Tutankhaten found the kiosk a delight. Mounting the stairs to the painted wooden shelter, he said, "Nefer, you be the thieving nomad, and I'll be pharaoh. Try to raid my city, and I'll chase you back into the desert and kill you. This is my city." Tut ran down the steps of the kiosk and pointed to a line of shrubs. "These are my warriors. Remember. You're the miserable sneaking raider."
"Why do I always get to be the miserable raider? Why can't I be pharaoh?"
"You can be pharaoh next time. I'll be the king of the Hittites."
Meren stood beside the kiosk-city while the game proceeded, his arms full of papyri and his patience wearing thin. When Tutankhaten charged him and delivered a blow to his stomach with a stick that served as his scimitar, Meren dropped the correspondence and doubled over. Huffing and wincing, he gasped when a small, round-eyed face appeared upside-down before him. Meren straightened to find the prince had dropped his stick.
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
Surprised by the compassion he saw in the boys eyes, Meren said, "It's nothing, highness."
They stared at each other, and Meren found his glare turning to a grin. He dropped to his knees and picked up the stick.
"You must hold your weapon thus, highness." He demonstrated the correct grip. "And draw your arm back like this."
Tutankhaten watched him with rapt attention until Meren noticed the queen. He had no idea how long she'd been watching them.
Nefertiti scolded gently. "You should be more careful, little one. Now practice with your scimitar on the bushes."
While the boy tried to reduce the bushes to compost, Nefertiti retreated to the shade of the kiosk to watch. Meren gathered his records and joined her, but the queen failed to resume their discussion. From the corner of his eye he observed the fine lines that had appeared at the corners of her eyes and between her nose and mouth. She was exhausted from grieving over her lost daughters.
Not long ago Ay had confided the secret of Nefertiti's plans for reconciliation with the priests of Amun. Meren thought the idea insane and suicidal. If Akhenaten discovered what they planned, his fury would destroy them all. And Meren would be one of the first to die for he carried messages between Ay and the priests of Amun hidden in Horizon of the Aten.
Suddenly Nefertiti turned to him. "My talks with Smenkhare are going well."
"He knows, majesty?"
"No, but he sees that Egypt is not well and that something must be done."
The queen gazed out across the garden to the flower beds, blue with cornflowers. "I know you think my course perilous and foolhardy, Meren."
Meren bowed. "It is not for this humble servant to question the will of the great royal wife."
"There's no choice," Nefertiti said. "But I worry. Smenkhare isn't strong, and it's possible that Tut will be pharaoh while he's still a child. Should that happen, there will be a fight for control of him." Nefertiti met Meren's gaze calmly. "I may not be there to protect him, and he needs someone who values his welfare and Egypt's above wealth and power."
Meren turned to watch the boy. The siege of his enemies forgotten, he was standing at the edge of the pool, trying to spear a fish. Meren tried to imagine the double crown of Egypt on that small head but failed.
"My father and I agree," Nefertiti said, interrupting his speculation. "We want you to watch over the boy for us."
Meren's jaw lost its mooring, and his mouth hung open.
"I was watching you just now. You have patience. You're gentle but firm, and Tut likes you. If he's to survive and rule Egypt, he'll need men like you."
Across the garden, the gates opened to reveal a great retinue of priests, Akhenaten in their midst. Nefertiti whirled around and confronted Meren.
"Your answer, quickly. Do you swear to protect him by the power of Amun?"
"I will, majesty."
How long ago that day seemed. Had it been almost ten years? Meren yawned and tried to turn on his side without jarring his wound. After swearing to protect Tutankhaten, he'd left the garden before Akhenaten could see him. He remembered the queen's parting words.
"Sometimes I fear what is to come, Lord Meren, but at least you've given me some peace, for now."
Had Nefertiti suspected what was to happen? Had she known that this drinker of blood was near? Perhaps she had, for but a few years later she was dead, her body embalmed and closed in that tomb in the lonely desert, her work incomplete, and Akhenaten still on the throne.
Meren lifted himself up, cursing at the unfairness of her fate. Gentle, beautiful, and wise, Nefertiti had devoted her life to Egypt; her reward had been an ugly death. And if it cost him his life,he would discover her murderer, this drinker of blood, and cast him into a lake of fire.
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Document ID: fbd-fc18c0-a8a3-0544-c697-b658-c799-c27258
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 13.11.2012
Created using: calibre 0.9.5, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Lynda S. Robinson
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Drinker Of Blood lm-5 Page 26
