Drinker Of Blood (6 page)

Nefertiti crept up to the group slowly, hoping to divine the reason for Akhenaten's ire before she was noticed.

"He has no right to be offended," Akhenaten was saying, every word a sneer. "The fool is but a priest."

Humay's eyes widened. "He is the high priest of the greatest god of Egypt, Amun, the Hidden One, the king of the gods—"

"That's not true!"

Akhenaten's voice boomed off the walls and evoked a shocked silence. Humay gaped at the prince, then cast a terrified look at Ay, whose visage remained blank.

"I have heard the voice of the True One," Akhenaten said in a calmer voice.

As he launched into a description of his beliefs, the prince grew less angry but more excited. Nefertiti glanced at her father. An accomplished horseman, Ay still retained the figure of an athlete and charioteer. With a start, Nefertiti suddenly realized that her father resembled the ideal warrior pharaoh more than her husband ever would.

The contrast between the muscled form of Ay and the warped figure of the prince was painful, given the general's greater age. Where Ay's shoulders and thighs bulged with strength gained from constant exercise, from hefting spears and bows and riding bareback through the desert, Akhenaten's body was hollow. His shoulders were sunken and rounded. He was thin, his muscles soft from lack of use, and his bones too finely made.

What was more unfortunate, his hips were as wide as a woman's, and his belly looked as though he'd given birth to several children. Although Akhenaten had always been frail, that didn't stop him from getting what he wanted, for Akhenaten's heart was strong in will and intelligence. Unfortunately for Nefertiti, it was also filled with chaos.

Akhenaten had finished his lecture. "Go back to the high priest and tell him what I have said." The prince straightened in his chair and caught sight of Nefertiti, and in less than half a breath his mood changed from mystic irritation to pleasure. He smiled at her.

"My beautiful one has come." He rose and held out his hand to her. "Go away, both of you."

The priest hurried out of the room. Ay bowed to Akhenaten, turned, and passed his daughter. As he neared her, he gave Nefertiti a smile of encouragement. She merely stared back at her father with large, startled eyes. Seeking composure as she put her hand in Akhenaten's, she studied the painting of a rampant bull that formed the central decoration of the audience hall. Black and white, the creature reared ten cubits high against a background of mountains in blue, yellow, and red. Akhenaten squeezed her hand.

"Come, beautiful one. Let us forget these troublesome and ignorant priests of Amun. We'll go outside and receive the blessing of the rays of the Aten."

They sat at the edge of a pool stocked with fish and brimming with water lilies. Akhenaten brought a goblet of wine with him but set it aside. The sun reflected bright sparks off the stone of the pool. Nefertitis eyes ached from too much light, so she kept them lowered. The heavy curtain of her wig provided some protection from the glare.

Akhenaten seemed unaffected by the brilliance. He lifted his face to the sun. His eyes widened for a moment before they were forced closed by the rays of the orb. Seated side by side, they absorbed the light and heat.

"I know you dislike my fighting with the priests," Akhenaten said.

"The way of Egypt is as old as the world, my husband."

"But I have been chosen to give Egypt the Truth, so that the misguided ways of old may be corrected."

Nefertiti frowned. She had listened to Akhenatens version of the truth many times.

"Why, husband? Why must you be so—so different?" She bit her lip, for she sounded like a confused child even to herself when she was trying so hard to be a mature woman.

Akhenaten looked away from her, and a long silence settled over them. Nefertiti grew uneasy, afraid that she had offended. But then she saw Akhenatens face. He was remembering something that caused great pain, and shame. Her husband, the son of the great Amunhotep the Magnificent, was ashamed.

Speaking slowly, as if every word cost him in courage,

Akhenaten turned to her. "You are my wife. You must know everything so that you understand the Truth." Akhenaten waited for her to nod before going on. "I wasn't much older than you when the Aten revealed the Truth to me. I was alone on my estate near Abydos. Father was still keeping me hidden. He wanted no part of a sickly weakling, and he didn't want the people to see me. He knew I'd never be a great athlete and warrior, so he kept me hidden, as if I'd committed some horrible sin. I used to pray to the false gods to make me strong, or at least to give me some sign of their favor. It never came."

Akhenaten stood up and lifted his hands to the sun. "One day I was well enough to drive in my chariot, and I went out alone. I got lost in a desert valley. I knew someone would come looking for me, so I stopped and sat on a flat rock. It was midday and so, so hot. I thought of Father. He would never have gotten lost, not the magnificent Amunhotep."

Nefertiti peered up at her husband and pharaoh. Akhenaten was communing with the sun and seemed to have forgotten her. The silence stretched out. In a sudden sweep Akhenaten brought his arms down.

"Father made me hate myself, may his soul be damned. It was his fault I couldn't even find my way across my own lands. Father wanted me to die." Akhenaten turned to Nefertiti. "I finally realized that out on that rock. And I decided to give Father his wish. I was going to stay out in the desert until I died. The sun's rays were so powerful they went into my bones. I let them bathe me in death. It wasn't long before I felt suffused with brilliant, white light and heat. My ka left my body then and floated up high on the boiling air, higher and higher until it joined with the sun, and my true father, the Aten, revealed himself to me at last."

Always practical, Nefertiti asked, "What did he say?"

Akhenaten blinked at her. "Why, that I'm his son. That I am the embodiment of the Aten on earth. That the Aten is the one source of power of the universe, creator of all. The Aten brings life, makes mountains, causes rivers to flow. The Aten is fertility and passion; everything comes from him." Large hands waved at Nefertiti. "After the Aten revealed the Truth to me, I understood why I was different. I'm the embodiment of creation. I am the masculine and feminine force. I am the Aten on earth, and all must recognize me as such. So you see, beautiful one, we don't need all these false gods. They're really all imperfect reflections of the Aten. The people don't need Amun. They don't need Osiris. They'll pray to me for eternal life. It is I who can give it to them in the name of my father, the light that comes in the sun disk."

Again Nefertiti returned to mundane matters. "If the Aten is so powerful, why did he let all the other gods usurp his rights?"

"Nefertiti!" Akhenaten glowered at her. "Men imagined those gods. They don't exist, I tell you."

Pharaoh's voice rose. Nefertiti leaned away from her husband, suddenly frightened by the molten obsidian of his gaze.

"You will honor my words," Akhenaten ground out. "I am the son of pharaoh; I am the Aten personified. You'll believe because I wish it."

Akhenaten stared into Nefertiti's eyes. Unwilling, she stared back into the eyes of chaos. Her throat and mouth went dry. She felt as if she were a gazelle in the mouth of a lion. She was being choked by powerful jaws. Without warning, Akhenaten's mood changed. He straightened, smiling.

"Don't worry." The king sat back beside Nefertiti again and took up his goblet. "You'll see the Truth in time. There is no other possibility." Akhenaten put the goblet in Nefertiti's hand. "This is a sacred wine I made with the help of an old sorcerer priest of Ra. It's full of magic herbs and touched with the rays of the Aten himself. I use it to help me commune with my father. Only take two sips."

Nefertiti took a small drink. It was wine. Wine and something else that burned her mouth. The fumes from the goblet got in her throat and nose. She almost sneezed as she took a second sip. Akhenaten took the cup back and drained it. He said something, but Nefertiti was listening to the buzz in her head. It reminded her of a honeybee. It was a buzz in emptiness, like a bee in a deserted tomb. She swatted at the bee. Akhenaten caught her hand.

"We will praise the Aten, beautiful one. Say the words with me.

Nefertiti found that she could repeat the words of praise, even though it was hard to stand with her arms raised to the sun as Akhenaten did. Unfortunately, it was a long hymn with many phrases saying there was no other god. Akhenaten enjoyed repeating that he was the only one who knew the Aten. When they reached the portion in which the gifts of the Aten were listed—all beasts, trees, herbs, birds, ships, roads, fish— Nefertiti yawned.

It seemed to her that each word took hours to say. She was sure her mouth moved more slowly than cold honey. They praised the Aten's power over the animals and plants, over man, water, and earth, all to the accompaniment of that entombed bee in Nefertiti's head. The buzzing grew louder and hurt her ears, but Akhenaten's voice cut across the sound and made it stop. Nefertiti sighed, then drew back as her husband's face loomed at her.

"Now you see, wife. My father does love me, for my father is the Aten."

Nefertiti gave another deep sigh. Her tongue was getting too big for her mouth. She licked her lips. "Your father is pharaoh."

"No. He's the Aten." Akhenaten steadied her with a hand on her arm. "My father the Aten has spoken to me of you. You are the embodiment of all that is good in our family of god-kings. Beauty and strength, my Nefertiti. It's no accident that you and I are as we are. We complement each other. The Aten has given me another Beautiful Child of the Sun."

By now Nefertiti's head felt too heavy for her neck. Her skin burned and yet felt numb. How this could be, she wasn't sure. She was dizzy and tired, and bored with communing with the Aten. The Aten was everything, according to Akhenaten, but at the moment Nefertiti considered the sun disk to be an enemy. It burned her eyes and made her heart race.

Akhenaten was in the middle of a sentence. Nefertiti made a shushing sound and sank down on the pool ledge. She leaned over the water, dipped her hands in it, and fell in. The coolness was such a relief that she decided to stay under the surface until the sun went away. The last thing she remembered before she went into darkness was Akhenaten's hands cutting through the water in search of her.

Memphis, the reign of Tutankhatnun

Late on the morning of his meeting with Dilalu, Meren was standing in the wake of a breeze created by the undulation of ostrich feather fans wielded by royal servants on the loggia of the royal palace. From the shade beside a slender column carved in the shape of an elongated water lily, he listened only partially while the old overseer of the audience hall went over plans for the feast of Opet with pharaoh.

This was the daily gathering of the king's ministers and councillors. They stood in groups about the loggia, deep in discussion, some in argument. Maya, the treasurer, who loved ceremony and merriment, was one of the few paying heed to the overseer of the audience hall, along with the king's uncle and chief minister, Ay. Prince Djoser's presence was a courtesy on the part of pharaoh, and perhaps an attempt to find a vocation more suitable to the young man than soldiering. He was standing beside a table loaded with roasted duck and pigeons and sharing jokes with Lord Pendua.

The two military men, Generals Nakhtmin and Horemheb, formed another enclave, guarding a tall, curved wine jar set in a stand and draped with garlands. Ordinarily Meren would have been drawn into conversation, for he liked both Maya and Horemheb, but his meeting with Dilalu weighed on his heart. He stared out across the court, in which lay an azure reflection pool large enough to carry several pleasure boats. Ancient sycamores and palms formed shady avenues around the water, while beds of exotic flowers were interspersed with rows of spice trees.

A black shadow caught Meren's eye. Beside the reflection pool and a patch of sunlight, Sa, the king's black leopard, lifted his head. Golden eyes opened and stared at him. Sa's tail flicked lazily back and forth, as if he were debating whether Meren was prey or not. Meren whispered the cat's name. Sa blinked, then yawned and got up, padding slowly to a shady spot under a myrrh tree.

Sa made Meren think of the merchant's cat. A greater contrast he could not imagine. Yet as he recalled the encounter with Dilalu, Meren grew more and more uneasy. Kysen's pirate friend Othrys had been wary of Dilalu, and according to his son, there was little that frightened Othrys. The fool who had presented himself before Meren wouldn't frighten a bean goose.

The scattered councillors began to move. Meren dragged his thoughts back to matters at hand. Pharaoh had called his name. He walked back to the king, who was seated on a chair of polished cedar decorated in red sheet gold. Bowing low, he took his place beside Ay while Maya shuffled through a stack of papyri on a nearby table.

"About this matter of the Hittite," the king said. "My majesty sent a royal messenger to King Suppiluliumas as you insisted, Meren."

"Thy majesty is wise," Meren said.

The king's young face, usually impassive when dealing with matters of government, flushed. His dark brows drew together. "My majesty likes not having to explain myself to that barbarian."

"His emissary was killed by an Egyptian, majesty."

"I wanted to kill Mugallu myself." The Hittite emissary had insulted pharaoh, and Tutankhamun hadn't forgotten.

"Yes, golden one, and thy patience is wondrous."

The king glared at him in frustration. "My patience is forced on me by you, Meren. I have no choice in the matter."

"Majesty," Meren said with the reproving tone of a father, "you have chosen the wisest course, which is not the same as having no choice."

"It is with you and Ay here to remind me of my duty night and day."

Tutankhamun's fingers were wrapped around a jeweled pen case. He slapped the cylinder against his palm, and Ay hastened to distract the king with a matter of property ownership to be settled between two princes. Meren schooled his features so that he didn't betray his amusement. The golden one seldom allowed his temper such freedom before his less intimate councillors.