by Mesu Andrews
She felt a slight squeeze of her hand and looked down at her brother.
“Out.” Tut’s voice was barely a croak, a whisper pushed through dry, cracked lips. A handmaid rushed to him and pressed a wet cloth against his mouth. He received the moisture before trying to speak again. “Everyone out—except Anippe.” He opened his eyes—barely two slits—but they closed in relief at the sight of his Medjay. “Mandai, you stay too.”
Ay’s aggression turned to feigned loyalty “I had no idea you were awake, lord of all, good god who wears Egypt’s crowns. I would be happy to remain—”
“Get out.”
As the vizier moved toward the door, he turned his polite banter on Anippe. “Don’t stay too long. The king is extremely weak—as you can see. I’d be honored if you’d join me for a private meal in my chamber tomorrow evening, Amira Anippe.”
He offered a curt bow, and a trail of Nubians, priests, maids, and the physician followed him out.
The chamber grew quiet, and Tut appeared to be sleeping again. Anippe abandoned her chair, rattled by the invitation, but sat beside her brother on his mattress. Tut winced at the movement.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll go back—”
“No, stay with me.” He clutched her arm, his grip stronger than expected, and a tear slid from the corner of his eye. “I finally have someone in the room not trying to kill me.”
Grieving for all they’d lost, Anippe laid her head on her brother’s bandaged chest and listened to his heartbeat. “How can I help you?”
“Horemheb was right. Ay will take Egypt from me if I don’t die first. Mandai, did you tell her about the axle?”
“No, my king.”
“The axle was sawed halfway through. My accident was no accident. I know Ay ordered it.”
Anippe’s head sprang off Tut’s chest. “So there’s proof? You can have him arrested?”
Mandai stepped forward, leaning over the king. “I will lead my Medjays against the vizier. We are your loyal servants, my king, and will hunt and kill Ay like the jackal he is.”
“There is no proof. Ay is shielded by some of my own bodyguard. Even if you could find proof and enough loyal noblemen to stand with me, I can’t return to Memphis to judge him.” He paused, taking several breaths, his pain evident. “Our homeland troops are loyal to Ay, and Commander Nakhtmin rules the Nubian army through brutal threats on their families.” Tut grasped Anippe’s hand. “I’m dying, Anippe, and Ay will take the throne if Horemheb is not here when …” His words trailed off, his strength spent.
Anippe finished for him. “The next pharaoh must be present to receive the embodiment of Horus.”
“I didn’t realize Ay hadn’t summoned Horemheb … but why would he? Why didn’t I listen to Horemheb?” Tut turned away, regret clinging to him like the sweat-soaked bed sheets.
Anippe’s thoughts began to whir. “Don’t give up, brother. Ay thinks he’s won the battle—but he’s foolishly declared war against Horemheb and his daughter.” She rose from her chair and kissed the cheek of a god. “I love you, King Tut. Rest and let Lady Isis, goddess of healing, do her work while your sister prepares a feast for our enemy he’ll not soon forget.”
Anippe peeked through the curtained doorway of Gurob’s banquet hall, counting the guests of the banquet she’d arranged to trap her enemy. Rather than accept yesterday’s invitation to dine in his chamber, Anippe had arranged a banquet—in Vizier Ay’s honor—to show gratitude for his devotion during Tut’s convalescence. The arrogant governor had invited even more guests.
Why hadn’t Ummi Amenia arrived yet? She’d been as anxious as Anippe to see their enemy exposed when they’d shared their midday meal earlier. Senpa had joined them, and Ankhe, of course, had been furious that Anippe had neglected to secure a written document of Tut’s order for her to marry Nassor.
Even now, Ankhe chatted with others at the women’s head table as if their brother were not dying in his chamber. Beside her sat Ummi Amenia’s empty cushion, and on the other side Senpa, withdrawn and mournful. The Gurob Harem wives filled ten tables in the hall, their chatter growing restless. They shouted rude comments from one table to another about Anippe’s absence. The women of Gurob had never been short of opinions.
Across the aisle, Vizier Ay lounged at a table with twelve other noblemen, laughing, drinking, and grabbing at dancing girls. Musicians played, acrobats tumbled, and the barely clad dancers kept the men entertained while Anippe kept watch for Ummi Amenia.
What could be keeping her?
Mandai and Nassor stood guard behind Ankhe, impatiently awaiting Anippe’s arrival. They examined every guest and servant like hawks watching for mice in a field. Anippe captured Mandai’s attention and summoned him silently. The Medjay’s speed and stealth were as useful in a raucous banquet room as on a battlefield.
Moments later, he slipped behind the curtain with her. “What is it? Trouble?”
“I don’t know. Ummi Amenia should have been here by now. Go check her chamber while I begin the banquet.”
With a nod, he was gone.
Anippe emerged from the curtain and bowed to the chief anointer, who affixed a waxy cone of scented oil to her wig. Like the cones worn by the other guests, her carved ornament would melt away by night’s end, dripping its sweet scent into and through her wig—much like the melting of Ay’s dreams of Egypt’s throne. Anippe would expose his treachery among witnesses tonight.
The thought brought a smile to her face as she strolled up the center aisle. She nodded greetings to lifelong friends and settled on the vacant cushion beside Queen Senpa, bowing politely to the vizier across the aisle. “Thank you for indulging my need to reunite with the women of Gurob, Vizier. I haven’t seen them since my marriage three years ago, and I know Tut will be pleased when I bring him tidings of our celebration.”
The vizier wiped sweat from his brow and, though answering her greeting, addressed the men at his table. “I would think the king’s sister would be grieving his serious injuries, not celebrating his imminent death.” His booming voice captured the attention of every guest.
Anippe’s heart fluttered; this was the time. She searched the doorway—Mandai hadn’t returned with word of Amenia, but she couldn’t wait. Servants were streaming in from the kitchen, platters laden with roast goose, gazelle, and wild boar—a happy distraction for the guests when the conversation became heated.
“I learned from King Tut that his so-called accident was instead an attempt on his life,” she said. As one, the audience gasped, leaving the room stifling. “What do you know about it, Vizier?”
“I was given the same information by the king’s bodyguard—but I don’t think we should discuss it here.” He lifted an eyebrow, challenging her with an arrogant smirk.
“In front of Pharaoh’s noblemen is the perfect place to expose a crime. Don’t you agree?” She directed the question to their audience, who ardently approved, shouting and pounding the marble tables. Quieter, she said to Ay alone, “I’ve got you, jackal-headed cobra.”
He answered as quietly. “You’ve fallen into your own trap.” Lifting his voice over the din, he shouted to his Nubians guarding the side doors. “Bring in the prisoner.”
The doors opened slowly. Two Medjays entered, one small woman between them.
“Amenia?” Anippe jumped from her cushion and sprinted toward the lone prisoner. Her legs couldn’t keep up, and she fell at her ummi’s feet, clutching her shackled ankles, sobbing.
“Will you kiss the feet of the woman who tried to kill your brother?” The vizier’s voice resounded like a trumpet in the sudden silence.
“Get up, my daughter. Get up.” Amenia’s voice was as strong and compassionate as it had been the first time Anippe heard it. “You are sister of the King, daughter of Horemheb, Amira of Avaris—you do not grovel at a prisoner’s feet.”
But Anippe would grovel at anyone’s feet if she could save Ummi Amenia.
Pressing the hem of Amenia’s robe to her eyes
, she dried her tears, leaving streaks of kohl on the pure white linen. She stood to face the one man she hated enough to kill. “Vizier Ay, you know Amira Amenia would never harm King Tut.” She returned to the head table but this time knelt opposite the vizier in a supplicant’s position. “General Horemheb loves the king as his own son—as does Amira Amenia.”
“My spies intercepted secret papyri passed between Amenia and Horemheb, in which Amenia informed the general of delicate matters concerning Egypt’s government.”
“You mean Amira Amenia informed her husband, General Horemheb, the prince regent, that you conspired with Commander Nakhtmin to steal King Tut’s throne?” Anippe retorted.
The gallery hummed—ample grain for Gurob’s gossip mill.
Ay smiled. “The general has been singing that dirge for years, my dear, and King Tut himself agreed it was foolishness. Please, if you have any proof that I’ve conspired against our god and king, present it now.”
Anippe stood trembling with rage—speechless and alone. She’d sent Mandai to look for Amenia, but even he had no proof Tut’s axle had been sawed. She stared longingly at Amenia, helpless to save the woman who’d saved her.
“Ummi!” Anippe ran toward her, but two Medjays grabbed her arms with iron hands.
Ay’s singsong voice rose above Anippe’s cries. “We must all remember that Princess Anippe has endured a long journey from Avaris and arrived to see her dear brother, the divine god Tut, nearing his eternal home. And then to realize her adoptive parents were likely responsible for the king’s death … Well, friends, her despair proves she knew nothing of Horemheb and Amenia’s plot to kill Tut.”
The audience hummed its approval of Ay’s hypocrisy, and Anippe saw pity on their faces. She growled, lunging at the vizier. “No! You’re a liar!”
He waved his hand at the Medjays. “Take her back to her chamber. I’ll speak with her in the morning after she’s had more rest.”
The Medjays began dragging her up the aisle. Nassor’s guttural cry and heavy footsteps came from behind, and the Medjays dropped her. In an instant, a few well-placed Medjay blows stopped the Ramessid cold and left him moaning in a heap.
Anippe closed her eyes, unable to bear her hopelessness. The warriors grabbed her arms again, their fingers biting into flesh. She cried out, and to her surprise, they released her.
When she opened her eyes, Mandai stood blocking the center aisle, strong and immovable as the dark stones of Coptos.
“I do not wish to kill you, brothers,” he said, “but King Tut has charged me to protect Amira Anippe.”
Her captors backed away. Nassor stood, shaky but able, and helped Anippe to her feet. Head held high, Mandai led her from the room, Nassor serving as rear guard.
Anippe didn’t speak until she was sure they weren’t being watched or followed. “I’m not going back to my room, and I’m not meeting that reptile tomorrow morning.”
Mandai kept watch all the way through the pillared corridor between the harem and the king’s private residence. “I’m sorry to disagree, Amira, but for now, you are going back to your chamber—to gather food and wait for me. Nassor will stay with you until Ankhe returns from the banquet.” They arrived at the northern-most corner of the harem. “By that time, I will find a way to rescue Amenia, and I’ll bring her back to the skiff before the moon rises full.”
“Tonight? Do you think you can save Amenia and get to the skiff tonight?” Breathless, Anippe dared to hope.
“That is my plan.” Mandai glanced over her head at Nassor. “If I’m not back by the moon’s zenith, take both the king’s sisters and leave without me. Ay will kill them if they’re still at Gurob in the morning.”
Anippe lay in her bed, listening to the familiar sounds of the Fayum. The sheer netting around her bed kept mosquitoes from feasting on her, while lions roared and owls screeched. The whole earth was restless when evil prowled—and Ay was evil. More than she had imagined.
Would she ever see Tut or Senpa or her ummi again? She’d said her good-bye to her brother, but Ummi … And what would happen to Senpa? Tears streamed from the corners of Anippe’s eyes as she lay deathly still on the turquoise neck rest.
“Anippe, are you awake?” Ankhe’s whisper sounded gravelly.
Anippe swallowed her tears and forced calm. “No. Sound asleep.”
“Do you think we should leave without Mandai? I can see the moon, and it’s almost—”
“We’ll leave when Mandai returns with Ummi Amenia.”
Silence. Ankhe was dealing with her own disappointment. Anippe hadn’t spoken to Tut about Ankhe’s marriage. There would be no wedding now.
“After you left the banquet, Vizier Ay passed judgment on Amenia. Treason, Anippe. Do you really think one Nubian warrior can rescue her?”
Anippe’s tears flowed freely in the darkness. She need not answer a question void of hope.
“And you should have seen the way the vizier fawned over Senpa. He poured her wine, fed her grapes. I think he would have wiped her nose if she had sneezed.”
“Ankhe, enough.”
“I was just—”
“You were just prattling on about a man who’s trying to kill our brother, Amenia, and us—and who might marry Senpa to secure the throne.”
Their chamber door burst open. Nassor grabbed both women, wrenching them to their feet. “Out the courtyard gate.”
Anippe ran, glancing over her shoulder. She saw Mandai behind them, but he was alone. “Where’s Ummi?”
Nassor still ran, forcing both women to keep up.
“Where’s Ummi Amenia?” Anippe cried, bare feet kicking up sand and small rocks as they neared the quay.
“Get in the boat.” Nassor shoved both sisters into the waiting skiff, and Mandai hurried aboard, clutching his bloody abdomen. Three Medjays crested the hill above the quay, swords drawn.
“You can’t row, Mandai.” Anippe grabbed one short oar and shoved it into the sandy shallows, helping Nassor push them off shore. The Ramessid knelt with the second oar to steer them.
No one looked back as Nassor and Anippe paddled like mad. When they were safely on their way in the canal, Anippe glanced over her shoulder and saw their pursuers kick the sand in frustration. Not even Medjays braved the Nile without a boat at night.
Mandai lay against the side of their skiff, checking the long gash in his side. “No trumpets sounding. This is good.” He reached over and tore Ankhe’s linen robe.
“Stop. What are you doing?”
Mandai drew his dagger, and Ankhe grew quiet. “I need a portion of your robe for a bandage. Keep still or my blade may slip.”
Anippe kept checking behind them. Mandai was right—no trumpets meant no pursuing soldiers on the Nile’s moonlit waters. She watched him tend his wound and imagined the worst, but she needed to hear it. “Mandai, what happened?”
He wrapped his belly in silence, wincing only when he drew the strip of Ankhe’s robe into a tight knot. Crimson seeped through the fine linen, but his bleeding slowed considerably. Moonlight revealed the Medjay’s sadness. “By the time I discovered where they’d hidden Amira Amenia …” He shook his head and grew silent again.
“Please, Mandai. I need to know.”
Head bowed, he whispered, “She was begging Ay’s guards to kill her.”
Anippe covered her mouth in horror.
Mandai reached for her loose oar before it toppled into oblivion. “I knew your ummi couldn’t survive this journey, so I ran away—but one of my own men turned his sword on me.”
“Thank you for trying, my friend.” Anippe buried her face in her hands, releasing the waves of grief that had built since she’d heard of Tut’s injury.
By the gods! Ay will pay for what he’s done.
The steady rhythm of splashing oars lulled her into a dazed despair. Faded memories resurfaced—spinning flax with Amenia and Senpa, Tut playing with wooden soldiers. Would she really see them in the afterlife? Were the legends of the gods truth or lies?<
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“Amira, you should rest.” Nassor switched the oar to his left side, while Mandai switched to his right. The Medjay’s bandage was completely saturated with blood.
“I can’t sleep. Give me your oar, Mandai.” Anippe didn’t wait for his protest. She took the oar, and Ankhe eased the warrior back against her.
Their journey would be slower, but at least they’d escaped to get word to Abbi Horem. They would burrow into the safety of the Delta and Ramessid military strongholds. Abbi would know what to do—and maybe Sebak would finally come home to her.
Her arms and back burned with every stroke of the oar, but the memory of her husband’s embrace made her strong.
22
For the sake of my family and friends,
I will say, “Peace be within you.”
—PSALM 122:8
Mered laughed so hard his sides ached as he watched his children and Mehy play with Miriam in their single room at dawn. When Anippe had asked Mered if he and Puah would tend the young prince while she and Ankhe traveled to Gurob, he’d felt honored. Watching Miriam bask in her family’s presence was an added blessing.
The only tarnish on this joyous morning were Mandai’s cryptic words, which still echoed in Mered’s memory. Pharaoh’s accident was no accident. What had the amira discovered when she arrived at Gurob?
Amram shoved aside their adjoining curtain. “Sounds like we’re missing the fun.” Young Aaron darted around his father to join the three little ones in a crawling chase around the low-lying table. Miriam played shepherdess, herding them in the same direction.
Mered waved his old friend over to his safe corner. “Amram, come over here before you’re trampled by the stampede.”
Amram tucked his feet under him and sat in amiable silence. Two proud fathers, enjoying lively households before the day’s work began. Puah and Jochebed continued their work near the cook fire, partly cooking, partly protecting little fingers and toes from the flames.