Meri-Ra expected the pharaoh to admonish Sia for the interruption or at least admit that he had given him permission to do his healing work. Amenhotep did neither, so Meri-Ra picked up his vessel and exited the room.
The twins took Meri-Ra’s place at the altar.
Neper removed pieces of raw oxen flesh from the sack and placed it on Tuthmosis’s neck and chest. Sia touched his limbs six times with a bronze snake wand. As he touched them the seventh time, he recited a healing spell:
“Punish the accuser, the master of those who allow decay to seep into this flesh, this head, these shoulders, this neck—”
Neper continued the incantation. “I belong to Amun, says he. It is I who will guard this man from his enemies—”
In the corner of the room, a nine-cubit-high solid gold statue in the form of an Egyptian pharaoh wearing a double-plumed crown and holding a scepter in his hand shook and rattled. Amenhotep knelt down and prostrated himself in front of the trembling Amun statue. Queen Ty entered the room as the shaking dissipated and Sia completed his spell:
“His guide shall be Thoth who lets writing speak, who creates the books, who passes on the knowledge. We are those of whom the gods wish to be kept alive.”
Neper removed the raw oxen flesh from Tuthmosis’s body and returned it to his satchel. This was exactly what the queen feared, that the Amun priests would give up on her son too quickly. Queen Ty could not accept such a facile surrender, but Amenhotep would accept whatever the priests of Amun told him.
“Please, you have to try again,” she said to Sia.
The priest avoided eye contact with her, so she turned to Neper. “What about the Aten Priests? Let Meri-Ra try.”
“The Aten is powerless to the will of Amun,” Neper replied. “And Amun has judged Tuthmosis,” Sia concluded.
Amenhotep approached Sia directly. “What is the judgment?”
Sia shook his head, and both he and Neper left the room.
Queen Ty’s eyes swelled with tears. She went over to Amenhotep and took his hand, although it became clear he had not a glint of empathy for her grief.
“How did he know of the battle?” Amenhotep asked her suspiciously.
Fear made the queen’s blood to rush through her veins. “No one was more resourceful than Tuthmosis. The secrets you hid from him he would soon enough uncover.”
Amenhotep pulled his hand violently from hers and plodded away.
With her heart in her throat, the queen approached Tuthmosis’s platform and caressed his face. “You will live throughout eternity in the afterlife, my beautiful son.” She choked back a sob. How would she tell Teppy?
THE PHARAOH’S GUARDS ANNOUNCED that the army had returned from the Nubian battle, so Teppy searched the palace excitedly for his brother. When he didn’t find him inside, he peered out over the balcony. A remnant of the Egyptian army carried crates filled with hundreds of Nubian body parts; arms, legs, and heads were all dumped in a massive pile to be burned for the amusement of the citizens. Teppy had witnessed such rituals before and had grown accustomed to them. He had even once seen his father decapitate a man that had disobeyed his commands. ‘If your head comes off, it’s because you did not do as you were told,’ Amenhotep later said. It was the first of his father’s laws he memorized.
Two hours had passed since the army’s return and Teppy wondered why his brother hadn’t come to find him. He surmised that wherever he might find his mother, Tuthmosis would be nearby. He asked one of the palace guards about his mother’s whereabouts and was told that he would find her in the healing temple. When he found his way there into the inner sanctuary, he saw Tuthmosis laying on the platform with his mother kissing his forehead. Teppy ran over to her and grabbed hold of her hand. He looked up at his brother and frowned. “Why is Tuthmosis sleeping, Ma? Is he tired from his journey?”
Queen Ty was unsure how to respond. Teppy was no stranger to the causes of death, but she had taught him that he and his brother were immune to it. Tuthmosis was the son of the Aten. His life would surely be long and filled with great accomplishments. Royalty was the next step to immortality, a belief the queen had instilled in both her sons from the beginning. She could now only delay the inevitability of telling Teppy the painful truth.
“Yes, he’s tired,” she finally answered.
“Can I wake him?”
The queen turned her head away from him so that he couldn’t see her wipe her teary eyes dry. She took a swallow and masked her voice to sound unaffected by the tragedy. “Not now, my little prince. Your brother has to sleep for a very, very long time.”
“Why? He never sleeps for a long time. He’s always awake before me.”
Queen Ty paused to search her thoughts for an answer.
“I know,” she replied. “And starting today he will need to sleep more than he ever has.”
Teppy looked confused, but couldn’t think of another question that would get the answer he wanted. So instead, he took the amulet from around his neck. “I must give this to him.”
“No,” she said, and placed it back around his neck.
“He needs it, Ma. It will protect him in his dreams.”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t need it any longer, Teppy. Tuthmosis is with the Aten now. He is a god among gods.”
IN HER CHAMBER, Ty cleaned Tuthmosis’s soldier’s uniform, washing and scrubbing it over and over until the skin on her palms chaffed from blisters. It was the one possession the queen had left of her son, and she spent many nights after his death obsessed with it. Ay entered as she once again dipped Tuthmosis’s helmet into the ablution tank and scrubbed it with a boar’s hair brush.
“My sister, you have to stop this or Amenhotep will sense you are hiding something.”
“When he finds proof that I sent our son into battle, he will dispose of me anyway.”
“He won’t discover what he’s never told.”
“It doesn’t matter what one tells him, Ay. He suspects me.”
The queen went back to her work. She wiped the helmet dry and polished it with beeswax and a cloth.
“Tuthmosis was a brave warrior. Your courageous son saved his father’s life,” said Ay.
He stepped forward and took the helmet from her. “And you, my sister, no matter what you are feeling now, did what was honorable for Egypt.”
Unable to hold back her grief any longer, Ty broke down in tears. “He was not supposed to die! God of Bes, forgive me. Forgive me for what I’ve done!”
Ay put the helmet back into the ablution tank and took her hand. “My queen, his death was not of your doing. The Amun god passed judgment on him.”
“Amun passed judgement on him the day he was born. I curse Amun and all his priests! I curse them to my very soul!” she cried out and yanked her hand free of his grip. “They let him die when they could have saved him!”
“My dear sister, his wounds were too severe. No god could have saved him.”
Ty grew offended at his continued defense of the priests. “They have deceived you just as they have deceived everyone else in this city, and how much longer before I, myself, am banished from this palace?”
Tears streamed down Queen Ty’s face, carrying with them the black kohl that outlined her eyes and the bronze makeup that highlighted her cheeks. It all mixed into a dark-reddish stain on the shoulders of her silk dress. How long would it be before she was replaced by one of his younger and more beautiful wives that would detest her presence, one that was fertile and more than capable of bearing her husband a strong and virile son? Ty wept over what she feared would be her eventual loss of royalty and her consequent banishment because of the death of her son—the heir to the throne of Egypt.
“You are still the queen of this land, and you will remain so,” Ay interrupted, trying to ease despair. “You must think of Teppy. He’ll need your guidance now more than ever if he is to become the new heir to his father’s throne. You have to be strong for him.”
In her self-pity, Ty
had forgotten about Teppy and that he too was an heir to the throne of his father.
“Yes, Teppy, my beloved son, Teppy,” she sighed. “But how can I be strong for him after all that has happened?” she asked.
Ay grabbed his sister by her shoulders and pulled her close. “My dear sister, look at me.”
Ty calmed herself enough to look him in the eye.
“You must!” he shouted.
A voice emerged from the entrance of the room. “And what must she do?”
Queen Ty and her brother were startled at Amenhotep standing in the doorway watching them. The queen turned and wiped her eyes dry. If Amenhotep had heard what she and Ay had been discussing, particularly that she had sent Tuthmosis off to battle, she feared he would have her decapitated right there in her chambers. And what then would become of Teppy? She adored him as much as she adored Tuthmosis, and if she was killed, he would be left with no one.
“Go on, Ay. What must she do?” Amenhotep repeated.
The queen saved her brother by speaking first.
“I was reluctant to tell my brother of a dream that haunted me. He thought he could help me decipher the meaning,” she said. “But it is of no matter,” she added, glancing at Ay.
Ay turned and bowed before Amenhotep. “If that is all, I will take my leave, my Pharaoh.”
Amenhotep waved him out dismissively and Ay exited the queen’s chamber. Amenhotep began searching the room, rummaging through his wife’s clothing and jewelry.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
Wanting to appear as if she were consoling him, she touched his arm. He pulled away from her and resumed his search.
“Where is his armor?” Amenhotep barked.
The queen retrieved Tuthmosis’s helmet from the tank and held it out to him. “You’re weak,” she said. “You should rest.”
“I am not weak!” he snapped, snatching the helmet. He stared at it, dissatisfied. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“In his bedchamber.”
He turned and strode toward the chamber exit.
“Amenhotep, wait.”
Amenhotep paused, his back still turned to her. Despite her fears, Ty needed to make some connection with him in their grief.
“Tuthmosis loved you more than any god or human in this world. There is nothing either one of us could have done to stop him from risking his life for you, and for Egypt. He would’ve wanted us united in his absence,” she said.
Without a word, Amenhotep left her chamber, leaving the queen to wade in her river of guilt alone.
CHAPTER 6
Despite the queen and the pharaoh’s somber mood, their royal reception hall brimmed with military captains and soldiers eager to celebrate their victory over the Nubians with a commemoration to Montu, the god of war. For the special occasion, Amenhotep requested the most agile dancers and gifted musicians from the faraway land of Byblos to dance and parade around the reception hall like domestic animals, begging to please their masters in prostration to the Amun god—a ridiculous ritual in the eyes of Queen Ty.
Four female musicians from Egypt were chosen to join the others. They sat on the floor playing indigenous music on double-reed pipes, harps, sistras, and tambourines.
In the center of the hall, at the head of a massive slab that stretched the length of the room, Amenhotep hosted the festivities garbed in his new war armor. Queen Ty sat next to him dressed in her best silk and jewels. On the other side of Amenhotep sat Lady Lupita, Amenhotep’s secondary wife, the sister of Artassumara—king of Mitanni.
The remaining seats in the reception hall were filled by military officers and palace officials shouting over the music boisterously. Victory banquets were the types of events the queen could do without. If she had not been told that Lupita would be attending, she would have remained in her palace chamber, away from the debauchery of the soldiers and their desire to be surrounded by nude female servants with oversized breasts, catering to their every whim. This was beneath her, but she could not allow her husband’s secondary wife to be seen there without her in attendance. It was necessary for the high-ranking officials to witness her consuming a meal with her husband as a symbol of their unity.
Queen Ty forced a welcoming smile at Lupita who returned her gesture with the same disingenuousness.
The girl was strikingly beautiful and was just fourteen years of age when she arrived a year earlier in Thebes to marry Amenhotep, accompanied by three hundred seventeen maidservants. Though Queen Ty easily matched Lupita’s number of attendees, she could not compete with her youth. The young girl’s olive toned skin was perfectly kissed by the sun, and her eyelashes were naturally long and curved above the hazel pupils of her eyes. She had dimples in her cheeks that made her smile even more inviting. Her breasts were perky and her hips appeared overly developed because of her tiny waist. Every one of the young girl’s physical features appeared to be molded by the hands of a master sculptor, and what was even worse for the queen was that Lupita’s disposition was humble and kind, the abundance of which, along with her femininity, had enchanted Amenhotep. It all made for an alluring combination impossible for Queen Ty to outdo.
The smile she shared with Lupita shifted into a stare of contempt when the young girl turned her attention away from her and toward her animal. Lupita caressed a white cat perched on her lap. His name was Bastian, and he had sea-green eyes and a solid gold collar fitted with a ruby medallion that glistened around his neck. The queen loathed Lupita’s cat as much as she secretly envied her. Its presence at the banquet served as another entity united against her right to happiness with her husband.
At Amenhotep’s table everyone feasted on platters of salted fish, honey-roasted gazelle, breads, grains, and fruits. When they finished the wine and beer from their jars, nude female servants returned to refill them. Nasheret was already inebriated. Horemheb sat beside him. The drunken general stood to pay homage to the pharaoh.
“Here, here! My fellow warriors, listen here!” boomed Nasheret. Queen Ty was pleased that no one was listening. The room remained noisy until a soldier stood up from the table and shouted at them.
“My good men, please, let the general speak!” The hall went silent, and the musicians stopped playing. To the dismay of Queen Ty, Nasheret received the attention he sought.
“Let us salute the almighty god Amun for our victory over Nubia and honor the war god Montu with the tribute we bring to them and divide among ourselves.”
The soldiers all cheered, and the musicians once again played.
Queen Ty eyed Amenhotep as he placed his hand on top of Lupita’s hand, but her attention was drawn away by the troupe of seven female dancers entering the room. They wore gold bands across their hips and gold collars around their necks. They moved through the hall in black wigs with long, thick braided ponytails, their breasts exposed, chanting a spell as they danced to the music.
Nasheret picked up his jar and slammed it on the table.
“You!” he barked, pointing at a female servant. “Fill my jar!”
“You’ve drunk too much already,” replied Horemheb.
“What business is it of yours how much I drink?” slurred Nasheret as he tried to stand up again. The servant returned and poured more beer into his jar.
“Here! My fellow warriors. Listen!” Nasheret shouted attempting to continue his speech. “May our pharaoh, the living god, Amenhotep the Third, live a thousand years!”
Midway through his salute, Nasheret tilted to the side almost falling over but caught himself.
The soldiers at the table rose to their feet cheering Amenhotep’s name. The pharaoh nodded, and they returned to their seats, all except Nasheret. His eyes were fixed on Lupita.
“And behold Lady Lupita. What beauty she brings to Egypt.”
Lupita looked away, uncomfortable with the attention. The queen, however, didn’t flinch. With those words, Nasheret uncovered her deepest vulnerability—Lupita’s beauty. And praising it in front of eve
ryone at the banquet without acknowledging her beauty was insulting and humiliating to her honor.
“He’s making a mockery of me,” she said into Amenhotep’s ear. “He should be removed from this table.”
“It’s the wine,” Amenhotep responded. “Stop your bickering; he’s the general of my army.”
Amenhotep returned to devouring his plate of roasted gazelle.
Shamed by her husband, Queen Ty contemplated ways she could excuse herself from the banquet without causing a scene.
“May you, Lupita, give birth to many royal children,” Nasheret continued, “and bring forth to our pharaoh a new male heir. This time, a courageous one who won’t rebel against his own father,” he said with a smirk.
Amenhotep abruptly dropped the meat back on his plate. His breathing accelerated. He exhaled and inhaled deep from within his diaphragm while his head hung down, staring at his food.
“Come, let’s drink and chant to the birth of royal children!” shouted Nasheret as he gulped down another jar of beer.
Horemheb pulled him down to his seat and whispered something in his ear. Nasheret broke free and stood up again. “I’ll sit when I please, and you will address a decorated general with respect, captain.”
Amenhotep stood and walked up to Nasheret. He looked him in the eye, smiled, then took a position directly behind him. It appeared odd to Queen Ty that Amenhotep was just standing there like a shadow to the general, staring at the ceiling.
Nasheret acknowledged the pharaoh’s presence with a perfunctory bow and returned his attention back to everyone at the table. “Gentlemen, now that the pharaoh is here by my side, let him bear witness to how I speared three Nubian heathens in one thrust. The incompetent beasts were no—”
Before he could say another word, Amenhotep grabbed Nasheret from behind and put him in a chokehold. Nasheret struggled to pry himself free but could not match the pharaoh’s animalistic strength. Amenhotep squeezed harder around Nasheret’s throat in his determination to strangle the life out of him. After an inordinate amount of time, the general’s kicking and grunting ceased, and his body lay lifeless against Amenhotep’s chest. The pharaoh sat the dead general down in his seat with his head tilted back and spoke to him as if he were still alive and capable of hearing.
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