Lynda Robinson - Slayer of Gods

He caught up with Ay at the soaring golden gates in the perimeter wall. Hurrying to catch up with his mentor, he had no time to catch his breath as they raced by royal guards, the queen’s steward, Wah, and a shocked chamberlain who tried to announce them. He finally drew even with Ay as the older man threw open the doors to his daughter’s reception hall. They halted on the threshold, stunned.

Surrounded by servants and priests, standing in a shaft of light shining through one of the high windows, Nefertiti turned to face them. Ordinarily her appearance was startling because of her beauty-those enormous eyes, fragile jaw, and hollow cheeks, that long and graceful neck mirrored in even more elegant legs. But what brought them to a standstill was the crown she wore-the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, the crown of a king.

Meren glanced at Ay. The older man’s hands were clenched at his sides as he stared at the sight. Upon Nefertiti’s brow rested the red crown of Lower Egypt, wide and flaring out to hold the inner white crown of Upper Egypt. Ay made some kind of sound only Meren heard, then walked up to his daughter. With a jerky motion of his hand he dismissed the attendants and priests standing around the queen. Nefertiti hadn’t spoken. She swallowed hard, lifted the crowns from her head,and set them in a box held by her chief priest, Thanuro. He hesitated, as if he was considering staying, but Meren jerked his head toward the door, and the priest left. In moments they were alone with the great royal wife of Akhenaten.

Ay stared into her eyes and hissed. “Set and Anubis protect us. Are you mad?”

“Do you think this is my idea?” Nefertiti retorted, her voice rising. She pressed her lips together as if to suppress the violence of her emotions. “This was only a fitting. The crowns aren’t finished.”

“You’re going to let him make you pharaoh?” Ay’s voice cracked. He took a deep breath and began again. “This is madness.”

Throwing up her hands, Nefertiti walked away from them as she spoke. “He says the idea came to him in a vision from the Aten. I am to become king jointly with him. That way he can entrust the daily business of government to me and concentrate on his reformation. You know how he hates diplomacy and administration. It’s almost impossible to get him to make decisions about who is to fill various posts or about distribution of grain supplies, much less deal with foreign kings.”

Ay stalked over to Nefertiti and grabbed her arm. “You can make those decisions without becoming pharaoh. Women don’t become kings. Kings are men, the sons of the great Amun, king of the gods.”

“If I’m pharaoh I can make decisions without bothering Akhenaten, which means he won’t have to tolerate as many interruptions in his campaign to establish the Aten as the only true god.”

Nefertiti gently disengaged Ay’s hand from her arm, and Meren saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. “Don’t you see? He didn’t ask if I wanted to be pharaoh. I have no choice.”

Across the gulf of years the words echoed in Meren’s mind as he sat beside Anath. I have no choice. Had Nefertiti ever had a choice in what befell her?

He glanced at Anath, who had taken back her dagger to polish it with a length of her red robe. “A little more than a year later, she was dead.”

“A great pity,” Anath said, the dagger resting in her motionless hands. “And a tale of great evil. Akhenaten perverted the rightness of things, Meren, but that’s hardly a secret, even if no one speaks of it openly.”

“I told you about it because you were too young to know how things were back then. I felt-most of us felt that chaos ruled. Akhenaten was driving Egypt away from harmony and balance, abandoning all that was right and true. In those final years, Nefertiti was trying to bring him to see reason. It was slow, and she had to go carefully, but she thought she could bring about reconciliation with the old gods. She was working with the priests of Amun.”

Anath scooted around to face him and whispered. “Do you mean she was actually speaking to them? If the king found out…”

“He didn’t,” Meren said. “But all her work came to nothing because she died.”

Nodding, Anath said, “The plague.”

“No.”

Her eyes became slits as she regarded him silently.

“She was poisoned by her steward, Wah. He supplied the poison, and her favorite cook used it over a period of time until she collapsed.”

Anath said a spell against evil under her breath. “By all the demons of the underworld, Meren, what are you saying?” The color ebbed from her face while her breathing sped up. She darted more glances around the garden, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “How do you know this?”

Meren told her about accidentally discovering the truth from Wah before he was killed. “Since then I’ve been trying to find out who ordered Wah to kill Nefertiti, but every time I come upon someone who might be able to help, they’re murdered.”

“This is impossible,” Anath muttered.

“I assure you, it’s not. I wish it were.”

Anath stared into his eyes for a long time, as if she could read the truth in their agate darkness. Finally she nodded once, and Meren knew she had accepted what he’d said. She would never question him again.

“I’m going to Syene tomorrow to find the bodyguard Sebek, but I’ve put it about that I’m sailing for my country house to complete my recovery.”

“Send someone else,” Anath said with a frown. “You’re not strong enough for such a long journey.”

“Yes I am, and besides, the matter is urgent. You were right when you said pharaoh is troubled, Anath. He loved Queen Nefertiti as a mother. His ka suffers great torture knowing that she was murdered and that her killer has gone unpunished for so many years. The idea that her majesty’s spirit cries out for vengeance torments him. Anyway, I must go because there’s no one else. Kysen must remain here to conduct business with the king and to keep an eye on those who may be involved.”

“Who?”

“There are several, but two are Asiatics, so I thought you’d know more about them than anyone here. A dealer in weapons called Dilalu, and a merchant named Zulaya.”

Getting to her feet, Anath dusted off her gown and leaned against the tree trunk. Folding her arms, she cocked her head to the side in her characteristic gesture and regarded him solemnly.

“Dilalu is loyal only to himself and to gold. Riches are his only lust, except for his cat. He’ll cast his own father into the Lake of Fire if paid enough, but he’s a coward. That’s why he surrounds himself with mercenaries. I can’t see him ever having the courage to carry out such a blasphemy.”

“And Zulaya?”

“Zulaya has no interest in the affairs of kings except when they touch his own dealings. I have had business with him often in Babylon. If threatened he’s capable of killing, efficiently and without remorse.”

“Has he ever mentioned Akhenaten or Horizon of the Aten?”

Anath shook her head. “He comes to Egypt for trade, Meren. He has a house here, but he spends more time abroad than in the Two Lands.”

“Someone ordered the queen’s murder,” Meren snapped in frustration.

“Isn’t it more likely to have been an Egyptian?” Anath asked with eyebrows raised.

“That’s what I assumed until I received information that pointed to three men-Zulaya, Dilalu, and Yamen, who is dead.”

“Yamen? An officer in the army. A corrupt officer, if I’m not mistaken. I’ve heard complaints about him from some of the Canaanite vassals.”

“He was murdered before I could fully question him. He was still alive when I reached him, but what he said made no sense.”