The Egyptian Royals Collection (38 page)

“Don’t be foolish. This is not the time.”

“But what will happen to him?”

“The people will either rise up,” she predicted with brutal honesty, “or every one of those soldiers will be executed.”

We stood back and watched as Akhenaten tossed handfuls of gold over the balcony. In the crush to reach the glittering coins, the soldiers had been forgotten. Guards ordered the men to drop their weapons, and directed them to step clear of the crowd and to follow them into the palace. Every one of them complied.

Even Horemheb. Even Nakhtmin.

“Why aren’t they resisting?” I cried, pressing closer to the Window of Appearances.

“It is a hundred of them and five hundred Nubian guards,” Tiye said.

My father turned to me. “Go now,” he said quickly. “Go to Nefertiti’s chamber and wait for her there.”

Light flickered from two dozen oil lamps and illuminated the paintings on Nefertiti’s walls. An artist had painted Nefertiti and Akhenaten raising their arms to embrace Aten, and the rays of sun ended in tiny hands whose fingers caressed my sister’s face. The pair of them together looked like gods, while Aten was unknowable, untouchable, a disk of fire that disappeared every night and reappeared at dawn. I looked around the room, but none of the gods that had made Egypt great had been rendered. Not even the goddess Sekhmet, who had brought Egypt victory in the land of Kadesh.

I took one of Nefertiti’s figurines in my hand and there was a sharp intake of breath from behind me. My look silenced the guards, but they continued to watch me, wondering what I was doing in Pharaoh’s quarters. I stared at the miniature carving in my hand and held it up to the oil lamps. When the light revealed its feline face, I gasped. No other god besides Aten had been given a place in these chambers, but here was the cat-goddess, Lady of Heaven, counterpart of Amun, the great mother Mut. I pressed my lips together.
I have been cruel to Nefertiti. I have accused her without truly knowing if she knew of Akhenaten’s plans
.

The door opened and a tall figure appeared silhouetted in the light of the passage.
Akhenaten?
My heart jumped and the guards stretched out their arms in obeisance. “Your Highness.” At once, I let out my breath. Her crown had made her taller in the evening light.

“Mutnodjmet?” She saw me and came closer, hesitating.

I put the statuette on a chest as she stepped into the room. “What is happening to Nakhtmin?”

Her eyes fell on the ebony statue. She pointed to the goddess Mut. “My replacement.”

“For what?” I didn’t like how she changed the subject.

“For you.” Nefertiti turned to the guards and barked, “Go!” They moved out, and when the door had shut, she turned back to me. “I am pregnant for the third time and none of my children know their aunt, and now I wonder if they ever will.”

My eyes filled with tears. She was pregnant again, but I refused to be drawn in. “Nefertiti, where is Nakhtmin?”

She took the statue of Mut and placed it back on the table. “Do you remember when we were young,” she said, “and we laughed that someday we would raise children together and you would be the firm mother and I would be the one to give them everything?” She cast her eyes around the room, taking in the paintings and murals. “I miss those days.”

I repeated, “Where is Nakhtmin, Nefertiti?”

My sister averted her gaze. “In prison.”

I took her hands. They were cold. “You
have
to get him out. You
have
to.”

She watched me sadly. “I have already made arrangements for his release. The others will be executed; only Nakhtmin shall be spared.”

I blinked in shock. “How?”

“How?” she repeated. “I told Akhenaten to let him free. He refuses me
nothing
, Mutnodjmet.
Nothing
. Of course, he went running off to Kiya’s chamber. But so what?
I
am the one who’s pregnant with his child.
I’m
Queen of Egypt, not her.” She looked like a little girl singing out loud in the dark to convince herself that she wasn’t scared. I embraced her tightly, and the two of us stood in the light of the oil lamps, leaning into one another. “I will miss you,” she whispered. “I wanted to be the only one that mattered to you.” She stepped back to look at me. “But I would
never
have poisoned your child,” she whispered. “I never—”

I squeezed her hand, looking over at the small feline goddess. “I know,” I said. I leaned into her shoulder and squeezed again.

She nodded.
“Go
. Go tonight.”

“Djedefhor, isn’t there any other way?”

“This is the only way up the hill, my lady.”

The streets teemed with people. Chariots shared the road with jostling carts and dozens of soldiers milled about. “What is everyone doing?” I asked him.

“Talking,” he replied. “They have heard that General Nakhtmin has escaped.”

“Escaped? But he hasn’t. My sister—”

Djedefhor raised a gloved hand and lowered his voice. “The people want an escape. And it won’t be long before the soldiers go to him, asking him to lead the army against Pharaoh and take the Horus throne.”

“He would never do that,” I said firmly.

Djedefhor said nothing and the chariot rolled toward the hills and my villa.

“He would never do that,” I repeated.

“Perhaps not. But Pharaoh will send men tonight.”

Assassins
. That was why Nefertiti said her children would never know their aunt. Why she pushed me out of her chamber and told me to hurry. “Do you really think they will come tonight?” I leaned closer so that Djedefhor could hear me above the wind.

He nodded. “I
know
they will, my lady.”

I held my breath as the chariot rolled toward the villa that I had made into my home. We stopped in the courtyard that I had seen so many times in the sun, but in the waning light it suddenly seemed dark and threatening. Djedefhor took my hand, and together we rushed into the forecourt. But when he threw open the door to the villa, I stepped back. Dozens of soldiers occupied my loggia. And Nakhtmin was there. He turned, and the entire room went quiet.

“Mutnodjmet.”

My eyes welled with tears as he took me in his arms. In a room full of strangers, we held each other close. He smelled of heat and dirt and battle. I drew back to study his face. He was dark from the sun, and there was a scar across his cheek that had not had time to heal. I thought of the sword that had cut him there and fresh tears came to my eyes. “There is no child,” I wept.

He looked into my face, brushing the tears away. “I know.” Akhenaten had stolen our child and imprisoned him. His gaze found Djedefhor’s, and his look was threatening.

“What?” I panicked. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“My sister is queen. You won’t rebel against her?”

“Of course I won’t. Nor will anyone else,” he swore loudly, and the soldiers shifted uneasily in their armor. “The gods saw fit to put Akhenaten on the Horus throne, and there he will stay.”

“Until
what?
” one of the soldiers shouted. “The Hittites overrun Egypt?”

“Until Pharaoh sees the fault of his actions.” My father swept in from the back of the atrium, his white cloak brushing the tiles. “Daughter.” He took my hand.

I looked around my villa and realized that the men were dressed for battle. “What are all of these men doing here? In my house?”

“They came to convince Nakhtmin to take the Horus throne,” my father said. “I had Nakhtmin brought here for his safety, and these men came to find him. If they know where he is, then so does Pharaoh.” My father stepped toward me. “The time has come for you to make a choice, Mutnodjmet.”

My mother appeared at my father’s side, and suddenly, my throat felt tight. I could see Ipu at the edge of the kitchen, and Bastet surveying the room from his perch on a pillar. I turned to Nakhtmin.

“I will have to leave Amarna,” he warned. “And unless my safety is guaranteed by Pharaoh, I will never come back.”

“But Nefertiti released you.
She
could ensure it.”

My father shook his head. “Your sister has done what she can tonight. If you choose this life, if you choose to marry Nakhtmin, you must leave Amarna.”

I looked first at Ipu, then at Bastet, then out to my beautifully cultivated garden.

“Tiye will tend it until you can return,” he promised.

Panic swelled in my chest, imagining a life without my parents. “But when will that be?”

My father’s eyes shone the color of bright polished lapis, imagining a time when his daughter would be Pharaoh of Egypt in all but name. Perhaps even in name. The ultimate ascension for our family. “When Nefertiti grows powerful enough to order you back with or without her husband’s consent.”

“But then again, it could be never,” Nakhtmin warned.

I looked at my parents and Nakhtmin. Then I slipped my hand in his. I felt his shoulders relax, and I turned to my mother. “You will visit?” I whispered.

My mother nodded quickly, but her tears still came. “Of course.”

“And Nakhtmin will be safe?”

“Akhenaten will forget about him,” my father predicted. “He will not risk Nefertiti’s wrath to pursue him from city to city. Nefertiti is the one the people follow,” he said. “And Akhenaten will not risk her anger.”

Ipu shoved handfuls of linen into baskets and the servants rushed into action. The soldiers were gone, and my mother and father took Nakhtmin aside, whispering with him about Thebes. Fear and excitement welled in my stomach. Tiye watched from the garden as the donkeys were laden with my belongings, then came and held out a lotus flower for me to take.

“The sister who should have been queen,” she said.

“No, I could not do what Nefertiti has done.”

“Make a treaty with the Hittites, birth two girls in succession, and erect statues of herself at every crossroads?” My aunt turned to Nakhtmin. There were signs of battle still on his kilt, the blood of enemies he had slain. “You have been fortunate in your destiny,” Tiye said. To me she added, “Maybe you are the lucky sister. The one who will have peace in this life.”

In the city below us, tension hovered like a cloud. As the evening cool settled across the villages, women opened their shutters and men took to the Royal Road.

“The men are taking to the streets.” I panicked, peering over the balcony.