The Pharaoh's Daughter (26 page)

They arrived at ebony double doors inlaid with lapis and ivory and trimmed in gold. Mandai spoke to the two Medjay guards in their native tongue, raising his voice when they obviously refused Anippe entry. One of the guards disappeared into the chamber, returned quickly, and then bowed low as he opened the door for the king's sister.

Anippe nearly retched at the stench. A serving maid quickly handed her a sachet of crushed lotus petals to hold over her nose. Tut lay in his bed, his left leg wrapped to twice its normal size and elevated on pillows. Vizier Ay sat in a gilded chair on the other side of the bed, writing with reeds and pigment. Four Medjays and three priests of Amun-Re surrounded Tut, while a physician and two handmaids busied themselves in the chamber.

The vizier stood when she entered, offering a cursory bow. His dove-gray eyes roamed the length of her, and Anippe wished she'd worn rough spun instead
of byssus linen. “Your brother will be happy to see you when he wakes—if he wakes.”

Anointing oil glistened on her brother's head and face, beading on his fevered brow. Without the kohl-black eye of Horus extending from brow to temple, he looked like a little boy.

Overcome with anguish, Anippe leaned down to hug him—but halted suddenly and turned to the physician. “Will I hurt him if I touch him?”

He looked to Ay for the answer. Anippe wanted to scream.
Why ask him? Has he learned a priest's magic arts while I've been in Avaris?

Still raging inwardly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Amira, sit in this chair.” Mandai had placed it near the bed. Again, his kindness overwhelmed her.

“Thank you.” She gratefully complied and lifted Tut's hand, leveling a malicious glare at the vizier. “How long since he last woke? Have you summoned Abbi Horem?”

“He opened his eyes yesterday but was barely coherent. I summoned you when the infection began a few days ago. Surely you sent messengers to the general.” A sinister smile creased his light-brown face, extending his beaklike nose over his top lip.

“Why would I send a message to the prince regent? That's your job, Vizier.”

Ay leapt to his feet, leaning over the bed, grinding out his words. “My job is to protect Egypt from children and fools who would idly watch it dwindle or lose it to savages.”

His gaze held her, daring her to look away. Anippe's heart pounded at his veiled confession. Tut was the child and Abbi Horem the fool, and Ay was obviously determined to have Egypt's throne. How could she fight him alone?

She felt a slight squeeze of her hand and looked down at her brother.

“Out.” Tut's voice was barely a croak, a whisper pushed through dry, cracked lips. A handmaid rushed to him and pressed a wet cloth against his mouth. He received the moisture before trying to speak again. “Everyone out—except Anippe.” He opened his eyes—barely two slits—but they closed in relief at the sight of his Medjay. “Mandai, you stay too.”

Ay's aggression turned to feigned loyalty “I had no idea you were awake, lord of all, good god who wears Egypt's crowns. I would be happy to remain—”

“Get out.”

As the vizier moved toward the door, he turned his polite banter on Anippe. “Don't stay too long. The king is extremely weak—as you can see. I'd be honored if you'd join me for a private meal in my chamber tomorrow evening, Amira Anippe.”

He offered a curt bow, and a trail of Nubians, priests, maids, and the physician followed him out.

The chamber grew quiet, and Tut appeared to be sleeping again. Anippe abandoned her chair, rattled by the invitation, but sat beside her brother on his mattress. Tut winced at the movement.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I'll go back—”

“No, stay with me.” He clutched her arm, his grip stronger than expected, and a tear slid from the corner of his eye. “I finally have someone in the room not trying to kill me.”

Grieving for all they'd lost, Anippe laid her head on her brother's bandaged chest and listened to his heartbeat. “How can I help you?”

“Horemheb was right. Ay will take Egypt from me if I don't die first. Mandai, did you tell her about the axle?”

“No, my king.”

“The axle was sawed halfway through. My accident was no accident. I know Ay ordered it.”

Anippe's head sprang off Tut's chest. “So there's proof? You can have him arrested?”

Mandai stepped forward, leaning over the king. “I will lead my Medjays against the vizier. We are your loyal servants, my king, and will hunt and kill Ay like the jackal he is.”

“There is no proof. Ay is shielded by some of my own bodyguard. Even if you could find proof and enough loyal noblemen to stand with me, I can't return to Memphis to judge him.” He paused, taking several breaths, his pain evident. “Our homeland troops are loyal to Ay, and Commander Nakhtmin
rules the Nubian army through brutal threats on their families.” Tut grasped Anippe's hand. “I'm dying, Anippe, and Ay will take the throne if Horemheb is not here when …” His words trailed off, his strength spent.

Anippe finished for him. “The next pharaoh must be present to receive the embodiment of Horus.”

“I didn't realize Ay hadn't summoned Horemheb … but why would he? Why didn't I listen to Horemheb?” Tut turned away, regret clinging to him like the sweat-soaked bed sheets.

Anippe's thoughts began to whir. “Don't give up, brother. Ay thinks he's won the battle—but he's foolishly declared war against Horemheb and his daughter.” She rose from her chair and kissed the cheek of a god. “I love you, King Tut. Rest and let Lady Isis, goddess of healing, do her work while your sister prepares a feast for our enemy he'll not soon forget.”

Anippe peeked through the curtained doorway of Gurob's banquet hall, counting the guests of the banquet she'd arranged to trap her enemy. Rather than accept yesterday's invitation to dine in his chamber, Anippe had arranged a banquet—in Vizier Ay's honor—to show gratitude for his devotion during Tut's convalescence. The arrogant governor had invited even more guests.

Why hadn't Ummi Amenia arrived yet? She'd been as anxious as Anippe to see their enemy exposed when they'd shared their midday meal earlier. Senpa had joined them, and Ankhe, of course, had been furious that Anippe had neglected to secure a written document of Tut's order for her to marry Nassor.

Even now, Ankhe chatted with others at the women's head table as if their brother were not dying in his chamber. Beside her sat Ummi Amenia's empty cushion, and on the other side Senpa, withdrawn and mournful. The Gurob Harem wives filled ten tables in the hall, their chatter growing restless. They shouted rude comments from one table to another about Anippe's absence. The women of Gurob had never been short of opinions.

Across the aisle, Vizier Ay lounged at a table with twelve other noblemen, laughing, drinking, and grabbing at dancing girls. Musicians played, acrobats
tumbled, and the barely clad dancers kept the men entertained while Anippe kept watch for Ummi Amenia.

What could be keeping her?

Mandai and Nassor stood guard behind Ankhe, impatiently awaiting Anippe's arrival. They examined every guest and servant like hawks watching for mice in a field. Anippe captured Mandai's attention and summoned him silently. The Medjay's speed and stealth were as useful in a raucous banquet room as on a battlefield.

Moments later, he slipped behind the curtain with her. “What is it? Trouble?”

“I don't know. Ummi Amenia should have been here by now. Go check her chamber while I begin the banquet.”

With a nod, he was gone.

Anippe emerged from the curtain and bowed to the chief anointer, who affixed a waxy cone of scented oil to her wig. Like the cones worn by the other guests, her carved ornament would melt away by night's end, dripping its sweet scent into and through her wig—much like the melting of Ay's dreams of Egypt's throne. Anippe would expose his treachery among witnesses tonight.

The thought brought a smile to her face as she strolled up the center aisle. She nodded greetings to lifelong friends and settled on the vacant cushion beside Queen Senpa, bowing politely to the vizier across the aisle. “Thank you for indulging my need to reunite with the women of Gurob, Vizier. I haven't seen them since my marriage three years ago, and I know Tut will be pleased when I bring him tidings of our celebration.”

The vizier wiped sweat from his brow and, though answering her greeting, addressed the men at his table. “I would think the king's sister would be grieving his serious injuries, not celebrating his imminent death.” His booming voice captured the attention of every guest.

Anippe's heart fluttered; this was the time. She searched the doorway—Mandai hadn't returned with word of Amenia, but she couldn't wait. Servants were streaming in from the kitchen, platters laden with roast goose, gazelle, and wild boar—a happy distraction for the guests when the conversation became heated.

“I learned from King Tut that his so-called accident was instead an attempt on his life,” she said. As one, the audience gasped, leaving the room stifling. “What do you know about it, Vizier?”

“I was given the same information by the king's bodyguard—but I don't think we should discuss it here.” He lifted an eyebrow, challenging her with an arrogant smirk.

“In front of Pharaoh's noblemen is the perfect place to expose a crime. Don't you agree?” She directed the question to their audience, who ardently approved, shouting and pounding the marble tables. Quieter, she said to Ay alone, “I've got you, jackal-headed cobra.”

He answered as quietly. “You've fallen into your own trap.” Lifting his voice over the din, he shouted to his Nubians guarding the side doors. “Bring in the prisoner.”

The doors opened slowly. Two Medjays entered, one small woman between them.

“Amenia?” Anippe jumped from her cushion and sprinted toward the lone prisoner. Her legs couldn't keep up, and she fell at her ummi's feet, clutching her shackled ankles, sobbing.

“Will you kiss the feet of the woman who tried to kill your brother?” The vizier's voice resounded like a trumpet in the sudden silence.

“Get up, my daughter. Get up.” Amenia's voice was as strong and compassionate as it had been the first time Anippe heard it. “You are sister of the King, daughter of Horemheb, Amira of Avaris—you do not grovel at a prisoner's feet.”

But Anippe would grovel at anyone's feet if she could save Ummi Amenia.

Pressing the hem of Amenia's robe to her eyes, she dried her tears, leaving streaks of kohl on the pure white linen. She stood to face the one man she hated enough to kill. “Vizier Ay, you know Amira Amenia would never harm King Tut.” She returned to the head table but this time knelt opposite the vizier in a supplicant's position. “General Horemheb loves the king as his own son—as does Amira Amenia.”

“My spies intercepted secret papyri passed between Amenia and Horemheb, in which Amenia informed the general of delicate matters concerning Egypt's government.”

“You mean Amira Amenia informed her husband, General Horemheb, the prince regent, that you conspired with Commander Nakhtmin to steal King Tut's throne?” Anippe retorted.

The gallery hummed—ample grain for Gurob's gossip mill.

Ay smiled. “The general has been singing that dirge for years, my dear, and King Tut himself agreed it was foolishness. Please, if you have any proof that I've conspired against our god and king, present it now.”

Anippe stood trembling with rage—speechless and alone. She'd sent Mandai to look for Amenia, but even he had no proof Tut's axle had been sawed. She stared longingly at Amenia, helpless to save the woman who'd saved her.

“Ummi!” Anippe ran toward her, but two Medjays grabbed her arms with iron hands.

Ay's singsong voice rose above Anippe's cries. “We must all remember that Princess Anippe has endured a long journey from Avaris and arrived to see her dear brother, the divine god Tut, nearing his eternal home. And then to realize her adoptive parents were likely responsible for the king's death … Well, friends, her despair proves she knew nothing of Horemheb and Amenia's plot to kill Tut.”

The audience hummed its approval of Ay's hypocrisy, and Anippe saw pity on their faces. She growled, lunging at the vizier. “No! You're a liar!”

He waved his hand at the Medjays. “Take her back to her chamber. I'll speak with her in the morning after she's had more rest.”

The Medjays began dragging her up the aisle. Nassor's guttural cry and heavy footsteps came from behind, and the Medjays dropped her. In an instant, a few well-placed Medjay blows stopped the Ramessid cold and left him moaning in a heap.

Anippe closed her eyes, unable to bear her hopelessness. The warriors grabbed her arms again, their fingers biting into flesh. She cried out, and to her surprise, they released her.