1380 BCE, Thebes, Egypt (Patreon)

The next chapter in Theo's journal for my $10 patrons! Enjoy some Ancient Egyptian decadence and gluttony, again illustrated by Cedric Browning!

 

I must admit, as a cat, I rather did enjoy Egypt. The fact that they considered me and my feline brethren sacred is more than a little flattering, but beyond that, I felt a true connection with the Egyptians as a people, as a culture. They came to see the world as I saw it; those glorious children of the Nile understood the importance of grandeur, of magnificence. My dear Gilgamesh may have been the first to make himself immortal through song and written word, but the Egyptians left their legacy in stone. For indeed, though there be naught but ruins left of their empire, the mighty can only look upon them and despair. 

I had courted many of the Pharaohs, sons and daughters of Ra: the likes of Ramesses II and Thutmose I bid me to mold them into warrior kings, great conquerors of peerless strength, but the Egyptian psyche, I found, did not sit well with war. They were far better instead at decadence, opulence, and luxury; the first true masters of those esteemed arts. There were many powerful kingdoms before Egypt, I assure you, but Egypt was the first of the mortal coil that could truly be called prosperous. And for one who understood that above all else, and truly, the only son of Ra I can recall having any sense of humor, I think fondly upon Amenhotep III, who reigned over Egypt at the height of its power and glory, and indulged on a truly monumental scale.

Here was my personal favorite type of hedonist; one who had his wits about him. Amenhotep was the son of Thutmose IV, a zealous follower of the Egyptian gods. He was rather humorless, but no doubt a boon to his empire, leaving a stable and well-organized state for his son to raise to magnificence. Still, Amenhotep had a rough start. The poor boy was crowned Pharaoh when he was all of six years old, and almost instantly became the target of court intrigue. Temple Priests, Grand Viziers, and foreign Kings all attempted to take a bite out of the boy-king’s empire, but he was quick to realize who his real friends were; namely, me. I have a soft spot for young kings, and I saw this glimmer of potential in him. I wanted to see what he could do uninhibited by scheming regents. So, I worked my way through the court, fattening up this Priest to Aten here, making a noble so strong he couldn’t be anywhere but the field, and distracting the rest of them with lavish hedonism. Soon, I presented myself as a brilliant warrior- an easy enough story to tell, no matter how many snide looks Mr. De Fleureaux has for it. I am, after all, a rather impressive specimen; even moreso when I needed to be muscular enough to defend the most magnificent monarch in all the world. 

Ah, but there was one fatal flaw to my plan. The hedonism that I had injected in the pharaoh’s court had spread to all branches of the court, leaving me the only strong and energetic councilor the Pharaoh had, the only one that met the standards of a god-like physique, if I do say so myself.

Unfortunately, all branches of the court included Pharaoh himself. By the time that Amenhotep was a young man, he was already obese, with hips as wide as the Nile and an appetite as bottomless as Sekhmet’s, his belly quickly taking on the dimensions of Egypt’s monuments; oversized and grand. But, he had also grown into an adroit mind. Unlike the warrior king others hoped he would grow into, Amenhotep III brought peace and prosperity to Egypt. He adored art and culture, and the cities of his kingdom became more beautiful with each passing year, just as he became larger and larger.

It started out as nothing more than court gossip. When one is Pharaoh, with all the luxuries of the world at one’s feet and anything offered at a snap of the fingers, it is far from uncommon that a Pharaoh would end up, shall we say, plus-sized. But Amenhotep had an appetite to match his brilliance, and it went far. His weight accelerated as time went on, with a middle so laden with fat, that it was beginning to drag along the floor. A particularly painful event was when Amenhotep had grown too large for his chariot; it was the day of a lion hunt, and whereas I would do most of the hunting, it was important for Pharaoh to at least present the illusion of leading the hunt. No sooner had he boarded his chariot, then the horses squealed and the floor boards splintered under him, and he landed with an audible whump. Oh, don’t mistake me; I thought he looked wonderful. Surely, his bulging gut spilling out of his golden girdle on all sides, his lard-swaddled limbs hanging off his luscious love handles, and burying his long-suffering thighs was all signs of the prosperity Egypt was beholden to. The nobles were hardly ones to point fingers; none of them were exactly paragons of strength themselves, not after I was done with them. But, perhaps it hit a little too close to home for the court, and left them all wondering how long it would be until they had a similar incident.

As it was, Amenhotep’s reign was threatened. I was still rash in these days, and as I was easily the strongest warrior at Pharaoh’s disposal, I recommended swift and immediate action. But, where credit is due, Amenhotep had a far cleverer solution. I don’t normally learn from my clients, but it is an enlightening experience, however rare.

Amenhotep’s answer to the assassin’s daggers growing ever closer to his multiple back folds was to merely continue with his plans. If anything, amplify them. What began was a decade of lavish festivals honoring the gods; from the cataracts in Nubia to the harbors along the Mediterranean coast, the people celebrated, as beer flowed like water and the riches of Egypt were made available to all. 

The people of Egypt hailed the god-like visage of Amenhotep adorned on their resplendent new temples, and no one had any idea that their generous and glorious Pharaoh was really too fat to ride in a chariot. It was a two-pronged scheme, as the Pharaoh was almost never seen by the vast majority of the people. As far as they knew, the tall, broad-shouldered jackal painted on all the temple walls was their Son of Ra, a god on earth. And if any noble dared kill Amenhotep, and ended his lavish displays, the people would be truly enraged. And, with the love of his people and I as his sword, Amenhotep reigned for nearly forty years before passing peacefully. His continued reign saw his prosperity, his luxury, his gluttony render him immobile. Amenhotep would never again leave his palace under his own power, with a black sea of lard dominating his frame, his fine jewelry mere flecks of gold on the soft, ebony mass that was his body. He was crowned not only by Pharaoh’s regalia, but by swollen, wobbling cheeks and rings of multiple chins that jiggled with every laugh, which was often. 

Upon his death, his mummy was one of the most extraordinary in the history of the Valley of the Kings. He was entombed in a cube. A large one. Doubtless, he broke Anubis’ scales that day. He left an Egypt that was happier and richer than it had ever been, and would continue to be so for centuries to come thanks to his governance.