Authors: 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 hours, 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.