Nefertiti put her hand on Aitye’s bowed head. “I will not command you again such as this.”
Aitye wiped her tears, thinking she would be cast out for not following Pharaoh’s command, but Nefertiti never gave the order. Aitye knelt at her bedside, keeping her head bowed.
Nefertiti laughed and tears came from her eyes. “To think I was willing to have that boy killed.” She took in a deep breath through her nose. “Who am I? What have I become?”
“A momentary loss of judgment, my Pharaoh,” Aitye whispered.
“I just don’t know anymore, Aitye. I no longer have a soul. When I was an unmarried girl, I knew what was right. There was a clear line. But now . . .”
“There still is,” Aitye said.
“No. No, I’ve blurred that line. Perhaps I should give up the crown? Maybe it is for the better.”
“It is your crown, my Pharaoh.”
“Aitye, be honest with me. Pharaoh Akhenaten was a threat to Egypt, and that is why he died. Am I a threat as well?”
“The Hittite prince makes you seem like a threat, but I know you. You would never put Egypt in harm’s way. I trust you.”
“Be careful who you trust, Aitye.” Nefertiti’s response was almost instinctive, but after mulling over Aitye’s words, she continued, “It is too late to send the Hittite prince back. It would do more harm than good to our newfound allies. We have a very shaky foundation, but I am with—” She dared not reveal her pregnancy with her servant. She was lucky she was not showing already. With her last daughter, she had an unmistakable ball under her dress at this point. Right now, it looked as if Pharaoh had just had a little too much to eat.
“You know what is best for Egypt,” Aitye said at Nefertiti’s continued silence. “I trust your judgment.”
“My judgment was to kill Tut,” Nefertiti said with a sigh thinking of her foolish thought, What was one more?
“You carry many burdens,” Aitye said.
Nefertiti rolled to her side and took Aitye’s hand. “Aitye, never speak of what happened. It is too much for me to bear.”
“Yes, my Pharaoh,” Aitye answered.
Chapter 25
The Time of Death
Without warning, the doors to Nefertiti’s bedchambers were thrust open and Jabari, chief royal guard, stood in their shadow. “Pharaoh, forgive me,” he said with a long exhale. “The people . . . the people have risen up. They have killed the Hittite Prince Zannanza. They march to our gate.”
Nefertiti swung her feet to the floor.
“Aitye, go get General Paaten and my daughters. Now.”
“There isn’t time,” Jabari said as he rushed in and pulled Nefertiti to her feet. He bowed in apology, but urged her toward the door. “We will retreat to the council room. It is at the center of the palace.”
“Aitye, go quickly,” Nefertiti ordered, ignoring Jabari as he continued to usher her away. “Have them meet us in the council room. Go! Now!”
Aitye rushed from the room. Jabari appeared to be flustered, but continued to half-pull his Pharaoh down the winding corridors.
“I don’t see or hear anything,” Nefertiti whispered to Jabari.
“The fighting takes place on the other side of the palace. It is only a matter of time before they encircle it. The Commander’s men are holding them back, but we need to get you to safety.” He grabbed her wrist.
Nefertiti dug in her heels and yanked her wrist back. “I would go to safety if I were a royal wife, but I am Pharaoh, defender of Egypt. I must fight.”
Jabari snorted and pulled a dagger, tossing it to her.
Nefertiti clumsily dropped it and picked it up.
He pulled out another dagger.
“Kill me,” he ordered her.
Heat rose from her collarbone to her jaw, choking her.
He doesn’t think me capable, she thought. I’ve only had a few trainings . . . at that dreaded rebellion in Malkata I almost held my own, but General Paaten saved me.
“Kill me,” Jabari said again, jarring her from her thoughts.
Nefertiti lunged, but Jabari blocked it and knocked her down.
“You have no skill,” Jabari said, helping her up. “You would die on the first attack. We don’t need another departed Pharaoh.” He sheathed his dagger and picked up hers.
Nefertiti dusted off her linen dress as shame flooded her cheeks. If she were a man, he wouldn’t talk to her in this way; but she also would have been training her whole life.
He sheathed the second dagger. “Let’s keep moving.”
They crept along the walls, silent in the night.
“Are you sure there are attacks on the palace?” Nefertiti whispered to him; she imagined there would be more clamoring, like there was in the rebellion at Malkata all those years ago.
“Like I said, the Commander’s men are holding them off.”
“But there are no torchlights in the dark, no shouts, no sounds of battle,” Nefertiti observed as she followed Jabari.
The pounding of feet came toward them just as they turned the corner. General Paaten, leading Ankhesenpaaten and Nefe, with Aitye close behind. They all met at the council room doors.
The bleary-eyed General growled at Jabari, “Why wasn’t I notified of the attack? I’ve sent Hori to tell Ay and Horemheb.”
“It all came about very suddenly. I sent a messenger, but perhaps he was detained,” Jabari spouted off, and threw open the door, hurrying the women inside first.
“Why are we in the council room? There is no means of escape.” Ankhesenpaaten was frightened. The moonlight barely showed through the almost-completed ceiling, leaving little light to make out the figures in the room.
“Is there a torchlight in here?” Nefertiti asked over her daughter.
Jabari closed the door. “No. We do not light anything, for they may see the light through the unfinished roof.”
“You suggest we hide,” General Paaten asked him, “like cowards?”
“I suggest we take Pharaoh and her family to safety, away from this place. The people have killed the Hittite Prince Zannanza on his journey here, and one way or another she will abdicate,” Jabari said with a bow to the leader of the Egyptian military.
“Why wasn’t I informed of the Hittite’s death?” General Paaten asked him, pushed his shoulder as his subordinate. “Why am I the last to know any of this?”
“As I said, General, it came about so suddenly. The messenger I sent you . . . he must have been detained.” Jabari regained his composure. “There is a secret way out of the council room—” He used his hands along the wall, feeling for the tiny burst of air. “Ah, here it is.” He pressed on one of the stones and a half-door opened to a dark tunnel. A scrim of sand blew in from the night breeze in the tunnel.
“I didn’t know there was an escape passageway in here,” Nefertiti said. “Why didn’t I know of this?”
“This was a design for the royal guard, in case we needed to get Pharaoh to safety if he were injured in battle. They are all over the palace. The doors only open from the inside. Once it is closed, no one can open it from the other side.” Jabari stood and dusted his hands on his legs. “You must always have an escape route in your fortress.”
“So, what now?” Nefe asked.
“You leave.” Jabari placed his hands on Nefertiti’s shoulders. “Probably never to return, for your own sake.”
She wrenched back from his grip, but Ankhesenpaaten grabbed her arm.
“Mother, what about Tut? He will be killed!”
“We aren’t going anywhere until I know the threat is real,” Nefertiti said, looking over to Jabari. “Where do your loyalties lie, chief royal guard?”
Ankhesenpaaten crossed her arms and looked toward Jabari’s silhouette. Nefe followed suit. General Paaten puffed up his chest and stood behind Pharaoh.
The moonlight did not penetrate the room enough to make out Jabari’s reaction, but his voice was clear: “My loyalties are with Pharaoh.”
S
ilence lingered in the room, and something caused General Paaten to stir.
“Jabari, light a torch,” Nefertiti ordered.
“But, my Pharaoh, the rebels will see the light and come to attack,” Jabari reasoned.
“I did not hear any rebels,” Nefertiti snapped.
“Neither did I.” General Paaten’s hand fell to his dagger.
“Believe what you will, but I was told the Hittite prince was slain, killed by the very riot that tears down the gates of the palace.” The moonlight silhouetted Jabari’s hand gestures as he spoke.
“I don’t know . . . something does not seem right.” General Paaten walked toward the sound that caused his hairs to stand on end. He turned to Pharaoh and whispered, “I don’t think we are alone in here.”
A glint in the moonlight—and Jabari went down.
Ankhesenpaaten screamed as warm blood splattered her face. Nefertiti felt the droplets as well, but instinctively grabbed her daughters and pushed them to the escape tunnel.
“General, remember your promise!”
Nefertiti’s voice bounced off the stone walls as the moonlight glowed brighter in the room and she saw a torch on the wall. Aitye screamed and she jumped away from a flesh wound to her arm. Nefertiti grabbed the torch and thrust it into Aitye’s arms and pushed her into the escape tunnel with her daughters.
General Paaten drew his dagger and swiped at the air in front of him, trying to make his old eyes adjust. He slowly backed to the entrance of the tunnel, waiting for Nefertiti to go inside. But out of the darkness, a kick to his chest sent him flying into the tunnel before her.
When the General vanished behind the wall, Beketaten grabbed Nefertiti from around the waist and threw her on the ground as Pawah shut the door. Nefertiti staggered to her feet only in time to trip over Jabari’s collapsed body. He struggled to breathe and tried to keep the blood from coming out of his neck. Nefertiti screamed. Hearing her, Jabari tried to hand her his dagger, but Pawah kicked it from her grasp. Beketaten lit a torch and Pawah grabbed Nefertiti by the collar and pushed her into the wall.
Sliding a dagger from inside his shendyt, he whispered to her, “I took the lives of Thutmose, Anen, Akhenaten, Smenkare—and now you, great Pharaoh.”
Her eyes grew wide as she struggled, trying to keep him from bringing the dagger closer.
You killed Thutmose? You killed all of them! Her thoughts raced in rage.
He overpowered her and thrust the dagger through her ribcage and into her chest wall. She let out a short grunt, clutching onto his arms. She felt the immense and sudden heaviness in her chest as he pulled the dagger out.
“And I take every pleasure in doing so,” he said as he stepped aside, letting her fall to the floor.
Jabari choked, “This wasn’t the plan . . . she was supposed to run away.”
Beketaten stepped on his neck. “You fool. You thought we were going to let her live?”
His eyes found Nefertiti’s as she lay on her side, as if to say he was sorry, before he breathed his last. Her gaze drifted up to Pawah, who stood over her, and then down to the dagger in his hand, streaked and dripping with her blood.
Hardly any blood seemed to have come out of the stab wound in her chest; but on her inhale, sudden pain ripped through her chest and out through a screech in her throat. A slow, shallow exhale followed with the same penetrating pain.
“You—” she barely squeaked out as she tried to take a few surface breaths.
“For Amun and his priesthood to reign supreme,” Beketaten said for Pawah. He sauntered over to Beketaten, who had picked up Jabari’s spear. The stone hallways from outside the council room echoed with the sounds of a small crowd approaching. “Shall I finish her, my love?” she asked.
He smiled at her as he took the spear from her hand. “No, I shall,” he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Beketaten, you have always stood by my side, but your place there is no longer needed. You shall serve a higher purpose.”
“I don’t under—”
He rammed the spearhead into her heart.
Her mouth contorted, and her eyes longed for an answer.
Pawah’s black eyes were the only response she received as he watched her die.
Nefertiti watched them as she struggled to sit up against the wall. The door sat across the room. If she could only reach the door, she perhaps could live. Her unborn would never be if she didn’t make it to the door. With each breath, a heavier weight drew upon her chest. She pulled her leg under her as she leaned forward, but to her dismay she couldn’t stand. Her daughters at least escaped. She knew they were on the other side of the stone passageway, heading toward a life free from the threat of violence and political turmoil. She placed the palm of her hand on the wall behind her.
“Live, my daughters,” she whispered through her struggling breaths.
She could hear them calling her—but maybe she only imagined it.
General Paaten was up fairly quickly for his age, but not before the door slammed shut. He banged on the stone wall, throwing his shoulder into it, but even as he did so he knew it to be of no use.
“Light the torch so I can see!” he yelled to Aitye.
“I’m t-trying,” she cried; she had been trying to light it since she got into the tunnel; finally, using the flint that attached to its base, she was able to get a spark, and the torch lit.
General Paaten grabbed it and pressed his hand against the wall, trying to find some sort of weakness. But he knew he struggled in vain. It was not built to be opened from the outside. He took a sad step back and dropped his head, knowing he had ultimately failed his Pharaoh, his Nefertiti. They were one day too late—for Horemheb and his men sat waiting to grab Pawah as he entered his room for the night; they had planned to hold him down and suffocate him so that it looked like he died of natural causes. But Pawah had no intention of entering his room that night.
To pay off his guards took a mountain of time and effort, he thought, and it was all a waste, for Pharaoh is dead. Pawah wins. Why didn’t I stand guard at her door? I thought we could trust Jabari.
His words to Horemheb came back to him: “Trust no one.”
His chest caved around him, but the soft cries behind him made his mind stop. He turned to look at the two remaining daughters of Pharaoh and her servant.
It is out of my hands now, for I made a promise to you, Nefertiti.
“Your mother wanted me to take you to safety. Live a life of anonymity, where no one will know you are royalty, so you can be safe. Follow me.”
Nefe was in too much shock to argue, and let Aitye lead her after General Paaten’s footsteps. But Ankhesenpaaten’s heart still raced.
“We are to do nothing?” she asked.
General Paaten stopped and looked back. “We cannot do anything more. I made Pharaoh a promise that if anything should happen to her, I was to save you.”
“What about Tut?”
“If they came after Pharaoh, they probably have come after him too. He is a much easier target.” General Paaten wished he could take back his last sentence as the firelight danced on Ankhesenpaaten’s horrified expression. “Come now. We need to cover much ground.”
I’m not even sure where this leads.
He turned and Aitye and Nefe followed the light of the torch.
Ankhesenpaaten, however, lingered in the growing darkness and felt her way back to the door. She tried to open the door, but there was no handle; she pushed, but nothing. And then she heard a thud on the other side of the door. Pressing her ear to the cold stone, she could hear very little—but she heard her mother’s scream, dying . . . being murdered.
“No!” she yelled. Ankhesenpaaten banged on the stone door. “Mother!” she yelled. “MOTHER!”
She rammed her shoulder into the door, but it did not move, not even a shake. She thought she could faintly make out Pawah’s voice talking to her mother and she tried to ram the door again. “Pawah, I’ll kill you,” she screeched out through her teeth
.
The noise caused the General to turn back, leaving Nefe and Aitye where they stood in the tunnel in the dark. He came upon Ankhesenpaaten. “Forgive me, chief royal wife,” he said, and picked her up.
“No, General Paaten! He is killing her! Pawah is killing her!”
A tear formed in his eye, but he knew the door only opened one way. She kicked and beat his back as he lifted her upon his shoulder.
“General! No!” she yelled again. “HELP HER!”
“I cannot save her, chief royal wife Ankhesenpaaten,” he whispered, and took off running down the tunnel with her on his shoulder.
“Mother!”
She reached toward the wall she couldn’t break down as it disappeared in the dark. They reached Nefe, who was also crying, hearing her sister’s cries. Aitye was little condolence, as she too was still in shock.
He let Ankhesenpaaten down. “My ladies of the two lands,” he whispered as he gathered the daughters of Nefertiti close. “These are dark times.” He looked specifically to Ankhesenpaaten. “Your mother knew this was a possibility and so made me promise her that I would take her daughters to safety—perhaps even beyond Egypt’s borders. I have carried on me at all times gold for barter, from the treasury, at her command, should the day ever spring upon us. As it has today.”
Ankhesenpaaten dropped her head and sobbed. Nefe rubbed her sister’s arm helplessly.
“Ankhesenpaaten,” he whispered. “Your mother will live through you.”
Then he touched Nefe’s cheek. “And through you.”
He wrapped his arms around the girls, as they had nearly filled a void in his own life through the years. He had never the time to marry or have children, but now, as he held the two crying girls, he looked forward to their life together away from all of the political upset and constant paranoia.
Ending their embrace when Ankhesenpaaten’s tears subsided, he whispered, “We must go.” He nodded to Aitye.
They reached the end of the tunnel when a dark figure appeared in front of them, the morning dusk emerging in the sky behind it. General Paaten stopped in his tracks as he made out the figure of a man with a hooded cloak.
Secrets in the Sand Page 28