Salvation in the Sun (The Lost Pharaoh Chronicles Book 1)

by Lauren Lee Merewether

  “Is there any chance of restoration?” Nefertiti asked.

  “No, my Queen.”

  Nefertiti closed her eyes. When did they come? What was I doing at the time? In bed with my pregnancy? Oh, how Amenhotep has let Egypt fall so much . . . this loss will ruin Egypt’s reputation as a military power, she thought.

  She opened her eyes. “Are the other vassal states in need?”

  “There have been many letters from vassal states in Syria and Palestine requesting for reinforcements, food, and money.”

  “Has Pharaoh responded?”

  “Yes, but he sends very little, which in return prompts more letters requesting assistance—”

  “Send Commander Horemheb to Syria and Palestine to resolve the matters there.”

  “There are not enough soldiers, my Queen. And what of food and money?”

  “Find the unemployed, draft them into the military,” she said, “and pay them a fair wage.”

  We need the money from the state to outlive the Amun-Re priesthood, she thought—but right now she could not have Egypt lose another vassal state.

  “Discuss what money is needed with vizier of Egypt, Nakht,” she said, “and make it so the vassal states have what they need. For food, take from the royal grain houses.”

  “Pharaoh has a most wise and kind Queen,” the messenger said, and bowed.

  As he left, another messenger took his place.

  “Pharaoh’s chief royal wife, Queen of Egypt, I come with a message from the King of Babylon, King Aburiash. He again sends a letter asking why Egypt does not punish those who murdered and robbed his caravan in Caanan, a land owned by Egypt. He again asks why Egypt does not return gifts for the gifts he has sent. He wishes relations well with Egypt, but there is no avenger for the blood of his people and no gold in his mines.”

  “How many letters have been received from King Aburiash?” Nefertiti asked.

  “This is the second letter.”

  She took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Amenhotep would not be this neglectful, she thought, but Akhenaten . . . Pharaoh Akhenaten is obsessed with the Aten. He will not know what I do as ruler in his place. He did grant me the right to rule in his place—and rule I shall.

  “Guard, bring in the other messengers,” she commanded.

  Six hundred and thirty-seven messengers filled the throne room.

  As the room grew quiet, Nefertiti stood up. “If your message deals with vassal states or foreign allies, please go with General Paaten into the courtyard. Give your message to him, and he will give them to me.” Flames raced down her back as she watched a third of the messengers leave with General Paaten. “Delay the order!” she yelled, believing there were too many messengers to have only waited a few days.

  They all turned to look at her.

  “How long have the remaining messengers been at Aketaten?” she asked, not wanting to hear the response, but they rushed at her faster than she could hear, and she was only able to pick out some voices:

  “One month!” came a shout.

  “Eleven months!” came another.

  “Seventeen months!” Another.

  She wanted to put her hand up to shield her face from the overflow of responses.

  “Queen of Egypt, I have been here three years, including a few months at Malkata in Waset,” one said once the others had settled down.

  Speechless, she sat down on her throne with the grace of a swan. “To the messenger who has waited three years: have you presented your message, or are you only waiting for a response?”

  “Pharaoh has heard my message,” he said, stepping forward. “However, Pharaoh issued a new decree that he would only see three messengers at a time, and those messages dealing with Egypt’s state of affairs would go first. My message is from the King of Cyprus. A fellow Cyprian has since come this past month with another message from our King.”

  Amun-Re, please be with Egypt, Nefertiti prayed.

  “If your message has not received a response since two years, stay, and any fellow messengers from the same sender, stay as well. If your message is regarding vassal states or foreign allies and is less than two years old, see General Paaten in the courtyard,” she said.

  Her subjects did as they were told.

  “If your message deals with affairs of the state, such as unemployment, food, or money, go with the chief royal guard, Jabari, to the dining hall. Give your message to him and he will give them to me,” she said.

  About a hundred messengers remained.

  “Speak your message,” she said, and pointed to one of them.

  “Princess Nebetah and Fifth Prophet of Amun, Pawah, have requested re-entry into Egypt. They have agreed to change their names to Princess Beketaten and Prophet of the Aten, Pawah, to show they have turned from Amun-Re to the Aten.”

  Knowing full well they had not had a change of heart, but rather a drastic change of living conditions in exile, Nefertiti said, “They may come to Aketaten with Pharaoh or to Malkata with great wives Sitamun and Iset.”

  She would want the same pardon had she fought for her beliefs in Amun-Re. If I had fought . . . The thought remained with her.

  “Yes, my Queen,” the messenger said, and bowed and left.

  “Speak your message,” she said, pointing to the man who said he had waited for a response for three years.

  “King Alashiya of Cyprus has sent copper and lumber to Egypt and has received nothing in return. He asks for silver to build his army to retake his lands and avenge his murdered copper workers from Negral, the Babylonian warlord.”

  His fellow Cyprian spoke as soon as he ended. “Now he sends again more copper in return for sweet oil and a specialist in eagle-omens to help rebuild their food supply and learn the outcome of the constant warring between Cyprus and Negral.”

  Nefertiti nodded. “Send one thousand talents of silver to King Alashiya of Cyprus, along with two containers of sweet oil and Studier of Eagles, Neterheb. Return to your King with Egypt’s friendship.”

  They both nodded in appreciation and the scribe wrote ferociously as she spoke again: “Speak your message.”

  She pointed to the next set of messengers.

  A long day came and went, and finally General Paaten and Jabari came back to the throne room.

  As soon as General Paaten saw Nefertiti, he ordered, “All remaining messengers come back when the Aten shows his face again, and we will respond to your messages then.”

  The guards escorted the messengers from the throne room. The messengers grumbled as they left, proud of the accomplishments from the day but angry that they stood all day with their message still unheard.

  “Send a message to the vizier of Egypt, Nakht, and Master of Pharaoh Horses, Ay, to come to Aketaten immediately,” Nefertiti called out, and a messenger ran off.

  “Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti,” General Paaten said with a bow, and Jabari did the same.

  “General Paaten, when did Pharaoh make such a decree to only see three messengers a day?” she asked as she sunk back into her throne, her back tired from sitting straight-backed all day.

  “After the birth of Princess Meketaten. He declared he wanted to spend more time with the Aten, and with his daughters.”

  Her heart sank a little. He put our family above the welfare of Egypt . . . and now Egypt’s prestige and reputation may be scarred, she thought.

  “What of your messages of the vassal cities?” she asked him.

  “They are mostly needing soldiers, food, and equipment,” he said. “They are under attack from territorial ravagers and warlords. They are surviving but will soon be overtaken—if they have not been overtaken already.”

  “And of the foreign allies?”

  “They wonder where Egypt is, when they have sent such precious gifts from their home world but the gold that is like dust in Egypt . . . stays in Egypt.”

  She shook her head. “Our gold, we need,” she said. “But at what cost?”

  The three of them l
ooked to each other until Nefertiti spoke. “Send Commander Horemheb to the vassal cities, leaving men, one hundred debens of gold, and two containers of grain at each, until he gets to the northernmost city. There he shall send a messenger here to give us the state of each vassal city on his journey home.”

  “Most wise, my Queen,” Paaten said. “And for the foreign allies?”

  “I have already committed so much of Egypt’s resources in today’s responses,” she whispered dizzily. “Scribe of Pharaoh, how much has the Queen committed today?”

  He looked to her of the odd request, as he was only the scribe. He scrambled back through his scrolls, trying to quickly tick and tie what was sent.

  “What of the affairs of the people of Egypt?” she asked Jabari, while the scribe calculated.

  “The people go hungry, as they cannot find work. Many of Egypt’s people were put out of work when Pharaoh declared all temples closed and banned all worship of gods other than the Aten. Because there are now so many priests of the Aten, the people’s money can only go so far for the priesthood of the Aten. And because Pharaoh and his Queen are the only mediators between the people and the Aten, they do not give as much to the priesthood or the temples, as the priests cannot take their requests to the Aten. Also, because Pharaoh only hears three messengers a day, many of the people’s requests have gone unanswered, as Pharaoh has not yet heard their requests to give to the Aten.”

  The scribe interrupted, announcing, “Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti has committed half of the Egyptian army, four hundred containers of grain, six thousand talents of silver, four thousand debens of gold, one hundred fifty containers of sweet oil, two artisans, one engineer, and one eagle-omen specialist.”

  “We will need to wait for the treasurer’s calculations as well.” Nefertiti grimaced, not knowing how much of the treasury she just depleted and how much longer now they would need to collect to outrank the Amun-Re priesthood. Her mind drifted back to the fines for worshiping other gods. At least we have some income.

  “There are many prayers and pleas, my Queen,” Jabari said. “Mostly for work, for food.”

  “We have a need for soldiers,” she said, raising her voice, “as I have just committed half of the army to help our vassal states and allies! There is work.”

  “Yes, but the treasury will only go so far to support all of Egypt as soldiers, my Queen.” He bowed in respect.

  The thought of taking over the Amun-Re priesthood’s funds entered her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. To steal from Amun-Re would be unforgivable, she thought.

  She kept her hands on her knees in her royal position and straightened her back yet again. Her breasts ached, and her bottom felt like it was splitting open. Pains shot through her pelvic bones all the way up her back and into her head, but all she could do was close her eyes and bite the inside of her cheek.

  Merytre, who had stood by her side all day, could see now that her Queen needed her. She took a step forward and bowed to the General and the chief royal guard. “Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti has given birth not even a month ago, and yet she sits all day in Pharaoh’s place. Perhaps the messages can wait for her majesty tomorrow?”

  Nefertiti looked with love at Merytre. “Perhaps,” she said.

  General Paaten could see the pain in her crumpled shoulders and in her undercurled toes, and agreed that tomorrow would be best. They would come back in the morning—and hopefully her father Ay and vizier Nakht would have made a safe journey by nightfall tomorrow, as well, to discuss the state of the treasury.

  The General and the chief royal guard left the throne room and Merytre helped Nefertiti from her throne in privacy. Bent over and walking down the steps, holding on to Merytre for fear of falling, Nefertiti made her way to her chambers.

  “Perhaps a warm bath, my Queen?” Merytre asked.

  “Yes, Merytre, yes.”

  Pharaoh was not seen or heard for days, which turned into weeks.

  Those weeks were filled with responding to years-old messages. News spread that Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti was hearing and responding to messages, and more neglected messengers poured into the throne room. She and Queen Tiye were baffled at the Pharaoh’s lack of involvement in these affairs, but they sifted through each one as they came. Satau sat at a desk next to the throne, ticking and tying each commitment against the state.

  Each evening, Nefertiti would find her husband naked in the temples of Aten. She would worship with him a little while and try to talk to him about the state of Egypt, but he refused to listen, saying the Aten would take care of all. She learned to sleep by herself again, as he stayed out in the temples praying and begging the Aten to come again.

  The eighth week came and went and Nefertiti again sent a messenger to Pharaoh urging him to come to his council room. Hours passed, and finally Pharaoh Akhenaten appeared, eyes bloodshot and body drenched in sweat.

  “Pharaoh has had a vision from the great Aten!”

  “Pharaoh, the state of Egypt is poor,” Nefertiti began, brushing off his announcement.

  “Silence, woman!” he bellowed, and all eyes in the council room went wide at the tone he struck with his wife, the supposed love of his life. “All shall hear the vision: behold, a boy in pain and suffering, but the Aten lifts him up to Pharaoh and he rules Egypt,” he said, clueless to everyone in the room. “This boy is my son,” he said, “as I was son to my father, who is now the Aten!”

  I pray to Amun-Re I can have this son the Aten keeps showing him, Nefertiti thought, rolling her eyes. She did not understand her desire to still keep him loyal to her. He had not even been to see how she fared after giving birth to their fifth daughter. He had not once been to see his child and did not respond to the name she’d given her. Now, he called Nefertiti “woman” in front of everyone, including her father and Queen Tiye.

  “Son, sit down,” Queen Tiye said. Her paling skin and sunken shoulders indicated the long years of queenship heavy upon her shoulders. Medical specialists had come from across Egypt to look at her, but Nefertiti noticed even in her sickness, she still stood strong.

  Akhenaten took his seat underneath the Aten’s diminishing rays as they fell across his shoulders and the back of his head.

  “Son,” she said. “Egypt needs its Pharaoh.”

  “Pharaoh is here,” he said. “Pharaoh has always been here.” He stood up and walked around the room, as if to demonstrate his presence.

  “Pharaoh has not been here,” she said. “Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti has been here, serving in your place while you worship the Aten naked and drunk!”

  He raised his hand to his mother but restrained himself at her unflinching eye. “Pharaoh was not drunk . . . but yes, Pharaoh was increasing his dedication to the Aten by praising and worshiping him in purity. And Egypt is the greater for it.”

  “How?” Queen Tiye shook her head at his ignorance of affairs.

  “Because I have prayed for Egypt. The Aten has promised to give me visions of what needs to be done.”

  “Pharaoh, almost half of the state’s treasury has been depleted in resolving disputes with vassal states, foreign allies, and job creation for the Egyptian people,” Nakht blurted out, his fists hitting the table in punctuation.

  “Who did this?” Pharaoh spun around. Rage in his eyes and a snarl on his lips, he demanded to know. “Who did this?!”

  “I did,” Nefertiti said, and stood up quickly, immediately regretting the decision as her hand shot to her pained back.

  “You? You are not Pharaoh!” He rushed to her with a wagging finger and a solid gait.

  “You said for me to serve in Pharaoh’s place!” she yelled back. “And believe me, I served.”

  Those in the room shifted uncomfortably in their seats as they sat slightly baffled at the loss of control, the lack of respect, and the utter unusualness of the situation.

  “You serve the Amun-Re priesthood!” Pharaoh bellowed. “This explains why you deplete our treasury when we are tryin
g to overcome them. We have a traitor in our midst!”

  She gasped. “What?!”

  Those in the room looked to the floor.

  “You deplete my treasury so that the priesthood may grow again and overthrow the Aten!”

  “Never! I depleted the treasury to clean up your neglect!”

  “MY neglect?!” he asked. “Your neglect!”

  “How is this my neglect?” Nefertiti yelled back.

  “You have not given me a son!” Pharaoh shouted.

  Nefertiti’s legs went weak, but she stood strong. Her eyes ate at him, and the servants walking outside the council room stopped in their tracks to hear the yelling through the half-open roof and see what Queen Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti would toss back his way.

  “YOU!” Nefertiti yelled, and opened her mouth to continue.

  “Enough!” Queen Tiye shouted, and touched Nefertiti’s shoulder, gently pressing her into her seat. “Sit down, son.”

  He obeyed his mother.

  “What has been done is done, and we need to move forward.”

  “Agreed,” Ay said along with Nakht, Paaten, and Satau, who were also in the room.

  “The Aten has granted me one last vision for the day,” Pharaoh said as everyone closed their eyes for a short moment. “The Aten says to take the Amun-Re priesthood’s treasury and use it as Egypt’s own. The Aten says to take from all the gods’ priesthoods and use them as Egypt’s own.”

  Ay looked to Nakht, who looked to Paaten, who looked to Satau, who looked to Nefertiti, who looked to Queen Tiye, who looked to Pharaoh.

  “Thus Pharaoh says,” he said with a chuckle as the scribe of Pharaoh wrote his words with a shaky hand. “The problem seems solved to Pharaoh. Thank you, O great Aten in the sky!” He raised his hands, smiling at Nefertiti. “The Aten is not mad at Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti. He has provided a remedy for her actions.”

  “Am I no longer your Queen?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at her lack of title in his address to her.