Akhenaten stood in the entranceway of the Tabernacle, a baying crowd of priests before him, and pondered his next move. There was so much to do and so very little time. Smenkhkare was still in an exalted position, and he knew he needed to find a way of undoing it.
Invoking ancient rules regarding the plotting of his followers in their attempt to dethrone him had led to the execution of the leaders of each of the groups that made up his flock. It was clear some were not involved, but that did not matter. Killing them publicly reinforced his power. Besides, as he explained to the masses at length, not to protect their leader was to be against him. However, it was still painfully clear that the powerbase in the camp had not really changed. The people still followed their traditional leadership, and not he.
As he watched the swathe of priests bow and chant, a new plan began to form. Perhaps the staves of Iunu, the ones recovered by Yehoshua could be used to coerce the younger priests into following him unquestionably. He cracked a warped grin as he thought. He would use man’s inherent greed against itself.
“Children of Israel.” said Akhenaten, his voice carried far on the morning breeze. “Your God has spoken to me and urged me to release my brother so he might continue his works amongst you.” At his proclamation, the crowd roared their approval and cheers went up to Israel. “He also decreed there will be twelve great tribes of Israel formed. Each leader will receive one of the staves of Israel as a symbol of his power over his people. Israel has said that any man can put himself forward for acceptance as a leader, and age shall not be a consideration in the choosing. Thus is the will of Israel, and thus it shall be done. I shall be here, at the entrance to the Holy of Holies to hear the petitions of those who deem themselves worthy tomorrow morning.”
A deathly silence descended over the crowd punctuated only by light whispers and shocked awe. Over the silence, to the right of the crowd, a voice came calling out for people to separate. As the group of guards moved through the crowds, it was clear they were dragging someone with them.
“This man was found on the edge of our camp.” said one of the guards, as he threw Badai to the ground at Akhenaten’s feet. “He seemed to be collecting sticks and walking with his herd. However, his intention was actually to ask about the Tabernacle and the priests of Akkad.”
Akhenaten glared at Badai, who looked back at him through tearful eyes.
“I am but a simple goat herder.” Badai said, fearing the worst. “I meant no disrespect. I have not seen so grand a tent in all my travels. I only wanted…”
“Silence!” Akhenaten said, drawing the attention of the crowd as he turned and smiled at Smenkhkare. “This man has been found walking the edge of our camp on the Sabbath. My guards say he was working; herding his flock and collecting sticks for a fire. What does Israel say about working on the Sabbath?” The crowd was silent, a murmur of apprehension transmitting through its core. “I ask again, and all those who fail to respond shall not be considered for leader of the tribes. What does Israel say about working on the Sabbath?”
“He says it is not permitted by law.” said a young priest, at the front of the crowd. “That we must respect the Sabbath and keep it holy for our generations. That we may only use the time he has spared us from our labours to rejoice in his love. To act as he did when he created the heavens and earth.”
Akhenaten had found his first, true ally. “You are wise, young man. What is your name, priest?”
“Gal’math, son of Jacob.” said the priest, backing off slightly as Akhenaten approached.
“Hear me, Children of Israel!” said Akhenaten, raising his hands. “The first of your new leaders has been chosen. From now on, Gal’math shall be known as Ra’a Ben, son of Jacob, leader of the house of Reu’Ben!” The crowd cheered as Akhenaten turned back to the man and kissed him on both cheeks; a sign of respect far beyond a bow. “And Ra’a Ben, son of Jacob, what is the punishment demanded by Israel for none conformance with his law on the Sabbath?”
“It is death by stoning.” said the priest, a sudden hatred welling in his eyes.
“No!” said Badai, holding up a hand. “You cannot! I do not know of your laws. I know not of this Israel, or of the rule of the Sabbath of which you speak. Surely you can see I am innocent!”
“No one is innocent who is ignorant of the laws of Israel!” shouted Akhenaten. “All those who oppose Israel, or do not conform to his laws shall be destroyed! For, is it not written that Israel is a mighty God, and a jealous God? A God of war!”
The crowd began to cheer and chant for Israel, a sickening bloodlust descending where once was only the request for pardon of a spiritual leader.
Badai shuffled across the ground unsure of what to do, as the priests began to pick up stones from around their feet. “Help me, please!” he said, turning to Smenkhkare. “I do not deserve to die for collecting firewood. I am not of your kin, it is a misunderstanding. There was no way I could have known I was breaking your laws. Please, I beseech you, have mercy upon me. Surely your God is merciful.”
Smenkhkare looked at Yehoshua who tapped the knife on his belt to reinforce the penalty for speaking up. He turned back to Badai, as stones began to be thrown, a stray tear trickling from his eye as he watched the crowd mete out their vile fury.
The priests, a few hundred strong, stoned Badai to death far quicker than smaller groups would have, but it was still a cruel end.
At first Badai tried to curl into a ball, but as the rocks increased in size and smaller bones began to crack with the impacts, his resistance began to wane. Soon, stones were crashing into his skull, each one opening greater and greater wounds in the soft flesh of his scalp, and slowly pulverising it.
Such was the ferocity of the assault, the crowd continued to stone Badai’s corpse well after he drew his last breath. By the time the last rock was thrown, there was little left other than a sopping mass of twisted flesh. Once done, the fever of the crowd dissipated, its lust sated, and the priests dispersed back into the camp.
Akhenaten strode up to the entrance to the Tabernacle, his pride in his accomplishments evident for all to see, and appraised Smenkhkare’s tear-laden face. “What happened to you, my brother? You should have been on your path to Godhood with me and yet here you are, crying for a man you have never known. It belittles our heritage to see you so.”
“I do not cry for this man.” said Smenkhkare, defiantly raising his head and calming his voice. “I cry for my brother, who has chased immortality so long he has forgotten what it is to be alive.”
Akhenaten snarled, his tolerance for Smenkhkare’s thoughts at an end. “Be gone from my sight! Be grateful I am still benevolent enough to have spared your life. Enjoy your remaining time on this firmament. Your protection will soon be as imagined as your morality.”
Yehoshua shoved Smenkhkare from the entrance and he stumbled forward into the dirt.
“Make sure you have someone watch him at all times, Yehoshua.” said Akhenaten. “I want to know what it is he plans to do next and who he has perverted to his cause.”
Yehoshua bowed to his master and dragged Smenkhkare off to organise the details of the watch.
“Do you want me to include any of this in our story?” asked Michaenas.
“Of course!” said Akhenaten, triumphantly. “The people who read this story should know of the consequences of not abiding by the laws of Israel and the gifts bestowed upon those who do. It is important our faithful both fear and revere their God. Without reverence, we do not struggle to better ourselves for our masters, and without fear, we are prone to straying from their wishes. It is a good story, one that teaches us about our God and how best we can serve him.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Akhenaten went to move, his feet sinking deep into the fetid slush of blood and sand around Badai’s body. With the ceremony he was planning yet to come, some measure of orderliness needed maintaining. “You should organise for the corpse of this heathen to be burnt. I do not want to see the body or any si
gn of what occurred here when the new leaders arrive tomorrow morning.”
“Your will be done, my lord.”
Akhenaten watched Michaenas retire to his tent, to make the latest amendments to his work. He was not as skilled in storytelling as Hur and the story since the events at the mount suffered because of it. However, he was sure no one would notice the change in author, as enraptured as they would be in the worship of its words.
As soon as he selected the twelve leaders, he would allow the priests to organise watches and ceremonies, performed in the copy’s presence. He may then have the priest’s full support, and thus the adoration of his entire army.
It was early the next morning when Akhenaten received news of the attack during the night. He listened intently, as Michaenas relayed the assault of the Amalekites upon the outer edge of the encampment. Just as he predicted, they attacked their weakest area; the ostracised region belonging to what remained of the Akkadian priests and those loyal to them. He laughed, as Michaenas recounted the eradication of almost all of the remaining Akkadian men.
The ceremony that followed passed without incident. Akhenaten chose the men who would become the leaders of the tribes, one from each of the major areas from which his makeshift alliance came, and every one given a ceremonial stave. He allowed them and their chosen priests to enter the Tabernacle, to see the copy of Ark, making Michaenas go through the laws that Hur committed to writing regarding its worship. Finally, he gathered all the new leaders and their head priests together in the clearing outside the majestic tent.
As Akhenaten looked out over the assembly, he felt sure the war for the hearts of his people was finally over. He could tell from the doting looks on their faces that this group of men would not be as prone to questioning his wishes as the others. He felt certain these men would defeat the last of the sons of Amalek and gather their stashes of Havilah gold. All too soon, it would be time to attempt the transference again.
Before Akhenaten could begin his well-prepared speech, cries of distress began to rise in the distance. Just on the outer edges of his vision, he caught the form of Miriamne. She was charging up through the camp at the head of a throng of armed men, slaughtering all who stood in her way.
“Go, my chosen!” Akhenaten said, gesturing to his assembly. “Get your servants and fight for your God! We are beset by the unfaithful and must defend our sacred ground!”
As the men scattered to get help, Akhenaten slowly removed the staff from his belt, its power almost spent. He knew in the battle to come that he must rely upon the abilities of uraeus much more.
The uraeus was a strange item. It almost spoke to its master when activated, clasping at the fringes of consciousness, and longing to be understood. When its power was unleashed, it was as if something was slowly draining from its wielder. In its place, a sickening chill taking hold.
Akhenaten curled his fingers around the objects, feeling their power surge through him. As he looked out at the battle drawing ever closer to his position, he knew only one thing: The final rebellion of his people had begun.
Chapter 44