“She needs a guard with her,” Horemheb said, realizing Ay was standing next to him.
“She has never been the same since . . .” Ay trailed off. “The sins of the father ripple throughout a child’s life.”
“She is your daughter,” Horemheb said, still looking to where Nefertiti had rounded the corner. “Forgiveness will come in time.”
Ay looked back to Horemheb. “You care for her?”
Horemheb fell completely still as a knot grew in his stomach. He clenched his jaw. Is it that obvious? He peered over to Ay, then dropped his gaze to the floor and back to where Nefertiti had disappeared.
Ay patted his back. “Your secret is safe with me.” He turned to leave, but then stopped and laid a knuckle on Horemheb’s shoulder. “I wished Nefertiti with someone like you,” he whispered.
Horemheb dipped his chin and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Thank you, Master of Pharaoh’s Horses.” The two men locked eyes for a second. “I will always protect her, regardless of who she marries.”
“You are a good man, Commander.” Ay knocked his knuckle on Horemheb’s shoulder as he began to walk away. “You are a good man.”
Pawah stood waiting for her outside her bedchambers.
“Pharaoh Neferneferuaten,” he said with a deep bow.
“Vizier Pawah—or do you still prefer Fifth Prophet of Amun?” Nefertiti rolled her shoulder away from him in a defensive stance.
“Tsk-tsk.” He shook his head. “Are you still wary of me?” He took a step closer, narrowing his gaze. “After everything we have been through?”
“You mean rebellion, conspiracy, and murder? Yes, of course I am still wary of you.” Nefertiti planted her feet; she suddenly wished she had not dismissed her guards, but she did not falter in her stare.
Pawah chuckled deeply, replying with a smug tone, “And yet you still keep me as Vizier?”
“I keep my enemies close,” Nefertiti said through her teeth. Pawah chose just then to lean an arm on the wall beside her head, drawing closer as if to challenge her words. She wanted to shuffle backward, but she instead stood unflinching, refusing to let slip she was afraid of this man.
Why didn’t I let Horemheb walk with me?
“Then maybe you should marry me,” Pawah proposed, wetting his lips. “I am the only other royal male left, and then . . .” He leaned in to her unamused face and whispered, “You could keep me really close.”
She stared straight ahead, repulsed by his advances. He did have a handsome face, strong jaw and nose, but she knew who he was and wanted no part.
“You would be aligning Pharaoh with the priesthood of Amun,” he said, his intense glare burning her face. “Really seal in the power you and Akhenaten tried so hard to regain.”
“Or handing it back to the priesthood,” Nefertiti shot back, turning her head to look him in the eye; but, to her dismay, his lips were that much closer, almost brushing against her own.
“The great beautiful Nefertiti . . . as your late husband described, ‘the most beautiful woman in all the world.’ Your lips as full as the blossoming lotus flower—isn’t that what your father calls you? Lotus flower?” He touched her under her chin.
“Lotus blossom,” Nefertiti muttered as she swatted his hand away and looked straight ahead again, turning her lips from his.
“Oh yes . . . my lotus blossom,” he murmured in her ear.
Only my father calls me that, you wretch.
Pawah mistook the blush of her cheeks as an invitation rather than a brewing rage.
“Eyes as dark as night and cheeks that rise to the heights of the gods . . .” He paused to see if his sultry voice had any effect on her, then continued tapping his foot in annoyance. Raising his hand to her neck, his fingertips barely graced her skin. Again he whispered in her ear, “A long, slender neck . . .” His hand fell to her chest. “And—”
Nefertiti took ahold of his wrist and squeezed. “I would rather die a thousand times than marry you. I would marry Tut before I would ever marry you.” She spat at his neck and thrust his wrist away.
“You need a husband to be Pharaoh,” Pawah said, straightening up, his voice becoming harsh and sharp. “Choose me. I will see to it you are not harmed.”
“No.” Nefertiti’s voice dropped as she strung out the word to emphasize her point.
“No one tells me no,” Pawah threatened.
“I’ll arrest you,” Nefertiti quickly responded, more fearful of this power-seeking man than ever before.
“No, you won’t.” Pawah chuckled and rubbed his hands together, tossing her threat to the wind. “You only get one mistake as a woman Pharaoh—and you decided to use it on the execution of Sitamun. Any more and you will for sure have a rebellion on your hands, and then the boy will be Pharaoh.”
Her ears turned hot.
“If I were you, I would have chosen me,” Pawah said as he showcased his face. “Beketaten talks a lot, but she wouldn’t harm anyone. Now, me . . . I might.” Pawah winked at her. “I do what needs to be done.”
“You disgust me.” Nefertiti gagged.
“No, I resemble you.” He took a deep, hearty laugh. He shook his head and wagged his finger at her. “I think that is why I am drawn to you. You are a powerful woman, Nefertiti.” He touched the under part of her chin with a flick of his finger. “You do what needs to be done, just like any man, but it might just take you a bit of coaxing.”
“I don’t trust you,” Nefertiti said through pinched lips. “I will never trust you.”
“Just think on my offer. Marry me—I have Beketaten for my pleasures, you wouldn’t have to touch me since I disgust you so. But, as Pharaoh, I would make sure you live to see an old age. Remember—I too hold the people’s best interest at heart.”
Nefertiti cocked an eyebrow. “Or your own.”
“That hurts,” Pawah said as he drew back, mockingly caressing a false wound on his chest. “Maybe one day you will think better of me, Pharaoh.”
“Perhaps one day you will keep your manipulations to yourself. I do not need a husband. I will not marry Tut, and I will not marry you,” Nefertiti said with a fervid glare. “Even if you were the last man in Egypt.”
“You will regret that.” He raised his hand to slap her, but refrained and instead brought his hand to her cheek and patted. “Because I can be quite the charmer.”
Nefertiti jerked her head away from his touch. “Charm is illusive.”
“And beauty is brief,” Pawah replied as he drew his finger under her chin and down to her shoulder. Shrugging his own shoulders, he pulled away and said, “Your loss. We could have made a great team.”
“ ‘Team’?” Nefertiti gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Rather I would have just handed you the crown. You think you are so suave, but I can see right through you. You are nothing but an evil, conniving master manipulator with a heavy heart!”
“A heavy heart?” Pawah pushed his hands to his chest in melodramatic sarcasm. “So you condemn me to an eternal suffering?”
“I condemn you to mediocrity,” Nefertiti said, staring him down. “You will never share my bed, you will never share my crown, and you will never share my power.”
His hand clenched her shoulder. “Now that you will regret, Your Majesty.” He wrenched her shoulder before letting go and turning to leave. “There is always Nefe and Ankhesenpaaten.”
“I will kill you before you can get your dirty hands on my daughters,” Nefertiti called after him as he left her seething outside her chambers with a fearful, racing heart.
Pawah took one of his little-known shortcuts across the palace, muttering to himself. “She will suffer for her words. She doesn’t understand what she just lost. She is an ignorant fool not worthy of the crown, and I will do Egypt a favor by seizing my own right to rule.” He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Pharaoh Akhenaten’s only son, Tut, doing his daily walk around the palace. An idea slithered into his mind and pushed forth an evil grin on his face. “If she wil
l not let me marry into the throne,” he chuckled to himself, “then I will make it so I am named Hereditary Prince once I do away with her.”
He stepped out of the shadows and said, “My dear Prince.”
Tut’s nurse, Maia, tended to him to make sure he didn’t fall as he hobbled around with his cane and club foot.
“Vizier,” Tut said with a smile.
Pawah shooed Maia away, saying, “I will tend to him.”
The nurse nodded and went on her way.
“Now tell me, Tut,” Pawah said as he took a slow step and waited for Tut to catch up. “How old are you these days?”
“I will soon be nine years,” Tut said as he puffed up his chest.
“Ah, almost a man!” Pawah winked at him.
Tut nodded and said, “Yes! I will be a man soon!”
Pawah turned to look at him. “And then you will be Pharaoh.”
Tut pushed out his bottom lip so that it was even with his overbite. “Pharaoh Neferneferuaten still has a long life ahead of her, and she may name another successor.”
“I see,” Pawah said. “Tell me—do you want to be Pharaoh?”
“I could never be as great as Pharaoh Neferneferuaten,” the boy said, and his cheeks blushed.
“Oh? Is that so? How is that?”
“Because she is wonderful and great and pretty and speaks well,” Tut said. His eyes gleamed with adoration.
Pawah’s stomach churned at the boy’s worship of Nefertiti. “I see,” he said again. “What if she said she hated you? Wished you were dead?”
“What?” Tut asked, stopping his tracks. Then he started to laugh. “No, no. She would never say that about me!” Shaking his head, he said, laughing, “You are funny, Vizier Pawah!”
Pawah stood with a stone-cold face. “I do not imagine this, my Prince.”
Tut lowered his chin and his neck shrunk into his shoulders. “You are a liar.”
“Furthermore, she said she will do anything to keep you from your rightful place as heir to the throne,” Pawah continued in a low voice. He stood with his hands clasped in front of his body, gently swaying front and back as he spoke, as if he were simply reciting an old history lesson from his youth.
Tut shook his head and tried to walk quicker with his cane to get away from perceived lies.
But Pawah stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Son,” he said, and bent down so he was eye-level with Tut. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he searched his eyes.
Tut felt an immediate heat sweep over his body. Son . . . no one had ever called him that before. But the realization of what Pawah was saying sunk in and he decided to ask, “Why do you tell me this now?”
“Because now that she is Pharaoh, she has to think about the threats to her throne . . . and that includes you.” The lie slid easily from Pawah’s lips.
“But she is a good person. She . . . she demands perfection because she is p-perfect,” Tut stuttered in defense of the only woman he could ever really call “Mother.”
“And yet, here you are. Will you ever attain perfection?” Pawah said as he gestured toward the boy’s leg and severe overbite.
Tut blinked back tears. “She may not accept me, but she would never kill me. She likes me—I’m her daughters’ friend.”
“My Prince, O my Prince! She hates you.” Pawah pursed his lips and nodded his head in a façade of sympathy.
“She doesn’t hate me! She has no reason to hate me,” Tut said, and pushed Pawah’s hand from his shoulder.
“She hates you because she could never give birth to a son. Your father betrayed her to have you. I know these are subjects for men’s ears, but you are almost a man. I’m testing you, to see if you ready for manhood. If you can’t accept these truths, then perhaps you shall stay a boy who hobbles with a cane and speaks with a slur.” He shrugged a shoulder and shook his head. “A boy you might stay.”
Pawah began to walk away, but Tut called after him.
“No, I will not stay a boy.”
A sly smile crossed Pawah’s face. “Then, son, let me tell you about the one you want to call ‘Mother.’ ”
Tut bit the inside of his mouth as he nodded his head and wrenched his eyes closed, anticipating the emotional beating he was about to receive.
“Pharaoh Neferneferuaten is jealous of you,” Pawah began.
“Why?” Tut asked.
“Because the people demand you as their Pharaoh, and not her.”
“Why?” Tut asked again with a shrug of his shoulders, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Because they are afraid of her—she killed her own sister-in-law, royal wife Sitamun, for nothing, and she has been striking deals with our enemies the Hittites, losing our allies. When the time comes she will hand Egypt over to the Libyans and the Nubians. No one trusts her.”
“I trust her. She wouldn’t do any of that, and if Sitamun died then she did something to deserve it.”
Pawah shook his head. “No, no. She did nothing, and now Pharaoh wants to get rid of you.”
“Why are you even telling me these things?”
“Because the people want you as their Pharaoh, and you are the only one who can get rid of her,” Pawah said.
“Me?” Tut asked.
“Yes, you.”
“How?”
“Because if the people back you, they will not back her. You could take the throne by forcing her to abdicate,” Pawah said.
“But why would I do that?”
Pawah grabbed Tut by the shoulders and shook him. “Because the people want you! You will be the new Pharaoh!”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Prince Tutankhaten, Pharaoh Neferneferuaten wants you dead. She has already asked me to kill you, but I will not do it, Tut, I won’t.” Pawah released his grip as he mustered the most pitiful look he could imagine to try and win the boy’s trust. Tut’s eyes swelled with tears, and Pawah knew he had him. “She cares nothing for you.” Pawah paused, watching the boy’s face fall into sadness. “I am the only one who cares.”
“No! Nefe and Ankhesenpaaten care about me!”
“Do you really believe so?” Pawah asked, lowering his chin and wrinkling his forehead. “Are you sure they aren’t pretending, so they can get close to you and kill you when you fully trust them, as their mother has asked of them?”
“No, they wouldn’t do that . . . ?” Tut said, but it was more of a question than a statement.
“Ask one of them if they love you and see if they would marry you,” Pawah suggested.
“What would that prove?”
“That they are lying!” Pawah touched Tut’s cheek to turn his face toward him.
“How so?”
“Look at you! Prince, yes—but you are a weak, fragile young boy who still wears a sidelock. Ask Ankhesenpaaten. She is already a woman of marriageable age. If she says yes, then you know she is lying, she is only gaining your trust. Why would she wait and disgrace herself to marry you when she could marry one of the able young men who are also of marriageable age? She is a royal wife of Pharaoh Akhenaten and King’s daughter! Would she not marry one of the noble young men her own age or older?”
Tut shook his head, not wanting to believe him, but he could not deny the man’s words made sense. “She would say yes . . . Ankhesenpaaten and Nefe are my best friends.”
Pawah drew in a deep breath and took a knee so he was eye-level with the boy. “Tutankhaten, do you honestly believe you compare to a fully able-bodied man?”
“Yes . . .” But Tut’s darting eyes gave away his insecurity.
Pawah lowered his eyes to him as if to say, Are you sure?
Tut paused and answered again: “. . . no.”
Pawah nodded. “Ask her and see.”
“So what? Even if it is all true, then what?”
“Then you can trust me. I will be there for you, Tutankhaten. Always. I will never lie to you and I will never pretend with you. I will keep you safe for all my days. You will then know your
true friends, your true allies.”
“But Ankhesenpaaten—”
“Is nothing but a plant from her mother to kill you after she gains your trust.”
Tut shook his head.
“Ask her to marry you. See what she says,” Pawah suggested again. “If she says anything other than a firm yes, then you may call me a liar for all my days.”
Tut pushed his lips together as he thought about it.
Pawah extended his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Tut nodded slowly and clasped Pawah’s forearm with his own.
“Good boy, Tut.”
Just then, Ankhesenpaaten came running up behind Tut, calling for him.
“Tut! Tut!”
Tut smiled at the sound of her voice, but, observing Pawah’s face of concern, his smile disappeared.
“Vizier Pawah,” Ankhesenpaaten said as she approached, halting beside Tut.
“Royal wife Ankhesenpaaten,” Pawah said as he bowed his head. “I was just leaving.” He stood and bowed again, this time from the waist, to both Tut and Ankhesenpaaten.
He left with a lingering stare at the boy, their eyes locked.
“What was that about?” Ankhesenpaaten asked Tut once Pawah was gone.
“Nothing,” Tut said, and he resumed his walk, debating the deal he’d just made with the intense vizier.
“What was it?” she asked again. “You know I hate when you keep secrets from me!”
I am not the one keeping secrets, he thought, but smiled anyway. “We were talking about marriage.”
“Marriage?” Ankhesenpaaten stopped in her gait, her expression showing how silly an answer she thought this was. “Why?”
“He was just wondering if I was going to ask someone to marry me, since I am crippled.” Tut looked out to the columns, unable to meet her eyes.
“Oh, all right,” Ankhesenpaaten said. “You are only eight—”
“Almost nine.”
“Yes, and people can see past the cane!”
They walked in silence a bit more until Tut finally turned to her.
“Ankhesenpaaten, will you marry me?”
Secrets in the Sand Page 20