“They’re beautiful. How can I repay you for such a priceless gift?”
“You have more urgent things to attend to.”
“Yes, there is much to do,” replied Lupita. “How many maidservants should I take along with me? Or maybe I shouldn’t concern myself with that now. I have nine days to make my decision.”
Panic surged through Queen Ty’s body. A nine-day waiting period was not part of her plan. She shook her head at Lupita. “Nine days would be much too late. Your family needs you.”
“I’m grateful for your help, queen, but I can’t just leave on such a journey without adequately preparing myself and my retinue. I will ask Amenhotep for his guidance,” said Lupita.
“There is no time, you have to leave now before it’s too late,” Queen Ty replied, as she grabbed hold of Lupita’s hand to get her attention.
“I beg your pardon, my queen, but I will not leave Egypt without the blessing of my husband. It’s unthinkable.”
Lupita freed herself from the queen’s hold and began searching through a stack of clothing on the table. The queen followed her.
“What about Tazam? Your brother Tushratta will surely kill him for what they believe he has done.”
“I will vouch for Tazam’s innocence to Amenhotep. He’ll save him, you’ll see. I’ll go to him now.”
Lupita found the scarf she was looking for and wrapped it around her shoulders. The queen’s plan was falling apart and her cracking voice revealed her frustration.
“You should think clearly about this first, Lupita. If you tell Amenhotep now, he’ll delay your return to your homeland so that he can send his own messengers there first to kill Tazam before you arrive. King Artasssumara was like a brother to him. He’ll seek to avenge his death. That is certain.”
“You believe he would murder my brother without my consent?”
“Amenhotep consults no one except the Amun god before he makes a decision of life or death.”
Lupita hesitated, and sat down in front of the mirror again, contemplating the queen’s advice.
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Lupita.
“Of course I am. I’ve known him many years before you and can decipher his way of thinking. You must leave now if you wish to save your brother.”
“If you truly believe it’s the best way, then I’ll go.”
“It is, Lupita. I have assembled a Mitanni convoy that can escort you on a short route through the Ugarit Valley to your homeland. You’ll find them at the entrance gate of the city prepared and waiting for your arrival as we speak.”
Lupita gathered up her jewelry and garments. She scanned the chamber for her cat but didn’t see him. “Come, Bastian.”
Bastian appeared from his hiding place inside a straw basket and jumped into her arms. Queen Ty attempted to pet the cat’s head, and it snarled at her.
“Bastian, no! Forgive him, my queen, he gets nervous.”
“It’s all right. It hasn’t had a chance to get to know me. Once you’ve had a sufficient head start, I’ll alert Amenhotep of your departure so that he’ll send his army to shadow and protect you and your convoy.”
“Amenhotep will be angry with me. I know it,” said Lupita.
“Yes, but he’s unable to resist your femininity. He’ll forgive you. This is the right thing to do to save your brother. I would do exactly the same for my own brother Ay.”
The queen’s pronouncement of loyalty to her brother was enough to convince Lupita that she had made the right decision. She embraced Queen Ty again.
“Your wisdom is invaluable. I’ll forever remember you for this, my queen. Thank you,” said Lupita. “When the time’s right, please let Amenhotep know I’ll return to him soon.”
Queen Ty caressed Lupita’s face, sealing her fate with a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do as you requested. Go now, mourn with your family and return to us.”
The queen was still anxious but relieved when Lupita finally left the room. Surely, the inexperienced Mitannian convoy would head straight into the Ugarit Valley and into the hands of the Hittites—a race of heathens known for their brutality and merciless treatment of the Mitannians, the queen thought. Lupita would not survive, nor would her and Amenhotep’s unborn child, the one threat to Teppy’s claim to the throne of Egypt.
THE GREAT MILITARY FORTRESS OF T’ARU sat on Egypt’s eastern border and was twelve days of chariot travel south of the Mitanni kingdom. It was Queen Ty’s birthplace, the home that held her childhood secrets and the retreat where she found comfort and solace. It was unusual for Amenhotep to visit such a desolate city, so on the night of Lupita’s departure, when the queen had received urgent word from him that they should meet there, she sensed something was terribly wrong. She had no reason to believe that he knew of Lupita’s journey to Mitanni or about what she had done to the Oracle, but her extended journey to the fortress gave her an abundance of time to worry about his motives. When she arrived, she rushed up the palace stairs where four guards opened the massive stone doors for her entrance.
“He’s in the back chamber, my queen,” a guard said to her. “He’s expecting you.”
Two rats scurried from her path as she continued down the long ornate hall to a room in the back chamber. Before she entered, she blotted dry the moisture on her face, smoothing out the heavy makeup she had applied before she stepped foot in the palace. Queen Ty inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and entered the room. Seated at a table, Amenhotep held a reed brush in his hand, dipping it in ink and writing on a papyrus scroll. It always amazed the queen that the hieroglyphics that had taken her brother Ay five years to master, had taken Amenhotep a mere eighty days. Only a god was capable of such a thing.
“Why have you sent for me?” she asked.
Without taking his eye away from his writing, he answered her. “Tell me what you know of the Oracle.”
Fear overwhelmed the queen. She rendered a look of confusion. How could he possibly know?
“The Or—Oracle?” she repeated, stumbling over her words. “I know only what you’ve told me of him. Why?”
“The Oracle is dead, Ty” said Amenhotep.
The queen remained silent for a moment. Her response needed to be believable. “Dead? How?”
“Murdered. Someone severed his head.”
“How blasphemous,” she said, and placed her hand on her chest feigning shock. “Thieves, most likely.”
“It wasn’t a thief. Sia and Neper informed me that all the Oracle’s possessions were left untouched. What’s most troublesome is that the priests suspect the Oracle’s murderer was a woman.”
This time Ty stifled her gasp. He certainly knows, but how? She wondered. Did the old man untangle her secret and betray her? Or could her brother Ay have done the unthinkable? She hoped that Amenhotep would at least reveal the betrayer’s identity before he executed her.
“How did they determine it was a woman?” she asked slyly.
“A woman’s scarf was found underneath his body.”
Inside, the queen berated herself for foolishly leaving the scarf behind. How could she have been so careless?
Amenhotep saved her from her moment of inner loathing. “It was clearly made from the crudest cloth of a peasant—most likely a lowly female commoner murdered the Oracle, the ones he spent most of his life protecting,” Amenhotep continued. “Who will warn us now of the plague or the curse?” he asked, meeting her eyes.
“The Amun priests will appoint another. I still don’t understand why you summoned me.”
“We can mourn the Oracle’s death together here.”
“We can just as well mourn the Oracle’s death in Thebes. Why here?” said Queen Ty, now certain he didn’t suspect her.
“Why not here? This city comforts me as it comforts you. I don’t have to behave like a mad tyrant here to gain respect from my people. In T’aru, I can be as I am.”
His sudden burst of veracity confounded her, and she harbored a sudden sense of pity for him.
“The people of Egypt love and revere you,” she said.
Amenhotep placed the brush down and stood. “The people love the image of the pharaoh. They can’t love me. They don’t know me.”
He walked toward her, staring at her intently. “What about you? Do you love me, Ty?”
The question stunned her. She had not heard it since the day before they were married.
“You know the answer, Amenhotep.”
“No, I don’t. Do you or do you not?”
She stepped away from him, suspecting she was being tested. “Why are you asking if I love you? Is that the real reason you had me travel all the way here from Thebes?”
“It’s not the only reason. But I need you to answer my question first,” he said.
The queen paused. She was nervous in his presence and afraid that his questioning her love for him was trickery to uncover the terrible, but necessary, things she had done. If she lied about not loving him, he would surely see it in her eyes. She had no choice but to answer him with her heart.
“Very well. The truth is: I loathe you. The way you spew venom at me, it poisons my insides. How you belittle me as if I’m a thorn in your foot is utter cruelty. I hate you even more when you close your ears to my voice and punish me with silence. You have many shortcomings, Amenhotep. Despite them all, I still love you. The sound of your voice, your strength, your courage, soothes my heart. The wisdom that covers you like a fine garment still intoxicates me more than six measures of wine. I fear you, yes, and I despise you even more, but I can’t help loving you intensely.”
Queen Ty had never said an honest word to Amenhotep in over two decades, but in that moment she spoke her truth. She truly loved him more than life itself, and she hated herself for it. Her love for him was her badge of weakness. What would he do now?
She gazed into his eyes and instantly regretted what she had just revealed to him. The thought of it embarrassed her and she waited to hear the words that he would say that would punish her for her honesty. Instead, with passion and tenderness, Amenhotep kissed Ty the way he did so many moons ago at the blossoming of their romance—the kiss she had longed for over a lifetime. She reciprocated almost against her will and relaxed into his extended embrace. He released her and stared at her with sparkling eyes. “I have something for you,” he said.
The pharaoh took her hand and led her out of the room and down the hallway to the colossal nine-cubit-high doors at the rear entrance. It was a beautiful dream; she had her husband back, a gift from the Aten god. The man she had fallen in love with twenty-three years before had returned to her, and it had happened there, in the palace of T’aru where they had first embraced.
Amenhotep pushed the doors open and escorted her out onto a balcony adorned with vibrant flowers. Instead of the endless fields of grain she had become accustomed to viewing, there was a spectacular man-made lake surrounding the palace estate, stretching hundreds of cubits beyond the city. The amazement in her eyes provided the reason he needed to feel proud of himself.
“This is Lake Ty, your private lake. These are the waters where you will sail your royal barge whenever you desire,” he said.
The queen covered her mouth with her hand. She was overwhelmed and astonished at the beauty.
“It’s magnificent, Amenhotep, thank you,” she said embracing him.
“This is why you traveled secretly? You were coming here to build this for me?”
He kissed her lips again. “I never stopped loving you, Ty. This is how I can show it.”
“You are indeed the great builder of Egypt, my husband. I’ve never seen anything so—”
Amenhotep stooped over, clutching his chest.
“What’s wrong? Are you not well?” she asked.
He tried to stand up straight. He couldn’t.
“I— I—” Amenhotep uttered, trying to speak, but the strain was too much.
He fell to his knees and collapsed on the ground, unconscious. Queen Ty knelt beside him, pulled his head into her lap, and cradled his trembling body.
“Help me! Guards, somebody help me!” she screamed.
CHAPTER 10
The fortified walls of Mitanni stood tall like a beacon in the distance. This was the land of Wassukanni, the main city of the entire Mitanni kingdom. Horemheb had traveled there before nearly ten years ago as a captain under the command of General Nasheret. Now, he was in command with his own captain, Salitas, galloping alongside. The journey had taken them forty-one days on horseback.
Horemheb surveyed the perimeter of the area. Although the Mitanni walls were impressive; they were also perplexing to the general. How could an inept and incompetent people engineer such a sound structure without the aid of Egypt? The Mitannians seemed no better than insects to Horemheb, parasites that leeched Egypt’s resources with nothing to give in return. Their kings used the allure of their voluptuous daughters to elicit gifts of gold and jewels from the pharaoh, and, as such, the service of the Egyptian army was at their beck and call. Mitannians seduced, or even bullied, other nations into war, smug that they would not have to face the battle themselves. They assumed Egypt would come to their rescue and fight for them, and their assumption had proven to be correct throughout Pharaoh Amenhotep’s reign.
The possibility of his men losing their lives in a war in defense of such a trivial nation as Mitanni sickened Horemheb. Out of respect and admiration for the pharaoh, he kept his hatred of the Mitannians to himself and followed Amenhotep’s orders as he swore he would do.
“I’ve heard stories about Mitanni,” Salitas said. “They say its king conspires with the Assyrians in their bribery. Is there any honor here?”
Horemheb smirked. “I’m certain of only two things about this place: the women are voluptuous, and the pharaoh has great affection for this city and its people.”
“And his affection for these barbarians doesn’t disturb you?”
“It’s not my place to question the pharaoh. Nor is it yours, Salitas.”
“Certainly, General, I meant no offense,” said Salitas.
Horemheb halted the formation before speaking to Salitas again.
“Akure and Menofet will ride ahead with me to the entrance. You’ll assume command until I return,” said Horemheb.
“By your order, general,” replied Salitas.
Horemheb turned his horse around to face his army. He spotted his top-ranking officers, Akure and Menofet, at the helm.
“Akure! Menofet! With me!” he shouted.
The two officers rode up to him, and all three galloped toward the city. They soon came to a sudden stop in front of the fifty-foot walls and startled a murder of crows out of the nearby trees and into the clear blue sky.
Scores of Mitanni archers, previously concealed atop the wall, lifted their heads and then their bows. Their arrows were aimed directly at Horemheb and his two warriors and the general was furious. “Wretched beasts,” he murmured to himself.
A slim and pompous adolescent, half the general’s age, stood up among the archers. He had a decadent air about him, a confidence that exuded more arrogance than what Horemheb was willing to tolerate. The young man stepped in front of the archers and waved his hand. They lowered their bows, and he disappeared from the top of the wall.
As the gates of the city opened, the man and three of his guards lumbered out to meet the general.
“I am Shattiwaza, the son of the king. He’s awaiting your arrival.”
Horemheb dismounted his horse. Akure and Menofet followed his lead.
“Is it customary now to greet the general of the Egyptian army with nocked arrows?” asked the general.
“Perhaps if you had sent your troops through the Ugarit valley, it wouldn’t have raised our suspicions,” said Shattiwaza.
Horemheb strutted up to Shattiwaza. “Perhaps if you were older and more experienced, you would have known the valley of Ugarit is a Hittite trap and not conducive to an army as massive as the Egyptian army,” he responded. “We wer
e told the king of Mitanni was dead.”
“He is… very. My father, Tushratta, is the newly appointed king,” said Shattiwaza.
“I’m familiar with your father. I am Horemheb, general of Pharaoh Amenhotep’s army.”
“Follow me, general,” said Shattiwaza before he turned back toward the city.
Horemheb followed, and Akure and Menofet kept their eyes glued on the archers at the top of the wall as they all entered the gates of the city and headed toward the Mitanni palace.
King Tushratta was in his bath chamber when the men arrived. He was an obese man with beady eyes and, in Horemheb’s view, an untrustworthy face. The king waded in a steam pool and he wasn’t alone. Three naked women bathed him while a fourth woman with only her breasts covered knelt between his legs in oral service. The footsteps of Shattiwaza, Horemheb, and his warriors did nothing to interrupt the orgy.
The Mitannians’ profligate nature was known throughout Egypt and the neighboring kingdoms. Horemheb found the Mitanni to be nothing more than sexual deviants, existing only to please their depraved pagan god, Assur, a god subservient to the Egyptian gods.
“The Egyptians are here,” shouted Shattiwaza as he entered with Horemheb on his heel.
Tushratta pushed the woman’s head away from his crotch at the sight of his guests. She rose and left the chamber. The king stared at the general as if forcing his memory to figure out who he was.
“Captain Horemheb? It’s been a long time, welcome back to Wassukanni.”
“I am the general of the pharaoh’s army,” said Horemheb, offended.
“My mistake. Congratulations on your promotion.”
Horemheb decided to overlook Tushratta’s smugness. He eyed the perimeter of the bath and found no scrolls or evidence of war planning. It was as he suspected; the Mitannians had no intention of fighting their own battle. It annoyed Horemheb to the bone.
“You have a war brewing on your border, and you’re in here bathing with whores?”
“I assure you, general, they’re not all whores,” said Tushratta.
Valley of the Kings Page 8
