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“I promise too.”
The bedroom was still then, uncomfortably so. The warm desert air flowed in through the open window, and Tut could smell the faint and wonderfully familiar musk of the Nile.
Ankhesenpaaten took a deep breath, and then she pulled back the sheets, unafraid to show herself to her husband.
In their many years together, Tut had never seen his half sister naked, and now he gasped at the realization that she was exceptionally shapely and beautiful.
“Take off your kilt, Tut,” she said.
The pharaoh did as he was told. And he was beautiful too.
Chapter 42
Thebes
1326 BC
THE NIGHTS OF PASSION were but a bittersweet memory to Ankhesenpaaten now. Still the young queen had never been more excited-or frightened.
“I’m late,” she whispered, rolling over in bed and propping her chin on Tut’s chest. She could feel her breasts pressing against his ribs, as she reached down to touch between his legs.
“How often have I heard that?” Tut replied, doing his best to sound pharaoh-like, instead of utterly smitten.
“Tut,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered, mounting him. “I am three months late. We are going to have a baby. I’m certain of it. So tonight, let’s celebrate.”
Tut gazed up at her and supported her body by clasping her breasts. She leaned forward and began rocking slowly, all the while caressing his face with her hands.
“Think of a name,” she said softly, closing her eyes as pleasure coursed through her body.
“Nefertiti,” he said.
“What if it’s a boy?”
“Nefertiti.” Tut laughed.
“What about Tuthmosis? Or Amenhotep? Those are royal names.”
Ankhesenpaaten moaned then; names no longer seemed important to her.
She was usually very quiet in bed, but on that morning she was sure she woke all of Thebes as she climaxed. The sensation seemed to go on and on, a wave of pleasure that rolled through her once-barren body just as surely as the Nile flowed through Egypt ’s desert sands.
She looked down at Tut and watched his shoulders tense as ecstasy contorted his beautiful face. Then he let out a most unpharaoh-like cry.
“We are going to have a baby,” repeated Ankhe-senpaaten.
Chapter 43
Tut’s Palace
1326 BC
THAT HAD BEEN five months ago.
Now, perched atop a royal birthing stool, Ankhesenpaaten clenched her abdominal muscles and pushed one last time-at least she prayed this was the last time. As Tut stood by her side, clasping Ankhe’s hand, their child finally joined them, delivered into the waiting hands of the royal physician.
It was stillborn.
The poor baby was obviously deformed, with one shoulder much higher than the other and a spine curved sideways, and just as obviously dead.
“Summon the royal magician,” the doctor said emphatically, speaking to a courtesan standing just behind Ankhesenpaaten.
The royal magician would be charged with healing whatever illness had caused the queen to miscarry, burning hot coals on the floor between her legs as she remained on the low stool, allowing the smoke to enter her womb and clean out all impurities.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Ankhesenpaaten asked in a weak voice. She felt like crying but held back the tears. She had always been a strong girl.
“I do not think it matters, Queen,” said the doctor.
“Boy or girl?” barked Tut in a voice that indicated he would not brook such insolence.
The physician sat up straight, remembering his place. “A girl, Majesty.”
Ankhesenpaaten held out her arms. The umbilical cord co
Ankhesenpaaten ran a finger over the baby’s head, touching the small nose and stroking the soft black tufts of hair. The child’s eyes were closed, and she kissed each one.
All too soon, she knew, the royal embalmer would mummify this newborn and place it in the royal tomb to await the death of her parents.
“We will get to know one another in the afterlife,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered. “I love you, my darling Nefertiti.”
Chapter 44
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
IT WAS HIS TIME NOW, but was he ready-quite possibly to die? Tut stood alone in his tent, his stomach a knot of nerves and fear. Adrenaline raced through his body as he anxiously clenched and unclenched his fists, then bounced lightly on his toes a half dozen times. He was all of seventeen years old, and he was going to war.
Outside, he could hear swords clanking and horses whi
Tut whispered a silent prayer to Amun. He strapped on his leather chest armor, slid a sword into the scabbard at his waist, then stepped out into the harsh desert sunlight to join his soldiers.
Unlike many of these men, whose wives followed the army, Tut had traveled alone. Sadness over the loss of their child had changed things between Tut and Ankhesenpaaten. Even though she had become pregnant again, things weren’t the same. She was moodier, more grown-up.
Unlike his father, who stayed home with Nefertiti every day of his life, Tut began traveling. He hunted deer with Aye, whom he continued to distrust. And he fell under the spell of General Horemheb, particularly on the subject of warfare. To be a real man, Tut decided he needed to do battle. He needed to be here with the army.
Now he had a chance to fight for the first time. He would test his mettle today, and perhaps he would die.
The great Egyptian army was encamped near the Canaanite city of Megiddo, a desert fortress surrounded by towering walls of mud and limestone. There was a good chance the Canaanites would refuse to come out and fight, preferring to endure an Egyptian siege than to be slaughtered in full view of their women and children.
Tut prayed that this would not be so. He ached for his first taste of battle.
The gleaming sword weighed heavily against his hip as he inspected his chariot team. Like soldiers before him, Tut vowed to be strong and to show no fear, but he worried that he might turn and flee.
“You have a talent for drawing, Pharaoh. Your images of the gods are so powerful that I feel the urge to bow down at the sight of them,” said Horemheb, who had stepped up to Tut’s side. It was a snake-like compliment about Tut’s passion for art, a not-too-subtle insinuation that the boy was timid like his father.
“Are you saying I should have stayed in Thebes, General?” Tut was unafraid to ask hard questions, even of men decades his senior.
Now he wiped the sweat from his brow. He surveyed his men-infantry, archers, and charioteers assembling in long orderly columns. A simple sweep of the eyes brought into view an arsenal the likes of which few had seen before: powerful bows and maces, highly sharpened axes, spears, and daggers glistening in the sun.
Having so much power at his disposal excited Tut in a way that he never could have imagined. No, he was not his father’s son. He was a warrior!