Tiy and the Prince of Egypt (21 page)
Read Tiy and the Prince of Egypt Online
Authors: Debbie Dee
“Amenhotep,” Tiy whispered, “Are you still awake?”
“No.”
“If we go to war, will you be leading the army into battle?”
“Shhh, I’m sleeping. We’ll ta
lk about it more tomorrow.”
He tucked her closer to him, her back pressing against his chest. He was her best friend, yet lying next to him with his arms around her seemed to cross over the line of friendship and into a territory she didn’t fi
nd as awkward as she thought she would. She realized with a flutter that something in their relationship had changed forever.
PART
3
D
eser
t
W
arrior
138
8
BC
The rebellion in the south escalated despite Amenhotep’s efforts for a peaceful resolution. They received reports of livestock being slaughtered and crops destroyed. Groups of angry fanatics blocked malachite and galena quarries, and robbers barricaded trade routes to prevent the passage of ivory and ebony into Egypt.
Tiy
developed her own correspondence with foreign dignitaries in hopes of assisting Amenhotep in his diplomatic efforts. As kings and high officials from other countries sent lengthy correspondences with accompanying gifts of gold, she felt her confidence rise. They welcomed her involvement and she soon became more comfortable interjecting herself in foreign and local policies. With Amenhotep’s attention turning to the escalating rebellion, she often found herself sitting alone upon the Horus throne, making fierce decisions, dictating necessary orders, and sharing intelligence of vital importance with the priests and royal officials. As the days progressed, she found she could be fierce and strong and yet still rule with fairness and thoughtful consideration.
She
was becoming more comfortable with herself, no longer lathering mass quantities of perfumed oils on her skin to prevent freckles. Rather, she spent hours in the sun, soaking up its warmth and letting the breeze explore her yellow locks. She often took her wig off as she wandered the palace grounds, the growing confidence within her keeping her usual embarrassment at bay. She had always liked herself, but now she wasn’t afraid to reveal her true self—the new, stronger, more confident person she’d become.
“Amenhotep
is waiting for me,” Tiy said to Nebetya. “Everyone is waiting.”
“Let them wait,” Nebetya said
as she dusted gold onto Tiy’s cheeks and brow. “It isn’t every day a girl becomes a woman.”
“I became a woman the day I
married Pharaoh.”
Nebetya and the other servant girls ducked their heads to hide a knowing smile.
Tiy shook her head. “What I meant was that I became an adult the moment I took Egypt on my shoulders and became her queen. I haven’t been a child since I sat on the Horus throne two years ago.” Tiy paused as a sudden thought struck her. When had she jumped over the chasm of youth? She didn’t remember a precise moment, or a conscience decision to step into adulthood. It had just happened, almost without her knowing it.
“Even so,” Nebetya said, bringing Tiy out of her musings, “it is the eve of
your seventeenth year since birth. There is much cause for celebration.” She burst into a fresh wave of tears.
Another servant moved in take over Nebetya’s efforts, applying aged honey to diamonds before placing t
he tiny gems near the outer corner of Tiy’s eyes. After several long minutes of silence, other than Nebetya’s sobs, the servants stepped back and bowed.
Tiy stood and gave Nebetya’s shoulder a squeeze
. “It is just another celebration,” she said.
Nebetya nodded and Tiy
left her room and made her way to the Assembly Chamber. The room twinkled with the light of a thousand small candles clinging to the walls. Each flame lit the center of a tiny lotus bud that had been molded from wet sand and pressed against the walls as it dried. The temporary plaster would be a mess to clean in the morning, but it would be an effort well worth the sight.
A
menhotep rose from his throne and the music ceased. A rustle of fabric filled the silence as their guests lowered to the ground. Tiy kept her chin high as she followed the break in the crowd and stepped onto the dais. After a surprisingly elegant curtsy for Amenhotep, she accepted his outstretched hand and took her place next to him.
Amenhotep tapped his crook twice and the music resumed, the guests continuing their
lively dance and conversation. “You are so old,” he said low enough that only she could hear. “I hope you don’t start going gray because I can’t be married to someone who looks
that
old.”
Tiy’s mouth fell open.
Amenhotep winked and then laughed, his shoulders bouncing up and down as he tried to hold his laughter in.
While nodding at a noblewoman who had bowed in greeting, Tiy pinched the inside of Amenhotep’s arm. “
I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked with a sly smile.
Amenhotep grinned. “I said I can’t believe I’m married to
someone who looks like gold.”
“
That’s what I thought you said.” She smiled and rubbed her finger across her cheek, holding it up for Amenhotep to see the gold dust. “I
am
wearing gold,” she said with a laugh.
Amenhotep took her hand and kissed her gold-dusted fingertip. “Not all the gold in the world could out shine you.”
A scream filled the Assembly Chamber, smothering the warmth in Tiy’s chest and wiping the smile from Amenhotep’s face. Another scream pierced the air followed by a dozen voices shouting from the entryway. Arrows showered in from the high windows, and before Tiy could make sense of her actions, she lurched for Amenhotep, pulling him off his throne. They fell to their knees in a huddle as a swarm of soldiers surrounded them. Amenhotep glanced over his shoulder and Tiy followed his gaze to find the blade of an axe embedded into the throne where Amenhotep’s head had been moments before. He flinched and crouched closer to the floor, pulling Tiy to him. Another round of arrows, spears and axes erupted from every direction, beating against the guards’ shields.
“Crawl underneath the throne,” Amenhotep shouted over the screams. “You can hide in the room behind the
Mitannian rug.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Tiy said. “I’m meant to protect you.”
“You have,” he said, glancing at the axe again.
Tiy shook her head. The room sounded as if it was
crashing down all around them—glass shattering, wood splintering, pots smashing. How much longer would their guards be able to withstand the onslaught? “Come with me,” she said.
“I will not abandon my people.”
“Neither will I!”
“You have no training in
combat. You’ll be dead the moment you step out from behind the guards.”
As if to reinforce his statement, a
n arrow sliced between the legs of their guards and grazed across her shoulder, cutting it just enough to draw blood. She let out a surprised yelp.
Amenhotep’s jaw tightened.
“I won’t have you in the middle of this,” he said, pushing her toward the throne. “Get under there.”
Tiy threw her weight against him
, her back to his chest, and braced her feet against the throne legs. “You are the one who should escape,” she said through clenched teeth. “Egypt would be lost without you! I am nothing to Egypt.”
Amenhotep flipped her around as if she
were no heavier than a rag doll. “I am Egypt,” he said, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “And you are everything to me. I want you behind that rug. Now!”
Tiy opened her mouth to protest but Amenhotep help up a hand. “In the far corner there is a chest with a sword in it. It is Roman so it might feel strange in your hands, but I want you to take it up and hold it out in front of you until I come for you.”
Tiy looked down at Amenhotep’s weaponless state and nodded. She didn’t care what he said. She was going to grab the sword and bring it back to him. If he insisted on putting himself in danger, then she refused to leave him without a way to protect himself. She took a deep breath and ducked underneath the throne.
Sliding on her belly,
she reached the corner of the hanging rug and slipped behind it. She jumped to her feet and dashed to the chest, pulling it open to reveal the Emperor of Rome’s gift. She didn’t have time to admire its beauty. Grabbing the hilt she whirled around and her breath caught in her throat. A man in a dark cloak stood between her and the door.
“
The gods are in my favor tonight,” he said with a Nubian accent. “They have put the Queen of Egypt at the tip of my sword.”
Tiy held up the Roman sword, the jeweled hilt glinting off the Nubian
man’s face. As far as Egypt was concerned she was the goddess Nekhbet, almighty and powerful. Why would the gods turn on one of their own? She squared her shoulders. “You cannot harm me,” she said.
The Nubian raised an eyebrow. “I can and I will. And then I
will end your pharaoh’s reign. I have no doubt he is still cowering between his throne and guards.”
“It is better that he not fight this battle. A dead king can do nothing for his people.”
The Nubian smirked. “Exactly.”
He lunged forward and Tiy thrust her sword toward him, aiming for the softness of his bare stomach. But in a movement almost too swift to believe, he knocked the blade out of her grip and clenched his arm around her neck.
Tiy reached back and pressed her thumbs into the Nubian’s eyes
, screaming with every ounce of strength she had left. His grip loosened, but not enough for her to get away. She squirmed and reached back to try again, but he snatched both her hands in his and wrestled her to the ground, pinning her underneath him.
“Don’t worry,” the Nubian whisper-shouted
in her ear. “It will be only moments before Pharaoh joins you. And with no heir to speak of, Egypt will crumble.” He twisted both arms behind her and pressed a knee into her overlapped hands.
Tiy turned her head, her cheek pressing against the
cold marble floor. “Egypt will live. As will Pharaoh!”
The Nubian pulled a knife from his waist
and brought it to her neck. Tiy sucked in a breath, bracing for the moment the cool metal dug into her flesh.
The Mitannian rug flung to the side, ripping from the walls
to expose Amenhotep with a swarm of guards behind him. His eyes bulged, but before Tiy could call out to him, he snatched a bow from the nearest guard and shot an arrow into the Nubian’s chest.
The Nubian clutched a
t the protruding arrow and crumbled forward. Tiy cried out as the arrow nock bore down onto her back, the force of it pushing the shaft further into the Nubian’s chest. She struggled against the weight of death on her back and just as she thought she might scream again, the Nubian flew off her back and into the wall. Amenhotep lowered his arms and knelt by her side.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice
shaking with anger.
Ti
y brought a hand to her neck and sighed with relief. She felt nothing but unbroken skin. She shook her head. “I’m unharmed. What about you? Are you hurt?”
“No.” He stood and took
a deep breath, waves of anger rolling from him. “They have gone too far.”
Ti
y nodded. “How did this happen?” Her voice cracked at the end.
Amenhotep pulled her
to her feet and gathered her into his arms. “Oh, Tiy,” he said. “When I heard you scream…”
Tiy
pulled back to look into his eyes. He looked haunted, as if his sanity had been pushed over the edge. He blinked twice and seemed to get a hold of himself, his strength and courage returning.
Tiy
noticed the silence outside the room. “Is it finished?” she asked.
“No,” Amenhotep said.
Tiy straightened. “We should go help them. We need to fight for our people!” She took hold of his upper arm and began pulling him toward the door.
Amenhotep didn’t budge. “The rebel faction has been eliminated. This one, at least. It is the rebellion that isn’t finished. I can no longer pretend that it will resolve by letters alone.”
“What do you mean?”
Amenhotep picked up the fallen Roman sword. “I will fight to protect Egypt.”
Tiy sucked in a breath. So, it would be war. She squared her shoulders. “I will fight with you. We all will.”
