I gulped. When Pentu explained that Meti lost her child, I thought it meant that she had misplaced it. It dawned upon me now that no new akh would be forthcoming. I wept. We needed more heirs.
“I administered a healing remedy to soothe and lift her mood,” said Pentu. “But I warn you it will only last a short time. Has the Pharaoh confirmed he will announce their co-regency tonight?”
Ti-Yee said, “He said that he has news which will make me happy. Now, where is that old goat? He should have arrived by now?” The Per Aat peeked through the heavy red drapes at the crowd. The layers of court officials flaunted their wealth and obsession with fashion. Dressed in full regalia of folded linen robes decorated with costly gems, they glittered like a jeweled collar when they arranged themselves at the long tables. The Per Aat noted her other daughters and their consorts sitting amongst Khemit’s elite. A low chatter started as their impatience grew.
A clatter came from the back. Grand Djedti craned her neck to see. Pharaoh Amunhotep The Magnificent staggered in, bedecked by two Royal Ornaments. The exotic beauties tried to steady the drunken Grand Lord of Khemit, but their petite frames couldn’t support his obesity. He teetered.
“You may rise, your Pharaoh has arrived,” he bellowed. His lopsided royal Nemes head cloth revealed his balding head while his gold uraeus slipped down over his eyes. Tadukhepa, his young new Mitannian lesser consort, walked behind, her eyes locked on the floor.
Everyone bowed low, their arms thrust forward. Grand Djed plopped down in his throne.
“Where is Ti-Yee?” he asked. Sit-Amun sat to his left. He patted the plump purple cushion on the empty throne next to him and searched for the Per Aat.
“Perhaps she forgot her own banquet,” said Sit-Amun with an anxious tone.
“Pentu, quick, we must do something,” said Ti-Yee. “If she is too weak to walk then carry her. She must make an appearance.” Ti-Yee then threw open the curtain. “Here I am, my Pharaoh!” She descended the stairs with grace. The electrum tips on her elaborate tripartite wig clinked. Her silvery gown cascaded behind her as a mountain stream. The guests clapped their hands upon the tables with approval. Ti-Yee swept her long costume to one side and gestured.
“Announcing the arrival of our Royal Son, Amunhotep, The Younger, and his consort, She Who Walks In Harmony, Nefertiti,” said Ti-Yee as the harpist played a tribute.
Father bent low and asked, “My Heart, can you walk?”
Meti stood up but her knees buckled. “I am too weak.”
“Guards!” Pentu motioned. “Let us use the screen.” The strong men yanked the crimson curtain down and pulled the gilt screen off the wall. When they laid it down, Meti climbed aboard. She left droplets of blood. “Netri, look” I pointed and felt sick. Netri fashioned that red beaded drape about Meti, hiding all evidence of her discomfort.
“Thank you, my Heart.” She offered a weak smile. “Pentu, she looks so pale,” said Father tugging the Physician’s arm. “Her miscarriage has drained away all color. She simply cannot proceed with this charade.”
“Here, use the gold dust and the moringa oil,” I said, picking up the vials. “You are indeed bright,” said Meti. I mixed the two and patted them upon her flesh and short bobbed Nubian wig that exposed the nape of her neck. She sparkled like a golden idol. Meti sighed. “My Heart, we must make our appearance. Once your father announces our co-regency and it is official, I shall spill a glass of wine upon myself and we can leave.”
Father considered her words, stroking his chin. “Only if you have the strength. I will not risk your health for political gain.”
“I am ready,” said Meti.
The guards heaved up her screen palanquin and transported her into the impatient crowd. Her fragility weakened the critics. Her radiance shone ever brighter because the flame within her belly was extinguished. Her broken heart evoked a mystical spell over the jaded onlookers. Netri and I lagged behind.
The Pharaoh’s jaw dropped. He tried to heave his bulk from his throne but couldn’t garner enough strength. Sit-Amun sat transfixed until she turned and saw her consort’s reaction. Panic washed over her face even as Grand Djedti gloated. The guards placed my mother at the feet of the Almighty Pharaoh of Khemit like a gilded goddess, unobtainable to mere mortals. Motionless. Bejeweled. Bewildering. The silence became unbearable. I shuffled from foot to foot, wanting this moment of glory to last forever but feeling the desperation mount. Please someone, anyone, speak.
“Wine!” announced Sit-Amun. “Let us toast my little brother Amunhotep The Younger and his consort.”
Everyone lifted their goblets. The Pharaoh broke his gaze and licked his lips. His unquenchable desire for beauty and pleasure stirred in his loincloth.
“I am parched. Fill my glass,” he said, and his red eyes had a glassy glaze. Grand Djedti’s shoulders drooped. The moment of glory was shattered. Red wine flowed into the celebratory goblets. The attendants pressed golden cups into my parents’ hands.
“My Pharaoh,” said Per Aat Ti-Yee. “You should make your announcements to enhance this Banquet of the Full Harvest.”
Pharaoh Amunhotep looked stunned, as if the reason for gathering had slipped from his cobwebbed mind. Not even Ti-Yee’s prompting could weave his thoughts together. He cleared his throat. My father grasped Meti’s hand. She rose from her palanquin. A soft smile blossomed upon her face. The anticipated moment had arrived. Co-regency at last. We could save Khemit from darkness.
“Ah, yes, let us rejoice for my consort Tadukhepa. She is pregnant.” Grand Djedti Ti-Yee faltered then caught herself. Sit-Amun dug her nails into the cushion on her throne. The wild cheer drowned out my father’s groan.
“As a gift to my Per Aat,” said Pharaoh, winking at his beloved, “Tadukhepa has a generous offer of a chariot, four swift stallions and an inlaid lapis-lazuli fly-whisk.”
“My Consort, I am most grateful for the magnificent offering. Tadukhepa, I thank you for honoring me,” replied Ti-Yee who sipped wine from her goblet.
Pharaoh’s head slipped forward. His eyes grew heavy while his shoulders slumped.
“My brother, does your Mitannian consort choose to dishonor me in front of our guests?” asked Sit-Amun in a whisper. Surely, she would bestow an equal gift for your First Royal Consort and true sister.” She laid a firm hand upon his. Her red swirls emanating from the base of her spine were evidence of her fear she’d be left out.
Alarmed, the elder stirred awake.
“Dear Brother, the humiliation of this night has caused me to lose face before the Amun officials. May I remind you that it would please Amun to keep the peace within the Palace.” Sit-Amun gave a slight nod to the three dark lords huddling in the front row.
“I did not forget you, little sister,” replied Amunhotep The Magnificent, who smashed a wedge of bread into his mouth. “And as a contribution to my Royal Consort’s estate, Tadukhepa presents six oxen and a flock of sheep.”
The audience again pounded their approval upon the wooden tables. Grand Djedti hid her alarm and placed her hand upon his knee. “My Lord, such glad tidings for Sit-Amun. She will have her hands full supervising the care and counting of this blessed menagerie.”
Pharaoh chuckled and bit off another hunk of bread.
“Let us not forget a gift for your son, and Nefertiti. Their estates overflow with livestock. Perhaps a mere title would be more suitable for the couple who bear so many royal children in your honor.”
Sit-Amun glared at the insult. My father grasped my hand. I gazed up at him. I could feel his restlessness with this political maneuvering. This style of manipulation did not suit him. Yet, Meti’s eyes sparkled.
“I did not forget our son,” whispered Grand Djed. He patted her hand and chucked her under her chin. She giggled.
“On this auspicious day, thanks for the abundance which makes Khemit the most prosperous land in the world. Having ruled Khemit for over three decades, wisdom and training are only partial requirements of a leader.”
<
br /> Sit-Amun edged to the front of her seat. Grand Djedti’s eyes teared up. What a glorious night.
“Our people are free from hunger. We have grain and gold to share with our neighboring lands.” Pharaoh lifted his bread as a symbol. He then tilted his head as if trying to finish a sentence he’d already forgotten. With absentmindedness, he bit into the bread.
“Ow!” he wailed and clasped his jaw. “I broke a tooth.” He staggered up the red carpet toward the door. “Pentu. The pain! Help me.”
Meti cried out in anguish, fainted, and spilled her goblet of red wine all over herself.
Later that night, Sit-Amun and the Amun High Priest, Mery- Ptah, brushed past the prostrating courier. He held a letter, hoping to catch her eye. More bad news no doubt. Again. She swiped the letter out of his hand, ignoring the courier’s adulations.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Another invitation to an Amun official’s estate to invoke a daughter’s joining,” lied Sit-Amun as they entered her royal chamber and slammed the heavy door upon the outside world.
“Ah, those duties are so tedious. All those idiotic invocations for a love match, but alas, we all must play our parts,” said the High Priest, who then snickered. “I dole out my fair share, too.”
Sit-Amun walked over to the ebony desk, pulled out a drawer, and stuffed the papyrus in with a pile of others. She yanked off the weighty gold and carnelian collar from her neck, feeling the strain in her shoulders momentarily lift.
Mery-Ptah poured two glasses of mandragore wine.
“Congratulations on receiving such a rich endowment tonight. As your herds grow, so will your nobility and wealth. I am impressed. It is a testament to your power and influence with the Pharaoh.” She snorted at the thought of more livestock. “That filthy shrew, Ti-Yee, tried to get my brother to name her son as co-regent. She pesters the Pharaoh constantly to name his heir.”
“The Hanuti would never support the rise of those half-breeds,” replied Mery-Ptah. “You know we only support a true Khemitian lineage upon the throne. You have our loyalty.”
“If it were not for Ti-Yee and those Semites infiltrating our country, I would be the Great Queen of Khemit. How dare my brother break tradition by gifting Ti-Yee, that cow, with the title of Per Aat? You know it is rightfully mine.”
“You are right, my darling. It is an abomination. The Amun priests should not have condoned Amunhotep’s second joining with someone with Semitic blood. Who could have known that he would favor her with unprecedented power?”
Sit-Amun gulped her wine in an attempt to wash down her bitterness.
“These Semites are a devious bunch. I heard you asked the Pharaoh to gift Ti-Yee and her son with a small Aten Temple.” Mery-Ptah raised an eyebrow.
Sit-Amun chortled and ran a finger down his smooth face. “Oh, I told my little brother I would ask, but I doubt The Hanuti will agree to it.” Mery-Ptah inhaled deeply. “We did agree. Only to keep them out of trouble.”
“Seems silly to allow them to build anything for this blasphemous worship of light. If you give those Semites some birdseed, they demand a bag. This Aten is meaningless, an insignificant lesser deity reinvigorated to gain power.” Sit-Amun gritted her teeth; her blood boiled just thinking about those impure races infiltrating the royal ranks of her beloved Khemit.
“They should have stuck to sheep herding.” Mery-Ptah wrapped his arms around her. “But do not worry. The Hanuti will allow one small temple, and they will demand total control over their Atenic Rituals. These heretics will bend their will to Amun, or they will be wiped out.”
“Khemit is at the apex of power and wealth because Amun has deemed it so. We have peace and abundance. What fools would want to destroy that and put our country at risk?”
“Do not let it vex you. Nothing will upset the rule of Amun. We are too powerful,” replied Mery-Ptah, soothing the tension from her face. “But if something should happen to Ti-Yee, then perhaps my little brother would not be so bold in the revival of Aten worship.” Sit-Amun cupped her lover’s jewels.
Mery-Ptah met those full lips with a delicious embrace. She melted into the strength of his arms, breathing in the heady scent of Khyphi incense still clinging to his yellow embroidered robes.
“We could rule. My brother is aging. Senility is creeping up behind him. You saw for yourself tonight. His indulgences make him weak in body and spirit,” whispered Sit-Amun.
“It is only time. His blood contract with the Hanuti is coming to a close. Then you, my darling, will be the Hanuti’s choice. I am sure of it.”
“Today is always better than tomorrow,” said Sit-Amun as she loosened his garment. “We cannot let my little brother or his narcissistic consort Nefertiti be named as co-regents.”
“You worry about them, but what about the child, Merit-Aten? I have heard she is their prophecy. She is the one that supposedly destroys the age of Amun.”
“She will not be hurt!” said Sit-Amun pulling away. “She is out of bounds to the Hanuti. Do I make myself clear?”
A few months later, I entered the workroom behind my Father’s estate. On the granite tables, mountains of architectural drawings were spread next to a miniature clay Aten Temple and tablets with crude drawings. A plate of unfinished cooked vegetables and barley attracted flies. My father had been giddy working late into the night on his plans to introduce the Aten with his extravagant Gem-pa-Aten Temple. My parents perused the plans.
“Just a few more changes,” said Father.
Mother pointed. “You enlarged the courtyard? And you moved the walls in the offering halls again? We will need the Hanuti’s approval.” Netri kissed her cheek. “The Aten Temple must have the same perfection in this temporal world as exists in the celestial realm.”
“I do not understand that, my Heart. But your architectural drawings outshine your Father’s Amun structures. Will it make the Amunites angry?”
His eyes glittered. “The Hanuti have offered us their artisans to complete the statuary and the temple paintings.”
“Really? Then maybe they will support our rise to the throne after your father wests.” She placed a delicate hand upon his knee.
Father rubbed his chin. “I do not know. Mery-Ptah publicly opposes it. That Amun High Priest has great sway with the council.”
“Who else is even suitable to rule? Your other sisters’ consorts are weak. Besides, your mother favors you. Your father will announce us as co-regents, I am sure of it.”
Weighing the consequences, his face turned ashen. “If someone outside our lineage is placed upon the throne, our family dynasty will end.” Meti yanked her earring. “Your family has held the power for generations. The Sesh worship this lineage.”
“Could they do that to us, Father?” I asked and rubbed the middle of my forehead.
“It is quite possible,” he said.
My heart ached and I climbed upon his knee. “Just stay home with us.”
“I have duties, Beloved. The Pharaoh demands that I oversee the final construction on his mortuary temple, yet he changes his plans daily. I am torn to pieces supervising every detail.”
Hep-Mut arrived and noted the intensity of the conversation.
“The Pharaoh’s memory has become as useless as a candle in a sandstorm.” Meti leaned closer to his ear. “Yet these moments of senility that dim his mind seem to increase his libido. I hear he beds all the chambermaids along with those Royal Ornaments.”
The dwarf ’s eyes grew wide. “Merit-Aten, let us go feed the fish.”
I ran to Hep-Mut, thankful to leave my parents’ discussion. Could someone else steal the throne? We entered the grand courtyard that separated our chambers from Sit-Amun’s. Thoughts of danger swirled in my mind.
Shadow of the Sun (The Shadow Saga) Page 5
