“I can see Pharaoh’s power is not what it should be,” Nefertiti said. “If power remained with Pharaoh, there would be no protest.”
“Yes . . . the priesthood is revolting, and the people follow the priesthood. Perhaps we were too late.” Amenhotep pulled his wife away from the window.
“Perhaps,” Nefertiti said.
“I know so. Huy made me aware that my sister Nebetah and her husband Pawah are leading the protests most likely at the order of First Prophet of Amun, Maya, but he could not be sure about the priesthood’s involvement. I should have Nebetah and Pawah exiled for leaving the sanctuary of Sitamun as my father ordered, but I am afraid it would make matters worse,” Amenhotep said. “At least Sitamun and Iset remain neutral.”
“The great nation of Egypt is split in two: those who follow the Pharaoh and those who follow Amun,” Nefertiti said as he pulled her into bed. “Rumor has it that whoever wins this conflict—Pharaoh or the people—will determine which god shall be the premiere god.”
“Yes, and we will prevail. But my love, let us think about this tomorrow,” he said, tracing his finger to smooth the worry lines in her brow. “Tomorrow is another day. Let us sleep and not worry tonight, for it may be the last good night’s sleep we get for some time.”
She agreed, and they tried to sleep amid the noise and clatter outside the palace walls, but it was to no avail—someone knocked hard and fast on their door.
Amenhotep shot up in bed, just as servants poured into their room, startling his Queen to full alertness. The messenger quickly spoke as the servants dressed them for battle. The people had beat back the royal guard, the messenger explained; they had broken down the door to the throne room and ensued into the palace; Huy had already been killed.
Ramose suddenly appeared in the doorway, shouting, “A message has been received from Commander Horemheb stating he shall come to Pharaoh’s aid with two legions from Middle Egypt.”
Amenhotep quickly kissed Nefertiti as they wrapped his sword belt around his waist. “Keep safe,” he said. “I will be back.”
Nefertiti, now dressed, only whispered, “Our children.” She took her maidservants with her behind Amenhotep, but instead of following him to the throne room she turned and went to their nurseries to see that they were safe. Opening the door, she almost collided with the blunt end of a lampstand. Merytre held it high above her head, and nearly collapsed at the sight of Nefertiti.
“My . . . Queen!” she said with short spurts of breath as she lowered the lampstand. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I was trying to protect the children. I could not make it to your chambers in time, so I came here instead.”
A maidservant pointed down the hall, her face white with terror.
Nefertiti pushed past her and gathered her frightened daughters in her arms. “Get inside and barricade the door,” she commanded.
Twenty of her servants made it inside the room and began placing furniture, decor, anything they could find in the girls’ bedchambers against the door as Nefertiti wiped her daughters’ tears.
“Momma!” they cried and wrapped their tiny fingers around anything they could get ahold of.
Maidservants rushed to the back of the room to get more furniture, but all of a sudden loud bangs came on the door and men yelled behind it, their voices filled with the demons of the afterlife. The servants used their bodies to push against the barricade as a mob tried to make their way inside.
“Make it stop!” Meketaten yelled, pressing her hands to her ears.
Nefertiti wrapped her hand around Meketaten’s head and ear and kissed her shaven crown. “It will be all right, everything with be all right,” she kept repeating, hoping, if anything, the rebels would at the very least spare her children. She had dreamt about this night for the past seven years, and now, right here, it was coming true.
Will we all die tonight? she asked herself, and prayed to Amun-Re to spare them. We are doing this to restore Pharaoh’s authority, she pleaded. Your divine embodiment, your appointed one, please do not let the rebels kill us! Keep Amenhotep safe!
A spearhead burst through the top of the door, bringing her prayer to an end as her maidservants and her children screamed.
Aitye rushed to Nefertiti. “My Queen, let us hide the children.”
She motioned them away from the door as a makeshift sword penetrated its wooden frame. Aitye grabbed Meritaten and Meketaten, one in each arm, as Nefertiti held Ankhesenpaaten and they went farther back in the room. Aitye pushed a small table back with her foot and placed Meritaten and Meketaten behind it and squatted with them, hissing, “You must be quiet. You must not cry. You must not say a word. They will find you and kill you if you do. Do you understand? Not a word, not a tear, do you hear me?”
They nodded their heads and she wiped their last tears from their eyes.
Nefertiti handed Ankhesenpaaten to Aitye, who gently placed her in her sisters’ arms. “Make sure she does not make noise, my children,” she told the girls, and pushed the table back against the wall. She draped a sheet over it so no one could see them.
Aitye stood and looked around. There were no hiding places for a fully grown woman. Nefertiti had been looking around too when their eyes met. Aitye immediately dropped her head to the floor; she could not save her Queen. Nefertiti, scared and not wanting to die, tried to search quickly again, but then took in a deep breath and thought to herself, A Queen wouldn’t leave her people to die without her.
Another makeshift sword—a kitchen knife tied to a longer piece of wood—burst through the door, this time nicking one of her servants on the arm. “Ah!” she cried out. The gap between the doorframe and the door grew and the maidservants ducked lower to avoid the blows through the door.
“Grab something to defend yourself,” Nefertiti ordered as she grabbed a small tabletop stone statue of Ptah, praying to Ptah to forgive her for what she might do with it. Aitye grabbed a wooden toy. Others grabbed various items as makeshift weapons, and they all tensely waited until the mob broke into the room.
“Protect our Queen!” Aitye yelled as they burst in.
Her maidservants were no match for the men who came in.
A rebel found his way to Queen Nefertiti, knocked the statue out of her hand, and raised his sword to strike. She screamed in fright as her maidservants tried to protect her, backing to the wall and grabbing desperately at a forgotten oil stand to use in defense. The soldier raised his sword again and brought it down, but his non-military-issued sword caught between the bronze fork at the top and Nefertiti twisted the oil lamp, spilling oil into his face and wrenching the sword from his grasp.
Another rebel pushed against the crowd of scrambling men and women, coming for Nefertiti, his eyes fixated on her. Nefertiti heard her children whimpering, but knew they would be safe if they would only be quiet. She scrambled to find the statue that was knocked from her hand as the rebel drew closer. Just as she found it, however, she was caught by her waist and thrown to the ground.
“You pitiful pathetic waste of royalty!” the man screamed at her.
He walked forward as she pulled herself backward, away from him. Her hand gripped the statue harder, not knowing if she should throw it or use it if he came closer. She noticed the knife of his spear had been broken off—but a sharp, broken piece of wood could still kill her.
“How dare you denounce Amun-Re!” he screamed. “You will pay for your blasphemy!”
He aimed his stick at Nefertiti and tried to thrust it toward her chest, but Aitye had thrown the wooden toy at his head, knocking off his balance, and the wood stick missed the Queen by inches. Nefertiti grabbed the end of the stick, yanking it out of the rebel’s hand, and beat him over the head with it.
When he was finally down, Nefertiti turned to see Aitye, forced to the ground with no weapon to defend herself, being choked and beaten by a rebel. Nefertiti took the stone statue and threw it at his head, hitting him in his ear with enough force to knock him off of her.
Ano
ther rebel came up behind Nefertiti and was about to sink his sword into her back before General Paaten, seemingly appearing from nowhere, took him by the shoulder and spun him around.
“You would kill the Queen of Egypt?” General Paaten asked, punching him in the stomach and then the jaw. “There is no afterlife for those who kill the Pharaoh or his Queen!”
The soldier ripped a short dagger from his belt and swung it upward. The blade slid through the skin on General Paaten’s shoulder and up to his lower jaw, past his cheek and up to his forehead. Seemingly unaffected by the flesh wound, General Paaten grabbed the soldier’s wrist and broke it, sending the dagger to the ground. Twisting his arm, he forced the man to the floor, picked up the dagger, and in one fluid motion slit his throat.
Standing to face his queen with the soldier’s blood on his hands, General Paaten slightly bowed in her presence.
“Thank you, General Paaten,” Queen Nefertiti whispered to him. She gazed around: the Egyptian guards had taken over the room and pushed the enemy out into the hallway.
“My Queen, if I may be so bold to suggest that for your own safety, I transport you to a safe place,” he quickly told her, yanking his sword free from where he had plunged its tip into another man’s side.
“Yes, General,” she told him, averting her eyes; her adrenaline draining, she was suddenly afraid she may be overcome with sickness.
Merytre went to get the girls from their hiding place, tears streaming down their faces. Merytre told them, “Now, I want you to be good and close your eyes and do not open them until I tell you. Understood?”
Nefertiti stared at General Paaten and asked, “Where is Pharaoh? Is he safe?” She took Ankhesenpaaten in her arms, and with Merytre, who led Meritaten and Meketaten, followed him to the entrance of the room.
Aitye, lying on the floor, grabbed Nefertiti’s foot. “Be safe, my Queen.”
“Aitye,” Queen Nefertiti whispered. “General Paaten, she is still alive. We must take her with us,” she ordered, seeing the blood on her head.
“No, my Queen,” Aitye whispered. “Leave me. Your life is more precious than mine.”
Queen Nefertiti handed the baby to Merytre, stooped down, and wrapped one arm underneath Aitye’s arm. “You gave yourself to save me. I will not leave you to be slaughtered.”
General Paaten peered outside the room and told them, “The halls are empty. We must go now.” He wrapped Aitye in one arm and led the company out into the hall.
A soldier came running up behind them. “General! General! Commander Horemheb sent his fastest soldiers here first, but the rest are swiftly coming. We have retaken the throne room. They are retreating!”
“That’s great news!” Queen Nefertiti exclaimed.
“Soldier, take Queen Nefertiti and her maidservants to Pharaoh,” General Paaten ordered. “Pharaoh fought bravely, my Queen, and was held for his safety in a back chamber. Please excuse me, my Queen, I must return to the battle.” He bowed his head slightly to Queen Nefertiti.
“Go, great General Paaten, and win this for Am . . . for the Aten,” she said, and bid him farewell. I must remember the Aten is now the premiere god—the Aten is where my supposed allegiance lies.
She stared back at the bodies littering the floor in the room.
At least until the priesthood is destroyed, she thought.
That night, a soldier, sent from General Paaten, came to Pharaoh in the back room, where he and his family were being held.
Out of breath, the soldier stammered out, “The enemy was pursued, slaughtered, and . . . and . . . now has . . . given up. Princess Nebetah and Fifth Prophet of Amun, Pawah, desire to . . . to come to . . . discuss a treaty.” The soldier swallowed, finally regaining his breath. “I regret to also report that Ramose was killed in battle.”
Pharaoh hung his head at the last message, but with a tight fist and a determination in his soul to not let Ramose and Huy die in vain, he said, “Let them come when the sun god Aten shows his face to us again. Tell Princess Nebetah and Fifth Prophet of Amun, Pawah, Pharaoh has only decided to discuss this treaty because Princess Nebetah is sister to Pharaoh and the daughter of the great royal wife, Queen Tiye. If it were any other, they would be brought in to be executed as traitors to Egypt.”
“Tell them,” Queen Nefertiti added, “that they must choose his words carefully.”
As the messenger bowed to turn and go, he asked, “And what of those who surrendered?”
Pharaoh drew in a deep breath, but he knew he must uphold Egyptian law. “Allow them to commit suicide, as the law prescribes for those who take up arms against Pharaoh. But if they refuse . . . execute them.”
Then Pharaoh sent the scrawny, breathless messenger away.
Queen Nefertiti made sure no one was looking before she touched his arm. So much bloodshed, she thought. But he was right to uphold the law.
Queen Tiye, sitting across from Nefertiti and Pharaoh, turned to Merytre, her own steward, Huya, and Kiya’s steward, Ainamun, and said, “Restore Malkata. I want no sign of struggle inside of the palace by tomorrow. You have the authority to do whatever it takes.” The stewards bowed and left to begin the repairs with an armed guard at their side.
Royal wife Kiya sat in the corner playing with Meritaten and Meketaten while Aitye, now bandaged but thankfully alive, held Ankhesenpaaten. There was no sign of Pharaoh’s sister and royal wife Henuttaneb.
The next morning, Pharaoh Amenhotep, Queen Nefertiti, and Queen Tiye appeared in the throne room in all of their Egyptian glory: gold crowns, gold capes and robes and sashes, and gold-encrusted sandals. Fifty soldiers lined the throne room. General Paaten stood at the right hand of Queen Nefertiti. Master of Pharaoh’s Horses, Ay, stood to the left hand of Queen Tiye.
Princess Nebetah and her husband, Fifth Prophet of Amun, Pawah, entered the throne room with pride, chins raised, giving an aura as tall as the columns holding the throne room up.
“You dare not bow before the great Pharaoh of Egypt and his Queen?” Commander Horemheb asked Princess Nebetah as they stood before the throne.
“No, we dare not,” Princess Nebetah said through her teeth as she and Pawah kneeled before Pharaoh Amenhotep, Queen Tiye, and Queen Nefertiti.
Looking up to her brother, seated in all of his golden glory on the massive stone throne, she uttered a slow, reluctant string of words: “We, Princess Nebetah and Fifth Prophet of Amun, Pawah, come to ask for Pharaoh’s mighty and life-giving forgiveness, and to respect the god of our father’s beliefs. Allow us and those who wish to follow us, great King, to move North, and grant us lords there, so we may practice our worship of Amun-Re.”
At this request, Queen Tiye’s face grew red with embarrassment and anger for her daughter’s words, and she almost spoke before Pharaoh. But when Pharaoh Amenhotep spoke, she held her tongue.
“Sister of Pharaoh . . . Pharaoh grants your pardon. But you ask for half the kingdom and to share Pharaoh’s power as the sole ruler of the great nation of Egypt?”
Queen Tiye felt an immense expansion in her lungs and took a deep, satisfying breath at the way her son conducted himself on the throne.
He looked to his sister and her husband with narrowed eyes and wrinkled brow. “One could assume you ask for treason: a way to overtake Pharaoh’s throne. Have not you already tried?”
“We did not try to overrule Pharaoh without the gods’ blessings. We fought for the history of Egypt,” Princess Nebetah defended. “We fought for Amun-Re.”
“And clearly, Amun-Re was not with you. The link between the people and Amun-Re, the priesthood of Amun, died with the First Prophet of Amun, Meryptah, and the Second Prophet of Amun, Anen. The Aten was with Pharaoh and Pharaoh’s order to name the Aten as the premiere god of Egypt, for Pharaoh has put down your rebellion in one day!”
The echo of his voice resounded in the room.
“Therefore, the Aten has proven himself to be the premiere god of Egypt, and Amun-Re has stepped down!”
“Amun-Re
has not! He would not abandon us!”
Princess Nebetah stood up, annoyance at her big brother’s words clear in her voice. General Paaten’s men came toward her with their spears pointed down. She pretended not to see them.
“Declare the Aten as the premiere god of Egypt, and Pharaoh will spare your lives,” Pharaoh Amenhotep said.
Queen Nefertiti slightly jolted in her seat. He wouldn’t kill his own sister . . . ? She strained to see his face in her peripheral vision but could not while she faced forward. I can’t turn to look or else I may undermine his authority, she thought.
A long silence filled the space between Princess Nebetah’s lips as she tried to read her brother’s face to see if he was bluffing or not.
Pawah stood up next to her and bowed at the waist. “Great and mighty Pharaoh of Egypt, may you grant us an hour’s time to make our decision?”
“Pharaoh grants your request—but you shall remain outside the throne room under supervision from the great Egyptian military,” Pharaoh Amenhotep said.
“Thanks be to Pharaoh for his gracious patience,” Pawah said with a bow, and he took Princess Nebetah, under escort by the Royal Guard and Commander Horemheb, out the doors.
Queen Tiye placed a warm hand on her son’s arm. “You did a great job, my son. I could not have been more proud.”
“Thank you, Mother. Your words mean more to me than you know.” Amenhotep smiled, hesitant to ask a question that might break her pride for him, but he decided to ask anyway. It is worth knowing, he thought. “Mother, I have a question: why wasn’t Nebetah told about our plan? All of this surely could have been avoided.”
“She married Pawah, effectively making her a part of the Amun priesthood,” Queen Tiye said as she sat back in her seat and shook her head. “As such, we couldn’t tell her.”
“Have you told the plan to reclaim the power of the Pharaoh to my sisters, Sitamun, Iset, and Henuttaneb?” he asked.
Salvation in the Sun (The Lost Pharaoh Chronicles Book 1) Page 12
