts were the way to divinity. He now knew, after he and his brother finished the works of his grandfather, the sacred texts were not the way to eternal redemption. After years of painstaking study, he learnt of the real reason for the locations of the sacred mounds, and about the First Time. He was sure that at the end of his journey, he would finally find the key to unlocking the real gift of the Gods, control of the Tree of Life itself.
As dusk fell on their second day of travel, the massed ranks of men found themselves within viewing distance of the marshes. It did not take long to erect Akhenaten’s massive tent, and soon he and Smenkhkare were alone within its sheltered confines; an array of sweetbreads, honey, and wine laid out for their indulgence.
“Have you completed your work?” Akhenaten asked, as Smenkhkare poured them both a hearty amount of wine.
“I do not know how much of the Gods power has been stored within the artefacts. The last of the gold was not as pure as it should have been. There is still some left, but for the good it will do the artefacts, we may as well keep it to use as signs for our followers during our travels.” said Smenkhkare, apologetically.
“And we have no more?”
“Not until Yehoshua arrives.”
That was not the news Akhenaten was looking for. He knew that if the army of the priests of Ra caught up with them, only the power of the artefacts could hope to save him. For the time being, he would have to pray that day never came.
“Has there been any news from our scouts?” Akhenaten asked, changing the topic to something more palatable.
“None. Michaenas is not hopeful of their return.”
More bad news. Things were not going how he needed. “Without our scouts and without Yehoshua we are vulnerable to attack.” he said, irritated. “We have to make the crossing as soon as we can. I have finished charting the stars, and now know the tides for our crossing. The waters will be at their lowest soon, but will not expose the land fully until just after dawn. We may have to make our way by nightfall.”
“We should not take this risk, my brother. If we fall to the tides or to the trap sands then we lose everything. We should allow Michaenas to send out his men and find the scouts. We have to be careful now. We can push on once we are in sight of the mountain of the Gods if we must.”
Akhenaten appraised Smenkhkare. This was the second time he opposed his plans. Could it be Smenkhkare was turning against him? He was unsure, but while there was still some reason in his brother’s thoughts, he would listen to his council. “We cannot allow the artefacts to fall back into the hands of the ignorant. Not now we are so close. Have the men continually walk the edge of the camp. If they see any sign of trouble then we and the priests will leave immediately.”
“As you wish. I will inform the priests to arrange the watch.”
As Smenkhkare left the tent, Akhenaten made his way to his sleeping mat. Hoping that tomorrow would be a better day than today, he sunk into the soft, down covers and slept a deep and trouble free sleep.
Chapter 25