“I will be back in one and a half seasons’ time,” he said, changing the subject before he found himself thinking too much about a woman he could never be with.
Nefertiti bit her lip again as she peered up at him. “Fight well,” she said, and seemed to stop herself from saying more.
Horemheb nodded. “We shall.” A weight set on his heart, wishing and hoping that whatever this was between them was not ending just as it had begun.
“Please go make preparations for your journey,” she said. “I do not wish to hold you any longer.”
“Should I call the royal guard to escort you wherever you were headed?” He still needed to make sure she was safe, even if there could never be anything between them.
“No.” She shook her head. “I will walk by myself.”
He nodded, took a step back, bowed at the waist, and began to walk away, but she placed her wounded hand on his breastplate as he passed by her. They locked eyes over each other’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry I hit you.”
Her shoulders fell again, and the lack of her use of his title made him think she didn’t want this to end either. He covered her hand with his as if by instinct.
“There is nothing to apologize for, my Pharaoh Coregent.”
Every time he thought they would maintain their status, he or she would break it.
Her eyes held a glisten. “There are many things to apologize for.” She half smiled. “Thank you for making me laugh in the midst of my sorrow.”
“I hope to hear more when I return.”
I’m sure your father would too, but I am not going to say that, he thought as a soft pink fell upon her cheeks.
She let her hand slide over his shoulder as he walked away. Standing in the empty corridor, she watched him round the corner and saw him glance back, if only for a second. When she knew she was alone, she made fists and hit herself in the sides of the legs.
“Ah!” Her spine bent and she thrust her head into her hands. “What am I doing?”
Dropping her hands, she went and pressed her back to the stone wall and slid down. The cool stone felt good on her neck and legs.
“Why him?” she asked herself. Society would never approve of a woman tempting a husband away from his wife, although not uncommon. Her head rested against the wall. “He is a friend, nothing more . . . a handsome friend who can make me laugh and has showed me more understanding than anyone in the past ten years. There are no judgments with him.”
She closed her eyes, remembering the fallen look upon her mother’s and sister’s faces when she revealed to them what she had done. Her chest released a captive breath. She rubbed her thighs and then crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling the smooth linen between her hands.
Clearing her mind, a thought came to her: Commander Horemheb was the first man to hold her hand since Meketaten died; she had tried to hold Akhenaten’s hand then, but Akhenaten never returned her embrace. The last night they spent together was when she had returned from Waset, after he had banished her from Aketaten for pardoning his sister, Beketaten, so many years ago.
She huffed. Which led to Tut, she thought, and rolled her eyes.
Akhenaten had lied to her and betrayed their bed. She had put her trust in her husband per her father’s words of wisdom: Trust and truth are united in marriage. Perhaps she should add to the saying: with the right person.
The morning’s breakfast came to the top of her throat as she thought about what she had been through the past years.
I was so young when I fell in love with Amenhotep IV, and he was a good husband and father for a while.
He loved her as much as she loved him—but it wasn’t enough to save him from his zealous obsession; it wasn’t enough to keep their bed pure; it wasn’t enough to save him from a goblet of poisoned wine.
I tried. Maybe that’s why I don’t like Tut. He reminds me every day of my failure of my husband—a constant reminder that our love wasn’t enough.
A tear slid down her cheek.
Her thirty years upon this earth had brought her to this point: crying alone in an empty corridor of a palace that spat in the face of Amun. She looked to her side and wished someone were there—even her father . . . but she wished more so that it were Horemheb. He had made her feel dignified again and helped carry the weight of her burdens. He’d reached deep down inside of her and pulled out something she had buried long ago: happiness, even if for a brief moment.
She closed her eyes again, feeling once more the warmth of his hand upon hers, hearing his soft, deep voice, smelling his musky leather scent, seeing his muscular physique. His words, his truthful words, held so much meaning and sincerity, and she knew he had told her the truth by way of his facial tell. She chuckled at the memory of seeing it for the first time, and couldn’t believe she had not noticed it before.
Well, I’ve been preoccupied.
She took in a long, deep breath and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Akhenaten,” she said to his ka, his spirit. “I know I should mourn you for longer before my thoughts begin drifting to another man, but you didn’t touch me for seven years. Seven years! Even if he is beneath me in status, he talked to me like you used to when we were young. I think he cares for me. He seems to be a good man. He didn’t go off with another woman when his wife could not produce a child, let alone an heir. I at least gave you six beautiful daughters.”
Then a pang struck her heart.
Amenia . . . she thought. I don’t want to be the second wife. She bit her lip. As though I could even marry him. He is beneath my station! It is fruitless to even entertain the idea. Don’t borrow heartache, Nefertiti. You already have had your fill.
But even as she thought this, her eyes still watched the space where she last saw Horemheb in the corridor.
You have a budding friendship with the Commander. Nothing more!
She rubbed the middle of her forehead and closed her eyes.
“I need a friend.”
Biting her lip, she repeated herself: “I need a friend.”
Her hand moved from rubbing her forehead to her lip. “A friend who knows what to say to help me, who knows how to make me laugh, and who I can tell cares for me.” She nodded. “A good friend, but nothing more.”
She looked off to where he had rounded the corner, and she inhaled a sharp breath and stood up, still not resolved in her thoughts. She straightened her back and turned to go back to her chambers, but stopped. His last words floated back to her.
I hope to hear more when I return.
Glancing back to where she’d seen him last, she whispered, “Please come back to me, Commander.”
Chapter 10
The Time of Friendship
“Watch this, Ankhesenpaaten!”
Tut swung his wooden sword toward his tutor. Sennedjem blocked Tut’s swing and thrust his wooden sword toward the boy’s chest. Tut stumbled and fell over, his cane bouncing away from his reach and his sword sliding to Ankhesenpaaten’s feet.
His cheeks flushed as red as the granite of the obelisks standing in Ipet-isut. He rolled over to his stomach and tried to crawl toward his cane, but his sidelock kept hitting his face.
“Young Prince Tutankhaten,” Sennedjem said. “Your cane will not save you in battle.”
Tut stopped crawling and looked to Ankhesenpaaten, who had grabbed his sword and stood over him, holding it out to him. He pushed off his chest and steadied himself with his one good foot, then took his sword from his half-sister, spinning around to Sennedjem.
“I will protect you, Ankhesenpaaten!” Tut yelled. “Get back!”
Ankhesenpaaten took a few steps back, but stayed guard in case he needed her help again.
His opposite arm levered for balance as he struck again. He began to advance, his club foot forward, but the weight of his body caused him to fall to his knee. He blocked a swing from Sennedjem as he pushed himself up. Hopping onto his good foot, he advanced.
“Good, my prince,”
Sennedjem said as he blocked a swing.
The block sent Tut back to hobbling again.
“Steady yourself. With practice, this will become second nature to you.”
Tut flailed his arm until he regained control, gave a determined smile to Ankhesenpaaten, then swung again.
“Be in control of your weapon at all times,” Sennedjem said as he blocked the surprisingly hard swing. “Good, good.”
The sun couldn’t compare to the beams of pride emanating from Tut’s face as they ended their session. “Did you see Ankhesenpaaten? Did you see?” Tut asked her as Sennedjem readied his cane for him to walk over to her.
“I did. You did very well, Tut,” Ankhesenpaaten said, and gave him a hug, immediately drawing back from his sweaty body.
“I almost had Sennedjem!” Tut’s eyes glittered at Ankhesenpaaten’s smile.
“Yes, you did, Prince Tutankhaten,” Sennedjem said, following them out of the harem palace’s royal training yard.
“Do you think Coregent Neferneferuaten would be proud of me?” Tut asked, leaning toward Ankhesenpaaten.
“I’m sure Mother would,” she responded, nodding and forcing her lips together into a smile.
Tut beamed. He wanted to call her “Mother” as well, but the one time he had done so in front of the Coregent, he’d received an icy stare. He had vowed he would prove himself to her, so that instead of receiving disapproval at his endearment, she would grant a prideful smile—perhaps even a reciprocal “son.”
“I can take him from here. We need to walk today,” Ankhesenpaaten told Sennedjem as she flipped her wig off of her neck, having stood in the hot sun for the duration of Tut’s lesson.
He nodded and left them to walk the palace corridor in the hopes the young prince’s foot would eventually straighten out.
“I think you have walked with me every day since I could walk,” Tut told her as he grasped the cane’s inlaid golden handle in the palm of his hand.
“I think you’re right.” Ankhesenpaaten walked with her hands ready in case he fell. She spotted Nefe running up behind them. “And we always seem to have a tag-a-long.”
“I am not a tag-a-long,” Nefe said. “You are the tag-a-long!” She punched Ankhesenpaaten in the arm.
“Ow!” Ankhesenpaaten yelled. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?!”
“Why can’t you just leave us alone?”
The two sisters glared at each other. Nefe, three years younger than Ankhesenpaaten, stood her equal. The younger Tut just laughed—perhaps a little too young to understand why the girls were fighting with each other.
Ay suddenly appeared and gathered the two girls up in his arms, startling them, for it was a rare occasion their grandfather came to the royal harem.
“How are my two favorite granddaughters?”
Nefe giggled, not noticing Tut’s sad smile. “What about Meritaten?” she whispered.
“Oh!” Ay’s shoulders rounded about them as a sheepish grin crossed his lips. “She is a favorite, too, of course.”
“Why are you here, grandfather?” Ankhesenpaaten asked as he lowered her to the ground.
“Vizier Nakht was to teach the Queen today about the affairs of Egypt, but he is taking care of some . . . issues . . . from the Libyans in the Lower, just as Vizier Pawah is taking care of some issues with the Nubians in the Upper. So, I am here to take Nakht’s place. Pharaoh Smenkare thought it would be good for me to spend some time with the Queen as well.” He patted Nefe’s bald head and swished her sidelock affectionately. “It was good to see you young women, but I best not be late.” He bowed to Prince Tutankhaten. “My Prince,” he said as he stood. “Please take good care of my granddaughters.”
Tut stood as tall as he could. “I have no greater pleasure.”
Ay smiled at the sweet boy’s demeanor and nodded as he took off toward the royal harem’s library.
Tut began walking toward the Kap, hobbling along on his cane. Ankhesenpaaten and Nefe walked on either side him. He kept his head down and focused on one step after the other.
After a moment’s silence, Nefe asked, “What is wrong, Tut?”
Ankhesenpaaten draped an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you seemed so happy, but now something bothers you?”
“I never met my grandfather,” he said. “Or my mother.”
The two girls bit their tongues, not knowing how to respond.
“And my father didn’t even think highly enough of me to name me, his only son, as his successor.” Tut’s chin sunk lower to his chest.
“He didn’t think highly of me, either,” Ankhesenpaaten said. “He just married me because Meketaten was taken by the plague.”
“At least he spent more time with you than me,” Nefe said to her.
“Only when we were in the temple with Mother,” Ankhesenpaaten shot back. “You know—” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, glancing around them. “We should not speak ill of the Pharaoh before.”
The other two nodded their heads, but Tut, after some moments of silence, began again.
“I mean, I was his son, the Crown Prince. I know I’ve only just had my eighth year, but I also know that the Crown Prince takes the King’s place when he dies. If he was ashamed of me, why are you friends with me? I won’t ever be King. Now Pharaoh Smenkare’s—”
“Tut, I don’t think you had anything to do with his decision,” Ankhesenpaaten said. “Father . . . well . . . as Mother said one time, he had his own way of seeing the world. Even Mother never really had time for us.” She rubbed his back, but immediately wiped her hand on her dress to remove all of the sweat he had acquired in his daily fighting lesson. “In his own mind, it made sense. Just as in Mother’s mind, it made sense for her to never be here with us. She was always at the palace.”
“Don’t talk about Pharaoh Coregent Neferneferuaten like that!” Tut yelled, and his hand curled into a fist. “She is always here for us! Always! You both are so lucky to have one to call ‘Mother’!”
“Tut . . . Tut . . .” Ankhesenpaaten raised her hands to her chest, showing him her palms. He could become so angry so quickly. “I agree that we are lucky to have our mother with us, but you have to agree, she has never really been around us.”
“Because she is devoted to Egypt!” Tut yelled, and raised his fist.
It was Nefe’s turn to try and calm him. “Yes, our mother is a very strong woman in the palace.” She stroked his arm that held the cane.
“Yes,” Tut said, and lowered his hand.
Ankhesenpaaten grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Tut, I was only trying to make you feel better. Your father loved you.”
“He never told me he loved me.” Tut’s face fell. “He only loved the Aten.” His shoulders slumped and his chin again dropped to his chest.
Ankhesenpaaten kissed his bald head, ignoring the sweat. “We love you.”
Nefe joined in and threw her arms around him. “Yes, we do.” Her nose wrinkled at his smell, but she too tried to ignore it as she released him.
“But I will never be King. Why love me?” Tut looked up to Ankhesenpaaten with tears in his eyes.
“Because we like you!” Nefe said, and threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
Ankhesenpaaten nodded. “Because you are our friend.”
A smile appeared on his face, and he chuckled.
“Now, enough of this nonsense,” Ankhesenpaaten said as they reached the Kap. “Enjoy your studies, Tut.”
Nefe began to step inside the Kap, but remembered she was now ten years old and had to go with Ankhesenpaaten to the temple to be taught by the priests.
While on their way to the temple, Ankhesenpaaten stopped and thrust her arm in front of Nefe’s chest, halting her in her tracks.
“What is it?” Nefe asked with wide eyes, searching for the cause of Ankhesenpaaten’s sudden stop.
“Look.” Ankhesenpaaten pointed at the figure walking along the route from the temple to the palace. “It’s Mother.”
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��Why does she walk like that?” Nefe asked, taking note of Nefertiti’s tilted head, heavy arms, and frown. “That is not how Pharaoh Coregent should walk.”
Nefe peered up to her older sister for a response, but Ankhesenpaaten only shook her head. She had only seen her mother once since her father’s funeral, and it was to check in and see how her and her siblings were coping with yet another death. Nefertiti stopped and looked to the north and then to the south, lingering toward the south as a gentle breeze flew into her face. Ankhesenpaaten turned to Nefe and nodded her head toward their mother. Then they proceeded to come near to her.
Nefertiti didn’t notice her daughters until Nefe’s voice snapped her from her thoughts.
“In peace, Mother,” Nefe greeted Nefertiti.
“Oh, my daughters!” Nefertiti smiled, but her eyes remained dim. She opened her arms and embraced them both, and as she released them she ran her fingers under their chins, lifting their faces to her. “Are you headed to your lessons in the temple?”
Nefe’s excited jitters were almost contagious, and Ankhesenpaaten smiled as her sister said, “Yes! Today we are to learn the methods Pharaoh uses to mediate between the Aten and the people.”
“Oh, is that all?” Nefertiti asked with a sudden droop of her eyelids.
“Yes, for today,” Nefe said, and flipped her sidelock.
“How have you been since I last came to visit you?” Nefertiti asked, rubbing the tops of their arms.
“We have been fine,” Ankhesenpaaten responded rather quickly. “How have you been, Mother?” She added, before she could stop herself, “You seem sad.”
“I am sad, my daughter.” Nefertiti looked her in the eyes. “But I do not want to burden you with my thoughts. You mustn’t be late. Hurry to the temple.”
There existed in her words a frightening apathy.
Nefe began to walk, but Ankhesenpaaten stood her ground.
Secrets in the Sand Page 10
