“Do you think me a fool?” Nefertiti yelled as a sudden flush overcame her face. “It was a jailer’s dagger. Where would Meritaten have gotten a jailer’s dagger in the middle of the night?”
Their eyes met, as though they both realized what must have happened that night. The mysterious yet overlooked disappearance of Sitamun played a key role in the Queen’s murder.
“Sitamun . . .” Nefertiti murmured through the heaves of her chest.
All eyes fell on Nefertiti in her revelation. The sun’s rays fell upon Nefertiti’s shoulders and head and appeared to steam off of her skin. Sweat gathered on her brow as her lips stretched into a scowl.
Beketaten tensed. “If you harm her, I will kill you,” she threatened. Her fingers pressed hard into the wood table, making her knuckles white.
Commander Horemheb pulled his dagger and pointed it at Beketaten’s face.
“You will not threaten the throne!”
General Paaten squared his shoulders to Pawah and Beketaten, but appeared to debate in his eyes on deciding to arrest her for threatening Pharaoh.
“People die for such statements,” Nefertiti hissed, but her gaze darted between General Paaten and Beketaten.
Pawah still needed his wife—for now—and at least with no witnesses to his wife’s threat, outside of this guilty group, they still couldn’t arrest her; it would be his word against theirs, something Nefertiti couldn’t wager. He pushed Horemheb’s hand away and out of his wife’s face. “We can do whatever we want . . . unless Pharaoh wants to jeopardize the power of Pharaoh and risk her own life?” Pawah peered at General Paaten and noted his lack of action, his decision apparent.
Ay leaned over and whispered to Nefertiti, “And the people love the King’s daughter and the great royal wife of Pharaoh Amenhotep III. You will have done yourself a disservice in her execution. If we want to say they were not murdered to keep the throne divine, you will be killing an innocent woman of royalty.”
Silence filled the room. They were at an impasse. They each held secrets about the other. Each had their own advantages, but both dared not touch the other, as they each had tied themselves to the boulder of sin.
“Mark my words,” Nefertiti said at last. “When this is all said and done, Sitamun will be hunted down—”
“And if this is all said and done”—Beketaten rose, and now they all stood around the table—“I will be right there with a knife to your heart.”
Pawah grinned; he liked this vengeful side of these two powerful women in the room. His wife would serve him well—if his first plan to marry into the Pharaoh’s position did not work out.
General Paaten requested a private audience with Nefertiti a few days later. She accepted; however, she wished she did not have to speak with him so soon after he had learned of her deception. They met privately in the throne room. She watched him with a shaky eye as he entered and everyone else left. It appeared disappointment still dripped with every step, but the sting of betrayal in his eyes at least looked as though it had been reduced.
“My Pharaoh,” he said, and put his right hand over his heart and bowed his head.
Nefertiti stood and walked down the platform steps to him.
“Shall we walk?” she asked. There was much to say and much to forgive.
He nodded, and they walked about the great throne room first in silence, but Nefertiti soon looked over to him.
“Don’t look at me like that, General,” she said, averting her eyes. “My mother and sister already do. My friend and confidant . . . I cannot bear the same look from you as well.”
“Thus Pharaoh says.” General Paaten’s voice strained.
Nefertiti just looked upon him with sad eyes, then blurted, “I am sorry, General.”
“Pharaoh does not apologize,” he reminded her.
She stopped, still looking at him. “Perhaps in the public setting. But we are—”
“Friends? Confidants?” he suggested, and he stopped as well. He stood straight, unmoving, with a tough exterior, but the slight upward tick in his voice suggested he had a soft spot—a soft spot she felt she had stabbed. He looked as if he were going to apologize for his curtness, but then refrained.
“And I betrayed that friendship. I betrayed that confidence,” Nefertiti added and then held her breath.
They both sensed time stop.
Her eyes eagerly searched him for any presence of forgiveness.
“Pharaoh had her reasons,” General Paaten finally said after a hard swallow.
“Of all those I’ve known for the greater part of my life, you are the only officer who truly stands beside me.” Nefertiti graced his arm with her hand. “Thank you.”
“I took an oath, and for each Pharaoh, I will stand beside.” His stiffness proved he had not quite given his complete forgiveness, if any.
“No, General, it is more than that. I considered you my friend and advocate. I knew I could trust you with my daughters’ lives. I asked you to protect them should a rebellion come. Do you remember?”
“Of course, I remember.” His voice fell flat as Nefertiti noticed his eyes drift to the carvings on the pillars of the throne room. He observed one of the royal daughters. “My word remains the same.”
They continued walking in silence.
Nefertiti felt a little of the burden release from her shoulders. At least her daughters would still be under his care, even if his respect for her was gone. That last, however, would eat at her mind like a disease. She knew how her mother and sister felt about her; she knew how the Commander and her father felt about her. Now, she wondered which way the General would lean; and so, in the privacy of their meeting, she summoned the courage to ask.
“Do you think less of me . . . now that you know the truth?” Nefertiti’s eyes closed, bracing herself for the response that she thought might come.
General Paaten’s response was quick: “It matters not what I think.”
“It does to me,” she said, and peered up at him. Now that he knew she had murdered Pharaoh Akhenaten, had agreed to stand aside for the murder of Pharaoh Smenkare, Nefertiti felt a part of herself die. She wanted to so desperately cling to that innocent girl with the auspicious future ahead of her, not this tragic excuse with a life that seemed to be dwindling in front of her eyes.
He took a deep breath and his eyes narrowed as he pieced words together. “In war, we kill many men. We execute many strategic plans to gain a new territory, and we kill kings who do not surrender.” He stopped, pressing his lips together to signal he had nothing else to say.
“You did not answer my question,” Nefertiti said.
“As Pharaoh, I will never think less of you,” he said.
“But as Nefertiti, do you?” Nefertiti’s eyes pleaded, needing to know the truth.
“May I speak freely?” The question seemed to light a familiar admiration in his eyes.
Nefertiti nodded and fidgeted with her dress. “I am asking you to.”
General Paaten began a slow pace back and forth with his hands behind his back. “I understand why you did what you did . . . but look at the damage it has done to the position of Pharaoh. If the people do not like a Pharaoh, they can just orchestrate a murder. Look how quickly Smenkare was killed. How much time do you think will pass before they come after you? Will the title Pharaoh even be honored in a hundred years?”
“Look at the damage Akhenaten has done,” Nefertiti said, throwing her hand in the air like it somehow defended her actions. “He was not without his followers. They ignored the downfall of the economy and Egypt’s allies. They mourned him. They mourn Smenkare. Pharaoh is still revered even when—”
“They will come for you, Pharaoh. He will come for you. Pawah. I have seen men such as Pawah. They are manipulative men. If it is in a rebellion or a coup, he will make sure you are out of his way.” General Paaten stopped in his pace, shoving his arms to his sides as if resisting the urge to push a finger in Nefertiti’s face. “When you keep a man such as P
awah from his plans—” He shook his head and changed his tone. “He speaks on behalf of the people, he will usurp that power out of the hands of the people, and he will kill you if you don’t do as he says.”
Nefertiti let out a heavy sigh as tears wet her eyes. “I know . . .”
General Paaten cleared his throat. “Though he may be your vizier”—General Paaten raised an eyebrow—“keep him close and under your nose.”
“That is precisely why I named him Vizier.” Nefertiti hung her head. “Can I still trust you, not only as Pharaoh but as Nefertiti too?”
General Paaten bowed his head and stood straight, placing his hand over his heart. “Till the end of my days, I give my life protecting Pharaoh . . . and my friend, Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti.”
Nefertiti sighed as a slow smile crept across her lips in relief at his forgiveness. “Take Ankhesenpaaten and Nefe with you should I be killed or the people attack. Take whatever you need from the treasury to make it so. Protect them.” She repeated her plea from years ago. “Protect them.”
General Paaten placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “What about Pawah and Beketaten? What will you do?”
“I don’t know.” Nefertiti shrugged; she needed another confirmation regarding the safety of her daughters. “Promise me.”
“I have already promised,” General Paaten said, and gave a gentle shake of reassurance.
“Promise me again,” she said. “I need to know they are safe.”
He ducked his head to look her in the eyes. “I promise.”
She let out a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and nodded her head in thankfulness. “Take Aitye with you as well,” Nefertiti said. “She has been more of a mother to them than I have.”
“You mustn’t say things like that. You are a perfectly good mother for them.”
“No. My step-mother, Tey, was a perfect mother, and I’m sure my real mother would have been too. But I have not upheld Tey’s example. I have let others raise my children. I let a foreign Queen be their mother in my absence. Royal wife Kiya . . . she knew nothing of Egypt’s ways, yet she loved them as I should have.” Nefertiti drew a quick inhale to soothe the stab to her soul. “She was good to them. She was good to me.”
“Royal wife Kiya was a warm and caring person, that I agree.” General Paaten nodded and looked off as if remembering her interacting with the royal children—teaching them to paint, playing with them in the courtyard . . . “But you are their mother. There is no one who loves them or cares for them more.”
“I wish I could believe you. I have failed them in so many ways—and even worse, they see me in my actions without understanding the reasons behind them. It is why Meritaten died. I failed her. I will not fail Ankhesenpaaten and Nefe.”
“Meritaten knew about Amun. She was your oldest. She watched as Egypt worshipped Amun for the first part of her life. She made her own choices, as do we all.”
Nefertiti bit her lip. “I still failed her. I’m her mother. I should have protected my child.”
“I should have protected her. I should have protected Pharaoh,” General Paaten said, pressing a hand into his chest; he clearly wanted to take away Nefertiti’s guilt. “Blame me. Don’t blame yourself.”
Nefertiti wiped away a tear. “I could never blame you. Despite what Beketaten says she will do in retaliation, I will find Sitamun, and she will pay with her life.”
“My friend, keep watch over yourself. Do not become the enemy. Stop now. Don’t continue on this path.”
“She killed my firstborn.” Her voice filled with a chesty growl.
“Revenge blinds a good eye,” General Paaten murmured.
But Nefertiti’s focus was not on his words.
Later that month, Nefertiti finally knew she had to confront her mother and sister about what happened, and so Mut and Tey came to Nefertiti’s room per her request. Nefertiti dismissed the servants so they could talk. Tey sat in her chair with her hands folded on her lap and her eyes downcast. Her lips set in judgment without saying a word. Mut wiped away a tear as Nefertiti also sat in her chair in the same way as Tey.
“I tried to warn Meritaten,” Mut finally confessed.
Nefertiti and Tey both shot a glance at her, but slowly their gazes drifted back to the floor.
“She wouldn’t listen to me,” Mut continued as she cried further. “You were right, Nefertiti.” Tears streamed down her face now. “She wouldn’t listen, and she threatened to have me killed for speaking Amun’s name. I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Nefertiti said in a hushed tone. “I should have warned her.”
Tey nodded her head in agreement, but said nothing. She knew Nefertiti’s guilt was already great; if there were any more guilt placed upon her shoulders, her back might break.
“I should have protected her,” Nefertiti whispered. She lifted her head. “You are better than me, Mut.” She gritted her teeth as she watched her mother and sister come to their own emotional acceptance of Meritaten’s death. “But this I swear to you . . . the one who killed her will pay with their life.”
Chapter 16
The Time of Execution
Later that season, a messenger came and bowed before Nefertiti. “We have found Sitamun, who stays at Malkata.”
Hearing her name, Nefertiti’s blood boiled, the heat coloring her skin red. “Bring her to me,” she commanded. She tilted her head back against the back of the throne and stared off into the distance. The pressure from the grit of her teeth caused her to draw a quick inhale.
Now, how to make her suffer? I cannot arrest her for killing Pharaoh and his Queen. How will I right this wrong? How will I be able to execute a seemingly innocent woman? How will I bring justice to my daughter without endangering the throne even more?
Her mind raced as she thought of scenario after scenario, until she finally rested on one and drew her mouth into a smirk.
A few decans later, Sitamun dismounted at Aketaten with her royal guards. They accompanied her into the throne room where Nefertiti sat in her long golden robes. Ankhesenpaaten sat along with Tutankhaten off to the side of the platform. Nefertiti’s royal guards lined the walls of the throne room.
“Great royal wife Sitamun,” Nefertiti began. She waited to see if any guilt crossed the woman’s face, and when none did, she added, “King’s daughter.”
At the mention of her royal title, Sitamun’s face fell.
“Your disappearance from prison and your execution date were overlooked as we mourned the death of your son and his Queen.” Nefertiti peered at her down the length of her nose. “Now comes the time to correct this error.”
“I commanded the prison guards to release me—” Sitamun proclaimed.
“And to give you a jailer’s dagger?”
Nefertiti’s question lingered in the air like the hot air on an arid, summer day.
Sitamun looked to the ground with a twist of her mouth. “He was my son, too,” she said, looking back to Nefertiti.
“The country thinks they died at each other’s hands,” Nefertiti said. “But we know better, do we not?”
“For the good of the kingdom—for the good of Pharaoh and everything my family went through to regain Pharaoh’s power—we must move on,” Sitamun said. “I only meant to correct—” She hesitated. “But Queen Meritaten, she . . .” Sitamun faltered as tears began to well in her eyes.
Ankhesenpaaten’s jaw dropped at the implication of guilt in Sitamun. “You killed my sister?” Her whisper went unnoticed.
“She saw you, didn’t she?” Nefertiti said, her voice raising.
“I am sorrowful,” Sitamun said. “I never meant for it to happen that way. You must believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you, Sitamun,” Nefertiti said, stripping the use of her title as if to give her a preview of her punishment. “But I do not forgive you.”
Nefertiti snapped her fingers; the guards lining the walls stepped forward, lowering their spears to Sit
amun and her company.
“What are you doing?” Sitamun asked, her tears evaporating from her hot cheeks. “If you charge me with the royals’ murders, all will have been in vain!”
“I am not charging you with the royals’ murders. I am simply executing the last order of Pharaoh Smenkare, which was to have you drink poison for your disobedience to his edict,” Nefertiti said, leaning forward in her throne.
“The people will see you as carrying on his and Akhenaten’s tyranny!” Sitamun’s shoulders raised in panic. “You will be the next one to die!”
“Ah, a threat!” Nefertiti smiled. Her cunning and wit had paid off. Now she had her. “Sitamun, royal wife of Pharaoh Amenhotep III and King’s daughter, has threatened the throne—an offense which has been and always will be punishable by death!”
Sitamun yelled to Nefertiti as her guards laid down their spears and Nefertiti’s guards surrounded her and dragged her off.
“Nefertiti! Curse you and your children! May you be forever forgotten! May you be hidden forever in the sands of Egypt!”
Her cries trailed off down the corridor, and the great throne room’s door shut out her predictions of doom, replaced by a ringing silence in the great palace of Aketaten.
News of Sitamun’s arrest and order of execution traveled quickly.
Beketaten burst through the throne room doors.
“Nefertiti!”
The head royal guard, Jabari, scowled and corrected her: “Pharaoh Neferneferuaten.”
“Pharaoh,” Beketaten said. “Release Sitamun at once!”
“There are none greater than Pharaoh,” Nefertiti said, refusing to look at her.
“I told you I would—”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Nefertiti interrupted her. “Would you dare to threaten the throne and join your sister in death?” Nefertiti shut her mouth and shook her head; she regretted warning her.
Beketaten’s tongue rolled behind her shut lips as her face narrowed in hatred. “I am asking you, Pharaoh, to spare her. She did nothing the rest of us wouldn’t have done. Queen Meritaten was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sitamun should have come to us first. We had already held up our end of the bargain.”
Secrets in the Sand Page 16
