Tiy and the Prince of Egypt (12 page)

Two days later the proclamation was released to all of Egypt. Tiy found Amenhotep in the shade of a thick palm in their spot by the Nile. His feet hung in the river, his eyes closed. Tiy lay by his side, letting her own feet dangle into the water.

“The preparations have already begun,” Amenhotep said with
no emotion.

She
knew he had to be falling apart inside. He was close to his father and loved him a great deal, but she knew it wasn’t his loss that caused the line between his brows. It was the weight of a nation that would soon rest on his shoulders. Soon he would become Pharaoh. Pharaoh at fourteen!

“What can I do?”
Tiy asked.

“Will you com
e with me to the Valley of the Kings when we place my father in his tomb? I don’t want to be alone.”

Tiy
was surprised by his request. Only the royal family could be near the body as it entered the tomb. Had Amenhotep considered these customs before he asked her? She knew, without a doubt, that he had. Amenhotep had never cared for following customs when he thought them outdated or impractical.

“Of course
I’ll be there. I’ll be wherever you need me to be.”

“Thank you, Tiy
. I don’t want to be alone.”

She didn’t want him to be alone either
. But he was never alone. He was always surrounded by servants, siblings, parents, friends, priests, viziers and officials. The funerary services would be no different.

“I’ll be there with you,”
Tiy said. “But you wouldn’t be alone if you decided you didn’t need me. Petep will be there.

“Yes I would,” he said.

“Your mother and all of Egypt will be with you.”

“
I would be alone.” He looked toward the palms above them, his eyes unblinking.

She
had never seen him so despondent and it frightened her. She wanted to cry for him. If only she could shed tears as easily as Nebetya.

He
appeared so hardened, yet when he turned his eyes to her she could see the pain and fear in them. He held it deeper than anyone else would have recognized, but she knew him well enough to see that he was trying to push it deeper. The boy in him slipped further and further away as the man he thought he needed to be pushed through.

Unspeaking, h
e gazed into her eyes as Tiy watched the change take place. She wanted to cry out and tell him to remain just as he was, remain her Amenhotep forever. She wanted to tell him the pain of his father’s death would subside, that the love he felt from his family would sustain him. She wanted to tell him he could be what Egypt needed him to be without turning to stone and locking the boy away forever. That he was strong and fearless and capable of great things just as he was. He didn’t need to change!

But
her lips were sealed in a fear of her own. Her insecurities washed up inside of her and she knew she’d never be able to express her thoughts at the level of eloquence he needed. She couldn’t heal his pain with words alone, especially her words. Her inability to articulate herself had never been a problem before. He’d always been patient as she’d struggled to translate her thoughts into words. Or he would just look at her face and know.

But now he was
blinded by pain and she was left mute by fear. She could feel the weight of the words she needed to say hold her down. She would never be able to convey just how special he was in a way that would break through the barrier he’d already created.

With
a voice too weak to help him, there was only one thing she could think to do. Nudging closer to him, she took hold of his hand and grasped it tightly. She hoped her touch would convey just how important he was to her, how important he was to all of Egypt.

Amenhotep smiled
with understanding, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He gazed at her until the last flicker of his boyhood slipped away. And then he released her hand and sat up. He pressed his palms to his eyes and ran a hand through his hair in a grown-up gesture she had never seen him do before. His shoulders seemed to broaden before her eyes, his back straightening to bear the load.

Tiy s
at up and looked at both their feet dangling in the water. He looked down as well and pulled his feet out as if the water had suddenly turned to ice.

“
I’ll see you later,” he said.

“Yeah
.” Her heart was breaking for him.

He turned on his heel and left
their secret haven. She had the feeling it was no longer theirs, but hers alone. Amenhotep would never return for afternoons of easy banter, or early mornings of quiet mischief. Adulthood waited across a deep chasm, its hand stretched out to take them. Amenhotep had already made the leap. He was gone.

Tiy tossed in her sleep that night and awoke in a daze. The palace was as still as the stone it was carved from. Candles were lit here and there, but no murmur of voices or pattering of feet filled the halls. Only silence.

The silence lasted seventy days after
Pharaoh’s death. It was a custom that allowed the preparations of his body to take place with respect and dignity. His organs were removed and placed into canopic jars and then his body was anointed with lavish quantities of perfumed oils before being wrapped in fine linen.

On the seventieth day
, Tiy awoke to ear splitting screams of lament. Pharaoh’s body had been prepared for the Afterlife and the funeral procession had begun. She threw on one of her wigs without glancing at the length or style and wrapped her only blue mourning kalasiris around her as she dashed to the lower courtyard.

A
menhotep stood at the head of a golden coffin that held Pharaoh’s body. Half a dozen soldiers hovered around him, their eyes searching the trees and surrounding areas. Not far behind them was Petep with Ramose’s arm around her for support. It appeared they had grown closer amidst the loss of her father.

On the other
side of the golden coffin was the source of all the wailing and weeping. Dressed in various shades of blue were Pharaoh’s chief mourners. They screeched and moaned, pulling at their hair and falling to their knees. Amenhotep kept his head bowed, his face devoid of emotion.

Behind them
were dozens of officials carrying food and wine, scented perfumes, clothing, feathered fans, pottery and glassware. They were funerary goods that would fill Pharaoh’s chamber and make his journey to the Afterlife more comfortable. Her father was among the officials, as was her mother. They had begun their journey from Akhmim several weeks earlier but had kept to their own apartments during the mourning period. They were not among the highest officials who wore white robes with leather headbands. As Pharaoh’s Superintendant of Cattle, and her mother Singer of Hathor, they were minor enough to wear the usual blue.

The priests of various gods were also in attendance, their heads shaven and their robes also crisp white.
Only the High Priest of Amun wore something other than blue or white. As a symbol of his status, a robe of panther skin had been draped over his shoulders.

With everyone assembled and prepared, it was time to take Pharaoh Tuthmo
sis to the Valley of the Kings, a canyon of tombs where Pharaohs of the past were laid to rest.

Tiy
slipped through the mourners and began pushing her way through the soldiers to Amenhotep when a rough shove sent her tumbling to the ground. Several bystanders stared at her with disgust.

“Who do you think you are?” A harsh voice said.

Tiy looked up to see the soldier towering over her. She squinted against the glint of his breastplate as it reflected the sun. She looked around. Several others had stopped what they were doing to see what kind of person would presume to stand near Amenhotep. She wanted to run and hide, anything to get away from the stares that seemed to burn holes right through her.

“You have no right
to be here,” the soldier said. “Step away.”

Tiy
hung her head, she knew she had no right, but Amenhotep had asked it of her and she would not break her promise. “Prince Amenhotep has requested that I remain near him,” she whispered.

The soldier laughed, as did
those watching. Tiy scowled, not just because she was sprawled on the ground with all of Egypt watching, but because they were showing Amenhotep disrespect by laughing on such a sorrowful day. She stood and wiped the dirt off her kalasiris.

“Tiy,” her mother said
as she came to her side. “Come with me, honey. You can join your father and me. You belong with us.”

Tiy
glanced at Amenhotep for help. With his head still down, she knew he was so deep within himself that he hadn’t even noticed the spectacle she had created. She wondered if it would be best to slip away before he saw her. He had probably forgotten his request that she remain near him.

B
ut she couldn’t ignore the slump of his shoulders or the sadness in his eyes. He needed her, and she was determined to keep her promise. If he still wanted her.

“Let me pass,” she whispered
to the soldier.

The soldier turned his back and stepped back into formation, a nasty smirk on his face. Her mother tugged on her arm and a swell of frustration rose up inside her.

“Let me pass!” Tiy shouted.

Amenhotep’s head sho
t up at the sound of her voice and Tiy saw a glimmer of raw emotion flash in his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.

The soldier who had pushed her
replied. “It is just a confused girl, Your Highness. Her mother has come to fetch her.”

“No, I mean
, why won’t you let her through?”

The soldier drew his eyebrows together. “We are charged to keep you safe, Your Highness.”

“Does she look like a Nubian assassin?” Amenhotep shouted.

A gasp spread through the crowd, followed by the hiss of whispers.
The chief mourners continued wailing, however. Amenhotep clenched his fists, no doubt realizing his mistake. He took a few long breaths. “Just let her through,” he said after a moment.

The soldier stepped to the side and narrowed his eyes as Tiy slipped past him.
She ducked her head as the wails of the chief mourners stopped to watch her with wide eyes, their cries replaced by whispers. She pinched out the sound with a hard blink and stepped closer to Amenhotep. Squeezing his arm, she gave him a little smile.

He
glanced at her, the corners of his mouth lifting somewhat. He nodded to the commander and the golden sarcophagus was placed on a carriage. She realized with a stab of guilt that he had been waiting for her. Why hadn’t she woken earlier? She should have been by his side the moment he woke. She wondered how long he’d stood waiting.

The carriage rolled forward and Amenhotep
followed the coffin on foot. Tiy fell into step beside him and together they walked through the city and boarded the
Beauties of Amun
. The remainder of the company boarded the long line of barges that stretched along the Nile, ready to take them toward Upper Egypt and the Valley of the Kings.

The
journey proved long and dreary, spread over several days as they crawled along the river. Amenhotep barely spoke a word to Tiy, although she stood by his side every day. He barely spoke a word to anyone, in fact.

After the first day of silence, Tiy wandered
to the stern, thinking Amenhotep needed to be alone. However, he followed close behind her and stood staring into the water just as he had at the bow. She never dared move from his side after that and let him choose his location for staring. Although he didn’t speak, and she wasn’t sure how much she was helping, she ate when he ate and slept when he slept, believing he needed her near.

The only time she and Amenhotep parted was at night when they entered their personal cabins deep within the boat
. She awoke before him and made her way to the deck where he would find her an hour later. There he would remain until the end of the day when they once again returned to their cabins.

They reached Thebes just before sunset on the fo
urth day and, without pause, disembarked onto the Theban quay, beginning their slow trek west. Weaving through the barren cliffs, they followed the team of oxen as it pulled the heavy sarcophagus, keeping to the dry washes and empty riverbanks carved through the limestone mountains. The tall cliffs stood as a test against time, their ridged faces refusing to be swept away by the wind and water. A tall pyramid-shaped mountain stood above the rest, a stunning contrast to the flat cliffs surrounding it. It was at this peak that their journey would end.

Several priests
took their places around the golden sarcophagus and hefted it onto their shoulders. They would carry it up stone stairs leading to the top of the mountain. As they climbed, the wailing of the mourning women increased to new levels, their cries echoing off the stone canyon walls and reverberating into Tiy’s ears time and time again.

Tiy f
ollowed behind Amenhotep step by step until they ascended to a flattened area near the opening of the tomb. It was on this plateau, of sorts, that the Opening of the Mouth ceremony would take place amid clouds of incense. The High Priest of Amun stood at the entrance, his shaven arms raised as he prepared to reawaken Pharaoh’s soul.

It was a symbolic ceremony
, one Tiy had only heard of but never seen, and one that had to be done so Pharaoh could eat and drink in the Afterlife. The priests removed the top most covering of the golden sarcophagus and the High Priest lifted his eyes to the heavens.

“Awake!” he called out
. “A thousand jars of perfume, incense, herbs to awaken and nourish. Become alert as a living one, rejuvenated by day, strengthened by eternal sleep. May the gods protect you.”

The Priest lowered his
hand and with an iron chisel, touched the eyes, mouth, ears and nose of Pharaoh’s wrapped body.

“
Live again!” the Priest called out. “Live again in death!”

The golden
lid was returned and the sarcophagus carried into the tomb. Amenhotep followed and Tiy crept by his side, doing her best to remain invisible. Out of respect for the ceremonies taking place and because Amenhotep would soon be Pharaoh, no one said a word or tried to stop her. If he wanted her within, no one, it seemed, was brave enough to mention that it went against all propriety for her to remain so near the coffin. She shuffled closer to him and followed him into the tomb.

T
orches hung on either side of a long corridor, illuminating elaborate paintings and intricate carvings. Pharaoh Tuthmosis was depicted on the walls with the gods of the Afterlife—Osiris, Anubis and Hathor—shown presenting him with the Ankh symbol of life. Each painting was exquisite with deep reds and brilliant blues. Thousands of hieroglyphs covered the walls recording the words of the Book of the Dead with instructions for Pharaoh’s Ka to pass through the obstacles of the Afterlife.

The slow walk through the narrow corridors gave
Tiy time to appreciate the artwork and keep an eye on Amenhotep. They descended two staircases then turned left after entering a small chamber with only two pillars. Due to the sudden nature of Pharaoh’s death, the walls had not been painted this deep into the tomb. The bare walls left her feeling uneasy until they reached the burial chamber deep within the mountain.

In the center
of the burial chamber, along the far wall, was a sunken section large enough to hold the sarcophagus. The stone had been painted with figures of the gods in vivid shades of red, blue, yellow and white.

The king’s officials
, including her parents, filed in and out of the storage chambers, depositing the goods they had carried from Memphis. Everything a king would need to live in comfort was supplied in generous amounts and organized in the four storage spaces. Model boats, sandals, and gloves of green and red leather were stacked upon one another to make room for the chests and larger pieces of furniture. Tiy’s mother gave her a pointed glance as she brought in a set of turquoise figurines. The clink of the fine glass echoed against the stone as she set it down on the cold floor. Her mother’s eyes brimmed with questions as she watched her only daughter stand beside the silent Amenhotep.

Amenhotep and the priests performed a final ceremony as
Pharaoh was lowered into the sarcophagus. The wives and official mourners wailed anew, continuing their loud weeping through the ceremony and every step of the way to the entrance of the tomb. By the time they stepped into fresh air again, Tiy’s ears rang and her head pounded. But she ignored her discomfort. Amenhotep was in greater pain than she and he was about to step into the greatest, most demanding role in all of Egypt.