Salvation in the Sun

by Lauren Lee Merewether

  Nefertiti bit her lip and cocked her head to the side as she gazed into the night stars. She finally asked, “In this plan . . . are they wanting me to help overthrow the priesthood of Amun-Re?”

  “Not overthrow,” Ay whispered, pushing his hand toward the ground as a signal for her to lower her voice. “Regain stolen power.”

  “But the only way to take their power would be to deny the power of Amun-Re,” Nefertiti whispered, “and say it belongs to another god?”

  “Yes, my daughter,” Ay said. “You speak my thoughts. But—”

  “But that is blasphemy.” Nefertiti shook her head, not wanting to be a part of it. She wrinkled her nose and gulped down the hard lump forming in her throat.

  “Pharaoh believes the state of Egypt will not continue in prosperity if the priesthood of Amun-Re usurps all Pharaoh’s power. In three weeks’ time, Prince Amenhotep will be named Coregent at the King’s sed festival. Your marriage to the Prince will take place then, and you will honor the wishes of Pharaoh and Queen Tiye.”

  “But Father, to deny the power of Amun-Re?” Nefertiti threw her hands in the air.

  “Do not question me, Nefertiti,” Ay said with a firmness Nefertiti had not heard in a long time. She stepped back, looking to him as he let out a deep breath and slightly nodded his head. “You will do what is best for Egypt’s prosperity. But remember, I do not know what they have planned. We are only assuming. Assumption is the worst tactic of a leader.”

  A moment of silence passed as Nefertiti weighed the decision to serve Egypt and become a heretic. “Yes, Father,” she finally replied. She could not refuse his wishes. She longed to run away; instead, she forced a frigid smile.

  “My Nefertiti . . . I promise you I will let no harm come to you.” Ay drew his daughter into his embrace as the cool night air whipped around them. “As soon as the priesthood of Amun-Re dissolves and the new Pharaoh can regain the lost power, all will return to as it was.”

  Nefertiti only nodded, unmoving and expressionless, and repeated, “Yes, Father.”

  CHAPTER 4

  THE TIME OF A NEW CROWNING

  They were in the palace at Malkata. Pharaoh and his Queen watched from their royal thrones as the dancers danced along the throne room and the servants served the best food and wine to the distinguished guests. The village people of Waset had traveled up the Nile to pay homage to the Magnificent King, Pharaoh Amenhotep III of Egypt, stopping just outside his palace and bowing low to his stone image, acknowledging his strength and divine appointment.

  Nefertiti stood with her shoulders back, her chin lifted toward the firelight from the large alabaster oil lamps that lit the room. Vizier Ramose’s gold collar glimmered as he walked forward, stopping before the Pharaoh and his Queen. The priests of Amun-Re preceded him, holding the Pshent, the great double-crown. In the adjacent room, Prince Amenhotep watched Nefertiti and admired the shadow line her body made against the light.

  Kasmut made her way to him as she observed him staring at his soon-to-be new wife, clenching her teeth as tight as her fists. Clearing her throat, she broke him from his gaze.

  “Kasmut!” he half whispered. “What are you doing here?” His eyes darted around; he did not want his mother to see him with her.

  “After all this time . . .” she began, not sure whether to cry or yell as the silence grew between them.

  Amenhotep closed his eyes, wishing she would not ask him the question he knew she was about to ask.

  “Why did you not choose me as your chief wife?” she asked him. Her voice mirrored the shattered pieces of her heart.

  Amenhotep averted his eyes and rubbed his arm. “Kasmut . . .” he began. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and tell her he wanted her more than she could ever know, but his mother had made him promise to choose Nefertiti.

  At his muteness, Kasmut pleaded again: “Why, Amenhotep?”

  His mother’s words echoed back to him: All, including Kasmut, must believe you chose Nefertiti to be your chief wife.

  “Because . . .” he started as he took his time to think. “I am the Crown Prince, and . . . and I don’t need a reason.” The heaviness in his stomach came out in his shaky voice.

  Kasmut’s cheeks burned and her ears were set aflame. Taking shallow breaths, she tried to keep her composure. “Well then, Crown Prince—”

  Amenhotep grimaced at her formality.

  “If that is the best answer you can give me, I fear for the future of Egypt.”

  Amenhotep crossed his arms, and his stomach sunk lower. “Kasmut, I—”

  She held up her hand. “If it is because she is more favorable to glance upon than me, tell me. If it is because she ignored you all through our childhood and now you need her attention, tell me. If it is because she thinks of you less than I do and so you need her approval, tell me. If it is because—”

  Amenhotep interjected. “Kasmut. Silence.”

  She closed her mouth.

  Words eluded him, but he didn’t want her to think such thoughts. Her view of him was too important. “Kasmut, I . . .” he began again, and again trailed off.

  How to make her believe I chose Nefertiti and not hurt her? he thought desperately.

  That question had haunted him since his mother had made him promise, and now he was as clueless as ever. Praying to the Aten, the sun-disc, an aspect of the god Re, he asked for strength.

  Suddenly, words parted his lips: “I will cherish you for the rest of my days, Kasmut, and the times we spent together I will always hold close to my heart. But our days of childhood are gone. I must think like a Pharaoh now. Nefertiti is the wisest choice as my chief royal wife. Her skills, skills she learned from her father, will be most valuable to me, and to Egypt.”

  The angry flame in Kasmut’s eyes vanished. “Amenhotep, you will be Pharaoh. You say Nefertiti is the wise choice. Why can you not also marry for love? Can you not marry me as well? Keep Nefertiti as your chief royal wife and advisor . . . but marry me and love me all the days of your life.”

  Her question went unanswered as General Paaten stepped into the light. Long was he a loyal friend to the family of Queen Tiye. “Kasmut,” he said, eyeing her, “your father taught you well to pay your respects to the son of Pharaoh.”

  “General Paaten!” Kasmut stepped back, startled by his sudden shadow and voice.

  “The Queen saw you and the Crown Prince conversing and requested I see what it was you needed, Kasmut.” General Paaten peered down at her from his menacing height.

  “I was just wishing the Crown Prince my best in his new marriage,” she said through pursed lips.

  “I see. Well, the Crown Prince needs to be preparing for his speech. Congratulations can wait till after the ceremony. Please leave the Crown Prince to his own for now,” he ordered.

  “Yes, General,” she said. She bowed to Amenhotep and rose with a tear in her eye.

  Amenhotep could not look at her. He had tried his best not to hurt her, but her question lingered in his mind. Why couldn’t he marry Kasmut as well?

  He would tell his mother he planned to marry Kasmut.

  She and General Paaten left him as he attempted to return his mind to the oath he would recite later on in the evening.

  Nefertiti caught his eye again as she stood elegantly with a wandering gaze embracing the grandeur of the evening. The light graced the contours of her face and body. It had been years since he’d spoken to Nefertiti. She along with the rest of his siblings and cousins—besides Kasmut, of course—usually ignored him and left him to play in the sun by himself. Now they were grown: he at fourteen and she at thirteen. He needed to take his own advice—leave their childhood in the past.

  After all, she would soon be his wife.

  “NEFERTITI,” a voice whispered behind her.

  She jumped at the unexpected utterance of her name and peered over her shoulder to see who had said it.

  The new Crown Prince emerged from the shadow. “Nefertiti?” he
said, more as a question than a salutation. Her dark eyes either made his stomach double over or his lungs shrink, he couldn’t quite tell.

  She views me as some incompetent boy who Pharaoh himself considers a failure, he thought. Just as everyone else does.

  His lips moved, but nothing came out. Why did I come over to her? he asked himself. Why can’t I speak? Aten, please help me. She already assumes I am a fool. And now the future Pharaoh can’t speak. Aten, why did you take my brother? Thutmose wanted to be Pharaoh, and I wanted Kasmut . . .

  She did a slow bow to show her respect. “Yes, Crown Prince of all of Egypt?” Nefertiti said, matching the tone with which he’d said her name.

  He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he tried to speak. “I . . . came . . . to tell you . . .”

  What did I come to tell her? He mentally shook himself. ATEN! You, heal my pains and give me visions. Hear me in your slumber, he thought.

  “Yes, Crown Prince? What did you come to tell me?”

  His eyes hadn’t left hers, yet tiny beads of sweat formed on his bald head as he thought of what to say. “I came to tell you how . . . splendid you look this evening,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder to hide the blush of his cheeks.

  “Thank you, Crown Prince,” Nefertiti said.

  He swung his arms ever so slightly and nodded his head.

  “You look exquisite as well,” she said at the awkward silence.

  “You may . . . call me ‘Amenhotep’ in moments like these,” he said, referring to the privacy of their conversation.

  That was bold. She isn’t even your wife yet! he scolded himself.

  She smiled—and with it she found Prince Amenhotep’s heart in her hands.

  Maybe she ignored me because I never talked to her, he thought. Maybe it will be easier than I thought to have her as my chief royal wife. His thoughts drifted back to Kasmut, whom he could see sitting by her father watching their conversation.

  “As you wish, Amenhotep,” Nefertiti whispered, making his pulse quicken.

  His face beamed. Maybe Kasmut is not the only one for me.

  “They will present me soon, and then they will present you,” he said looking at her cherry full lips. You fool, she already knows what will happen. Quit looking at her lips. Look at her eyes!

  “Yes, Amenhotep,” she said back, realizing the power she would hold over this young man—just as her father had predicted.

  He played with his father’s ring upon his finger. “I will confess my fear to you . . .” he began. He looked up.

  Nefertiti nodded, her lips pursed in concern, giving him the courage to continue.

  “I will confess, since you will be my wife after tonight,” he said as his painted eyebrows hung low over his eyes. “I know this is our first time speaking in this respect, but I feel you . . . you should know this.”

  “What is it, Amenhotep?” She tested her limits by reaching out one perfumed hand and placed it over his.

  Instead of pulling back, he sighed. He decided to not tell her about Kasmut, but her dark, almond eyes searched his soul and drew out his hidden fears.

  “I was never meant to be Pharaoh—” He shook his head, not accepting that this woman just pulled up his inner most fears, but he continued. “I have doubts . . .”

  He did not finish his thought. A trail of silence followed. Then: “You would have been better to marry my brother. He was a strong leader.”

  “Amenhotep, you too will be a strong leader. I have no doubts,” Nefertiti whispered to him as they found each other’s eyes. He couldn’t tell if the flicker in her eyes was from the firelight or from her dishonesty.

  “The most beautiful woman in all the world tells me she has no doubts. Shall I believe her?” Amenhotep whispered back.

  “You shall,” she responded with a smile.

  The music had stopped, and Amenhotep looked to his father. “We must go,” he said to Nefertiti. I cannot disappoint my father again, he thought. Aten, please come forth from your nightly shadow, so I am not late!

  They ran to the throne room behind the regal tapestries where the priests were waiting. His father was speaking about the greatness of Egypt, its might and power, the divinity of its reign and its ruler, and so on and so on. His voice droned on into the background as Amenhotep closed his eyes.

  Shall I believe her? he thought.

  NEFERTITI STOOD a step behind Amenhotep on his right side. She shifted her weight as she swallowed her lie. I have doubts, but I cannot tear him down. As my father said, I need to gain his trust. I can’t think of him as my “weird” cousin anymore. Poor thing—he seems so fragile . . . but at least he has a kind heart. With it, he can be great, she reassured herself.

  She had seen him talking with Kasmut before he approached her. They had spent a lot of time together in their childhood. Perhaps he loves Kasmut? But Kasmut is the daughter of a prophet of Amun. If Father told me the truth, he cannot marry her if he is to move away from the priesthood, she thought as she pieced the idea together.

  MOMENTS LATER, the words to start the rest of his life sunk into his soul as his father bellowed: “The Crown Prince Amenhotep IV and his betrothed, Nefertiti, daughter of Overseer of Pharaoh’s Horses, Ay!”

  Servants swung the curtains back, leaving Amenhotep and Nefertiti looking out to the nobles and officials of the court. The audience stood and cheered with the level of elegance required at such a regal event.

  They walked down the throne room toward Pharaoh on the throne, his arms still outstretched. Nefertiti walked behind Amenhotep, arms at her sides, hips gracefully swinging, shoulders and chin high, just as instructed in the rehearsals.

  The highest ranking priest, the First Prophet of Amun, Meryptah, waited at the second step of the throne. Hands clasped over his belly, he stood with the Second and Third Prophets, Anen and Maya, holding the ceremonial Pshent crown for Amenhotep and the Modius crown for Nefertiti.

  When they mounted the steps, Nefertiti stopped halfway up and Amenhotep continued upward.

  Meryptah took the great crown made of red copper and white papyrus from Anen, the Second Prophet of Amun, while another lower priest of Amun, Pawah, recited the language of the gods, granting the crowning of a divine king.

  Amenhotep could not look at Anen, Kasmut’s father. Instead, Amenhotep kept his focus on Meryptah as Anen’s narrowed eyes fell upon him.

  Meryptah lifted the crown in the air and began to lower it on the Pharaoh Coregent. The crown fit perfectly upon Amenhotep’s head—they had fitted him for it the day before. He slowly turned around to face the hall, careful the double crown did not topple and mar his reign forever.

  Remember the lines. You memorized them, Amenhotep. Remember what you are supposed to say, he thought as the little beads of sweat that had formed earlier trickled into the leather binding of the crown.

  “I swear by Amun-Re to fulfill my divine purpose to lead the Upper and the Lower of Egypt boldly into prosperity,” he uttered with a strength that caught him by surprise.

  “People of Egypt,” his father bellowed, “I present to you Pharaoh Coregent, having divine selection to lead the unified nation, both the Upper and the Lower, to a more prosperous future!”

  The people cheered for their new leader. Nefertiti looked up to him and she saw the fear in his eyes, just barely hidden behind a pursed face exuding confidence.

  Kasmut tried to find Amenhotep’s eyes but failed. She wondered if Nefertiti had bewitched him already; the Amenhotep she knew would have tried to find her in the crowd. Yet to her dismay, his eyes remained steadfast.

  The people cheered again.

  Pharaoh bellowed once more: “Now shall be named chief royal wife of Pharaoh Coregent, Nefertiti, to stand with Pharaoh!”

  Meryptah took the blue and gold Modius crown from Third Prophet of Amun, Maya. Nefertiti walked up to the step beneath him and he placed it upon her head.

  Kasmut’s stomach churned. She refused to watch their marriage ceremon
y take place. She slumped in her chair. She held on to hope, however, that one day, even if she couldn’t be his chief royal wife, she could at least still be his wife.

  THE FEAST CONTINUED into the night and the next. Anen refrained from drink because he was representing Amun; he instead sat in the corner of the throne room. Staring at the fine gold overlain in even the crevices of the room’s walls, he wished he could numb his sorrow in the strong drink of the evening.

  His pride fell to pieces on the floor; talk in the streets concerning his daughters had already reached his ears: Why were one of them not chosen as Queen? Why did Queen Tiye place Ay’s daughter above his own? Was not he the eldest and a high ranking prophet of Amun?

  After this Appearance of the King ceremony, it would be performed again in Upper and Lower Egypt. I will relive the shame twice more, Anen thought, not knowing how he would bear the questions that would arise. What would he say? Ah, because Nefertiti is more beautiful than the sum of my daughters, he thought bitterly, recalling the exact words his sister had used to describe them.

  The urge to vomit increased, even though he hadn’t eaten in days. His throat was thick and dry and his heartbeat elevated while he constantly replayed the events of that day in his mind.

  Pawah said he would kill all of Ay’s daughters if only I said the word . . . why did I not pay him to do so? Why did I only agree to get rid of Thutmose? I thought one death was enough to turn events in my favor. I was so sure Amenhotep would pick Kasmut . . .

  The next day Anen prayed to Amun in his temple—silently for fear the other priests would hear him. He tried to sulk into the background. Amun, hear my prayer. I pray Thutmose is safe as he journeys in the afterlife. I wronged him. The knots in his belly twisted and turned as a deep-set weight came over his lungs and shoulders. His death is on my hands. My fear of humiliation led me down this path, and even now, as extreme as my actions were, I still suffer humiliation. Perhaps this is my punishment for paying to take the life of the Crown Prince.