by Overton, Max
The king stared at the General, then his full lips began to quiver. "Please, bring her to me--or let me see the sun and the sky. My father Aten lives in my heart but if I cannot see his glorious face I must be allowed to commune with my wife. My little Ankhe supports me."
Psenamy smiled, enjoying the king's discomfiture. "Yes, but princess Ankhesenpaaten does not wish to see you. She knows where her future lies and it is not beside a broken down heretic king." He turned toward the door once more, laughing. "Pray to your Aten, your majesty. Maybe he will come and save you." Psenamy locked the door behind him and set off back through the corridors of the North Palace, still chuckling.
He found his second-in-command on duty at the main palace gate. Gesturing to the officer to join him, Psenamy set off in the dusty heat of the fore-noon toward the southern city and the main palace.
"Khaemnum, I am leaving you in command."
The officer looked surprised and pleased. "Where are you going, sir?"
"Waset. I have received orders to take Tutankhaten south to be crowned as co-regent."
The two men continued on down the great Royal Road in silence for several minutes. Normally bustling with activity, this backbone of the city lay stunned in the blazing sun. The people that moved on its wide thoroughfare did so as if preoccupied. Commerce had insufficient motive to move them, the shaking of the normal order of things having produced a lassitude and uneasiness about the future. Men watched the soldiers covertly, hoping to divine some purpose in their travel, some hint of what lay before the City of the Sun.
"Your most important duty will be toward the king. Do not be misled by his deposition, he is a devious man and will attempt to deceive you."
Khaemnum nodded. "Don't worry, sir, I'll keep him safely locked up."
"No, that is just what you must not do. Akhenaten is still king in Kemet, and will be as long as he has life in him. We must just make sure that saner minds have control of the reins of government. That is why Tutankhaten must be crowned as co-regent as soon as possible, so he can bring Kemet back to the old gods."
Khaemnum frowned. "So if he is still king and I am not to keep him locked up, just what am I to do, sir?"
"Watch him, limit his contact with others, and do not ever leave him alone." Psenamy stopped in the middle of the street, close to where the Great Temple of the Aten lay. He pointed at the enormous edifice. "That is what happened when Akhenaten was free to do as he pleased and it has brought nothing but misery to Kemet. Atenism is not yet dead, Khaemnum, it has merely become less obvious. If the gods are willing, in time it will disappear. But while Akhenaten lives, he could become a focus for pro-Atenist trouble makers."
"Then would he not be better dead, sir?" The officer looked troubled.
"Of course, but are you going to do it? Will you kill an anointed king? If you are willing to give up your eternal life and face the curse of all gods, then tell me. I am sure certain people would be most interested in the news." Psenamy watched the younger man's face for a moment before smiling wryly. "I thought not. That is why you must keep him alone and away from anyone who seeks to use him for their own purposes. Keep him in his chambers for a few days more, then you can let him out into the gardens, under guard of course. If he remains calm and pliable--use your own judgment--you could even let him serve in the courts again. Just monitor what is said and if he tries anything, lock him up again." The General resumed walking toward the palace gates.
Khaemnum nodded pensively. "I think I can do that sir. But how many men will you leave me?"
"More than enough. Ay needs the legion back in Waset but I intend leaving you two hundred men. Now, I must talk to the prince before we depart, so I want you to get your command set up. Pick your officers and get their men into position. Have the rest assemble by the docks." Psenamy clapped his second-in-command on the shoulder and entered the palace.
The chamberlain awaited him in the dim, cooler interior and after bowing, set off along the corridors toward the king's apartments. Servants stood around and watched the two men, rather than being about their duties. The whisperings and mutterings of conversation died away as Psenamy approached, picking up again after he passed. Guards, his own men, stood at the entrance to the king's suite and they saluted, the butts of their spear shafts thumping solidly into the tiled floor. The chamberlain opened the door for the General and gestured him to enter.
The large airy room that formed the antechamber looked as if the strong desert winds that carry the sandstorm had swept through. The few pieces of furniture had been pushed back out of the way and a litter of toys, wooden carvings and weapons littered the floor. In the centre of the room was an open space where two boys heaved and strained, their bodies locked in a wrestling grip, each trying to throw the other to the floor. Prince Tutankhaten, though slight of build, held his own against the larger frame of Hiknefer, sheer determination neutralizing strength, limbs the colour of beaten copper appearing pale against the rich blackness of the Nubian prince.
As Psenamy entered the room, Tutankhaten glanced toward the movement and his muscles relaxed for a moment. Hiknefer felt the tremor and needed no further encouragement. With a heave, he toppled the prince and threw him to the floor, dropping to his knees beside the young boy with a wide grin of mirth on his face.
"Two to one, Tuti," Hiknefer crowed. "You owe me the dagger with the carnelian inset."
Tutankhaten scrambled to his feet full of hurt indignation. "That wasn't fair Hiknefer; I had you until he came in." He pointed an accusing finger at Psenamy. "It doesn't count, does it Ankhe?"
The General glanced across the room to where Ankhesenpaaten sat on the bed with her legs curled up under her. The girl put down the polished silver mirror and looked up at the boys with a bored expression. "What doesn't count, Tuti? What are you talking about?" She straightened her legs out and stood up gracefully, smoothing the pleats of her transparent dress. "General." She inclined her head a fraction, acknowledging his presence. "To what do we owe this...this summons?"
Psenamy bowed deeply to the former queen and the future king. "My lord, my lady, I thank you for acceding to my request."
Tutankhaten ignored the adults and punched Hiknefer in the arm. The tall Nubian boy danced backward, his white teeth showing in an infectious grin.
"It's not fair," Tutankhaten repeated sulkily. "That bout doesn't count."
Psenamy coughed and said, "If I might make an observation, my lord."
Tutankhaten stopped in the act of throwing another punch. "What?"
"It seems to me, my lord, as if a valuable lesson might be learned here today. If this had been a real fight on the field of war and not just a play fight, then your moment's inattention might have brought you death. You must learn to control yourself, become single-minded in your every action, become kingly. Today, you need to accept your defeat gracefully, for the gods hate unseemly pride and complaints against what life throws at us. Be gracious and embrace your friend--and learn how to defeat him next time."
"You will too, Tuti," Hiknefer murmured.
Prince Tutankhaten looked from Psenamy to Hiknefer and then to Ankhesenpaaten, his brow furrowed in thought. He faced the General again and cocked his head on one side. "You said kingly--that I must learn to become kingly. Why?"
"I received a letter from Tjaty Ay today. He requests your presence in Waset." A small smile crept under calculating eyes. "There is a small matter of a vacant throne and a young prince ready to become king."
The prince's eyes grew large. "Me?" he squeaked. "You mean me?"
"But of course, my lord. Who else could be king except the sons of the great Nebmaetre Amenhotep? Your elder brother Akhenaten has asked to remain king here in Akhet-Aten so he may continue his worship of the Aten, but he has agreed with the Divine Father Ay that you should rule all Kemet, save this city, from Waset."
"Your majesty." Hiknefer dropped to his knees beside the small boy, only to find his head still topping the youngster's by two fingers. He
quickly bent and touched his forehead to the tiled floor. "I offer my life and my loyalty to King Tutankhaten."
Ankhesenpaaten too dropped onto one knee. "My heart is yours, great king," she said softly.
Tutankhaten giggled and he raised one foot and wriggled his toes in Hiknefer's curly hair. Beside him, Psenamy coughed softly.
"Be gracious, my lord," he murmured. "Be kingly."
The future king gave his friend a gentle nudge with his foot. "Get up Hiknefer. Come on, you're still my friend." As his friend rose, Tutankhaten turned to Psenamy again. "What about Ankhe? I want her to come to Waset too."
"Of course, your majesty." The General bowed in the direction of the former queen. "Tjaty Ay specifically asked that she accompany you."
Ankhesenpaaten walked over to the prince and put her arm about the boy. She looked Psenamy directly in the eye and a fleeting flicker of guarded acknowledgement passed between them. "I will always be with you, Tuti," she said calmly. "I have given you my promise."
Tutankhaten hugged her. "Are you going to marry me, Ankhe?" He looked up at Psenamy. "Is she? Is that why she's coming to Waset?" His bottom lip trembled slightly. "You won't take her away from me?"
"Marriage?" mused Psenamy. "That is a very good idea, my lord. I wish I had thought of that. She is the last female of the royal line."
"So it is true, then?" Hiknefer looked from prince Tutankhaten to the young Ankhesenpaaten. "I have heard stories but was unsure of them. The right to be king resides in the females and a king must marry his sister or close relative to become king?"
Psenamy laughed; a barking explosion devoid of mirth. "You heard wrong, boy, though there is a kernel of truth in it. The right to be king belongs to the male heir but a king would be a fool to leave an unmarried female where any ambitious man could find her and marry her. He would not be king long. To be safe, he marries her himself so there can be no rivals for the throne. In-as-much as a female carries the bloodline of the king as well as a male; it makes sense for the new king to deny that bloodline to others by marrying his female relatives."
"I see." Hiknefer nodded. "But does not prince Tutankhaten have a closer female relative than queen Ankhesenpaaten--forgive me mistress," he bowed to the lady. "Is not princess Beketaten a sister of...of the new king? Should he not be marrying her to keep the bloodline safe?"
"The bitch is dead," Ankhesenpaaten snarled.
"That is true, General?" Tutankhaten asked. "Why was I not told?"
"The news came yesterday, my lord. I conveyed the message to the queen, but we decided you had enough to concern you without adding to your worries. If I have done wrong, I beg my lord's forgiveness."
"You are forgiven," Tutankhaten said with a grin. "I did not really know her. Besides, it's Ankhe I want to marry. We'll have such fun, Ankhe. We can all play together and...and go on river voyages and hunt lions..."
"And govern the Two Kingdoms properly, Tuti." Ankhesenpaaten pursed her lips. "You will have to lean on me for a while. I will help you be a king."
"When do we leave for Waset? Can I take all my toys?" The young prince's grin slipped. "Is Hiknefer coming? And Khai too? I don't want to leave them behind; I want to make Hiknefer my Tjaty."
"You will be king, my lord; your wishes will command us all." Psenamy bowed low before the little boy again. "We leave for Waset this afternoon, and the princes of Nubia will be accompanying us. As for being Tjaty, well, my lord, the Divine Father Ay is Tjaty and prince Hiknefer will soon be going back to his people to govern Lower Nubia for you."
The prince nodded. "We'll find something else for you then, Hiknefer. Come on, let's go and pack our toys and pick out which dogs we are taking." He grabbed the tall Nubian youth by the hand and scampered to the door.
Psenamy watched them out of sight before turning to Ankhesenpaaten. "You'll be able to keep him in hand?"
The girl nodded. "Leave him to me. He will be king, but I will rule Kemet with the help of my grandfather Ay."
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Chapter Twelve
The two barges passed each other less than half a day south of Akhet-Aten, the great breadth of the river between them. The land on either side of the river at that point lay green and lush, reeds and papyrus stretching back to fields of long grass before the desert. The hand of man lay light on the riverbanks and flocks of ibis and egret wandering the muddy shallows, taking flight in a storm of white wings at the approach of the barges. Water swirled and rippled as crocodiles, tips of snouts and armored eyes barely breaking the surface; sank beneath the flow.
The priests of Amun, shading their eyes against the dancing glare of the low evening sun, recognized the other barge as it forged slowly upriver, its red-tipped oars chunking into the water, pulling slowly backward and lifting again, golden drops spattering back into the oily calm of the current. The royal blazon flew in the prow--the gold flag with the red and white double crown of Kemet.
Ephenamen ground his teeth at the sight. "The Heretic," he snarled. He found himself in a quandary, not wanting to make obeisance to the champion of the Aten but knowing if he did not, their lives could be forfeit. He growled, and as the royal barge approached, dropped to his knees, staring down at the water so as not to look at his hated king. The other priests followed suit as did almost everyone else on board.
Scarab stood near the railing, looking curiously at the approaching barge, until Khu pulled her down.
"You're supposed to be a servant," he muttered in her ear. "Servants don't look at kings."
Scarab shook his hand off and crouched by the low railing, staring across the water. Around her, the other servants and sailors lay flat on the deck, waiting for the god to pass. As the barges drew closer, the figures beneath the huge linen awning amidships became clearer.
"That's not Akhenaten," she said softly. "It's only a boy, actually boys." Scarab shaded her eyes. "Tutankhaten. Why is he going to Waset?"
Khu tried to quieten her, putting a finger to his lips. "Shh. Remember who you are supposed to be."
The barges sped past one another, few eyes on the royal barge bothering with the other one heading downriver with the current. They passed and rapidly receded from one another. Ephenamen the priest rose to his feet with a venomous look at the back of his enemy. He spat into the river, the gobbet drifting alongside until it dissolved.
"Why does the Heretic leave Akhet-Aten?" he asked of his fellow priests. "What mischief does he seek to cause in Amun's City?"
The others offered opinion based on ignorance, being all they had to offer and Ephenamen cut through the babble, chopping down with one hand.
"Enough. We will break our journey and put in at Akhet-Aten. The First Prophet will want to know why the Heretic leaves his lair."
The chief priest retired to the small awning on the deck and the servants went back to their positions, busying themselves with the countless small tasks of a personal nature that they only had time for when not called upon to serve their masters. Scarab and Khu sat a little apart from the other servants and leaned toward each other, talking. A few curious eyes watched them and two of the younger women stared hungrily at Khu.
The young man was personable enough to attract the attention of young women, who had made their moves on him the first night out from Waset. Amused and a little pleased by the attention, Khu had responded positively until Scarab had left his side with a muttered remark about the minds of men. Khu followed, and when the women continued their advances, turned on them and sent them packing amidst screeched abuse. Rumor had quickly spread that the two new servants were not in fact brother and sister, but were lovers, possibly running from a cruel master.
Khu turned his back on the watching women and sat cross-legged in front of Scarab, pulling the front of his kilt down between his thighs for decency. "Does it matter?" he asked casually. "What importance is the boy? Another week could get us to Ineb Hedj and with luck we can find passage to Zarw."
"I hate not know
ing." Scarab worked with a borrowed needle and a length of linen thread, repairing the torn edges of her gown with clumsy stitches. It was still grimed and stained but she could not bring it out in the open to wash it without inviting awkward questions. She drew her breath in sharply and popped a finger into her mouth. "How do they not bleed over the clothes? I'll never look down on seamstresses again. Besides, Khu, it is fairly obvious that Tutankhaten is being brought to Waset at Ay's instigation to be made king."
"Then what is the problem? We just sail by to Ineb Hedj and on. We find Horemheb and enlist his aid against Ay."
"What of Akhenaten?"
Khu shrugged. "What of him? He rules his City of the Sun while the rest of Kemet gets on with its own business."
"I hate to say this, knowing the damage he has caused to Kemet, but I think Akhenaten is preferable to Ay. With Akhenaten, at least the rule of law stood firm, but with Ay we might as well have a brigand chief ruling us."
Khu eyed Scarab warily. "So what do you want to do?"
"See Akhenaten. Tell him what's going on. See if we can persuade him to help."
"And how do we do that? Firstly, we cannot just walk up to a priest and say 'Thank you for the ride, please let us off at Akhet-Aten', and secondly, if by some miracle we did get off, how are two servants going to get in to see the king?"
"I don't know...yes I do. It will be dark by the time we get there. We can slip over the side and swim to shore."
Khu snorted. "I don't suppose you've noticed there are crocodiles in the river. I would have thought with a brother lost to them already, you'd be a..." He broke off as he realized what he was saying. "Scarab, I'm sorry, really I am. I just...I just forgot and...please forgive me."
Scarab's eyes filled and she brushed away tears angrily. "That's all right Khu, really it is. I just haven't had a proper time to mourn for Smenkhkare. But I will, soon."
Khu sat silent for a time, letting Scarab gather her thoughts and emotions. The sun sank below the distant cliff tops on the western shore, dark shadows racing out over the water. The air cooled, a welcome respite from the day, and servants hurried to light the cooking fires. Large slabs of rock were set up on the deck and small fires kindled, the cooking pots filled and soon the welcome scents of food filled the evening air.