Seeing him notice, she said, “I dismissed him. I don’t trust him to keep me safe. I prop a chair against the door at night and try to stay awake to hear it as I lie in bed . . . I haven’t slept well in a long time.”
“Pharaoh, you need sleep. Without it, your mind dies.” Horemheb bowed and said, “I will stand watch at your door.”
“You don’t understand. I’m afraid, Commander.” Nefertiti placed a hand on her door. “I’m afraid of eating and drinking. I’m afraid of sleeping. It seemed so easy to get rid of Akhenaten and Smenkare and even . . .” Tears filled her eyes as she thought of her innocent daughter. “How much easier would it be to get rid of me?” A tear slid down her cheek as she looked down the hallway, making sure no one was there. “Will you again come inside with me? It was the only time I felt safe.”
“I will do whatever you need me to do.”
She saw in his eyes that Horemheb meant the words he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and opened the door. He walked in and she closed the door behind him and moved the chair to the door—just as she had done every night since Horemheb had stayed with her. “Can you check the chambers and make sure no one is here?” she asked with a gesture around her room. “I usually do it . . . but it scares me.”
“Yes, my Pharaoh,” Horemheb said, and he began to walk around, pulling his dagger from his chest belt. He searched the entire chamber and reported that it was indeed empty. He pulled the sheet back on her bed, gesturing for her to climb in. “You need to sleep. I will stay up and keep watch for you.”
“Thank you, Commander,” she said as she slipped past him. She let her hand rest on his chest. She found his eyes. It had been a long time since she had been alone with a man in her chambers—at least when she was in a sound mind. The last time Horemheb was in her room alone was almost a year ago; she had not forgotten his kindness in her agony.
“Sleep now, Pharaoh. I am always loyal to you and to Egypt. You will never have to doubt me,” Horemheb said as he covered her hand with his.
The candlelight flickered. His gaze fell to her lips and his mouth parted. He so badly wanted to kiss her, just as he had wanted to every night they had met in the hallways for the past year, and even in Libya and Nubia several years ago and in the lotus garden of the palace that night of Akhenaten’s funeral; but this time, it was stronger than he’d ever felt before. Maybe it was because he knew in a short while, when she had to marry someone else, the idea would be dead.
But it isn’t dead now . . .
In a heady rush, he leaned forward, kissed her cheek, and let out a breath on her neck. He reached around her and took the candle by her bed. He pulled back to see the glisten in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, my Pharaoh.” He closed his eyes. “I should not have done that.”
Her hand still stayed on his chest. He took a step back, letting it fall.
“I will stay here and keep watch while you sleep.”
He hinged at the waist and went and sat down in a neighboring chair.
She stared at him for a moment, wishing he hadn’t stopped with a kiss to her cheek; but she knew why he hadn’t dared go further.
He watched her watch him until she fell asleep. He removed his heavy bronze armor and placed it on the ground and put his khopesh on the table next to him as he watched the door.
In the night Nefertiti screamed; Horemheb jumped to his feet with his dagger aimed ready to strike, but then realized Nefertiti was only having a nightmare. He sheathed his dagger, rushed to her bedside, and woke her as she beat on his chest.
“Pharaoh, it’s me. It’s me, Commander Horemheb. You are safe. You are safe with me,” he said over and over again.
Her eyes adjusted in the dark, and she began to cry. Putting her hand up to shield her eyes, she shook her head vigorously. Horemheb sat next to her on the bed and rubbed her back until she settled down. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then placed her hand on Horemheb’s knee.
“I dreamed everyone I cared about left me to die,” she confided.
Letting go of his inhibitions, he guided her head to his chest with one hand and grasped her hand on his knee with the other. “It was only a dream. Your daughters, your father, your mother, your sister, myself . . . we would never leave you.” He turned his nose into the perfumed skin of her forehead. “I will never leave you.”
Her fingers crept up to his neck as she lifted her face to his. Her eyes fell to his lips and she pressed her chest against him, allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace.
“I will keep you safe, my Pharaoh,” Horemheb whispered to her as he wrapped his strong arms around her. His heart beat hard in his chest as he wrestled in his mind what to do.
She is Pharaoh—she will marry another, so kiss her now while it is still legal! he told himself. And risk whatever General Paaten does to you.
“Call me Nefertiti,” she breathed as their faces drew closer, “in times like these.”
He smiled in the darkness. “Only if you call me Horemheb.”
It had been a long time since he had held a woman in bed, but never such a beautiful woman as Nefertiti. She drew the back of her hand around his face. He grasped her hand and kissed it.
“Nefertiti, I more than anything want to touch you . . . to love you.”
He paused.
“But . . .”
Tears filled her eyes, for she knew what he was going to say.
“We shouldn’t complicate things more. They will force you to marry, and it won’t be to me.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did this. I let this happen.”
She closed her eyes, pressing out hot tears. “Then at least stay with me. Hold me so I can feel safe.”
“For you, Nefertiti . . . anything,” he whispered, and pushed her back into the bed. He removed his chest belt and laid down next to her, wrapping her in his arms.
“What if someone enters?” she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.
“I am a light sleeper. I will hear if someone enters,” he reassured her, keeping his chin on her forehead.
“If I was not Pharaoh, would you have stayed and kept watch for me?” Nefertiti whispered.
“Yes,” he answered.
“If I was not Pharaoh, would you have kissed me?”
Part of her needed to know she was still desirable; but part of her needed him, wanted him, cared for him, loved him, and she hoped he would confirm that for her, that his feelings for her were more than just lust.
Horemheb didn’t know how to answer. Of course he wanted to kiss her, but she was still Pharaoh. Instead, he caressed her face.
“I am a servant of Egypt—and of you, as Pharaoh. I am not worthy to be your lover, but please know that I admire your courage, your wit, your passion, your loyalty to Egypt, your conscience, and your stunning face and body that rivals that of a goddess. If you were not Pharaoh, I would have asked to marry you a long time ago.”
A tear slid out of Nefertiti’s eye. “Would you marry me now and be the people’s male Pharaoh they so desire?”
Horemheb entertained this possibility for the briefest of moments, but then shook his head. “It is Prince Tutankhaten’s place first, and then Pawah’s. Even after that, it would never be mine.”
“Would you doom me to a life of loneliness?” she asked; both she and Horemheb knew she would never entertain a marriage to either of those men.
“You are not alone, Nefertiti,” Horemheb said. “There are many—”
She put her hand on his shaven cheek, shushing him. Burrowing her body further into his embrace, she guided his face closer to hers. “I am going to kiss you . . . ?” she whispered, more as a question than a command, still lingering back in case he wanted to stop her. “As a woman, not as Pharaoh.”
Her lips hovered above his. She watched his face as he made no attempt to stop her. And so she laid a soft and gentle kiss upon his lips and pulled away to gauge his response.
He
studied her face and brought her close again. “You can’t deny who you are, Nefertiti.” His lips brushed past hers. “You are still Pharaoh.”
“I trust you with the empire.” She ran her hand down his cheek and to his chest and rubbed his thigh with her leg, and in a commanding voice she said, “Become Pharaoh and marry me.”
Horemheb hesitated. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“You are here because I asked you to be here. Akhenaten has been gone for years now, and it was even longer still when last he touched me. I—”
“Are you wanting me to satisfy a desire, love you, or just be a means to an end?” His dark eyes pleaded with her for honesty.
“All of them,” she replied as her eyes glistened. “I see the way you look at me, Commander Horemheb. I never knew if it was lust or love, but either way, I have come to take comfort in your presence, and I care so much for you. I trust you enough to let you stay in my bedchambers while I sleep. I trust you with my armies. I would trust you with the crown. The people press me for a husband. You would be a fitting husband and a great Pharaoh.”
“Nothing between us will ever be accepted. I will have to watch you marry another,” he said, shaking his head. “Even General Paaten told me he would strip my rank if I let myself get too close to you.”
“Then marry me.” She ran her hands over his large arms. “I am Pharaoh. I can marry whomever I wish.”
He shook his head, resisting her touch through taut muscles. “You must marry royalty, and I . . . I am the son of a soldier.”
“Please, then, just kiss me,” she asked of him. “We can think on it later.”
“Nefertiti,” he said in protest, yet still brought his lips close to hers again. “I shouldn’t.” But his hand betrayed his words as it ran up her body’s curves in the moonlight.
“I know, but I need you right now,” she whispered, and she brought his face closer still.
“Nefertiti, I . . .” he began.
But she pressed a finger to his lips. She removed it and waited for him to kiss her. She needed him to want to kiss her.
“You tempt me.” Horemheb swept his arms around Nefertiti and rested one hand on the nape of her neck, the other on her lower back. He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her closer to him as he deepened the kiss, running his tongue across her bottom lip.
He pulled away, leaving her breathless. She grabbed his face and kissed him again. She pressed her body against his harder still as his hands roamed up and down her back and his mind screamed for him to stop, that this would have ramifications, but his hands found a way to keep his thoughts at bay at least for a moment.
He pulled away a second time, trying to slow his beating heart, and said in a husky voice, “Nefertiti, you are the most beautiful woman a man could ever ask for. I am humbled you have directed your affections toward me, but we should end this before it is too late.” He tried to regain control of his breath. He pulled himself out of her bed and bowed before her as she rose to her knees, not wanting him to go. “Nefertiti, if you were not my Pharaoh, I would stay. But I am the commander of your armies. We should not blur the lines any more than we already have, and for this I am to blame. Accept my deepest apologies.”
“Horemheb, please,” she begged. “Don’t do this.”
“I will stand guard at your door so you may feel safe. I will always protect—”
She reached for his hand and drew him back to her. “Please stay with me. Just hold me so I can sleep. Please, Horemheb.” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest, breathing in his musky scent. “Please.”
Her whispered plea tore down the small barrier he had put up, and he knew without the shadow of a doubt that she meant it. He guided her to lay in the bed, slid in, and wrapped her up in his arms. She pressed into his warmth as her tears and Horemheb’s understanding hands moving across her back eventually lulled her to sleep.
When morning came and Nefertiti opened her eyes, she was glad to find that Horemheb had not left her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek on his chest, pulling him closer. He returned her embrace. They lay in silence for a moment, not wanting the coming day to force them to leave each other.
“Did you sleep well?” he finally murmured, pressing his cheek to the top of her head.
“Yes.” Her hot breath on his chest made him squeeze her a little harder. Lifting her chin, she smoothed her hand over his arm. “Horemheb, do you not wish this to be every morning? Will you not marry me?” Her eyes danced as they searched his for a response.
He traced the outline of her face before gently touching his forehead to hers and giving her the lightest of kisses upon her lips. “I do wish this to be every morning . . . but it is not my right to marry you. Nor is it yours to choose a man of non-royalty.”
As the morning sun’s beams crept from the window to the bed, he pulled himself away from her. As he donned his bronze armor and khopesh, they kept each other’s gaze, their thoughts turned inward. He came near to the bed to grab his chest belt; he wrung the leather belt in his hand as he squeezed the dagger’s sheath. Her dark eyes looked up to him as his deep but soft voice spoke:
“Nefertiti . . . I want what I cannot have.”
Nefertiti’s face fell. “As do I,” she whispered.
He let out a loud breath and slapped his sheathed dagger in the palm of his hand. The thought crossed his mind of just throwing his uniform to the ground and wrapping her up in his arms, come what may, but instead, he turned and walked to the door. He buckled his chest belt across his shoulder and lingered by the door, knowing this was the last time he would be in her bedchambers. Looking back at her with the same yearning with which she looked upon him, he opened her door and left.
Later that morning, Nefertiti sat on her throne and with a shaky voice ordered all to be dismissed and then commanded the scribe to write a letter to King Suppiluliuma I of the Hittites requesting a prince to marry because she had no one to marry among her own people. She then ordered the scribe to silence.
“If the country rebels, then so be it,” Nefertiti muttered to herself after the messenger had turned to leave with the letter. Part of her wanted to die anyway—at least she could reach immorality with her daughters who had gone before.
She debated ordering the messenger back, but her soul felt compromised. She buried her head in her hands as she bent over in the throne, forcing her mouth shut, wishing she could marry whom she wanted. She heard the throne doors close just as the crown upon her head nearly toppled off, but she caught it with her hand. Sitting back up again, she looked to the now-almost-covered ceiling.
She closed her eyes. “If anything, this will be the true test of Pharaoh’s power.”
Ankhesenpaaten walked in to take her place at the throne on the lower platform and nodded to her mother as she sat. Nefertiti watched her fidget with her fingers until she finally turned around and looked at her again.
“Mother,” she said as she stood up and walked up to the platform. “Did I hear you ask for a prince?”
“You must keep it to yourself,” Nefertiti warned, her voice a harsh whisper, shaking her head. You sly daughter, eavesdropping after I had ordered everyone to leave.
“But, Mother, from the Hittites?” Ankhesenpaaten asked, tilting her head.
“You won’t understand,” Nefertiti said, watching her daughter’s eyes avert from hers.
“You keep telling me that, so tell me so I do understand,” Ankhesenpaaten said, lifting her gaze to her again. At her mother’s silence, she blurted out, “Do you even miss Father?”
“No.” She surprised Ankhesenpaaten and herself at how fast she responded. Nefertiti chewed her lip, debating how much she should tell her daughter. “Ankhesenpaaten . . . your father ruined this country. I am trying to put together the pieces.”
“What do you mean?”
“I will tell you when you are older.” Nefertiti waved her on and looked forward to the doors of the throne room. She watched from the corner
of her eye as Ankhesenpaaten licked her lips, wrung her hands, and took a shaky breath, as if wondering if she could muster the courage to keep probing.
“I am older,” Ankhesenpaaten mumbled, and then straightened her back and said, “I am almost of the age of marriage.”
“Yes, you are,” Nefertiti said, and her body relaxed as her lips curled at the corners.
“Why are you smiling?” Ankhesenpaaten’s face fell into a scowl.
Nefertiti chuckled. “You.”
“What about me?” Ankhesenpaaten’s voice became shrill as her cheeks flushed.
“I remember when you were a little girl and you were too shy to ask Aitye for some more beans at dinner. You made Meketaten do it for you.” Nefertiti laughed and smiled at the fond memory of her two girls, then suddenly became despondent at the thought that one of them wasn’t there anymore. Shaking her head to get rid of the sad thought, she continued, “And now look at you—standing up to your mother, Pharaoh, demanding to know her innermost thoughts and motives.”
“I am g-grown up now,” Ankhesenpaaten said with a stutter. Her shoulders caved a little at her mother’s laughing.
“And so you believe you should know everything?” Nefertiti sighed. “My daughter, you don’t want to know. I am trying to keep you safe—sheltered from the crocodile’s teeth, for there are many snares as Pharaoh.”
Ankhesenpaaten closed her eyes as she reflected on her mother’s words, but Nefertiti could see the doubt come to the surface again. Her daughter asked, “Are you sure you keep the truth hidden to just keep us safe?”
Nefertiti’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, am I sure?”
Ankhesenpaaten’s heart raced as she drew shallow breaths, inflating her courage as she dared ask her mother the question that had lingered on her mind for over a year. Last time she insinuated the act, she never received a straight answer. This time, she would not walk away with any confusion over her mother’s actions. Ankhesenpaaten crossed her arms, defending herself from whatever answer her mother gave, and asked bluntly, “Did you kill Smenkare to take his place?”
Secrets in the Sand Page 18