by Chanta Rand
“Fighting will get us nowhere,” Meketen interrupted. “You both make good sense, but neither of you is medically qualified to deal with this condition.” He leaned forward and looked at Latmay. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”
Latmay measured his words carefully before speaking. Now that Amonmose was not himself, these three men had the most authority in the kingdom. “I have seen very few cases like this,” he told them. “His memory lapse might last a day or a month or a year. There really is no way to be certain. You definitely cannot keep him separated from the entire world for such long periods of time. He has duties to perform.
“In my opinion, interactions with other people will increase his ability to remember and he will recover faster. In the meantime, he must be reeducated about his role as Pharaoh. He’ll have to learn everything just as he did when his father died.”
They all fell silent at the memory. Meketen spoke first. “I agree that he should be reeducated, but we must be the only ones involved in the process.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Hai asked.
“By confining him to his quarters. Each one of us will take turns instructing him on the ways of a pharaoh and how this kingdom should be operating. For his own safety and the security of this dynasty, no one else can know about his condition.”
“You treat him as if he has some disease which we should shield him from.”
Nadesh shook his head. “No, Meketen is right. Things are far too unstable for us to allow this information past these doors. There are those who would seek to take advantage of him. Unscrupulous nobles would prey on his ignorance and use their own agendas to influence him. We cannot allow that.”
“So, it is settled then.” Meketen looked at each of them. “No one is to enter this room but us four.”
“But what of his duties?” Latmay protested.
“We shall perform them in his absence. Nadesh will preside over court hearings and temple rites. I will handle ceremonies and meetings with persons who have business with the state. Hai, you will, of course, continue in your role as treasurer. Anything else can be assigned to the many nobles who would be overjoyed to do the Pharaoh’s bidding.”
Hai sat back down, shaking his head. “I still don’t think all this subterfuge is necessary.”
“It is for the best.” Meketen put a hand on Hai’s arm but looked at Latmay. “Latmay, you are free to come and go as necessary, but if you breathe one word of Amonmose’s condition to anyone, it will be considered treason against the state. Do you understand?”
Latmay held his anger. “Yes, I understand,” he said through tight lips.
“Then, we are all in agreement. We shall reconvene here in the morning.”
Chapter Nineteen
Amonmose awoke in pain, his head aching as if split with an axe. When he struggled to raise himself up on his elbows, a jolt shot through his arm. He turned to see his entire shoulder wrapped tightly in linen strips. His arm had been placed in sling, which was bound against his torso to prevent any further injury. He stared at it, confused. Then, he remembered someone had pulled an arrow from his arm. How it got there, he did not know.
He sat up slowly and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a strange room with objects he did not recognize. The linens on his bed were made of the finest cloth. The furnishings that surrounded him were opulent and grand in scale. The decor was masculine, with the massive bed virtually dominating the room. There was a marble washstand trimmed in gold, a writing desk, a large wardrobe, and a few stools. Each piece appeared to be superbly constructed.
A pleasant odor wafted through the air, and Amonmose’s eyes followed the subtle wisps of smoke to a tall lamp burning in the corner. Scented oil. He breathed deeply and stood up, then looked down and studied the elegant mosaic design on the floor. The craftsmanship was superior. Whoever had picked this pattern had excellent taste.
Tentatively, he took a step. A wave of dizziness rushed at him, but he closed his eyes and remained still until the unsteady feeling passed. Encouraged, he took a few more steps and cautiously walked around the bedroom before moving to the outer room. Sunshine spilled through an open window. The first things he noticed were the many scrolls of papyri. All were different in size and breadth. The owner of this library must be man of great intelligence.
In the center of the room, there was a large table inlaid with ivory and gold. Seated comfortably at the table was the man who had tended to his wounds. As if on cue, the man abruptly stood and gave a slight bow.
“Good Morning, Pharaoh. I did not hear you rise.”
Amonmose stared silently. The man smiled politely, as if waiting for a response. He had a kind face..
“You are my doctor?” Amonmose asked.
“Yes.” The man moved forward. “My name is Latmay. I have been your personal physician for over twenty years.”
Amonmose frowned. “Is that my age? Twenty years?”
“Gods no.” Latmay grinned. “You are thirty-two. Although you have the physique of a man much younger.”
Amonmose remained silent for a moment, absorbing the information.
“Would you like me to tell you about yourself?” Latmay asked.
Amonmose smiled. “Yes, I would like that very much.”
Latmay was surprised by Amonmose’s calm manner. The Pharaoh he knew did all things with a bold confidence bordering on cockiness. In this condition, Amonmose seemed unsure and almost vulnerable, his gaze wide and trusting.
“Your name is Pharaoh Amonmose Tehutimes,” Latmay told him. “You are the sovereign ruler of Egypt. We are in your private quarters at your palace in Thebes. You have suffered a traumatic blow to your head as well as a wound from an arrow to your shoulder. You received these injuries in battle two days ago, while fighting your long time enemies, the Hyksos. As a result of your blow to the head, you are suffering from temporary amnesia. The task now is to reeducate you on your role as Pharaoh. There is much for you to learn, but your council of advisors has determined that for your own safety, this should be done in the privacy of your chambers.”
One of Amonmose’s dark eyebrows shot up in question. “Oh, have they?”
Latmay wiped the nervous perspiration from his brow. He hoped he had not said too much. He remembered the threat from the advisors. He paused before answering. “Yes. It is for your own benefit, Your Grace. It could take days or months for you to regain your memory.”
Amonmose’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment he looked every bit the shrewd ruler. “You have known me for twenty years. Tell me, am I the kind of man who would listen to advice from these advisors?”
Latmay answered without hesitation. “You are a man of great intellect and compassion. You are also courageous and bold. The men in your council are in an advisory position only. You answer to no one.”
Amonmose seemed satisfied. He walked toward the table, his steps seeming more solid. “Do I have children? Do I have a queen?”
“No, you do not.”
“Why not? I am certainly old enough. Am I infertile?”
Latmay coughed down an inopportune laugh.. “Not that I am aware of. Physically, you appear to be in perfect condition. Socially, you are regarded as very handsome and desirable, and it is a known fact that you can have your pick of women. There are many ladies who have fancied you, yet you have chosen to remain a bachelor.”
“There are many women who have fancied me, but have I fancied any of them?”
Latmay bowed his head. “Only you can know the answer to that, Pharaoh. I am not privy to your personal life.” For a moment, he thought of telling him about Kama, but there had been very clear instructions where she was concerned.
Amonmose sat at the table, joining Latmay. “What else can you tell me?” he asked. “Where are my parents? How do I spend my time each day? What is expected of me? Who do I keep council with? What pleasures me?”
Latmay smiled. “One question at a time.”
Over the next few h
ours, Amonmose listened to Latmay explain the details of his life. He was a pleasant, calming force, and Amonmose learned a great deal. Once the advisors arrived, however, his mood changed drastically. Amonmose did not recognize any of the advisors, and meeting them triggered no new memories. Nadesh was familiar to him only because he’d seen him on the ship. He remembered the tall, slender man giving orders to Latmay. His voice was gruff, and his manner was arrogant. Amonmose wondered why he’d appointed him as his grand cizier.
“What is your purpose as grand vizier?” he asked. “What duties do you fulfill?”
Nadesh answered confidently. “In your absence, I represent you and relay all judgments to your subjects. I preside over the council, and I am responsible for training and commanding the Egyptian army.”
Latmay had said the soldiers followed him. “As commander of my army, you lead my troops into battle?”
“I prepare them for warfare. You prefer to lead the troops yourself. They attack on your signal.”
“How long have you been grand vizier?”
“Thirty-two years,” Nadesh replied.
Amonmose did not hide his shock. “That is quite a long time. And it is as long as I have been alive. Who did you serve before me?”
“Your father.”
“I see.”
Earlier, Latmay had told Amonmose that his mother had died in childbirth and his father died when he was twelve. Latmay gave no other specifics. Nadesh had become grand vizier during that chaotic time. A myriad of questions swirled through his mind, but Amonmose asked the one that was most relevant. “Did I appoint you as Grand Vizier?”
Nadesh smiled tolerantly. “You were a young boy at the time. I was already serving as commander of the armies. It seemed a natural transition. You had no other to guide you.”
Amonmose nodded and tried to imagine what it would take to engineer such a promotion. Nadesh, it seemed, was a powerful man.
“Thank you for your honesty,” Amonmose said. “I only ask so I can gain more knowledge of my former life. No matter how you came to be my grand vizier, I have done nothing to change it in twenty years. So, you must be someone of extreme importance to me. I am pleased that you are on my council of advisors.”
Nadesh nodded and smiled.
Amonmose turned to Meketen and Hai. “Gentlemen, your turn, if you don’t mind indulging me.”
Nadesh left Amonmose’s room feeling drained. Amonmose’s questions had rankled. He should not be defending his position in the palace. Yet, could he blame the Pharaoh? The man had lost a lifetime of memories. They could tell him all about himself, but they could not give him back the private thoughts he’d had over the years. They knew little about his hopes, his dreams, or his plans for the future. Without a past, a man was like a ship lost at sea.
Baal was waiting patiently on the other side of the door when he emerged.
“May I have a word with you?” Baal asked, a look of concern heavy in his eyes.
He’d already been advised about Amonmose’s condition. It was necessary, since the two would be in close contact with each other.
“Is there some trouble?” Nadesh asked.
“The soldiers have been inquiring about the Pharaoh. They are asking about a victory feast.”
“There will be no feast for now. Tell the men he is still recovering from his wounds.”
Baal crossed his muscled arms over his chest. “I can only tell that lie for so long.”
“It’s not a lie!” Nadesh hissed. “He is recovering.”
Baal appeared unaffected by his tone. “There are people who want to see him. It is unusual for him not to make an appearance, especially after winning a battle.”
“No.” Nadesh shook his head. “No one can see him except his advisors and his doctor.”
“And what of Kama? She has been here twice.”
Nadesh felt spasms of disgust bubbling in his stomach. He had been convinced that Kama was some passing fascination for Amonmose. With her exotic looks and bold tongue, it was easy for a man to be curious about her talents.In the past, he’d taken delicate matters like this into his own hands, and this time would be no different. He glared at Baal. “If you cannot shield him from these curious idiots, I shall find someone who can. No one is to see him—especially Kama!”
From his hiding place, Latmay watched Nadesh walk away. He had been approaching Amonmose’s room when he overheard Nadesh talking with Baal. The grand vizier’s voice was thick with anger, so Latmay had slipped into a small alcove in the hallway and listened, troubled by what he heard. Did the advisors truly think they could keep Amonmose ensconced from everyone? There was more going on than concern for the welfare of the Pharaoh. The question was whether Amonmose regain his memory before he lost the very kingdom he’d built.
“He doesn’t want me anymore.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? Why would you say such a thing?”
“He’s been back for two days,” Kama told her mother. “Dyzet told me all of the soldiers have returned. Yet, each time I go to his chambers, I am told that he is not receiving visitors.”
“Whose words are these?” Mutema demanded.
“His own bodyguard. Baal takes his orders directly from Amonmose.” Kama sat on the bed in the room that used to be hers, wringing her hands in her lap. “What have I done to displease him?”
Mutema sat beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Daughter…” She held her in her motherly embrace and rocked her softly. “Surely, there must be some misunderstanding. You and I will go there, and we shall get to the bottom of this.”
Kama held back her tears. “He has given orders that he will not see anyone. If he will not see me, he certainly will not see you.”
“Perhaps it is quite the contrary,” Mutema said. “He may be injured from battle and cannot stand the thought of you seeing him in such a condition.”
“But I love him! I do not care if he’s wounded.”
“You may not care, but perhaps he does. Remember, a Pharaoh must be strong. His people must believe in him. He is accustomed to presenting himself as a superior being. He cannot appear before anyone in a weakened state, including you.”
Kama let the impact of her mother’s words sink in. She spoke softly and lifted her chin from her mother’s shoulder. “Do you really think this the reason he will not see me?”
“Yes,” Mutema said. “And I can prove it.” She kissed Kama on the forehead and headed for the door. “I am going to his chambers this moment. When I return, I shall have good news for you. You will see.”
Kama nodded and gave her mother a lopsided, half-hearted smile. She had seen her mother overcome some amazing obstacles. If anyone could make things right, she could.
Mutema did not return with good news. Like Kama, she had been turned away at the doors to Amonmose’s room.
“I told you!” Kama burst into tears. “Amonmose has grown weary of me. There can be no other explanation.” Sorrow sliced into her flesh, and she clutched her chest, suddenly gasping for air.
“Kama!” Mutema ran to her side.
“I…I cannot…breathe,” she panted.
“Sit,” her mother said. “You must remain calm.”
“How? How...can I? …lost.”
“Ssh…you are not lost. You are heartbroken, but you are not lost.”
Kama let her mother hold her and rub her back. When she was a little girl her mother would hold her like this and make all the evil go away. She wished her mother could do the same now. “I do not want to hear riddles, mother. Speak plainly and tell me, what have I done to deserve this?”
“I cannot answer that,” Mutema said truthfully. “I can only tell you that often things that are not clear to us in the beginning will be revealed in time.”
Kama wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “This…this is my punishment for falling in love. I never should have, and as long as I live, I swear I never will again.”
Mutema offered no
words of encouragement this time. She merely held her daughter and rocked her as Kama cried herself to sleep.
Days later, Amonmose had fallen asleep fighting his own demons. The first time she came into his dreams, she was dressed in a torn, white linen sheath. The wind whipped her long hair wildly about her. She was beautiful, and every inch of her magnificent body inflamed his desire. But the feeling was not mutual; her tone was venomous.
“I am slave to no master!” she yelled.
He saw the fire in her eyes, and it only made him want her more. He wanted to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Then, as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone.
The next night, she came again. She crept into his dreams like a fine mist. She was riding with him in a litter, close enough to touch. Her dark skin was smooth like butter. Her black eyes shined like stars. This time when she spoke, she was not cruel, but she was still determined.
“Animals intrigue you. Exotic cities intrigue you. War intrigues you. Sire, I am not some pet or oddity to be kept caged for your pleasure. I am just a woman, a simple woman who begs leave to go home.”
He could see the quiet fear reflected on her face, yet still she fought against him. When he reached for her, she disappeared.
His latest dream was the sweetest of all. He was surrounded by a field of fragrant flowers. The cool night air tiptoed across his body, but it did nothing to calm the fire raging within him. Suddenly, the beautiful woman was lying beneath him, arching her hips against his. Her eyes were wide with desire.
“Your body is perfect from head to toe. You are everything a man should be. Now, make love to me.”
She freely offered herself to him, and he willfully took, asking no questions. He made love to her and satisfied them both, over and over. When he awoke, he reached for the warm body that surely lay next to his. But he was alone, and it was only a dream after all. It had seemed so real. She had seemed so real. Their feelings for each other had been undeniable. It was more than pure lust.
After that, Amonmose was unable to sleep. He got out of bed and walked to the mirror in his room. The face that stared back at him offered no clues. He had so many questions that no one could answer.