Horemheb wondered if the general thought the same as him and Ay. He didn’t know about Akhenaten’s murder. The People’s Restoration of Egypt had never approached him. “Do you believe the soldiers will carry out the edict?”
“The ones who take their oath seriously will carry out whatever edict Pharaoh utters,” General Paaten responded. “As will I.”
Horemheb nodded and blew out a hesitant breath. “Even it means killing innocent people?”
General Paaten’s jaw twitched as he wrestled with his morals. “Innocent to me, but not innocent to Pharaoh’s law.”
“And this deserves death?” Horemheb asked with a scowl, and stiffened his stance.
“I have already killed for Pharaoh many times—even when I did not agree. I have fought wars to expand the empire under Pharaoh Amenhotep III, when a trade agreement would have sufficed. Under Pharaoh Akhenaten, I have ordered the torture of men accused to be part of the rebellion for information about its leaders . . .” He trailed off, then finished, “Pharaoh’s law is the law I uphold.”
“And now you would order the execution of Egypt’s people?”
“We took an oath to protect Pharaoh and to uphold his throne and edicts. To do otherwise lessens Pharaoh in the eyes of the world, no matter who sits on the throne. Power was restored to Pharaoh. If I do anything other than what I swore when I became a military steward of Egypt, I give that power away and all our efforts are in vain.”
Horemheb bit his tongue from saying anything more. He understood and felt the same, but knew Egypt would not last if nothing was done. Balancing both objectives proved to be a difficult task. He watched Pawah and Beketaten from afar as they squirmed under Nefertiti’s eye and spoke with Pharaoh Smenkare. He couldn’t deny, either: it felt good to watch them wallow in their mistake—at least until they would probably come to them again, demanding an immediate removal of Pharaoh under threat of rebellion. He wagered with himself that it would be a day or two after they returned to Aketaten.
He peered over to the general and wondered what then would be his next course of action when he found out what the rest of the council had done. Would he join them, or would he be a loyal instrument to Pharaoh Smenkare and have them all killed for treason and conspiracy?
I don’t think he would let them harm Nefertiti—but her father and me, Horemheb reasoned, he would have us executed.
His gaze fell back on Nefertiti, and hers on him—or so he thought and maybe even hoped. He clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow as his thoughts drifted to her as she looked under the torchlight in the garden. He cleared his throat, took a wide stance, and clasped his hands in front of his stomach.
I am the Commander, he thought. I will keep her safe from any more of Pawah’s forthcoming schemes to get rid of Smenkare. I will not make her go through this again.
Chapter 9
The Time of Confliction
General Paaten, Vizier of the Lower, Nakht, and Vizier of the Upper, Pawah, Master of the Pharaoh’s Horses, Ay, Commander Horemheb, and Nefertiti sat in the council room looking to Pharaoh Smenkare under the sun’s rays.
“Pharaoh, the Nubians have attacked our borders again,” General Paaten said. “The last time we sent one hundred—”
“Again?” Pharaoh Smenkare asked, and lifted an eyebrow.
Ay, Horemheb, and Nefertiti looked to each other. After a moment’s hesitation, Ay planned to take responsibility for this action; he didn’t know what Smenkare would do, but knew he wasn’t going to let him harm his daughter nor take away her chance at the throne by allowing him to remove her Coregent title.
Ay finally spoke, saying, “Yes, it was before your coronation. I brought the action to Pharaoh Akhenaten’s Coregent. It was decided to barter a trade agreement with the Nubians: one hundred containers of grain for peace along our borders.”
“I see. And how long of a peace did the one hundred containers buy?” Pharaoh Smenkare asked. The sun drenched his head and shoulders. He held the same long nose and round chin as Akhenaten did before him, and the sun’s shadows fell just as they had on the late Pharoah’s face.
The scene evoked memories in Nefertiti—ones she wished she could burn.
“One season,” General Paaten said, and peered to Ay and Nefertiti.
Pawah, seeing an opportunity to spread his influence over the young Pharaoh, cleared his throat. “And why wasn’t Pharaoh Akhenaten’s successor made aware of this border issue?”
“Because,” Commander Horemheb said, narrowing his eyes at Pawah, “Pharaoh Akhenaten’s successor had not yet been crowned and his Coregent was available. The matter was urgent. But now that you are Vizier of the Upper, it will be your responsibility to field those border messages to Pharaoh.”
Keeping his eyes on Horemheb, Pawah said, “So, my son, my Pharaoh”—he transitioned his gaze to Pharaoh Smenkare—“shall we cower behind a short-lived trade agreement, or put the Nubians in their place?”
Pharaoh Smenkare nodded. “The Nubians should remember that we are mighty Egypt and to not test our patience. Use the one hundred containers of grain to pay soldiers and weapons. Advance upon Nubia and protect our borders.”
“Perhaps you should send all three military commanders,” Pawah suggested, and gestured to Paaten, Horemheb, and Ay. “They aren’t of much use here.”
The three men wished they could snarl at this two-faced liar, but knew Smenkare favored him, so they simply sat still and glared at him.
“Yes, I agree,” Pharaoh Smenkare said, and nodded again.
“Pharaoh Smenkare,” Nefertiti said with a voice of honey, “there was a rebellion when your brother turned Egypt to the Aten, and Malkata was almost overrun had it not been for a few of General Paaten’s companies there and Commander Horemheb sending his division. They were able to subdue the rebellion because they were close enough to be of use.”
“There is no threat of rebellion,” Pawah said to Pharaoh, sneering at Nefertiti.
“How can one be so sure?” Nefertiti gazed levelly at Pawah and kept her own sneer at bay. She did not need Pharaoh Smenkare to know how much she disliked Pawah, the man he adopted as his father. “The conspirators we tortured for information told us Aketaten was under constant threat of rebellion under Pharaoh Akhenaten’s reign.”
General Paaten, Commander Horemheb, and Master of Pharaoh’s Horses, Ay, all nodded in agreement; then all gritted their teeth, wondering how Pawah was going to get rid of them now.
“Pharaoh,” General Paaten added, “they are a real threat, and their loyalty to their leaders transcends the torture we have put the known conspirators through.”
“It was why the Pharaoh before always kept at least one division of men with him at all times,” Nefertiti coached, seeing Pharaoh Smenkare’s head bob in agreement with her.
“General, Commander,” Pharaoh Smenkare ordered, “take your divisions to the Nubian border.”
“We have borders at both the Upper and the Lower. To send the majority of the army to one border leaves the opposite border vulnerable and the capital relatively unprotected,” Nefertiti crooned. “Should a border dispute arise in the Lower, it may be prudent to keep the divisions where they are.”
“No!” Pharaoh Smenkare’s cheeks blushed as he paused.
Nefertiti knew to quit speaking, but was glad to see him taking a moment to think about what she said.
When at last he spoke, Smenkare turned to his three military commanders. “General, take all of your divisions. Commander, take a third of yours, and leave the rest here at Aketaten. Master of Pharaoh’s Horses, keep your divisions in the Lower.”
“Very wise decision, Pharaoh,” Pawah said with a pressed smile.
A beaming smile emanated from Pharaoh Smenkare’s face.
“Thus Pharaoh says,” General Paaten said, nodding, and then Pharaoh Smenkare dismissed them.
After they left, General Paaten pulled Commander Horemheb aside. Nefertiti eyed Horemheb in her peripheral vision as she walked past. S
he had been thinking about him since their encounter in the garden. Mostly she thought about the way he had tried to comfort her, and her urge to fall into his strong arms, letting the stress and burden upon her shoulders pour down in the form of tears upon his perfect chest. She chewed on her bottom lip, scolding herself for thinking such things only a season after her husband had died. Died? No—she had murdered. The truth gnawed at her insides and made her nauseated most nights, but her thoughts still lingered on Horemheb.
“They will come back to us,” Ay whispered to Nefertiti.
“What?” Nefertiti stuttered, not realizing Ay followed her gaze after the commander. She turned to face her father a little farther down the corridor than General Paaten and Commander Horemheb.
“The General and the Commander.” Ay’s eyes smiled. “They will come back to us.”
“Don’t promise something you cannot know.” Nefertiti glared at her father. “You make many promises.” Her dagger of words cut him through and through. She particularly remembered the night Thutmose had been entombed, when her father had told her the plan to regain the power from the priesthood of Amun by temporarily turning Egypt to the Aten.
I promise no harm will come to you.
All will return to as it was.
Those were his words to his naïve thirteen-year-old daughter. She had believed his every word, and now he had broken his promises to her one by one.
Ay’s voice dropped even lower as he leaned in toward her and whispered, “My daughter, had I known how serious Akhenaten’s mind would fall, I would have done away with him myself the night of the rebellion at Malkata.”
“Why?” Nefertiti shot back at him.
“To protect you, my lotus blossom.”
She clenched her jaw and swallowed a hard lump; she hadn’t expected her father to say that. Nor to call her by his pet name for her.
Taking a moment to readjust her collar, Nefertiti responded with a tart tone. “Well, too bad you were twelve years late, Father—and even then, you passed the job to me.”
Ay’s focus stayed on Nefertiti as he twisted his mouth into a grimace. “I’m so sorry, Nefertiti. I wish all your burdens on me. I want to take them from you.”
Her stiff shoulders refused to relent. She drew a sharp inhale before snapping, “Well, you can’t, can you?”
Commander Horemheb and General Paaten parted ways and Horemheb peered over at Nefertiti and Ay. Nefertiti’s blood coursed through her veins as she realized her own hypocrisy. She had forgiven Horemheb’s involvement—had even thought about crying in his arms and releasing her burdens onto him—but her father, who had apologized, she could not come to forgive.
He is my father, she thought. He should have protected me. He should have kept his promises to me. He should have loved me enough to not have convinced me to murder my own husband. He should have—
“I want to,” Ay repeated, interrupting her thoughts.
Nefertiti looked to her father and pinched her lips into a polite smile.
“But you can’t.”
Her façade fell and she walked away from him, toward Horemheb.
He stood waiting for her once he saw her approach. He peered back at Ay, whose flat expression and pale face told him the conversation with his daughter had not gone well. He gave him a sympathetic grin. Ay dropped his chin in gratitude and walked away.
Horemheb’s focus drifted to Nefertiti as she walked toward him. He forced his gaze to stay with her eyes and not drop to the alluring sway of her hips. Just below her hard eyes, her pinched mouth told him contentment resided elsewhere.
“Walk with me, Commander.” She did not slow down but kept walking past him.
“Yes, Pharaoh Coregent,” Horemheb said, and fell in line a little behind her, as per his place.
He watched curiously as she turned her head slightly and examined the space beside her, then dropped her chin toward her chest.
Does she want me to walk beside her? he asked himself. She rounded into a more remote part of the palace and began to slow her steps. I will see.
He came up beside her and a slight smile crossed her face. “Commander,” she said, then closed her mouth, seemingly unsure what to say.
Horemheb cleared his throat. “General Paaten plans to leave at first light.” He surveyed the empty corridor as they slowed to a stop.
“He doesn’t know, does he?” she asked, turning to face him.
“About Pharaoh Akhenaten?” he whispered. He shook his head.
Wetness overtook her eyes. “I don’t want him to find out the truth,” she confessed.
Horemheb clenched his jaw. “I don’t think it would be in any of our best interests if he found out the truth while Pharaoh Smenkare is on the throne. Smenkare would not be too fond of what we did, to put it mildly. Although he may spare you in his report, General Paaten will carry out Pharaoh’s orders to the best of his ability—even if it means killing for something he doesn’t believe in.”
“Or even if it means torturing known conspirators of a rebellious movement.” Nefertiti shuddered.
Horemheb sighed, remembering her order of torture to find the leaders of the People’s Restoration of Egypt. He hadn’t agreed with her and had already known Pawah and Beketaten led the movement. But she had lost three daughters, her mentor, and her only friend, and she was still trapped in Akhenaten’s conditional rule of coregency. She had to find out who was threatening the remainder of her family. Maybe he might have done the same? His gaze fell to the floor as he thought. She was only acting to secure power for Pharaoh’s throne, as was the plan since the beginning. Rebellion against the throne is evidence of a weak Pharaoh. She had to keep power in Pharaoh’s court and not let it slip back to the Amun priesthood. His stomach dropped at the realization of her abundant love for Egypt. He looked back to her with a renewed perspective. She is such a strong woman, willing to sacrifice so much for her country. She has been a great ruler—a great . . . beautiful . . . Coregent.
She looked off to the distance and shook her head to fight the tears.
“You did what you thought was right. We all are doing what we think is right—even Pharaohs Akhenaten and Smenkare.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t make it right,” Nefertiti said. She looked to her hand; the skin had scabbed over from where she had hit Horemheb that night in the lotus garden.
Surprising even himself, Horemheb grabbed her wounded hand. His arm tensed for a second after he grabbed it, but at her lack of yell or scolding, he relaxed and pulled her hand closer to his chest. He smoothed his thumb over her soft hand and examined the wound.
“We all have our secrets. We have all done things of which we are not proud.” His thumb found the scab. “Eventually, time allows us to make amends and move forward. We hope the wounds won’t scar, but, regardless, they still shape our future. We can hide scars, display them, learn from them, or repeat them. They are with us forever, but it is up to you what you do with them. I try to learn from my scars.”
She smiled at him as they shared their second moment of friendship in as many nights.
Horemheb added, “But I’m not very smart, so I tend to repeat them from time to time.”
A laugh burst from her lungs and her other hand immediately covered her mouth. Her laugh bounced off the stone walls and filled their ears.
I love her laugh, Horemheb thought. A deep, hearty laugh with a sweet ring to it.
“Oh, you agree that I’m not very smart?” he teased, but then realized he was speaking to her as if he were courting her.
She took a step forward, dwindling their personal space even further, and tilted her head to peer up at him. His heartbeat began to quicken.
I am already acting far above my status. I need to let go of her hand. I need to take a step back. I have a wife. Nothing can ever come of us—she is Pharaoh Coregent. I am Commander.
But still he kept her hand in his, and still he smiled at the gleam in her big, brown, almond eyes.
“I think
you are very wise,” she breathed, “and that is the second time you have made me laugh.”
“It is such a rare treat. I want to hear it more often,” he confessed, suppressing his thoughts further.
“My father says I have my mother’s laugh. It reminds him of her.” Nefertiti smiled at the memory. Even though she was mad at her father, she still loved him, and she still missed the mother she never knew.
He looked to her. “I would think she would be proud of the woman you’ve become.”
“Yes . . . so proud,” she snapped. Her face fell, and she tried to yank her hand away, but he kept a firm grasp on it.
“Yes, so proud, Pharaoh Coregent. You have had many hardships and endured many trials and persevered through many obstacles.” It was true. She had endured more than any other woman he’d ever heard or seen. “I’m not lying,” he said, watching her examine his face for his twitching eyebrow.
“I can see that,” she responded, and bit her lip in thought. “Why do you keep my hand in yours when I try to remove it?”
His face paled and a lump formed in his throat. He dropped her hand suddenly, his thoughts reeling.
I don’t know why.
That’s a lie. Her skin was soft, and I liked holding her hand.
I can’t say that!
Finally, another thought came to him as she patiently waited for his answer. “You needed to know your mother would have been proud of you.” He passed her lie test, but even though she found him telling her a truth, there seemed to be some disappointment behind her eyes.
“Thank you, Commander Horemheb,” she whispered. Straightening her back and head and pulling her arms to her side, she let out a slow, shallow breath.
“You are welcome, Pharaoh Coregent,” he whispered, mimicking her posture.
It is better this way. I could never court her, let alone marry her. Although she would make a stunning wife, and I wouldn’t take her for granted like her late husband. I would be good to her. What am I talking about? It can never be. I will be her friend because she needs a friend. That’s all that I will do.
Secrets in the Sand Page 9
