Tiy and the Prince of Egypt

by Dee, Debbie

  “I’ll be glad to have you there,” Amenhotep said. “I’m not always sure about my rulings, so I could use a second opinion.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Amenhotep looked at her strangely and ran another hand through his hair. “I’ll be granting Ramose his vizier-ship today,” he said.

  Tiy sat a little straighter. “Ramose? He’ll be so excited.”

  “It’s time and he’s ready. And I can trust him.”

  Tiy nodded, recalling all the efforts Ramose made to protect his friend. With a smile for a goodbye, Amenhotep tousled her yellow locks and left her chambers. Within moments, Nebetya returned with the same retinue of women as the night before. Along with her usual tears, Nebetya’s eyes brimmed with questions she was too polite to ask, especially in front of the other servants. Tiy tried to give them a warm smile before surrendering herself to their brushing, poking, and painting.

  An hour later Tiy entered the Audience Chamber just as Amenhotep declared Ramose as the vizier of Thebes. A long cloak draped over Ramose’s shoulders while the other viziers and officials murmured their approval. Tiy scowled. She would have liked to have been present for the entire ceremony. She would have to talk to her ladies-in-waiting on speeding up her grooming process.

  Amenhotep addressed Ramose in a voice Tiy liked to think of as his king-voice. It was a way of speaking he had adopted since becoming Pharaoh to give the people confidence in their young king, and to appease the officials who would have to take orders from a mere child. She teased him about it, without mercy, and he laughed along, teasing himself in the process. Only when they were free from the eyes and ears of Egypt could he speak like her Amenhotep.

  Amenhotep’s voice rose. “Be watchful over your office and everything done in its name for it supports the whole land. Indeed, the office of vizier is not sweet, but is truly as bitter as gall.”

  The present viziers nodded knowingly and Ramose beamed in pride. He was ready for the challenge. With a low bow, he took up his scepter and left the chamber.

  Tiy emerged from behind the column and the viziers, priests, officials and servants bowed in respect, their arms outstretched. She stumbled a little in surprise, forgetting for a moment that she was Queen of Egypt. In an effort to regain some semblance of dignity and grace, she stepped onto the dais with exaggerated formality. All the bowing and special treatment would take some getting used to.

  Amenhotep stood to take her hand. “I’m glad you came,” he whispered.

  “I am too.”

  After several orders of official business were attended to, the waiting petitioners were allowed to enter one by one. Most of them were neighbors unable to settle a squabble, or debtors unable to collect, but many more were destitute farmers with poor crops, or penniless merchants facing the consequences of bad decisions. Amenhotep was generous, granting anything his poorer citizens requested and often giving them additional resources beyond what they were seeking. A few of the vizier’s eyes bulged with reluctance to give so much, but none voiced their opinions. It was as it should be, Tiy thought. The people should be well-cared for and taught to trust their king.

  Tiy joined Amenhotep in the Audience Chamber the next day and every day the following year. Each petitioner brought something new and interesting to consider, each vizier providing fascinating reports of conditions both foreign and local. Dignitaries visited from far away countries, bringing exotic gifts and tales of heroism from their people. Tiy followed the proceedings with rapt attention, her mind filling with so much more of the world than she thought possible. And she watched Amenhotep grow into a pharaoh even greater than his father.

  ***

  During the growing season of Peret, a year after she had become Queen, Ramose burst into the Assembly Chamber, the balls of his feet skimming the floor as he rushed to the foot of the dais. A pair of farmers continued squabbling over irrigation shares, each one too engrossed in their own argument to take note of the other farmer, let alone Ramose fidgeting next to them. With a flash of impatience, Amenhotep leaned forward and caught the attention of the two farmers.

  “I understand the disagreement you share has been passed to you by generations before,” Amenhotep said.

  The farmers nodded.

  Amenhotep continued. “Until you have learned to share water with integrity and fairness, and have proven an ability to exist in peace, you will share half your crop with the other. Your ensuing motivation may be to only secure a healthier half from your neighbor, but it is of no import as long as you are permitting the other an equal share. That is all.”

  The faces of the farmers turned white, their eyes taking on a look of rounded horror. Ramose rocked back and forth on his feet, his impatience to speak leaking from every pour.

  “Welcome, Vizier Ramose,” Amenhotep said as soon as the farmers exited the Assembly Chamber.

  Ramose knelt and bowed his head, his entire frame trembling with hidden news. “Greetings, Pharaoh Amenhotep, beloved of Amun,” he said. He straightened and glanced at the remaining officials in the chamber, his eyes speaking of a need for privacy.

  Amenhotep waved an arm, excusing all others from the room. Tiy stood to leave, but Amenhotep brushed his fingers along her arm, stopping her.

  “Where are you going?” he said once the room was empty except the three of them.

  Tiy glanced at Ramose who seemed to be choking on the words he could not yet release. “It seems Vizier Ramose has important news he wishes to discuss alone. I only wished to give him leave to speak freely to you.”

  Amenhotep chuckled. “You are using my king-voice on me.”

  Tiy smiled and shrugged. “So I am. I must have caught the disease, I’m afraid.”

  A strange sound came from Ramose’s direction, and both she and Amenhotep turned to find him with a face as red as a pomegranate.

  “What is it, Ramose?” Amenhotep said.

  “There are wild bulls in the desert region of Shetep,” Ramose said with hungry anticipation. “Hundreds of them,” he added with a grin.

  “Hundreds?” Amenhotep said, coming to his feet. “In the flatlands or hills?”

  “The hills.”

  “Perfect.” Amenhotep practically purred the word. He smiled and nodded in rhythm to Ramose’s bobbing head. Tiy wanted to laugh at their boyish enthusiasm, but Ramose’s expression turned serious.

  “This is just what we need to prove to the people you are the rightful Pharaoh,” Ramose said to Amenhotep.

  Tiy’s brows knit together. “What are you talking about? Why would Amenhotep need to prove himself?” Amenhotep had grown up considerably since taking up the flail and crook two years before. He had been an unsure boy at fourteen, but now, nearly sixteen and at the end of his second regnal year, he carried himself like a ruler, like a king.

  Amenhotep reached for her hand. “Ramose, we will discuss the bull hunt in greater detail before the sun sets. Thank you for your haste in bringing this news. That is all.” He had slipped back into his king-voice.

  Amenhotep took hold of Tiy’s hand and led her behind the massive thrones and toward a door hidden by a rug hanging from the wall. Woven with more gold thread than wool, it had the weight of a hippopotamus, or at least seemed to from the strain it caused the men to hang it. But, as a wedding gift from the Mitannian King, whose daughter still resided in the palace as the late Pharaoh’s widow, there was no option for it to be used as an actual floor rug. It had to be displayed with honor.

  Amenhotep’s arm flexed as he pulled the heavy rug aside. Tiy couldn’t help but notice that his arm seemed thicker than she remembered, strong enough to carry all of Egypt. She stepped into the hidden chamber and Amenhotep let go of her hand as they settled on the cushions strewn about the room.

  “We should remove the thrones and receive our subjects here,” Tiy said as she leaned back with a comfortable sigh.

  Amenhotep lay next to her and echoed her sigh. “I agree. After ten minutes, those thrones are about as comfortable a
s an old log.”

  Tiy laughed. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

  He shrugged, and they curled up nearer to each other, slipping into a comfortable silence as they stared at the painted ceiling. After a year of waking up next to Amenhotep, it no longer felt strange to lie so close to him, with her head on his chest or her feet entangled with his. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her closer.

  “So are you going to tell me why you need to prove your authority?” Tiy asked.

  “When my father died, I pulled the troops from Nubia.”

  Tiy nodded, she knew this. He was hoping the rebellion would calm down if the Egyptian soldiers weren’t breathing down their throats. She had thought things were going well because they hadn’t heard much from the Nubian viceroy, who seemed to think the rebels were satisfied enough to have taken Egypt’s king.

  “Many think I was weak not to avenge my father’s death,” he said.

  Tiy wrinkled her brow. “But the proclamation said he died of natural causes.”

  “Yes, but truth spreads quickly. In fact, many of our people are upset that I tried to hide his true death. They feel I have dishonored his name.”

  “You were only trying to prevent a full blown war.”

  Amenhotep sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “I know that, but they don’t.”

  They sat in silence for a while, Tiy leaning back and Amenhotep leaning forward with both his hands caught in his hair. She watched the back of his shoulders as they rose and fell with each breath. Her eyes traveled across his back, over his arms, and up his neck. When had he lost all his boyish roundness to the leaner, muscular features of a man? Couldn’t Egypt see what she saw? Why did he have to risk himself to prove something that seemed as plain as day to her. He was Pharaoh. Nothing and no one was greater, or stronger, or more capable than Amenhotep.

  “I don’t think a bull hunt is the answer to this.” Tiy said.

  “No,” he said with a hint of sadness in his voice. “But my father said a true Pharaoh is swift and strong. You have seen how accurate I am with an arrow, even on a fast chariot. If I can show my people how strong I am while hunting, then they will know I can use that same strength as I rule Egypt. I will reestablish my divine authority and regain their confidence.”

  Tiy nodded without blinking. She felt strange, an unfamiliar feeling stirring inside her. “It sounds dangerous,” she said after she found her voice again.

  “It sounds fun,” Amenhotep said with a glint of excitement in his eyes, a bit of the boy returning.

  Tiy raised her eyebrows. “Fun? Herds of stampeding beasts, each weighing at least seven thousand deben, sounds fun?”

  Amenhotep shook with laughter. “I’ll admit, their unpredictable natures make them excellent fighters, but if I conquer them, then the people would have no reason to doubt me. It takes several lions to bring down a single wild bull; think of the power I could demonstrate when I, a single being, take down an entire herd.”

  Tiy bit her lip. The only thing she could think about were bulls ramming into his chariot and dragging him off to his death.

  “Don’t worry about me. I am Pharaoh, the gods will protect me.”

  “I hate the thought of you getting hurt.”

  “Why don’t you come with me? Your presence alone will protect me.”

  Tiy raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen me with a bow and arrow. I couldn’t hit a barrel, even if I was in it.

  Amenhotep nodded, smiling. “I’ll give you a knife.”

  Tiy’s raised her other eyebrow to match the first. “If we are close enough to a bull to do any harm with a knife, then we’d have bigger problems on our hands.”

  Amenhotep chuckled. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, my Desert Guardian.”

  Tiy rolled her eyes, but her insides clenched. Why did he look at her so differently just then? And why did she feel so…different? Nothing had changed from twenty minutes before and yet something felt…different. There was no other word for it.

  “Well?” Amenhotep said.

  “I can’t leave my mother,” she said. “She is due to arrive in Memphis any day. I can’t leave her now.”

  Amenhotep’s eyes took on a playful spark. “You are right. It would be rude to leave her here alone. I mean, the unfortunate woman would only have hundreds of servants to wait on her every need, endless shops to wander—not to mention a royal purse at her hip.” He smiled before continuing. “She would be lost without you.”

  Tiy laughed and pushed his shoulder with her hand. “Very funny, Amenhotep. Although, I’m afraid you are right; she probably wouldn’t notice if I left.”

  “So you’ll come?”

  “I still can’t leave her. I would feel horrible.” And she couldn’t watch Amenhotep ride off to his death. She’d heard about the bulls and knew what they were capable of. Plenty of older, more experienced men had returned maimed, if they’d returned at all. But perhaps that was the point. If Amenhotep could defeat even one or two on his own, Egypt would have no reason to doubt him.

  Amenhotep’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll send updates so you can still enjoy the adventure with me.”

  “Not quite with you, but thank you for understanding.”

  Amenhotep jumped to his feet and started toward the door. “I’m going to have Ramose prepare the ships,” he said. “Are you staying in here?”

  “For a minute,” she said, her voice losing its strength. Amenhotep nodded, and she watched him disappear behind the rug. A strange feeling rose in her gut and she wondered if she should have agreed to go with him. What if she was his Desert Guardian and something happened to him because she wasn’t there? Her stomach churned. Perhaps he was not meant to go. Perhaps the gods were telling her that he should stay.

  Tiy stood and brushed off her kalasiris, wiping the nonsensical thoughts away. Of course he was meant to go. He was Pharaoh, and he must prove to his people that he could be strong for them. But if something were to happen to him, could she be strong enough for them? Could she be strong without him? Tiy shuddered at the thought.

  Chapter 27. Painful Confession

  In the early hours of a mild Peret morning, Nebetya bounded into Tiy’s chambers. Tiy took one look at Nebetya’s wide eyes and dropped the brush she had been using to untangle her long curls.

  “What is it?” she asked, alarmed. Amenhotep had left for the bull hunt three days before, and she had yet to receive any word from him.

  Nebetya closed the door behind her, backing up against the handle. She bit her lip and wrinkled her brow. Her tear-filled eyes would not meet Tiy’s gaze.

  Tiy’s heart quickened. Had Amenhotep been hurt? She wished she had gone with him. Desert Guardian or not, she should have been there to protect him. Her chest tightened and she couldn’t breathe. Shu seemed to have taken all the air from the room. She gasped for more, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Just tell me, I can take it,” Tiy said.

  “It’s quite unexpected, I’m not sure I even want to inform you.”

  “Inform me!” Tiy had become hysterical. Nebetya had bad news about Amenhotep, she just knew it. Some wild bull attacked him, and she hadn’t been there to help him. She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself be swallowed up by her fears. For all she knew, Nebetya had come to tell her someone had broken her favorite sculpture or set fire to the Temple of Re. Amenhotep was strong, nothing could happen to him.

  But if anything did happen to him she didn’t know what she would do. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. Her mind wandered to all the dark possibilities once again and her chest hardened until she couldn’t breathe.

  “Is it Amenhotep?” Tiy asked. “Is he okay?”

  Nebetya jerked her head up. “Pharaoh? No, no, it’s Kepi. She is here, in the palace.”

  “Kepi?” Relief flooded Tiy’s body. Amenhotep was okay. He was safe and would return soon. She wouldn’t have to live her life without him.

  Taken aback by the strength of her
emotions, she held a hand to her chest. She felt as though a portion of her soul had been taken for a moment and returned only when she knew he was safe. She found she could breathe again.

  But nerves soon replaced her happiness as Nebetya’s last statement settled in. Kepi was in the palace?

  “What is she doing here?” Tiy asked.

  Nebetya shrugged. “She has come to request an audience with you. Maybe she wants to ask for your forgiveness.”

  Tiy rolled her eyes. She doubted Kepi had an apologetic hair on her head. Kepi and Merymose had married a season after she and Amenhotep had. It was a quiet ceremony, not befitting Kepi’s self-imposed grandeur, and only attended by close relatives.

  “She must want me to give Merymose a prestigious office.” Tiy said. “Merymose likely needs a career to support his spoiled wife.”

  Nebetya shrugged again. “It wouldn’t hurt to hear her out. Besides, it might be fun to flaunt that you were the one Amenhotep chose.”

  Tiy scowled. “Amenhotep didn’t choose me. I didn’t win his heart any more than Kepi did.” Her breath hitched as she realized her small confession followed by a stitch of pain that flared in her chest. It was a searing pain that had nothing to do with the risk of divulging her secret. Somehow, the pain had been waiting until this moment to rear its ugly head, the moment she admitted even to herself that Amenhotep had settled when he married her. When it had come time for him to marry, he hadn’t fallen in love with anyone, so she became his next best choice.

  This revelation troubled her. Was this how she felt? Did it bother her that Amenhotep married her as his friend and nothing more? It shouldn’t bother her. She married him for the same reason. At least, she thought she did. She wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Nebetya waved her hand as if swatting a fly. “How can you say such things? Pharaoh Amenhotep loves you. I doubt he even remembers Kepi.”