Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) (45 page)

“I must extinguish the candles and exchange them for new ones,” I stammered. “I was on my way home to care for my ailing father when Pa-Nesy ordered me to the temple.”

“Well, it is late. The candles have been snuffed out. Lucky the request to wash these floors tonight was changed, so I am retiring early. But if you would be a good girl and change out the candles that would be one less worry for me.”

“Yes, Mistress, I would be happy to,” I said, enjoying my role as a royal attendant.

“Be quick about it. Take some of the temple offerings home to him. A loaf of bread, and some ale would do your sick father well.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said, pleased that the house attendants were kind to their subordinates.

She turned to leave, and I walked more confidently toward the temple. As I passed the outer sanctum, I thought I saw someone ahead of me, so I ducked behind a wall and peeped around the corner. My heart raced. I moved along the darkened area until I got to the inner sanctum, the quarters I had approval to enter. Crossing the threshold, I saw the distant door outlined in light, signifying that I’d followed my map correctly. The heavy electrum door was stuck. I panicked. What if they started without me? I knocked once, hoping someone would hear. The weighty door pulled back and I entered. Pa-Nesy beckoned me to follow him into the inner sanctum through the far door.

When we entered the candlelit room, I saw a circle of thirty other young men and women. Pa-Nesy guided me to my place. Scanning the chamber, I recognized the daughters and sons of the palace architects, masons, sculptors and painters. In the time it took a scarab beetle to cross the road, I realized the others were the ones Meti brought from Thebes. Intruders.

Would I have to tolerate these outsiders? I didn’t know who to ask.

Then I saw Archollos’ smug face, that Mycenaean boy. How could he possibly be invited to attend this sacred school? He couldn’t be one of us. He had no Khemitian blood coursing through his veins. Such a preposterous thought. My father wouldn’t be pleased when he discovered this error.

At that moment, the Pharaoh entered. The others stiffened and shifted their eyes to the floor. I watched as he strode with purpose across the room. He wore long flowing golden robes. Emblazoned upon his back was the Aten solar disk with outstretching golden rays of hands. On his head sat the glorious Atef crown, long and shimmering in the reflective fire of the candles. He took his position upon the raised platform, making him as intimidating as an overlord evaluating his chattel. He raised his hands.

“Greetings,” he said in his wonderful baritone. “I thank you for answering the call for the first Aten School of Mystery. This will be a most glorious opportunity to delve into the more profound learnings of the order of the universe. You will be given an education few ever receive, along with high positions in the new Temple to Aten.”

The circle of invitees gazed at him with excitement, as if their futures would be assured. Friends exchanged knowing glances mixed with hints of cockiness.

“I only wish all of you present tonight could share in this unique journey,” he said, with the edge of someone who grieved at the thought that not all of us would continue. “Look about you now, cast your eyes upon the others who came here as potential Neophytes. The first meeting is always held in secret because you must decide if this is your calling. Should you choose not to return, then no one will be the wiser.”

Each of us gazed into the eyes of those who came forth tonight. Some scrutinized the others with eyes of fear, consumed with the concern about competition to gain a spot, like Menkh, the landholder’s son. The harpist’s son wouldn’t even look upon the face of another.

But Archollos, that impudent Mycenaean baboon, stared into the eyes of each candidate. Oh, how I wished I could wipe that haughty look off his foreign face with one of our fine Khemitian towels. I glared back at the barbarian so he would know that I, Merit-Aten, First Daughter and Most Beloved of Aten, did not consent to, nor appreciate him being amongst us.

My feet burned and I let out a tiny whimper.

My father spoke again. “Fate dictates the future of each of you. Of the seeds cast upon the fertile earth, not all take root and grow. The wind sweeps some seeds away. Some seeds will be planted well, but neither water nor richness of soil will lend to fruitfulness. Some of you will grow strong, blossoming and flourishing under the loving eye of the Aten. Later you will cast your own seed out so the cycle may continue. It shall not be I, your Pharaoh, who will judge you. You alone will reveal whether you are capable of taking this journey. In the full light of the rays of the Aten, you will be deemed worthy. Return tomorrow before the noonday sun to reveal if the light will enfold you into its embrace.” He closed his eyes, put his hands together, and gave thanks before descending from the riser. That was all? Stunned, I watched as my father disappeared behind the far door. We would be judged? Did that mean that even I would be judged? I, Merit-Aten, first-born Daughter of the Sun? Impossible.

No one spoke. The silence was unnerving. The circle disbanded and all filed out of the room. Pentu emerged from the same door my father had entered, and I waved.

“Your Highness, your father would like a word with you,” he said in a solemn tone.

“Of course,” I said. “Pentu, will the others make it? Will they be asked to join the Mystery School?” I felt quite assured of my place.

“That is beyond my will, Your Highness. Only the Aten can choose.”

“Well, I know the Aten would not choose that Mycenaean boy.” Pentu didn’t answer as he guided me into my father’s private chambers. The Pharaoh sat in ethereal splendor, reciting wordless thanks to the divine One. The candlelight flickered upon his angular face, and his pillowy lips made him look as youthful as when he was enthroned on his ceremonial day. His Nemes crown accentuated his face gentled by the continual intake of Atenic radiance. I gasped, meek in the presence of the Shining One.

“Merit-Aten,” he said and opened his eyes. “Were you not invited to join the Mystery School tonight?”

“Yes, Netri, and I arrived in secrecy, just as you requested.”

“And other invitees were asked to join as well?”

“Yes, Netri, there were many others here. Some I recognized as friends, and some that were not.”

“Did each attendee receive the loving adoration of the Aten without judgment for being present within this Holy sanctuary?”

“Yes, Father, the Aten showers its love upon all of us.” I recalled the daily prayers had recited since my youth.

“My Daughter, why did you dishonor the Glory of the Aten this evening?”

I was taken aback. “Dishonor? Father, what do you mean?”

“In this most Holy and rectified sanctuary, which is purified of all profane energies, my daughter cast judgment upon the head of another. You willfully cast vile thoughts to one of my potential Neophytes. Therefore, you excreted distorted energies upon us all. You spewed irritated accusations toward others in your group in this place, the most Holy of Holies. When in the presence of the Aten, you will hereby cleanse yourself of all hurtful and hateful patterns toward another,” he commanded.

His soft tone shook the room. I trembled before him and fell to my knees.

I started to cry. “I did not mean to hurt anyone.”
How could my thoughts have betrayed me to the man I most honored and loved in the entire world?
I blushed, ashamed that he knew the harshness with which I had judged my fellow attendees.

“Merit-Aten,” his voice yielding only a bit, “I do not wish to castigate you, but, daughter or not, your behavior tonight could have caused you to be disenrolled from the Aten Mystery School. Next time you will come before me in this sanctuary with pure heart and mind. You must leave your anger, negativity, and ego outside this shrine to the Aten. Do not let it happen again. Am I clear in this matter?”

“Ego?” I asked, quite distressed.

“Anytime you place yourself above another you express your egoic nature.”

“Yes, Netri, thank you for your instruction. I shall do as you ask.”

My cruel chidings about Archollos were transparent. Humbled, I clasped together my hands with regret that I disappointed him.

“You are dismissed. Come before me tomorrow with a change of heart.”

I stood, then bowed to acknowledge his words. As Pentu showed me to the empty hallway leading back to the shared garden, he whispered, “Heed those words, Your Highness. He will not be conciliatory with this request, even though you are his blood. I know your Meti surprised you with all the young men, but if you choose the path of initiation, you must leave behind the vengeance.”

“Thank you, Pentu. I understand.” My head hanging, I made the long, lonely walk back through the communal garden toward my room. That night, in my room I continued to be harsher upon myself than my father had been. I couldn’t sleep, nor did I feel secure in believing that I would be assured a space.

* * *

T
he next morning, I spent time in contemplation seeking to find the peace within my heart toward the others. It did not come easily.

If Archollos had not been present, I wouldn’t have felt anger. It was all his fault. I could understand how Netri might have chosen those with Khemitian blood who descended from the fine families. But this barbarian had intruded into my palace and flirted with my mother. My feet flamed.

“Oh, if he had not—” I covered my mouth with my hands. Angry words. Then it dawned on me that every time I put myself above someone, the fire scorched my feet. Ego.

Even after the reprimanding I received last night, once again I repeated my utterances toward that golden-haired boy. I tried to breathe and dislodge whatever had taken hold of me. I went into my private chamber to sit upon the stone toilet and release my water. I kicked my legs and found myself cursing that I gave away my will.

“I shall do better today.”

“Merit-Aten, are you well, dearest?” asked my mother through the door. “Would you join the girls and me on an outing to the beach? We have planned a picnic in a tent set up at the shore so that you can nap there.”

“My stomach hurts. I do not feel well,” I answered in all truthfulness.

“Of course, I do understand. I shall send some remedies for you. This will pass, my darling,” she said in a sweet tone.

“Thank you, Meti.”

I forbade all others to attend to me. Instead, I dozed again on the settee, then later, poring over my classroom scrolls. I polished my knowledge in sacred geometry, astronomy, and ritual texts, hoping to please Father should he test us in these subjects.

As the water clock drew near to midday, I called the attendant to dress me in my simple sheath with the white cord around my waist. I departed through the communal gardens back toward the sanctuary.

This time, when Pa-Nesy opened the door, he didn’t speak or act as if he recognized me. Could he know of my failing last night? I took my silent place among them. Some of the invitees stood against the shiny far wall in the open-air portico, covering their eyes from the direct rays of the pounding sun.