Valley of the Kings

by Terrance Coffey

  “No, Father, Tuthmosis is not with us anymore. He’s with the Aten in the mountains. It’s me, Teppy.”

  Amenhotep looked over his son’s head and eyed the perimeter of the room, teary-eyed, as if he didn’t recognize his surroundings. “Where am I?”

  It startled Teppy to see his father weeping. This was his chance to be like Tuthmosis, the one who had always comforted him when he was afraid.

  “You’re in your bedchamber, Father. Don’t cry, you’re safe. I will protect you from the beast.”

  Amenhotep gazed at him. “I’m so sorry, my son. I couldn’t save you, forgive me. Can you please forgive me?’

  “Save me from what? I’m here, Father. I’m alive and well.”

  Amenhotep reached out and rubbed Teppy’s chest and arms.

  “You are alive,” said Amenhotep. “But how can that be when you’re dead?”

  “I’m not dead, Father. I don’t want to die,” said Teppy, confused.

  “You’re already dead, Tuthmosis. Look at you. Can’t you feel the blood dripping from your eyes and the corners of your mouth? Amun has taken you away and cursed me. Let me cover your neck wound, my son, so that the blood will stop flowing from it.”

  Amenhotep sat up in his bed and reached out to grab Teppy around the neck.

  Afraid, Teppy stepped back. “Stop it, Father. I’m not Tuthmosis.”

  “You are dead. You should have ascended into the afterlife, my son,” he said with his eyes widened and his left hand quivering.

  “I’m not Tuthmosis I said! I’m Teppy!”

  His scream snapped Amenhotep out of his delusion. When he realized it was actually his son Teppy standing in his chamber, he looked disgusted by it.

  “It’s you who plays these tricks of sorcery on me, pretending to be Tuthmosis.” Amenhotep growled.

  “I’m not playing tricks, Father. I only came to bring you a pomegranate, see?”

  He held out the fruit to his father. Amenhotep snatched it from his hand and threw it across the room. It smashed against the wall, staining it red before the bloody rinds landed on the floor. Teppy limped over to where the fruit had landed and retrieved it. Amenhotep glowered at his son.

  “Your birth has cursed me. Get out.”

  Amenhotep tried to rise from his bed and stand. The simple task was difficult for him as he started to heave and take quick breaths. Teppy froze in place with the pomegranate in his hand. The fruit was meant for his father and he wanted so much to be the one to give it to him. Instead, he heard Amenhotep shouted at him again as he fell back into his bed.

  “Ay! Get him out! Get him away from me!”

  Teppy dropped the pomegranate and ran out of the room and down the palace corridor sobbing.

  “You told me he would love me! He doesn’t love me. He hates me!” cried Teppy.

  Though his legs were growing stronger, and his falls had become less frequent, he lost his balance that day and fell hard. Ay spotted him and rushed over to help. When he reached out his hand, Teppy refused it.

  “No, I am strong. I am a prince,” he said to Ay.

  Teppy wiped the tears from his eyes, and with all the strength he could muster, he lifted himself up from the floor and limped away down the palace corridor.

  IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, Amenhotep’s voice was barely audible, his speech garbled, and at times nothing he would say made any sense. In her desperation to help him, the queen did something she swore she would never do. To appease Amenhotep, she called on the Amun priests, Sia and Neper. She wanted to save her husband at any cost, even if it meant in the end she would regret her decisions.

  Sia and Neper entered Amenhotep’s bedchamber while Ay and the queen waited outside, hopeful that the Amun god’s judgment of the pharaoh would be favorable. When the twins exited the bedchamber after a remarkably short period of time, the queen presumed the news would not be good.

  “Tell us. Can his illness be cured?” asked Ay.

  “We can’t do anything more for him here. We need to transport him to the healing temple— “ said Sia.

  “And lie him next to the statue where the Amun god himself resides,” Neper finished.

  “He won’t go. He’s petrified of the healing temple,” said the queen.

  “The pharaoh needs the blessing of Amun now, Sia replied.”

  “You can bless him here. Help him!” Queen Ty shouted.

  The twins responded to her demands with the same eerie calm they portrayed after the death of Tuthmosis. “You will watch him die in his chamber…,” said Neper, “—if you don’t allow us to take him to the healing temple,” Sia warned.

  Their words infuriated her. Clearly, it had been a horrible mistake to allow the Amun priests to see Amenhotep. To be humiliated again after what they allowed to happen to her son Tuthmosis was intolerable.

  The queen looked at Sia and Neper with disgust. “The both of you are worthless. I will not threaten my husband with your lies.”

  “Sister, please,” Ay interrupted. Queen Ty ignored him.

  “For many years, Amenhotep and I sacrificed everything to your Amun god: our gold, our precious jewels, and our best livestock. All of it to a god that delights in its own greed. We have received nothing in return for our generosity except more premonitions of turmoil yet to come if we don’t provide it with more offerings. Amun has no power to bring goodness,” she snapped, “only evil, and so it is with its priests.”

  “Your words are blasphemous, Queen,” said Sia.

  “You may soon regret them,” Neper finished.

  “I regret my husband didn’t put an end to your priesthood a long time ago.”

  The queen directed her attention back to Ay. “Escort them out of this palace,” she said as she strode away down the corridor into Amenhotep’s chamber.

  The moment she left, Sia approached Ay face-to-face. “It seems the pharaoh’s fate has been sealed by his queen. If you wish to save Teppy from the same fate, then you must bring him to us at once—”

  “We will cast a spell that will cure the prince so he walks like a pharaoh when the time comes,” said Neper.

  “The queen would never allow it,” said Ay.

  Sia pressed the palm of his hand against Ay’s chest.

  “Consider the benefits of your loyalty to the Amun priesthood—” he said.

  “And the consequences of your disloyalty,” Neper added.

  Sia removed his hand from Ay, and he and Neper drifted down the corridor and out of the temple. Ay was left with a tingling sensation under the skin of his chest. He opened his garment. A bruise the size of a fist covered the area where Sia had touched him.

  CHAPTER 12

  King Tushratta hurled razor-sharp discuses at a statue of Isis, as he waited in his chamber for his son to arrive.

  “I wonder if the Egyptians know you use their sacred statue for target practice,” said Shattiwaza entering the room.

  “It’s no worse than what they’ll do with our statue of Ishtar,” responded Tushratta as he hurled another copper discus at the statue. It lodged across the bridge of the nose.

  “Then why did you give it to them?”

  “I didn’t give it; I loaned it. It’s worthless anyway. Sit.”

  “I’ll stand. Why have you sent for me?”

  “I need a word with you in private.”

  Tushratta stood up revealing his naked, obese body. Shattiwaza looked sickened by it. “For the sake of the gods, why can’t you put on a garment?”

  “This is my palace; I’ll be as I please.”

  Tushratta stepped over to the ablution tank, cupped water in his hand, and splashed it on his face. “Your rude behavior in the presence of my guests was beyond disrespectful.”

  “What rude behavior?”

  “How quickly you’ve forgotten how you shamed me in front of the Egyptian general.”

  “If I were you, Father, I’d be more concerned about shaming your sister Lupita. Have you forgotten that she’s out there somewhere in th
e Ugarit Valley unprotected? If the Hittites get to her, they will do unspeakable things to her.”

  “They wouldn’t dare harm her. She’s a wife of the pharaoh,” replied Tushratta.

  “A pharaoh of Egyptian vulgarians who have no right to come to our kingdom and dictate who should live and who should die. Why can’t you stand up to them like a true Mitannian?”

  “A true Mitannian?” Tushratta smirked. “What do you know about being a true Mitannian?”

  “I know your greed for Egyptian gold Father, has rendered you spineless. I’d wager the trait is not part of Mitanni’s legacy. “

  His temper rising, Tushratta sat down and hurled more copper discuses at the Isis statue. One arm shattered, and terra cotta pieces crumbled on the floor. “I’ve built kingdoms while you were in the womb, led Mitanni armies into war, and judged over countless disputes between men, all while you were merely carried in the pouch between my legs. You have much to learn before you can question my motives.”

  “Your motives are as predictable as the sun rising in the east,” said Shattiwaza.

  Tushratta rose and stepped close to his son, staring him in the eye.

  “If your mother was alive, how disappointed she would be to see how insolent you’ve become. Just a useless waste of her breast milk.”

  “How can a whore be disappointed?” said Shattiwaza.

  In a fit of rage, Tushratta shoved his son against the wall and strangled him. Shattiwaza tried to push him away, but his father’s grip on his neck only tightened. Shattiwaza’s face turned pale as Tushratta lifted him up off the ground.

  “She sacrificed her life to save yours, you ungrateful brat.”

  The king released his grip, and Shattiwaza dropped to the floor gasping for air.

  Tushratta wrapped himself in a robe, picked up a scroll off the table, and threw it at Shattiwaza. It landed on the floor beside him.

  “You were one of the conspirators,” said Tushratta. “It’s Tazam’s full confession.”

  Tushratta was not surprised that Shattiwaza wasn’t curious enough to open the scroll. He knew of everything in it.

  Shattiwaza stood warily. “Uncle Artassumara was making secret treaties with Kadesh and the Assyrians. He would’ve destroyed Mitanni if he remained king.”

  “I’ll give you till dawn to leave Mitanni,” replied Tushratta. “Take all I’ve given you and go. If I find you here after dawn, you’ll be sent to the prison barracks.”

  “You can’t just banish me from my homeland,” Shattiwaza said in disbelief.

  “Maybe you’ll be fortunate enough to find a ‘true Mitannian’ to help you. I want you out of my sight!”

  Shattiwaza trudged to the exit of his father’s chamber. “The next time you lay eyes on me, Father, one of us will die.”

  Tushratta hurled another copper discus at what was left of the Isis statue as Shattiwaza left the room. It toppled over and crashed on the floor in pieces.

  FOR SIX DAYS, Horemheb led his army along the bank of the river as they searched for Lupita and her convoy, and for six days they found nothing. On the seventh day, one of his scouts spotted vultures circling an area east of the Great Sea. Horemheb ordered a regiment to accompany him and left the bulk of his army at the riverbank as he crossed over the river to inspect the site.

  Hidden behind rows of trees, Horemheb found Lupita’s convoy: three carriages with empty reins. The horses and camels were missing and the supplies needed to survive their long journey scattered on the ground. Salitas dismounted his horse alongside Horemheb.

  “It’s suicide for a Mitanni queen to travel this way without the escort of an army,” said Salitas.

  “She’s foremost an Egyptian queen,” Horemheb replied.

  He turned his attention to the carriages. A line of his soldiers stood ready to draw their swords as he and Salitas peered inside the first carriage, then the second. Both were empty.

  “Spread out and search for survivors,” Horemheb ordered.

  “King Suppiluliumas has stolen their horses and camels and taken them prisoners,” Salitas suggested. “He doesn’t know Lupita is a wife of the pharaoh.”

  “It is his great error if he didn’t know what he should have known,” replied Horemheb, as he extracted a Hittite arrow out of a tree. A soldier interrupted their conversation.

  “General, over here!”

  Horemheb and Salitas rushed over to where a group of soldiers stood still, all of them had solemn expressions as they stared down into a shallow ditch.

  The dead bodies of the members of Lupita’s convoy were stacked on top of each other, their faces mutilated and their bodies and clothing stained with dried blood. The vultures had all but eaten away most of the flesh around their heads and necks, but from the garments they wore, Horemheb surmised that Lupita was not among them. Perhaps Salitas was right, maybe King Suppiluliumas captured her and will soon return her safely to Egypt. In his gut, however, he believed otherwise.

  “Why would they do this when we have a peace treaty with them?” asked Salitas.

  “The treaty is now severed. Gather the bodies,” Horemheb ordered.

  The soldiers carried the bodies to the chariots, while Horemheb continued searching the area. A tiny object glimmering in the sunlight caught his attention. He walked over and retrieved it—a lapis-lazuli earring engraved with intricate designs, a rare item of jewelry only a queen of Egypt could afford to wear.

  Horemheb whipped around at the echo of a twig snapping. Lupita’s cat, Bastian, was staring at him from behind a bush. Once it was sure it had Horemheb’s attention, the cat trotted away, confidently leading him. Horemheb followed the cat through an area of dense vegetation. Bastian glanced back at Horemheb, and then entered upon an open field.

  Pieces of tattered and torn linen lay strewn on the ground. There was no sound of animals, insects, or even birds, only silence and foreboding. Bastian led Horemheb right up to Lupita’s body. Naked and lying on her back in a pool of blood, her torso appeared riddled with stab wounds. Bastian licked Lupita’s face, staining his milky-white fur blood red. The cat must have chased away the vultures, he thought, because her skin and flesh were still intact.

  The cat climbed on top of her and lay down on her swollen belly. Bastian peered up at Horemheb with its sad sea-green eyes, as if asking for help.

  There was nothing the general could do; Lupita was dead. What made it all the worse was that she had been butchered by his military rival—the Hittites—the very ones he had sworn to Amenhotep that they would be protected from.

  Horemheb removed his breastplate and covered Lupita’s nakedness. Overcome with guilt, he knelt down beside her and spoke to her aloud, asking for her forgiveness for not reaching her in time. Informing the pharaoh of her murder would not be easy; however, confronting Queen Ty with the lapis-lazuli earring was something he looked forward to doing.

  Horemheb’s army was a twenty-one-day journey away from Egypt, and the general worried that the prolonged heat and decomposition would render Lupita’s internal organs impossible to preserve. So, as the regiment crossed the river and joined with his army, Horemheb attached a third horse to his chariot, the sturdiest and strongest animal in the convoy, and lay Lupita’s body across it. Horemheb left the command of his army to Salitas and rushed off in his chariot, traveling as fast as the horses could carry him.

  CHAPTER 13

  Teppy didn’t know where Ay was taking him. His uncle had awakened him in the middle of the night, dressed him, and with no explanation, led him into the Amun healing temple. The last time he had set foot there was the last time he saw his brother Tuthmosis alive. Returning to the temple filled him with sadness and dread. Although comforted by his uncle’s presence, he was frightened to be there without his mother.

  Sia and Neper entered the room, and took turns lighting little candles around the perimeter of the platform. Frightened by the ritual, Teppy tried to hide behind his uncle, but the priests pried him away from Ay and placed him on the
platform.

  Despite the many candles, Teppy was in darkness. Ay had left the temple, and he was alone with Sia and Neper hovering over him with their foreboding onyx black eyes. Neper reached across Teppy’s chest to take the Aten amulet from around his neck. Teppy grasped it with both hands to stop him.

  “It’s my brother’s!” he shouted. “You can’t have it!”

  Sia glanced over at Neper and nodded. Neper relinquished his hold on it.

  “Where did my uncle go?” asked Teppy scanning the room with his eyes. “I have to find him. Let me go.”

  Teppy tried to sit up but Neper pushed him back and fastened his wrists and ankles to the platform with leather straps. Sia filled a jar with a red-tinted liquid. He lifted Teppy’s head and put the jar to his mouth.

  “Drink,” he said.

  Before Teppy could resist, Sia poured a portion of the liquid down his throat.

  Teppy spat it back up. “It stings like a thousand bees.”

  “Drink it!” Sia shouted.

  When Teppy refused to open his mouth, Sia forced it open and poured more of the liquid down his throat. It made him cough, and he spat it up again.

  “I can’t drink it. It burns. I want my Ma,” cried Teppy trembling. He wanted to scream her name but was afraid that the priests might slice his face with a sickle as the Amun beast had done in his dream.

  “The queen has given you over to us—” said Neper.

  “Because you are weak,” finished Sia.

  “I am not weak. Ma said that I am strong, I am a prince and will soon be a king.”

  “What you are is a curse—” said Sia, tightening the straps.

  “From the Aten god. An abomination,” Neper said, finishing the thought.

  Neper handed Sia a linen scroll. He took it to the corner of the room and knelt down in front of the Amun statue. He placed the scroll at the foot of the statue and bowed in prayer:

  “Amun, the god of gods and of Osiris, whose skin is of gold and bones made of silver. Empower me through this utensil of your sacrifice, so that I may strike him, who is in the form of a child who struck you.”