Dreamers (49 page)

An audible gasp rose from the assembled crowd. Several

of the nobles whispered among themselves. The priests raised

their eyebrows and slanted questions at one another.

Tuya closed her eyes, recognizing the trap in which she

would be caught.

The vizier stepped forward. “I do not believe you,” he said,

his voice ringing with authority.

“You dare question the dying words of a divine king?”

Narmer asked.

“I dare question
you,
” Yosef answered, his words quick and

tempered with anger. “And any charge brought before this

throne must have witnesses to prove it.”

A murmur of voices, a palpable tenseness, washed through

the room.

“Very well.” Narmer’s face settled into determined lines. “I

have made investigation into this matter. With the aid of the

gods, the pieces have fallen into place, and the picture shall be

revealed this night, before this company. Before the sun-god

takes his bark to ride across the sky, all you who hear shall know

that the child you know as the crown prince—” he pointed at

Amenhotep “—is the son of former slaves. Pharaoh, before he

died, told me he would surrender his life rather than accept the

child forced on him by Queen Tuya and his vizier. They thought

to make their illegitimate son into a king of Egypt!”

Tuya felt the room spin as the buzzing grew louder. The

claim was ridiculous, but over the years she had seen Narmer

insinuate his way into honors and positions far above his

rightful station. The dark gods had gifted him with intelli-

gence and cunning.

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Queen Mutemwiya rose from her throne, though her hands

clung to the armrests as if she stood in danger of collapsing.

“Prove this charge,” she cried hoarsely. “Prove this, Narmer,

and if you preserve the throne of Egypt from defilement, I will

reward you. The people shall praise your name, and you will

be honored above all men.”

Narmer bowed as if he had already won his case. “O

Queen, live forever. I shall do my best to serve you.”

The litany of accusation began. Quaking beneath Narmer’s

fierce gaze, Tuya’s servants testified that they had seen her

walk in the garden every morning with the vizier and the

prince. One girl admitted fetching Zaphenath-paneah to

Queen Tuya’s chambers in the dark of night. The prince’s aged

nurse told the crowd that Crown Prince’s baby name had been

“Yosef,” the same name by which Queen Tuya addressed the

vizier. Abu, the goatherd from Potiphar’s house, told the gath-

ering that everyone in Potiphar’s household knew the steward

and Tuya were deeply in love.

As the testimony against her droned on, Tuya felt her anger

dissolve into despair. She had not yearned for Yosef in months,

but what would that matter now? The witnesses were honest;

the essence of the charge was true enough. She had been

married to Pharaoh while her heart dreamed of another.

Guilt avalanched over her, burdening her with its weight.

She would have collapsed before the company had Yosef not

stepped forward. “These charges have nothing to do with the

truth,” he said, his elegant voice commanding attention and

respect. “You have impugned the right of a prince to his

throne. The child was fathered by Pharaoh. During the time

of his conception and birth, I was a prisoner in the house of

the captain of the guard.”

A smirk crossed Narmer’s face as he opened his hand to

the crowd. “I invite Khamat to speak.”

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The assembly rippled as an aged man stepped forward.

“Khamat was the chief jailer of Potiphar’s prison at the time

of our vizier’s imprisonment,” Narmer explained. “He will tell

you how Tuya’s son came to be born. Khamat, tell these

nobles how you allowed the slave Paneah to come and go at

will in your prison. Tell them how you left a rope dangling

for him to climb in and out of his pit, how you trusted him

completely and in all things.”

The old man glared at Narmer, then he stepped forward and

knelt at Yosef’s feet.

Narmer frowned and gestured to guards who jerked

Khamat upright. “Speak,” Narmer growled, “and tell the truth.

You allowed Paneah to come and go freely, didn’t you?”

“Paneah was righteous and altogether honest,” Khamat

said, his voice like gravel. “He wanted to serve others in the

jail. But he did not leave the prison.”

“Do you know this for a fact?” Narmer said, scowling.

“You kept a rope suspended in his cell. At any time he could

have climbed forth. He knew the prison, he knew the house

beyond, he knew how to sneak out in the dead of night and

return before daybreak. He wormed his way into your confi-

dence, old man, and convinced you that he was a humble

servant, but look how he stands before you now!”

The old man glanced at Yosef’s royal garments and the

Gold of Praise, then he met Yosef’s gaze. His eyes crinkled

as he smiled. “I see a man whom the gods have elevated. I

know him as a man in whom the spirit of God resides. He

would not commit this evil you speak of.”

Narmer gestured for the guards to carry Khamat away.

“The gods will decide his guilt, not you.”

Chike stepped forward. “If Zaphenath-paneah was con-

fined in the prison, how are you to prove these things?”

The captain of the guard paused, then pressed his hands

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together as if he pondered a weighty matter. “It is said, most

high priest, that our kings are divine because the gods visit

our queens and plant seed in their wombs,” he said, convic-

tion in his voice. “You will recall that our divine pharaoh rec-

ognized the spirit of a god in this one called Paneah. Khamat,

foolish old man that he is, has just said the same thing.”

Narmer waved his hands for emphasis. “How can we deter-

mine that his spirit did not visit Pharaoh’s wife in her chamber?

Look at the boy! He walks and talks like the vizier, he holds

his head in the same angle as this foreigner who entered Egypt

as a slave! If the act of disloyalty was not accomplished in

the physical body, then it was accomplished in the spiritual,

for the boy you see before you is the child of the vizier, and

not of Pharaoh! It is recorded in the annals that on separate

occasions, both the vizier and Queen Tuya came to Pharaoh

and asked that the child be betrothed to Queen Mutemwiya

in order to secure the succession. But our dying pharaoh

decried this act! Restore justice, high priest and counselors,

and keep the throne from this illegitimate who has no part in

Egypt!”

Chike stepped aside to confer with several priests, but Tuya

could see that they were not convinced that Narmer spoke the

truth. Yosef himself was a powerful testimony to righteous-

ness, for his visage and posture were regal, and the Egyptians

were not eager to criticize those whom the gods had placed

over them. But Narmer’s words had cast strong doubt on

Yosef’s intentions and Amenhotep’s pedigree.

“Noble Narmer, I have something to say regarding this

matter,” Mutemwiya said, standing again. She cleared her

throat as if hesitant to speak, then cast her gaze to the ground.

“My husband Tuthmosis loved me dearly, and confided in me

one night as we lay together. He told me that the gods had told

him he would father no children in this life, but his heirs

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would follow in the life to come. That is why my womb

remained empty. As for this boy—”

She gestured toward Amenhotep and shrugged as if to say

she did not know from where he had come. Tuya felt her

cheeks burn as Amenhotep cringed. By all the gods, this was

not right! Her son had done nothing wrong, nor had Yosef

sinned. Pharaoh would rise from his grave if he knew what

mischief his queen and captain were working on this night—

But if Mutemwiya could speak, so could she. “Can a

mother not defend her child?” she called, her voice ringing

through the room.

Narmer bowed in elegant hypocrisy. “You have said noth-

ing. We thought you had nothing to say.”

“I have much to say,” Tuya replied, eyeing Mutemwiya with

a stern gaze. “Amenhotep, my child, is Pharaoh’s son. I loved

Tuthmosis and was faithful to him from the day of our marriage.”

“Do you deny that you loved Paneah?”

“I did love him, once,” Tuya admitted, her voice softening

at the memory. “As a young girl loves a young man. But that

love faded in the light of adulthood, and in the light of my love

for the king.”

“And yet you are friends with Zaphenath-paneah.”

“We are friends. He was a close advisor to Pharaoh, and is

a tutor to the prince.”

“Then tell us—” Narmer’s brows lifted the question “—to

this day, why does the vizier bring a bowl of lotus blossoms

to your chamber? What sweet token of love is this?”

The question brought a hushed silence to the room, and

Tuya felt the darkness of grief press down on her. “My hus-

band’s token,” she said, her voice breaking. “He promised me

blue lotus blossoms every morning we were apart. He said the

vizier would bring them until he returned.”

A stunned silence followed her declaration, but Narmer

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broke the hush with a sharp laugh. “Has the king,” he said,

turning to Queen Mutemwiya, “ever brought you flowers?”

A scowl crossed Mutemwiya’s face. “Why would a king

bring flowers? The king presents his women with gold and

jewels. Ask any one of Pharaoh’s wives. This woman lies.”

Narmer turned to Tuya with new fervor in his eyes. He had

tasted victory, and knew the end was near. “Tell the truth, if

you can. Is the prince a child of the divine pharaoh?”

“Yes.”

“How, then, do you explain his resemblance to the vizier?”

“He looks nothing like Yosef. He is his father’s—”

At the mention of the word
Yosef,
Narmer held up an inter-

rupting hand. “You have used a Hebrew name, the same name

you gave your son as a baby.” He paced before the crowd, his

hands thrust behind his back. “I believe, Queen Tuya, that you

were unfaithful to Pharaoh. This child, called Amenhotep, was

fathered by the Hebrew. While in Potiphar’s house, you fell

under the spell of the strange god that resides in this man, and

together you plotted to usurp the authority of the gods of Egypt.

You have conspired to take the throne from the rightful rulers.”

“No!”

“Then why are there no statues of Horus or Hapi or Osiris

in your chambers?” Narmer said, halting before the priests.

“Why do you not offer gifts to the gods of Egypt? Tell us, lady,

which god you worship.”

The trap had been laid with cunning, and Tuya realized

how completely she’d been snared.
Treason.
Yet unspoken, the

word hung over her head like a mist, cutting off her breath. A

moment ago she’d been about to hang for the crime of adul-

tery, and now with one false word she would condemn herself,

her friend and her son to the gallows.

Merciful God. Why have you allowed this to happen?

When Narmer’s exultant face blurred before her eyes she

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turned to Yosef. He stood like an oak between two guards, his

steadfast confidence reducing them to stumps of manhood.

Have faith,
his eyes seemed to say.
You have trusted the

unseen god for others. Now trust him for yourself.

Tuya stared past his face into her own thoughts. All her

life she had clung to those she could love: Sagira, Yosef,

Amenhotep and Tuthmosis. One by one, her loved ones had

vacated her life, leaving her shipwrecked by grief. Yet gently,

persistently, the Almighty God had sheltered her, protected

her…and brought her to a place where she had no one else

to trust. Only him.

A memory opened before her. “Belief is a truth held in the

mind, Tuya, but faith is a fire in the heart,” Tuthmosis once

told her, explaining why he believed Zaphenath-paneah’s pre-

diction of famine. “My heart burns to know the god who

could speak to me in a dream.”

In a breathless instant of release, faith freed her from fear.

“I will tell you which god I serve.” She turned to Narmer with

a note of triumph in her voice. “I worship El Shaddai, the

Almighty God, the creator of heaven and earth. I trust him

alone with my life.”

Narmer gasped. “You would cast aside the gods of Egypt?”

“I did not intend to cast them aside,” she answered, “but I

have found them helpless. The Almighty God is greater than

all and wiser than all. Pharaoh realized this when he lifted

Zaphenath-paneah to the position of vizier. God knew Pharaoh

hungered after the true god. Therefore God has saved Egypt.”

“Bah!” Narmer turned and gestured toward the priests.

“Listen to this one, disloyal to her husband, her king and her

kingdom! Look at this boy who would claim Egypt’s throne!