Light Over Dark Water
by Skald
Prologue
... I shall go down in the west like Atum
--Thutmose III, from the Karnak obelisk
Translation by J. H. Breasted, in Ancient Records of Egypt, Part Two
In the west, the sky was stained red as a battle as the sun began its dangerous voyage beyond the horizon and into the night. As the first high, unearthly wails of a newborn pierced the mud-brick walls of the birthing room to permeate the rest of the palace, Akhenumkanon wondered what sort of omen it was, for his child to be born at the moment that darkness began to eclipse light in the world.
Akhenumkanon wanted very much to believe that it was a good one. His wife, Meribat, had been much maligned with ill luck concerning pregnancy. Four times before, she had been with child. Three times, she had miscarried. The fourth time, the child had been born nearly three months too early and had sickened and died within the week. This baby, too, had been born early, and Akhenumkanon was apprehensive because of it. Each lost baby had bitten into his heart like the point of an arrow, a barbed one, for whenever he tried to move past it, it only bit deeper and tore at him constantly. And, as much as each death had wounded him, his wife had suffered still more grievously. Despite the reassurances of the physicians and midwives who had attended her during her terms, Meribat persisted in the belief that her unsuccessful pregnancies were due to some fault of her own, and that if she had only been stronger, more careful, more worthy, her children might have survived. Akhenumkanon feared what a fifth loss would do to her.
The sky was almost entirely dark now, but glimmers of red and purple lingered on the western horizon. Shadows deepened across the niched façade of the palace, concealing its intricacies. The baby's wails had been soothed away into silence and, if all was well, the child would soon be brought for him to look upon, and news of the birth itself would be delivered.
Sure enough, Akhenumkanon soon heard the steps of approaching feet. His high priest and younger brother, Akunadin, and Meribat's chief midwife, who was also her most faithful attendant, were proceeding towards him at all speed. He could read on their faces that the news was good. Many times, when Akhenumkanon had despaired of ever producing a child of his own, he had contemplated simply naming Akunadin his heir so that he would be assured of not dying without one to take his place. The high priest was certainly a capable leader, yet some vague premonition of dread held Akhenumkanon back, though he could never determine what it was about the idea of his brother as heir that made him so uncomfortable. Perhaps it was simply that the two had grown apart. Akunadin had become distant, strange, even bitter, and Akhenumkanon often could not fathom what went on in the other man's head.
At the moment, however, Akunadin's face was open and joyful. "A son, brother!" he exulted, so caught up in the moment that he forgot his normal cool formality entirely. "Your wife has given you a son!"
Akhenumkanon had no doubt that his brother was remembering the birth of his own young son, Set. Akhenumkanon had never seen Akunadin as happy as he had been on that day when he had first beheld his son.
Meribat's attendant stepped forward, and Akhenumkanon's breath stuck in his throat. It finally struck him; he had a child, a baby boy. The young woman held the baby with the careful familiarity of one who has helped to care for children throughout most of her life. She had swathed the baby in layers of soft linen, completely covering it, to protect it from the chill of the night air as it blew in from over the river. Only one tiny, perfect hand was visible, and it was that which had arrested him so completely.
"May I… May I see him?" Akhenumkanon asked, made hesitant in his wonderment. In answer, the woman allowed a warm smile to creep across her face and into her warm brown eyes and placed the warm bundle into his arms. Carefully, Akhenumkanon pulled the linen wrap away from his newborn son's face and stared in awe.
The child was like none Akhenumkanon had ever beheld before. It features were delicate and angular, like Meribat's, but full of nobility even in youth. The child's hair was like a corona of black, touched with hints of red and purple. Framing the baby's sleeping face, like rays of light extending from the sun, were bangs of brilliant gold. The sunset birth had been a very good omen indeed, Akhenumkanon realized as he looked down at the child draped in the colors of the western sun and sky.
"How went the birth?" Akhenumkanon inquired of his two companions, almost afraid to give in to the hope that this time, perhaps, things had gone well.
It was the midwife who replied. "It was a premature birth, and neither mother nor child was ready for it. Despite this, the birth was quick and mostly without difficulty. Your son is healthy, pharaoh, though smaller than most babies, and likely to remain so, though I do not think he will prove to be sickly." As she pointed it out to him, Akhenumkanon realized that the child was indeed very tiny, only further emphasizing his delicacy, yet he did not seem fragile at all.
"Meribat had more trouble with the birth than the child did," The young attendant continued, and Akhenumkanon's heart clenched with fear for his wife. "There was some bleeding and my lady has been weakened by the birth. High priest Akunadin has sent for priestess-physicians of Selqet and Isis to tend to her. I have faith that with their care and goddess Taweret's blessing, Queen Meribat will regain her strength." The young woman's eyes lit with admiration for and belief in the abilities of the priestesses, and Akhenumkanon felt some of his fear lift in response to that show of overwhelming faith. She was right; in the hands of the goddess-dedicated doctors, Meribat would surely find healing. Akhenumkanon recalled that the young woman before him had once aspired to be a priestess, but her family had sought alliance with another noble family and arranged her marriage into it, so she had given up her dream in order to fulfill her familial obligation. She had only lately had her own first child, a girl she had named Isis who had striking lapis blue eyes, that the young attendant to the queen swore would have the chance to join the priesthood that she herself had been denied.
Akhenumkanon nodded to Akunadin in acknowledgement of the wisdom of the high priest's actions and favored Meribat's attendant with a smile in thanks for her comforting words. Yes, Akhenumkanon determined, Meribat would get better, his son would grow up to be a strong young man, and his family would be together at the head of a unified Egypt. His would be the line that would finally end the unrest that had existed within the two lands since they had been brought together under the pharaoh who was known as Menes to those who came after him. A unified Egypt where the justice of Ma'at held sway; it seemed too much for Akhenumkanon to hope for, but he did, and he hoped that it would last a thousand years.
"What will his name be?" Akunadin asked. His face was now shuttered to Akhenumkanon's attempts to read him, but the elder of the two brothers thought he could hear the faintest shade of resignation in the high priest's tone as he spoke. Akhenumkanon wondered what he was thinking, knowing it was not the first time, and would certainly not be the last time that question would cross his mind.
Pharaoh Akhenumkanon looked down into the peaceful face of his young son. Even in sleep, the child seemed to glow with an inner radiance that bespoke a godly destiny. What future had Meskhenet spoken for this child as he took his first breath in the world he would inherit? What marks of fate were inscribed for the god Thoth to read upon the birth brick of the newborn prince? Akhenumkanon thought of the vivid sunset fading into night, and wondered.
Suddenly, startlingly, the new prince opened his eyes and beheld his father for the first time. Those eyes were like carnelian or blood, they were such a vivid crimson red. There was fire in them already, like the sun staining the sky as its nightly battle began; this child was ready to fight to secure his hold on the world. Those eyes were the eyes of a warrior, the eyes of a king, and they were filled with shadow and fire. In that instant, Akhenumkanon saw his dreams for the two lands of Egypt realized in those fathomless scarlet eyes. This was the king who would unite Egypt in peace for a thousand years and restore the cosmic order and law to the lands of the sedge and the bee. He saw his son grown up, standing before his people, commanding warriors, priests, and creatures out of legend, carrying the symbol of the pharaoh's power. The young king shone fiercely like the sun holding back and taming the darkness; no, he was like a new god born from out of darkness itself, shining like gold in the unfathomable darkness, a part of it, yet separate from it.
Then, the moment broke, the child was only a baby like any other, and the king's vision fled, leaving only remnants of his great moment of realization. But among those remnants was a name.
"Atemu," the pharaoh pronounced softly. "May his name live on forever."
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Notes:
In this chapter, I mentioned Menes. This is the legendary figure who was said to have united Egypt and founded Thebes. The actual identity of Menes is uncertain. Many believe him to be the pharaoh Narmer, but some others believe that it was the pharaoh Aha who was Menes. I am withholding judgment in this debate, so I just referred to this pharaoh as Menes.
I did not originally intend to give a name to Atemu's mother, but the scene became to confusing without being able to refer to her by name.
I admit that this prologue has little to do with the plot of the story, but I felt it important to introduce Atemu and the Ancient Egypt of the Early Dynastic Period (nearly 5,000 years ago), especially as it will be a bit longer until Atemu properly makes his appearance in the story.
The quote in this chapter was obtained from nefertiti dot iwebland dot com slash religion slash index dot html.
Comments and criticism are welcome (eagerly anticipated, more like). See you next chapter.
--Skald