“Father,” he finally whispered. “I am sorry I could never live up to your expectation of me, but one day I will be as great a man as you once were. Even though I could never earn your love, I gave you mine daily. Life without you will be difficult, but the Aten will help me. I promise you, Father . . . I will make you proud.”
He sat down by the stone sarcophagus and leaned his back against it. The cool stone drained the sun’s heat from his skin.
“Aten—” he began to pray, but, noticing his wife in the shadows, he silenced himself. “Nefertiti? I thought I asked everyone to leave.”
“Amenhotep, I will never leave you.” Her voice flowed as smooth as the Nile river. Stepping forward, she took her place next to her husband. “You have already made your father proud by being the man you are today. He loved you, Amenhotep. He loved you in his own way, in the way he thought best to help you.”
“All he ever gave me was doubt.”
“So you could better yourself,” she responded. “Every father wants his son to be the best they can be. And remember, I have no doubts—and I never will.”
“My love,” he said, placing his hand on hers. “I love you, my cherished one.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed them firmly to her skin. “Come, let us leave my father in peace. I have said my last to him. If you say he was proud and loved me, I will believe you. You have never led me astray.”
That night before the sun went down, Amenhotep said his nightly prayer to the Aten as he lifted his mighty crown and placed it on its stand. He climbed into bed next to Nefertiti as the servants left the room.
They lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling as the last of the candlelight flickered away. For four years, Nefertiti had wanted to ask her husband if he really believed the Aten was mightier than Amun-Re, but each time she discouraged herself from saying anything. Today, however, she had seen him begin to pray to the Aten in his privacy, and the urge to know boosted her courage.
“Why do you pray to the Aten and not Amun-Re?” she asked him, unsure if he would become angry.
But he responded immediately, no anger apparent in his voice. “I pray to the Aten because he hears me. He takes away my physical pain. It is why I spend hours of the day outside in his warm embrace. And if I am in his embrace long enough, he sometimes gives me visions of the future. He shows me the grand and great Egypt of tomorrow.”
He turned to face his wife. “Amun-Re does not hear me. I prayed countless times as a child, and never did he take away my ailing. Nor has he shown me any visions.”
“You will be labeled a tyrant if you absorb the priesthood, or you will be labeled a heretic if you turn Egypt to the Aten,” Nefertiti said. Her voice shook as she breathed out a flimsy breath.
“I know, my love. But as my father said . . . it will be my legacy. The people will see that the Aten is greater, and when they realize Pharaoh has not led them astray, they will forever remember how I saved them from their ignorance.”
“I fear for our family,” Nefertiti confided as she rubbed her belly, remembering the two daughters she bore. “The priesthood of Amun-Re will not go away easily. Eventually we will have to turn Egypt back to Amun-Re.”
“I am Pharaoh, and you are my Queen. My word is law,” he said solemnly. “We are safe. It is worse than death to kill the Pharaoh, and it is worse still to endure his wrath.”
“And turning back to Amun-Re?” she asked. “After we regain the authority for the throne?”
“Of course, my love . . . if Egypt wants it after they have seen the glory of the Aten.”
After a few moments of silence, he began to shift to his side.
“Will you turn away from me again tonight?” she asked of him.
“I have much on which to think,” he said.
He waited for her to touch his shoulder, but she only whispered, “You can think with me.”
“I know you believe me to be a heretic,” he said as he rolled over and placed his hand on her hip. “But I promise, no harm will come to our family.”
“I do not believe you are a heretic—I believe you are confused. Amun-Re is the premiere god of Egypt, Amenhotep. Once we regain the power from the priesthood . . . promise me you will return Egypt to Amun-Re,” Nefertiti pleaded. “For your family.”
“My beautiful one, I will promise you what you ask . . . but if you come to realize that the Aten blesses more than Amun-Re and so should be the premiere god of Egypt, we will remain faithful to the Aten.” He kissed her cheek. “I can never refuse the most beautiful woman in all the world.”
Her high cheekbones, the sign of beauty, power, and elegance, shone brightly in the moonlight. “As I cannot doubt the man who loves me,” she whispered back, and kissed him on his forehead.
“And as there is only one Aten for the god of Pharaoh . . . there shall be only one lover of Pharaoh.” He smiled as he began to kiss her face and her neck.
She giggled and wrapped her arms around him. “And who shall that be?”
“Why, I have chosen my Queen Nefertiti.”
With the former Pharaoh’s death and burial, Amenhotep was crowned sole Regent, Pharaoh of both the Upper and the Lower; with his new title, he named the Aten as his personal god and, the same as his father, Ramose and Huy as his viziers. Over the years, Ay had shown himself invaluable to Amenhotep’s father, and if this man raised such a woman as Nefertiti, then he wanted Ay as his advisor; Amenhotep gave him the title of Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King, a trusted position. He also raised him in rank to Master of Pharaoh’s Horses, the highest rank of the elite chariot division, a position just underneath General Paaten. His mother, now widowed, became the great royal wife to signify her stature as the chief wife of the Pharaoh before.
In the beginning, Pharaoh mostly performed the daily duties and wrote letters encouraging foreign relations, but he began to spend many hours in the courtyard, standing with his arms up to the sun, whispering to himself.
A while after the news of the former Pharaoh’s burial, a letter came from the King of Mitanni, asking what was to become of his daughter and hinting at the fact that if she were to be returned a widow, their friendship may incur irreversible damage. One night, as they lay in bed, Amenhotep recited this letter to Nefertiti, asking how he should respond. His mother had already drafted the letter, but he wanted to see what Nefertiti would say.
“Just as there is only one Pharaoh of Egypt, there is also only one god of the Pharaoh,” she hummed as he held her that night.
“As there is only one woman fit for me,” he finished her sentence, and locked his eyes with hers.
She just hoped his infatuation with the sun-disc Aten would somehow bind his loyalty to her. “Although it is customary for the Pharaohs and nobles to have many lovers, I cannot stand the thought of you being with anyone else other than me,” she responded.
“I know,” he said. “Nor can I.”
“If you keep your promise to me that I will be your only love, Pharaoh must do what he needs to do for the state of Egypt,” she said, referring to his upcoming marriages to Kiya and his sister Henuttaneb.
“I will always keep my promise to you, Nefertiti,” he said as he traced her face with his finger. “As there is only one god of Pharaoh.”
The new Pharaoh of Egypt has to secure his throne with strategic marriage . . . but with marriage always comes the right to have another lover, Nefertiti thought as he kissed her. As long as he believes the Aten is the sole god of Egypt, he will not touch another woman.
Chapter 11
The Time of Pharaoh
Egypt flourished shortly after, and all loved Pharaoh Amenhotep and Queen Nefertiti, as all love those who reign over them when the times are good. As the wealth of Egypt grew, however, people spent their extra prosperity at the temples of Amun instead of at the temples of the Pharaohs.
“My son, look at these,” Tiye said.
Pharaoh had called together his council, consisting of his mother, his chief royal wife
, General Paaten, Ay, his viziers, Ramose and Huy, and lastly, Satau, the royal treasurer. They pored over the treasury’s spending reports.
“Almost seventy percent of Egypt’s wealth is going to the Amun-Re priesthood,” Ay said with a slight shake of his head.
“Seventy percent?” Amenhotep said. “What was it when I became Coregent?”
Queen Tiye shot him a look and let out a sigh.
Satau said, “Around fifty-five percent, I believe.”
“It has increased that much in just five years?”
“It increased from forty percent since the first sed festival of your father’s reign,” Ramose said.
“What to do? Meryptah is still alive. We cannot turn Egypt to the Aten yet,” Amenhotep said as he put his hand on the table.
“I’m not sure there is anything you can do,” Tiye said.
They all looked blankly at the scroll on the table. Nefertiti held her finger up to speak and then as soon as she opened her mouth, she shut it and put her finger to her lips.
“At this rate, how much longer until the Amun priesthood surpasses Pharaoh’s reserves?” Tiye asked.
Ramose ran his knuckles across the table knocked them against the wood. “Two years,” he said.
“Two years!” Tiye and Amenhotep exclaimed together.
“Meryptah will barely be dead in two years—if he is dead at all,” Amenhotep said.
His mother shuddered at the word dead. “Your father and I did think about having him . . .” She trailed off, her meaning implicit. “But we talked ourselves out such an idea.”
“In two years, if the Pharaoh is overwhelmed by the priesthood, it may be worth it,” Huy said.
“We are speaking of murdering a man,” Ay interjected. “The Highest Priest, the First Prophet of Amun, the most sacred man other than Pharaoh himself. Amun-Re does not look kindly on those who murder such men.”
“There are consequences for doing such a thing, I know,” Tiye said with a heavy breath. “What do you suggest? I would rather not have blood on my hands, especially his.”
“Nor would I,” Amenhotep said.
Ay stared back at them blankly.
Nefertiti finally spoke up. “We could build a city dedicated to the Aten.”
“A city? Or a temple, my lotus blossom,” Ay said. His cheeks turned red, but the new Pharaoh did not seem to care that he was so informal with his daughter, the Queen of Egypt.
Tiye did look over to him, but said nothing at his sheepish grin.
“No, not a temple. A city,” Nefertiti said, examining their confused expressions. “We collect a small tax from all the people of Egypt to build the city, but also have a small part of the tax go to Pharaoh’s reserve. This way we can at least stay ahead for a little while longer until Meryptah passes.”
“By building a temple, we would have to dip from Pharaoh’s reserves . . . but this way, we can indirectly take money from the priesthood,” Ay said to himself, and looked to his daughter with a full chest and beaming eyes.
“With the city dedicated to the Aten, the people’s money will go there by order of Pharaoh,” Ramose chimed in, nodding his head.
The treasurer agreed excitedly. “Instead of to the Amun priesthood, thereby decreasing the power of the priesthood . . . and also creating a safety net in case Meryptah lives.”
“When Meryptah does pass, we already will have made a few steps in the direction of turning Egypt to the Aten,” Nefertiti finished.
In front of them all, Amenhotep kissed her on her forehead and rubbed her arm. I am so proud to have such a clever wife. At least my father was right about her helping me in this journey, he thought.
“And so we turn to the Aten just long enough for the priesthood to crumble, and then we turn back to Amun-Re to not jeopardize our afterlife,” Tiye said, nodding her head.
“The Aten did give me a vision of his sun-disc between the two northern mountains yesterday as he continued to heal my pains,” Amenhotep said. “The Aten desires a city dedicated to him because he is my personal god and the personal god of my father.”
“You must not say ‘me’ or ‘my,’ Amenhotep. Pharaoh is to be regarded as ‘him,’ ‘his,’ and ‘Pharaoh’s,’ ” Tiye gently reminded her son. But the truth showed in her voice: she didn’t mind his lack of formality so much. Even she admitted the missteps of formality in the throne room made her feel as though it were easier to breathe and be herself, but she also knew his speech had to garner every respect due the position of Pharaoh.
“Pharaoh will not fail you,” Amenhotep said.
She smiled, and her eyes said, I know, son.
He opened his mouth, thinking he would have to defend himself against some comment about him and Thutmose; but, instead, at his mother’s response, his mouth, slightly ajar, turned into a grin.
Later that day, as Pharaoh sat in the throne room listening to the incoming messages of the day, one struck his fancy: the workers in the valley needed water from the heat of the Aten.
Here’s my opportunity! he thought.
Tiye and Nefertiti smiled when he began to speak. They were thinking the same thing.
“Supply them water—as much as needed to prevent sickness and death. Pharaoh is at one with the Aten after a long familial line of Pharaohs dedicated to him. Because of Pharaoh’s proven worthiness to the Aten, a vision was granted unto Pharaoh wherein he saw a sun-disc between two mountains. The Aten guided Pharaoh to make a change, and the Aten, as the sun-disc, the Light of Egypt, told Pharaoh to build a city between the two mountains. A city dedicated to the Aten shall be built where one can first see the Aten rise on the east bank of the Nile River between the two mountains. The Aten wants the royal family to reside there, and so the palace shall be built behind the city closest to the horizon,” Pharaoh Amenhotep proclaimed. “Thus Pharaoh says.”
So it was written, and the tax began to take effect the next day. Taxes paid the Egyptian engineers to find the exact spot where they would build the city. Huy met with a chief architect and Pharaoh, Queen Tiye, and Queen Nefertiti to outline what was to be built in this new city of the Aten.
It came time to confirm Amenhotep’s right to the throne so that he might do his duty as Pharaoh of Egypt.
Kiya, dressed in a long tunic adorned with gold and silver, walked down the throne room toward Meryptah, the First Prophet of Amun; her maidservants followed close behind with symbols of the Mitanni treasures for her dowry. All eyes were on her—including Nefertiti’s.
He has to marry her, Nefertiti thought. He has to keep in good standing with Egypt’s allies. She told me she did not want to be chief wife and she would rather have my friendship than a husband. Or . . . is that what she said? Why can’t I remember?
Nefertiti had recently watched him marry his sister Henuttaneb in the weeks previous, but he had not yet touched her, just as he had promised. He comes to me every night and sleeps by my side, she reassured herself once again.
“He loves me . . . and only me,” she whispered. “I have no doubts.”
Meryptah relayed the Pharaoh’s wish to accept the Mitanni bride and her dowry, and with these words signaled the beginning of the marriage feast, setup in the courtyard overlooking the palace’s manmade lake his father had built.
Nefertiti took her seat at the right hand of Pharaoh. Kiya took her place next to Pharaoh’s left hand. Henuttaneb sat next to Kiya, and Tiye next to Nefertiti.
Most of the night, Nefertiti noticed Amenhotep’s head turned to the left and not the right. It was too loud to overhear their conversation. Queen Tiye sat and ate in silence. No doubt missing her husband, Nefertiti thought.
As the moon rose in the sky, the marriage feast ended and the strong drink vanished.
Nefertiti now lay in their chambers, wondering if he would come to her or go to Kiya. The demons of her thoughts almost had her plotting against her new sister-wife when Amenhotep entered and came to lie down.
He kissed Nefertiti on the forehead and then her lips
. “My one and my only,” he whispered.
Her mind cleared; she smiled.
“I was starting to have doubts, Amenhotep,” Nefertiti said with a blush of her cheeks.
“And why should such doubts surface, my love?” Amenhotep asked her as he stroked the side of her face.
“You have always seemed to be charmed with Kiya, even before we were wed. She fancies your eye?”
“My Nefertiti, only you fancy my eye. Kiya was somewhat of a confidant of mine when my brother was alive—really her and Kasmut, mostly Kasmut. Kiya understood what it was like to not live up to the expectation set for her.”
Nefertiti noticed his eyes didn’t light up anymore when he said Kasmut’s name, nor when he spoke of Kiya, making her heart feel light.
Amenhotep continued while Nefertiti studied his face, “Her father sent her here to marry my father as a last chance for her to prove herself . . .”
“What did you talk about?”
“About her paintings, her musings in the palace, my new role as Pharaoh, our daughters . . . She has many paintings of them playing in the courtyard with us. She said you were her friend, and that I should be very lucky to have you as my wife,” he added quickly.
She remembered back to her first conversation with her. I need to invite Kiya to dinner. I must confirm what she said about wanting a friendship over a husband.
Something of what Amenhotep just said suddenly struck Nefertiti. “Wait . . . she paints our family?” She thought it a little weird to be painting another person’s family.
“Yes. I agree that it seems strange at first mention. I asked her why she paints our family, and she said it isn’t as lonely when she can paint others who are so clearly in love with their children.” He smiled down at Nefertiti.
“Do you think she wants children with you? Do you want children with her?” The words spewed uncontrollably from Nefertiti’s mouth.
He laughed. “To answer both questions—no. She said she was happy here without anything more than friendship. And I only want to have children with you.”
Salvation in the Sun (The Lost Pharaoh Chronicles Book 1) Page 10
