Aparel and the Crown Prince strolled through the palace gardens in the cool evening air on their way to the royal residences which were now illuminated with dozens of torches, trees and bushes casting sinister shadows on the whitewashed walls of the palace.
Pharaoh was based here permanently, when he was in Thebes, which was nearly always these last few years. The Great Royal Wife, Tiye, Amenhotep IV’s mother, also had her household in the palace, along with his siblings Sitamun, Iset, Henuttaneb, Nebetah, and Smenkhkare.
“The steward for your wing will be meeting us at the royal residences,” Aparel shared. “You remember Parennefer, yes?”
Amenhotep smiled gently. “How could I forget him. I’m sure the palace staff never forgot the trouble we got up to with Thutmose, either.”
Aparel laughed politely. “Indeed, Highness. Your father was very cautious in his selection for the position, knowing you probably wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
“He wasn’t wrong. I’m sure Amun’s priests have people all over the palace.”
Amenhotep knew that significant change such as a new heir to the throne would’ve caused shockwaves through the palace. Despite leading a very enjoyable life in private, ignoring the call to become heir was not a choice. The gods had laid this plan for him, and his father was not a man to be questioned.
The Cult of Amun would be jockeying to either strengthen a rival, or ingratiate themselves with him. He’d been out of the political ecosystem for years but he knew that much. Life was about to change.
“There’s something else, Your Highness.” Aparel stopped just short of the door leading into the royal residences and turned to face Amenhotep. Your father’s health hasn’t been…the best. He’s deteriorating quickly. He thinks it’s related to the death of Crown Pr— your brother.”
Amenhotep faced Aparel and lifted his chin, hands clasped tidily behind his back. “What can I do, Aparel?”
“Your father has asked you to find Ay’s daughter. He said you’d know what to do.”
Amenhotep knew Ay was a rising star in the civil service and also functioned as a troop commander in Aparel’s Charioteers, but he knew nothing about his daughter or why she was important. He’d figure that out later. He didn’t want Aparel to think he was incapable.
He changed the subject instead. “What about my brother’s body. Where is it being prepared?”
Aparel hesitated. “In the Temple of Amun here in Malkata, Your Highness. The priests are not letting anyone see him, though.”
This was troubling news. If he wasn’t suspicious of the Cult of Amun before, he was now. The strange, sudden death of the Crown Prince; his father’s health deteriorating; and now this.
“Take me there,” he ordered.
Aparel was visibly unnerved by the command and struggled to find the words to reply. “Highness, I suggest that being so newly arrived, and only recently promoted, that you might want to — ”
“What? Go easy? Tread carefully?” Amenhotep shook his head. “Things aren’t as they should be, Vizier. I’m shocked you can’t see it. Take me. Now.”
“At once, Your Highness.” Aparel bowed and set off with a quick, purposeful stride.
The pair were in silence as they went down a side road lined with small palms. Gardeners worked tirelessly in the cool of the night, and guards, drifting through the shadowed balustrades like birds of prey were quick to bow when they saw the pair passing.
After a short walk across the palace grounds they found themselves on a long pathway flanked by sphinxes. Two painted obelisks marked the halfway point of the path that seemed to cut through a wide grassy courtyard until it met the first towering pylon of the entrance to the Temple of Amun in Malkata.
Amenhotep inwardly marvelled at the beautiful artwork spanning the high walls, that had taken presumably years to complete. Scenes of the Pharaoh’s interactions with the gods, memories of previous religious ceremonies, and insights into the afterlife had been delicately and colourfully etched into the walls for eternity, now cast in the glow of orange torchlight to ensure illumination during the night hours.
The Crown Prince and Aparel reached the end of the wide path as it met the main entrance, and were greeted by two guards of the temple.
“Vizier Aparel, this is an unexpected visit,” said one of them, a skinny man with almond-shaped eyes and a long, bearded chin. “And a guest?” he looked at the Crown Prince, his face pulled into a frown.
“My guest is the new Crown Prince of Egypt, Amenhotep IV,” Aparel growled. Amenhotep couldn’t help but laugh. How ignorant they were.
The two guards immediately dropped to their knees in delayed supplication and did not look up.
“Stand,” Amenhotep said, waving them up with his manicured hand. They did, but rose slowly, heads still bowed. “I’m here to see my brother.”
The two guards looked at each other with their low gazes, silent.
“Is there a problem?”
“No, Your Highness. It’s just…” the other guard murmured. He was a stocky, tanned man and was shaven completely bald.
“It’s just what?”
The guard took another helpless look at his companion. “We’ve orders to let no one inside.”
“Is that so?” Amenhotep raised his eyebrows and spared a glance at Aparel, who was frowning, arms folded.
“Y-y-y-es, Highness. On account of the rituals,” said the skinny guard.
To Amenhotep’s knowledge, there was no such ritual, now, or historically, that disallowed family from seeing the deceased, regardless of the stage of embalming. Let alone a royal death. For some reason, the Cult of Amun was keeping the Crown Prince in their temple and no one was permitted to enter - not even from his own family.
He’d only just been named Crown Prince a few hours earlier, but any sign of weakness now would be a dangerous signal to the Cult. He had to act.
“I don’t think so,” Amenhotep said bluntly. Without another word, he stepped forward and marched directly through the pair of guards. They shouted their meek protests but made absolutely sure not to touch the Crown Prince. All they could do was watch him enter the darker temple beyond.
“You idiots,” said Aparel with a scowl, then striding after the Crown Prince.
Amenhotep followed the path through the second pylon deeper into the temple of Amun, determined to see his brother’s body. If not for sentimental reasons, then for reasons of security to the crown.
The two guards from the entryway left their posts and were now pacing behind him along the path, begging forgiveness but urging the Crown Prince to turn back, on the orders of their superiors.
Before Amenhotep could ask which superiors these were who dare challenge him, Second Prophet Meryptah had appeared in the small entrance to the main precinct of the temple - an area which was normally considered sacred to the gods and their priests.
“Your Highness…how lovely of you to join us at the temple,” Meryptah bowed slightly. “It has been many years since you graced us.”
Amenhotep detected a whiff of sarcasm in his voice but decided not to inquire. There were bigger battles to fight.
“Third Prophet Meryptah, is it?” Amenhotep hadn’t been in the political scene for many years, but Meryptah’s green eyes and ponytail were unmistakable, not to mention the stench of arrogance.
“Second Prophet now, actually,” Meryptah smiled slyly.
Amenhotep did not smile in response. “I’m here to see my brother’s body.”
“Ah,” Meryptah said, running a hand back over his oily hair to capture a few loose strands. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Highness. He is undergoing some incredibly important rituals that will help guide him to the afterlife. You wouldn’t want to interfere, mmm?”
“As the Crown Prince of Egypt and heir to my father’s throne, I demand to see my brother. Stand aside, Second Prophet.” Amenhotep’s felt beyond angry. The entitlement of this pathetic man. How dare they turn away the royal family at such a time?
Meryptah raised his eyebrows slowly and a smirk appeared. “Oh? You demand, do you? Well I still can’t let you. If you see your brother’s body now, it would be an insult to Amun, to all the gods, and to all of those priests bound to fulfil their duty here at the temple. You have no authority here, Prince.”
Amenhotep clenched his fists where they were not visible, behind his back, tried to control his temper. He was on the verge of an outburst, but he didn’t want to give Meryptah that satisfaction. It would undoubtedly tarnish the start of his new post, and set a bad precedent moving forward with Meryptah and his associates.
Aparel stepped forward to break the silence. “Pardon me, Highness, Second Prophet, perhaps I could suggest a compromise.”
Meryptah smiled broadly at Aparel, while the Crown Prince remained silent.
Aparel continued anyway. “The Crown Prince, no doubt concerned for his brother’s well-being and the journey he’s about to take to the afterlife, would like some reassurance. Perhaps the temple can provide regular updates, sent to the Prince’s private quarters? Daily, I propose?” Aparel looked expectantly to Meryptah, then Amenhotep.
“Twice daily,” said Amenhotep, trying to claw back some semblance of pride and make this as painful as he possibly could for Meryptah.
“Any updates of any nature might endanger — ”
“You will update me, personally, Second Prophet, twice daily, or I will personally guarantee your freedoms around the palace, my father’s home, and mine, severely restricted.”
Aparel looked awestruck he somehow made the situation worse, but said nothing.
Meryptah still had a smirk twisted on his thin lips.
“Very well, Highness.” He bowed as little as was likely considered acceptable.
“Personally, Second Prophet. Not your cronies, or a servant. You.” He pointed at Meryptah.
“You have my word, Highness.” He bowed again, the same amount.
Amenhotep said nothing more and turned, striding past Aparel back down the shadowed path. This was a loss, plain and simple. A member of the royal family had been disrespected and very clearly given orders by a priest. Unheard of, to Amenhotep, but perhaps less and less unusual in this political climate.
