“I certainly would.”
“Careful, Pawah. Pride goes before the fall.”
“Ah, your mother and I played this dance. Are you taking her place?” Pawah chuckled and made a gesture of a dancer.
“You forced my hand.”
“Yes, and don’t you forget it.” Pawah leaned forward and hit his hand on the wall behind her head, making her jump. His eyes bore deep into hers and then he left.
The stone’s chill crept up her spine as she watched the door shut behind him.
“I wish my mother were here,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered.
After Pharaoh Neferneferuaten’s burial, the people seemed placated. Pharaoh Tutankhaten now sat where Nefertiti once sat in the council room with Master of Pharaoh’s Horses, Ay, Commander Horemheb, Vizier of the Lower Nakht, and Vizier of the Upper Pawah at his table.
“Now it is time for you to appoint viziers,” Horemheb said, his face fallen, his voice monotone.
“I appoint Pawah,” Tut said, pointing, and smiled.
“You may want to appoint a second, for Egypt is a large nation.”
“Do I have to?”
“No, my boy, you don’t have to,” Pawah quickly interjected.
“Pawah’s hands will be very busy. Perhaps a second vizier would be prudent. The four Pharaohs before you all had two viziers, at least in the beginning,” Nakht said, leaning forward, partially blocking Tut’s view of Pawah. “I suggest Ay, Master of Pharaoh’s Horses. I am tired, as I have been a vizier for a long, long time. He knows the military and has held many offices for Pharaohs before. He is more experienced than all of us, including that of Pawah.”
Pawah shot Nakht dead from the daggers in his eyes, but Horemheb added, “Yes, Pharaoh Tutankhaten, Ay would serve a most loyal and valuable vizier.” He drew the attention away from Pawah, meeting the young Pharaoh’s eyes and nodding in agreement.
“Well, then, Ay will serve as Vizier of the Lower,” Tut said. “And Pawah will serve as Vizier of the Upper.”
“Thus Pharaoh says. It is settled then. Horemheb will take command of your army as General, and Horemheb has appointed Paramesse as Commander, and I will serve as Vizier of the Lower,” Ay said, and placed a hand on Tut’s shoulder. “We have much to discuss, including who will take my place as Master of Pharaoh’s Horses. Please walk with me, Pharaoh Tutankhaten.”
“Very well,” Tut said, and he got up to leave with Ay.
Once they left, Pawah leaned back and crossed his arms, looking at Nakht and Horemheb.
“Two can play your game, Pawah,” Horemheb said. “Or in our case, three.”
“Careful, General. Your numbers dwindle. Paaten and Nefertiti are gone. I was even able to buy off the chief royal guard, the late Jabari.”
“There are still those loyal to the true crown of Egypt,” Horemheb said, matching Pawah’s stance. “And as long as one of us lives, we will do whatever it takes to make sure it stays out of your hands.”
“Then let the game begin . . . again,” Pawah said as he stood up and leaned his hands on the table. Horemheb and Nakht followed suit until Pawah leaned back and walked to the door. “I shall get the next move,” he said, and left.
“And we shall get the last,” Horemheb whispered.
Chapter 28
The Time of War
Only a few decans after the great funeral procession for Pharaoh Neferneferuaten, Tut sat upon his throne, Ay and Pawah standing beside him. He listened to messengers and followed his step-grandfather’s advice in each response. A particular messenger came in, out of breath, and bowed.
“Speak, messenger,” Tut said.
“Pharaoh—” The messenger bowed again before opening and reading the papyrus scroll: “Suppiluliuma I, King and Lord of the Hittite people, writes to this nation of Egypt: ‘Be prepared for your slaughter as cowards. You deceptive people! You feign alliance and kill our Prince Zannanza. Blood for blood!’ ” The messenger’s hands shook as he lowered the scroll. “We also have word from our northern border . . . the Hittites have attacked. This message does confirm they retaliate for the slaying of their Prince Zannanza.”
Tut peered to Pawah—the only action he was able to do, for his body was frozen in fear. “What do I say?”
Ay interjected before Pawah could speak. “Pharaoh, we must send reinforcements to the northern border at once so the Hittites do not invade Egypt.”
Tut ignored him, still looking at Pawah, who sneered at Ay. “I would agree, young Pharaoh.”
Tut chewed his lip and turned to face his throne room. “Pharaoh says to send reinforcements to the northern border at once!” The small crack in his voice signaled his age.
“Pharaoh, this is an opportunity for you to go to war to show the people their King defends them,” Ay whispered, thinking that if it was at war, he would at least be protected by Horemheb and the army and out of Pawah’s grasp. “Your great successors, Pharaohs Thutmose IV and Amenhotep II and Amenhotep III, all did the same. They gained great respect and honor.”
Tut looked again to Pawah, who reluctantly nodded. He could not argue with that.
“I would suggest leaving me to your affairs, as I have served many Pharaohs in this capacity,” Ay said, knowing Pawah would take this time to seize every opportunity.
Tut looked to Pawah, who shook his head. “Tsk-tsk,” he said, and cocked an eyebrow to Ay. “Vizier Ay is Nefertiti’s father. Are you sure you would like to leave Egypt in the hands of the man who bore the woman bent on killing you?”
“No, I do not want to do that.”
“Then send Ay to war as well, since you are presently missing a Master of Pharaoh’s Horses. You only need one vizier right now,” Pawah’s snake tongue whispered.
But before Tut could speak, Ay did. “Pharaoh, to further bring respect and honor to your throne you need to show the people you are Amun’s divinely appointed. Let me go and make preparations to move the capital back to Waset. Move the palace back to the palace of your grandfather: Malkata. Leave this place devoted to the Aten. It will secure your right to rule with the people.” He needed to stay close, and Waset was close enough; but in doing so, it left Ankhesenpaaten alone in Aketaten. Tut sat back and thought about it some. He looked to Pawah, who shook his head, and Ay jumped in again: “The last Pharaohs did not last long in Aketaten. The people resent them. Do you want the love of the people?”
Tut’s head turned to Ay. “Yes.”
Ay lowered his chin and set his focus on the young boy. “Then, as the vizier with far greater experience, I would recommend Pharaoh move back to Waset, where the temples of Amun abide.”
Tut looked to Pawah again, who shook his head.
“But I do want the people to love me . . .” Tut said, and Pawah’s head stopped shaking and his lips began to move as his mind raced to find the words. “But, Vizier Ay, I am afraid to battle. I still have a club foot and I must walk with a cane.” Tut rubbed his deformed leg. “How will I survive war?”
Ay knelt down and placed his hand on his shoulder, turning him so Pawah was completely out of view. “General Horemheb is an outstanding teacher, and the northern border is a long journey. He will teach you. Your army took an oath to protect Pharaoh and to defend Egypt with their very lives. Your army protects you, my Pharaoh. There is no reason to fear.”
Ay’s reassuring smile prompted a sigh of relief in Tut. “Then I will go to war. Vizier Ay will go to Waset, and Pawah will tend to affairs—”
“My Pharaoh—” Ay coughed. “Usually the chief royal wife tends to Pharaoh’s affairs while he is indisposed. That has been the custom for many generations.”
“No!” Tut said, and wrenched his shoulder away from Ay. “I will not have Ankhesenpaaten tend to anything. She is her mother’s daughter!”
Ay felt as though Tut had hit him in the chest with a club, and his eyes fell upon Pawah, who came into view behind Tut’s head. He held a wicked smirk as he chewed on a piece of grain.
“No, no, no.” Tut wave
d his hands in the air as he scooted his backside fully into the throne seat again. “I will go to war, you will go to Waset, and Pawah will stay here and tend to the affairs of Pharaoh in my absence.”
Ay stood, keeping his eyes on Pawah, who shrugged and mouthed, You win some, you lose some, then made a motion toward the very spot on his chest where he had stabbed Nefertiti.
In the next days, half of Egypt’s army came to the northern border’s aid. Tut was already on the royal barge, headed with Paramesse down the Nile, and Horemheb waited on the dock by his own barge. He had stayed to plan out the border defenses against Libya and Nubia should they attack again, since Tut had not yet appointed someone as Master of Pharaoh’s Horses.
Ay came up behind him. “She wanted you to have this on the day she announced her marriage.” Ay held the sealed letter to Horemheb’s waist. He looked to it and grasped it, but Ay held on. “You keep that boy safe. You pit him against Pawah. Do not let my daughter die in vain.”
Horemheb nodded. “Yes, Ay.”
And Ay let go. “I know you loved her, but I was her father. You promise me.” He laid a finger on Horemheb’s armor. “You get close to the boy and you turn him against Pawah.”
Horemheb turned to find his eyes. “She was the mother of my only child. She will not die in vain.”
Ay rolled his shoulders back and let out his breath. “Fight well, General. I shall be in Waset. Send a trusted messenger should you need me.”
“I will. Make sure Pawah doesn’t kill Ankhesenpaaten. Keep her as close as you can.”
“Pharaoh will not let her leave the royal harem.” Ay got into the boat to go to Waset. “She will be on her own for a while. I have tasked Hori and Ineni with her safety.” He grimaced. “I pray to the gods Pawah does not get to them as well.”
Horemheb nodded in agreement as he watched Ay leave. Rubbing the scar on his arm where Pawah had sliced him, he grimaced as he remembered holding Nefertiti’s smooth and soft hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the scar on her own hand. His own words came back to him. Eventually, time allows us to make amends and move forward. We can hide scars, display them, learn from them, or repeat them. They are with us forever . . .
“Next time, Pawah will not be so lucky,” he muttered to Nefertiti’s ka, but let out a breath amidst his anger soon after. “I miss you.”
He studied the letter in his hand as he boarded his boat: Commander, it said in Nefertiti’s handwriting. He dropped his head and looked to the collar laid over his bronze armor to signify that he was now the General of Pharaoh’s Armies.
“I will always be your Commander, my love.”
He held the smooth papyrus in his hand and debated opening it and reading it then, but instead put it in his shendyt. He would read it on an especially dark night when his heart needed to be reminded of her.
Chapter 29
The Time of Reflection
Pawah opened the door to the royal throne room, only populated with a few servants cleaning the grand room. The King’s throne sat empty as he slinked up the platform steps to it. He ran his hand along its inlaid golden arm.
“So close,” he whispered. He gripped the end of the arm as he swung his body in front of it and eased into its seat. “Ah . . . in a few more years this will be mine, as soon as that boy and girl are out of my way.” He tightened his hand into a fist and slammed it on the throne. “Curse you, Nefertiti, in your afterlife. You have made me spill so much blood.” He stopped to admire the intricate craftsmanship of the throne and the plushness of the seat cushion on which he sat. “But for this”—he looked out to the grand throne room—“I would do it all again.”
Talking to Nefertiti’s ka, he muttered, “Your wretched daughter will not ruin it for me. I am hoping the battle will do away with the cripple boy King and his General. Then that leaves your coward father and nosy daughter. If they don’t stay out of my way, they will meet the same fate.”
He heard a gasp behind him. Turning to look, he found Ankhesenpaaten standing there with her hand over her mouth.
He stood up. She took a step back.
His back stood straight as a pin, and the corners of his mouth curled into a menacing smile. “My Queen.” He nodded his head and took a step to the side. “Your throne.” His hand showed the path to it.
Her hand dropped to her side. “I know what you did.” She lifted her chin and pulled her shoulders back.
“Yes, and should you utter a word—” He lunged for her, grabbing her neck and slamming her against the back wall.
A servant stood up to come to her aid, but two others restrained him, their families’ homes filled with briber’s grain. She looked at first at the servant, and then to Pawah, and her eyes grew with fear.
“That’s right, Your Majesty. Even your own throne room is not yours.” His eyes dropped to her bosom under her translucent linen gown. Her body and face rivaled her mother’s; hopefully, this girl would play by his rules and he would not have to do away with such beauty. “Such a pity your mother couldn’t see you now.”
She slapped his face and his hand grew tighter around her neck. He leaned his face in and planted his lips on hers with a violent rage. Yanking his head back, he then thrust his lips to her ear.
“Should you utter a word again, chief royal wife Ankhesenpaaten, I will have my way with you under the eyes of all those in the palace who are loyal to me, and when I am done, I will slice you up like I did to the great Nefertiti. And I will know if you utter a word, Your Majesty, because I have ears all over Aketaten, Men-nefer, and Waset.”
“When they see who you really are, they will turn back to the true royalty of Egypt!” Ankhesenpaaten rasped, and she spat in his face.
His eyelids dropped as he wiped her spit off his cheek. “Who will see? Who will they believe? You tried to tell your own husband, and did he believe you?”
She averted her eyes and her nostrils flared.
“No.” He clicked his tongue behind his teeth. “He trusts me more than you. It is why he left me to run Egypt while he went to battle.”
“He went to battle with General Horemheb, who knows you killed my mother. He will come back knowing the better,” Ankhesenpaaten said as she pulled at his tightening hands around her neck.
“Yes, but to a country I have already pitted against him. He should have listened to his dear old step-grandfather not to leave me in charge.” He smiled again, then released her neck a little. It amused him to watch her struggle for life again and again and he alone could give it back. It made him feel like the gods he didn’t believe in. He laughed as he squeezed again. “Your father made it so easy to make promises to a destitute people. He robbed them of faith and food. I am like their savior. I give them food in exchange for their loyalty.”
“You mean you steal from the royal grain holds. You deceive and lie. It isn’t your food to give.” Ankhesenpaaten breathed, getting her fingers between her neck and his grip.
“It will be, my dear.” He grabbed her around the waist. “In due time.” He swung her into his arms, still keeping his puppet-hold on her neck. “And when that time comes, it will be your choice—to stay by my side as my wife and Queen, or to die with what is left of your family.” He pushed her hips into his and tightened his grip around her neck. Her whimper sent a thrill through him. “I do miss having a wife,” he said as he grabbed her buttock.
“Let go of me,” she whispered with the small amount of breath she could muster. Pulling at his fingers wound tightly around her neck, she was finally able to take in a breath.
His countenance fell and his eyes narrowed as he pushed her away from him, throwing her on the ground. “Have it your way.”
She fell down the platform steps and rolled toward the door. A cut above her eyebrow bled, but she stood anyway, despite her foot ripping her dress.
“Pawah, I will not utter a word, but before the day I die I will—”
“Careful, my Queen. Your mother uttered those same words, and, well, look what happe
ned . . .” Pawah shook his finger at her.
She bit her tongue as a smug smile overcame his face. “One day you will get what you deserve.”
He laughed. “I deserve the throne.” He plopped down into the mighty chair and threw up a leg over the armrest as he leaned back in its generous embrace. “Now begone, Ankhesenpaaten, and remember you have a choice: forever my Queen . . . or death.” He shooed her away and ordered Amenket, a guard obviously on his list of bribes, to take her back to the royal harem where she belonged.
Amenket grabbed her arm and forced her out of her throne room. Before the doors closed, however, she glared at Pawah and muttered under her hot breath:
“Before I die, you will.”
Back at the royal harem, Ankhesenpaaten found Sennedjem, with a single thought burning through her mind:
If Pawah imprisons me here, I will make use of my time before his ultimatum comes due.
She placed her hands on her hips as Sennedjem stood up from cleaning a training blade. She reached down and tore a slit in her long linen dress, from the tear she’d made when Pawah pushed her, for her legs to move with greater agility. She grabbed a wooden training stick that rested on the wall as he bowed to her and rubbed his chin, observing her odd actions.
“Sennedjem.” She pointed the stick at him. Her voice was steady and low; she readied her muscles with a calm, clear focus on her subject.
“Yes, chief royal wife?” Sennedjem straightened his back, but kept his chin lowered out of respect for her.
She placed one foot behind the other and bent her knees, as if ready to defend herself. Her unwavering gaze met his, and she tapped her stick on the ground.
“Teach me to fight.”
“Yes, my Queen,” he said, and grabbed another stick from the wall.
Ankhesenpaaten set her jaw and gave a curt nod.
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