Naguib Mahfouz - Akhenaten - Dweller in Truth

“It is but a gift from God, bestowed upon his servant,” I replied, anticipating what he was about to request.

“The situation demands a change in policy,” he started.

I replied firmly, “Heed only the voice of God.”

He frowned. “I hoped we might have a reasonable discussion.”

“Only true believers are capable of a reasonable discussion,” I replied.

When I learned about the men's decision to abandon the king under the pretense of protecting his life, I said to Ay, “I cannot accept a return to heathen ways.”

My King refused to compromise. It is not that he did not care about the welfare of the country, for he, too, had his plan to avoid civil war. He had intended to confront his people and the rebels alone. He was confident that he had the ability to guide them afresh to the faith. But by then, the men were convinced that he was going to be killed, and that if they did not leave they would soon pay the price with their own lives. Everyone deserted him. Armed soldiers came to take me. The guards who were left with Akhenaten were ordered to stop him if he attempted to venture out of his palace. Thus they prevented him from confronting people. He became a prisoner in his palace. Even Nefertiti left him. I cannot imagine that she left him willingly; she, too, I should think, was carried away by force. He was filled with grief for the faith that he had spent his life trying to plant in people's hearts. Then we received news that he was ill, and shortly after, he died. Actually, I doubt that his death was caused by illness. I believe that the foul hands of the priests of Amun had finally found their way into his pure, precious soul. He died without knowing that I never wanted to leave his side.

Once more Meri-Ra was silent. He gazed at me for a long time, then he said, “Akhenaten did not and will not die. For he has found the eternal truth. The day will come when he will be victorious. He heard the voice of God promise that He would never forsake him.”

Meri-Ra reached over to open a drawer beside him. He produced a scroll of papyrus and handed it to me. “This is a record of all his religious teachings and his songs,” he said. “Study it, young man. Perhaps your truth-loving heart will find some solace in his words. You did not start this journey for no reason.”

I went to meet Mae in Rano Kolboura on the border where he lived in a tent among his Border Army soldiers. During Akhenaten's time he had been commander of the armed forces, and had deservedly maintained his position in the new era. He was an older man, of giant stature and solemn features. He struck me as rather vain. He read my father's letter and appeared keen to talk. I suppose I had provided him with a chance to vent his feelings, isolated as he was in this remote place.

The heretic! A vile, low-born man who humbled the strongest of men by his perversity. The drums of war were silenced, the flags of glory lowered; the sound of music ascended from the throne of the pharaohs. I, commander of armed forces, was forced to remain idle as the empire was torn to pieces and gradually fell into the hands of the enemies and the rebels. When our faithful friends and allies cried for help, I could not aid them and their cries vanished into thin air. Because of Akhenaten we lost our military honor. We became an object of derision, and an easy prey for bandits.

Fortunately, I was never one of his close friends. But duty required that I go to Akhetaten occasionally. On every visit I wondered how such a distorted creature was able to deceive men like Ay, Haremhab, and Nakht. I have always been loyal to the gods and traditions of my country, and was extremely angry the day I heard about his alleged new god. When Akhenaten ordered the closing of the temples I was certain that a terrible curse would befall us all. During a visit to Thebes the high priest came to see me in my palace one night.

“I hope that I am not embarrassing you with this visit,” he said.

“It is an honor and my palace is at your command.” He seemed astonished at my openness.

He thanked me then said, “You are redeemed, Mae. People have lost their solace. They used to take refuge in their gods, made them offerings and received their blessings. In times of trouble they hurried to the priests for guidance in life and the hereafter. Poor souls, look at them now, lost like stray sheep.”

“What good is complaining?” I asked irritably. “Is it not our duty to rid the country of his madness?”

“If we do as you advise, we shall face a crushing war,” he replied after a moment's thought.

“Is there no solution then?”

“To convince the men closest to him.”

“A far-fetched hope.”

“We must not resort to the desperate measures you propose before we exhaust all other options.”

“I can promise you the support of the armed forces when you need it,” I said.

Winning over the men in Akhenaten's chamber, however, would have required more time than we had. Civil war had already begun to threaten the country. Nothing could be done but to salvage what remained beneath the ruins.

People asked themselves why the sweet dream had turned into a nightmare. I believe that a tragedy was bound to happen, and that its secret lay in the weakness of the heretic, his weakness of mind and body. His mother spoiled him and sheltered him from the reality of his sickness. Consequently he was excruciatingly jealous when he compared himself with his more distinguished peers, like Haremhab, Nakht, and Bek. The contrast was demeaning. He concealed his shame behind a curtain of feminine meekness and sweetness, and secretly nurtured a desire to destroy every single strong figure, be it god or priest, so that he could be the sole power. Some of the men recognized his weakness of spirit, and found in it a stepping stone to their ambitions. They were quick to join his religion, not out of fear of his power or faith in his religion, not out of fear of his power or faith in his god, but out of greed. His weakness was an invitation to the greedy and the ill-willed. They sang with him in the temple, then turned around and stripped the poor of what little they had. When the people began to rebel, he sent them messages of love instead of the army. At last, when death threatened them, they abandoned him and joined forces with his enemies, loaded with loot. That is why when the high priest of Amun wanted to negotiate, I protested.

“You must not warn them,” I said. “Do not go to Akhetaten. Let me and my forces take them by surprise and destroy them, so that justice will be done.”

Toto supported me enthusiastically, but the high priest opted for peaceful negotiations and ruled against any bloodshed. “Our losses are already insurmountable,” he said. “We do not want other complications.”

I understood the priest's misgivings. He feared that if he gave me permission to attack and I was triumphant, I would hoard the merit of saving the country, and thus have a strong claim to the throne. The high priest would then be faced with a powerful king, and would be unable to act outside the boundaries I set for him. Because of this, he decided to entrust the throne to the young Tutankhamun. Now they all circle like vultures around the throne-the high priest, Ay, and Haremhab. Nevertheless, Egypt is far better off today than it was during the heretic's reign. Akhenaten was left to die, bitter and alone. As for Nefertiti, she awaits her final day among the ruins of the heathen city.