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

by Lauren Lee Merewether

  Nefertiti pointed at Beketaten and Pawah. “We have their leaders, do we not? Here in the core of the palace, surrounded by Pharaoh’s guards!”

  “They are not for Pharaoh.” Horemheb’s monotone voice gave her the answer she needed. Nefertiti shot a glance to her Commander. Was he not for Pharaoh either?

  “You are outnumbered, Pharaoh Coregent,” Beketaten said. “One way or another, the Pharaoh will die.”

  “Lotus blossom,” Ay breathed, grasping her shoulders again and turning her to face him, “listen to me. Think of your daughters, think of your sister Mut, think of your grandchildren, think of Egypt and her future. I have tried my entire life to give you everything you needed and wanted. I tried desperately to be both your father and your mother. Temehu would be proud of you, and she would be ashamed of me. But even she would know that the life of one man is not worth tens of thousands, is not worth this nation’s decay, is not worth the blasphemy he has set upon Egypt. She would know this. She would bring him the wine and while it took over his body she would lay his head in her lap and stroke his cheek and tell him how much she loved him. She would do this—and deep in your heart, you know you must too.”

  Tears streamed from Nefertiti’s face. “But Father, I still love the man beneath the madness.”

  “I know, my lotus blossom.” But Ay said no more.

  Nefertiti had always hoped her father would help her turn Egypt back to Amun-Re when the time came, but not like this. She looked to the ground after he released her. She looked to Beketaten, whose upturned lips almost made her change her mind. But then she looked to Pawah, whose face hid in the shadows.

  There was no way out.

  Finally, she whispered, “I will be your executioner.”

  Commander Horemheb let out a sigh. Beketaten smiled fully just as the last of the candlelight flickered.

  Chapter 28

  The Time of Betrayal

  Commander Horemheb escorted her to her husband’s chambers, where he waved off the guard, and the cupbearer came holding the wine goblet, careful not to spill.

  “He has just demanded more wine,” the cupbearer whispered. “Your timing is impeccable.”

  “Do you have it?” Commander Horemheb asked.

  A small papyrus-rolled satchel of powder appeared in the cupbearer’s hand.

  “I have been waiting until instructed,” he said.

  “Now is the time,” Commander Horemheb said, looking to Nefertiti. He placed his hand on her back as the cupbearer swirled the powder into the wine.

  “It should only take a few sips,” the man said.

  Nefertiti nodded in response as he handed the goblet to her.

  “We honor you, Pharaoh Coregent,” he said with a bow. She bit her lip as he turned to walk away.

  “By morning, we shall have you as Pharaoh,” Horemheb said.

  “By morning, the darkness will have covered our deeds,” she whispered. “Is that why the Fifth Prophet of Amun and his wife came under the veil of darkness? They know the wickedness of what they ask, yet they shall not dirty their own hands.”

  Commander Horemheb held his tongue. Her boldness in stating the obvious caused him to shudder at his own denial of it. This is wicked, he thought.

  “They choose to see murder and war as the same crime,” she said as she began to walk toward the chambers door, “yet they want me to do their bidding”—she placed her knuckles to the door—“in the dark”—and she knocked. “Where no one will see.”

  “Enter,” Akhenaten called from inside. She pushed open the door, never leaving Horemheb’s eyes until she closed the door behind her.

  Horemheb dropped his head. “What have we done?” he asked himself.

  Nefertiti turned around and saw her husband, at least clothed in his royal shendyt, facing the moon and praying for the Aten to return. She held the goblet close to her chest as she walked toward him.

  Am I to blame? she asked herself, feeling his death sentence in her hand. If it weren’t for me encouraging his belief in the Aten to keep me as his only lover, we might still be happy together. I might have borne his son. Egypt might not be in decay. Am I to blame?

  Her eyes glistened in the candlelight.

  “Have you brought my wine?” he yelled out.

  “Yes, my love.”

  He spun around and saw that it was his beautiful wife carrying his wine and not the cupbearer. “My Neferneferuaten-Nefertiti!” His face beamed, his mouth a bright smile.

  Her brow begin to bead with sweat.

  He walked to her and placed his hands on either side of her face. “It feels as if ages have passed,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “And yet time does not grace your face, my beautiful one.”

  Temptation seeped into her soul, almost letting her fingers spill the wine to the floor. But her loyalty to Egypt kept the goblet firmly clasped in her hands.

  “To what do I owe your presence?” he asked, pressing his lips to hers.

  This was the man she loved; this was the man she was about to murder.

  “I come to . . .”

  Guilt strained her vocal cords, but she had to try one more time to save his life.

  “Yes, my love, anything for you,” he said.

  She took her chance.

  “I come to ask for the greater of Egypt . . . that you please allow the worship of other gods.”

  His smile vanished.

  “I see,” he said. “No. Only the Aten shall be worshiped in my Egypt.”

  Nefertiti continued to look him in the eyes. The gold-inlaid jewels of the goblet pressed into her palms.

  “Egypt is in decay, my love. When we outlawed the worship of other gods, Egypt’s economy went asunder. We are nearly bankrupt. We have lost our foreign allies. Egypt will not last much—”

  “Silence!” He pressed his finger to her lips. “The Aten will provide for Egypt!”

  “How?” she asked, pushing his finger away. “How will he provide? He has not provided in years. Years! Akhenaten, listen to me. We must—”

  Akhenaten hit his chest. “There is salvation in the Aten! Not the other false gods!”

  “Because you say they are false?” Nefertiti brought the cup closer to her chest to protect its contents from his movements. “The sun gives no salvation to Egypt, Akhenaten!”

  He turned to walk toward the window. “My salvation is there!”

  “The rebellion grows! Most of the military and servants of the palace and the city take part! Your salvation will end with your slaughter and that of your family.”

  “The Aten will provide,” he said.

  “They will kill us, my love,” she whispered.

  “Let them come. The Aten protects his only prophet.” He spread his arms wide, stepping toward the window.

  “The Aten protects his son!”

  “And when the Aten sleeps?”

  “His shadow covers me. Have no fear, my beautiful one. Have no fear. The Aten does not like your doubt of his ability.”

  “The Aten is not the one I doubt,” she said.

  But he was already too engrossed in watching the stars and praying to the Aten to forgive his ignorant wife of her doubt, to understand what she meant.

  “Please, Akhenaten . . . allow the worship of other gods . . .”

  He closed his eyes, ignoring her as he resumed his worship of the Aten.

  A tear slid out of her eye as she watched him.

  They would come for him.

  Doubt crept into her mind. Would her father, Commander Horemheb, and General Paaten at least command their armies to protect her and her children?

  She accidentally let some of the poisoned wine fall from its goblet onto the stone floor.

  Would they protect her now?

  The wine soaked into the floor, leaving a stain the color of blood.

  Akhenaten had fallen to his knees at the window, praying loudly for his wife, his one true love—other than the Aten—to lose her doubt.

  He still loved
her.

  I will deal with Beketaten and Pawah tomorrow, she thought as she placed the half-empty goblet on a nearby stand. When he drinks the poison, it would be as if the cupbearer gave it to him. Yes, perhaps I will think of it in this way.

  She bit her tongue and closed her eyes for a moment. I can order the torture of seventeen spies, but I am too weak to poison the one threat against my country.

  “I will always love you, Amenhotep,” she whispered. “I wish you a quick, painless death when the time comes.”

  She opened the door and stepped out. Closing it behind her, she wiped the tear from her eye as she straightened her back and looked straight ahead to face whatever lie there.

  “Goodbye, my love.”

  Epilogue

  The Time of Remembering

  “Queen Neferneferuaten—our long-past Queen Nefertiti, the most upright of us all—chose not to be a part of their deeds of the dark,” Pharaoh Horemheb announced to the five prophets of Amun. They had all leaned forward, eagerly listening to his recounting.

  “Your deeds of the dark.” Queen Mut pointed to the First Prophet Wennefer. Her eyes held a rage against the priesthood.

  “Not mine,” he said, his arms still crossed over his body as if to protect himself from his brothers’ mistakes.

  “All of your deeds are done in the dark,” Queen Mut hissed, referring to the sins the priesthood had committed against her family. Her eyes turned to Horemheb, begging her husband to continue the recounting, to shed light on the priesthood’s greatest transgression, before he cast it out to be forgotten by history and buried by the passage of time.

  First Prophet Wennefer jabbed his finger in the air. “There is no proof!” He knew of which deed she spoke. Hatred lingered in the air between her majesty and the priesthood.

  “No proof was needed,” Queen Mut forced out between her teeth.

  “We are a different hierarchy of prophets, my Queen. Placing the blame for past events on us is unwise, especially as we move forward to erase—”

  “Silence!” Pharaoh Horemheb threw his hand in the air.

  The sun sank lower. Servants dashed in to light the candles and lampstands.

  Pharaoh Horemheb leaned back in his throne. His lips were parched, as he had been speaking for the greater of the day. For now, their memories were safe, but he had much left to tell before he signed the edict to erase them into oblivion.

  They sat in silence until the sun left them for the night.

  The First Prophet Wennefer stood. “We thank Pharaoh for his recounting. However, Pharaoh will now sign the edict.”

  “There are none greater than Pharaoh. You will not order him to take any action!” Pharaoh Horemheb said. “You are so quick to forget, First Prophet Wennefer. Perhaps Pharaoh should dismiss you and find a replacement, perhaps with someone who values the sanctity of the legacy of Pharaohs before and who knows there are none more powerful than Pharaoh.”

  “My apologies, my King of Egypt.” First Prophet Wennefer bowed and took his seat.

  Pharaoh Horemheb rubbed his bottom lip with his finger. Yes . . . there is still much to tell. “There shall be no signing of the edict tonight. We will retire for the night and meet again at the first morning light, for the complete legacy of the Pharaohs before still has yet to be told. Pharaoh will continue the recounting tomorrow.”

  He stood up, bringing his arms outspread as the prophets also rose.

  “May Amun be with us all.”

  A LOOK INTO THE PAST

  Afterword

  As readers may have gleaned from this novel’s prologue and epilogue, the account of Pharaoh Akhenaten was removed from history by a later Pharaoh. Only recently, archeologists have uncovered bits and pieces of what happened during the Amarna period, the period of time this series covers. The author has taken liberties in Salvation in the Sun, book one of The Lost Pharaoh Chronicles, where there were uncertainties in the truth.

  In the historical record, Henuttaneb was a King’s wife, but the name of which King has been erased. She is more commonly associated as a wife of her father, Pharaoh Amenhotep III, but there is little evidence confirming this theory. Because Akhenaten’s reign was erased, unlike that of his father’s, the author assumed it a better theory that she was in fact her brother’s wife. A brother and sister relation was proven through DNA in the resulting offspring of Tutankhaten. Some say that when interbreeding occurs, first cousins such as Nefertiti and Akhenaten could show as brother and sister; however, no record has been uncovered depicting Nefertiti ever bearing a son. Despite the DNA results, Akhenaten has been accepted as Tutankhaten’s father; thus, the author decided, since Akhenaten’s other sister Nebetah was not named as King’s wife, his mother then should be Akhenaten’s sister, Henuttaneb.

  Smenkare could have been another brother, half-brother, son, or lover of Akhenaten. There are a few who attribute Smenkare and Nefertiti as one and the same, only dressed like a man. Some DNA tests have shown that Smenkare could also be the father of Tutankhaten. Tutankhaten’s children’s mother presumably was his chief royal wife, as well as a daughter of Akhenaten; however, the DNA of their mother shows no father-daughter relation to the mummy identified as Akhenaten. If the children’s mother was not Akhenaten’s daughter, then their mother is an unknown lesser wife of Tutankhaten; if the children’s mother is Akhenaten’s daughter, then Akhenaten’s mummy is actually someone else (presumably Smenkare) and Smenkare’s sister bore Tutankhaten and not Akhenaten and his sister.

  Nebetah and Beketaten could have been sisters, mother and daughter, aunt and niece, or the same person. They largely are not referenced after they are young and are only found with the title of King’s daughter, not King’s wife, although a few speculate she (presuming Nebetah and Beketaten were one and the same) was in fact the wife of Akhenaten and mother of Tutankhaten.

  From writings found in the Amarna letters, it is widely accepted that a plague swept through the entire region during Year 12 of Akhenaten’s reign and killed Kiya, Tiye, and three of Nefertiti’s daughters—Meketaten, Neferneferure, and Setepenre—because they disappear from the record after Year 12.

  There is no evidence of a rebellion; however, if the cult of Amun was as powerful as records show, the author assumes a rebellion would have taken place. Furthermore, rebellions would not have been recorded in Egyptian history, due to the perception of civil weakness.

  Amun can be spelt many ways—Amen, Amon, Amun—but it refers to the same god. Likewise, the Aten has also been spelled Aton, Atom, or Atun. The author chose consistent spellings for her series for pronunciation purposes.

  It is believed that Nefertiti died sometime between Year 16 and Year 17 of Akhenaten’s reign. Some say she lived past Akhenaten’s death and was in fact the Pharaoh Neferneferuaten who shows up a few years later after Smenkare, but some associate two separate individuals under the same name and attribute the later Pharaoh to one of her daughters: Meritaten, Ankhesenpaaten, or Neferneferuaten Tasherit.

  After dealing more with religious reforms and neglecting or dealing poorly with foreign relations, Pharaoh Akhenaten did not keep the nation at the height his father and mother had achieved for Egypt. It has been assumed he suffered from Temporal Lobe Epilepsy, Marfan’s syndrome, Loeys-Dietz syndrome, or some other disorder, which looks to explain why he believed the sun made him feel better—perhaps due to a severe vitamin D deficiency. Visions were common in his family line and only intensified in each generation, most likely due to inbreeding. There are two main theories on why he led Egypt to monotheism: Akhenaten tried to take power from the cult priesthood of Amun, or he just simply had different beliefs for Egypt. It is accepted that he died in Year 17 of his reign.

  A little peek into the author’s mindset:

  There are only a handful of named fictional characters in the story. The majority of the main characters are based on and named after their real-life counterparts. She wanted to stay as close to the historical account as possible, yet still craft an eng
aging story.

  The author used ‘Pharaoh’ as a title in the story due to the mainstream portrayal of Pharaoh to mean ‘King’ or ‘ruler’. Pharaoh is actually a Greek word for the Egyptian word(s) pero or per-a-a in reference to the royal palace in Ancient Egypt, or literally, ‘great house’. The term was used in the time period this series covers; however, it never used as an official title of the Ancient Egyptian kings.

  The Amarna period is known for its deviation from traditional Ancient Egyptian art. It encompassed more realistic, intimate and stylized renderings both in relief and sculpture. Kiya’s paintings in the novel were meant to provide the inspiration and explanation behind this period art.

  Regnal years were not used during the ancient times, but rather used by historians to help chronicle the different reigns. The author decided to insert these references throughout the novel to help the reader keep track of how much time has passed and to have a better idea of the historical timeline.

  The author hopes you have enjoyed this story crafted from the little-known facts surrounding this period, and is hard at work writing the sequel, Secrets in the Sand. Find out what happens next with Beketaten and Pawah, Ay and Horemheb, Paaten, Nefertiti’s daughters, and the rise (or fall) of Egypt! Sign up here to receive the Map of the Region or at www.laurenleemerewether.com to receive alerts when new stories are on their way.

  WHAT DID YOU THINK?

  An Author’s Request

  Did You Enjoy

  Salvation in the Sun?

  Thank you for reading the first book in The Lost Pharaoh Chronicles. I hope you enjoyed jumping into another culture and reading about the author’s interpretation of the events that took place in the New Kingdom of Ancient Egypt.

  If you enjoyed Salvation in the Sun, I would like to ask a big favor: Please share with your friends and family on social media sites like Facebook and leave a review on Amazon and on Goodreads if you have accounts there.