Lynda Robinson - Drinker Of Blood

Sebek moved to her side. "Majesty, we should be going. Pharaoh will be anxious if we aren't at the reception of the Babylonian emissaries."

"Just a little longer, Sebek."

The guard held out a sweet cake to her. He had a sack full of bread, onions, and dessert cakes. "You forgot to eat again, majesty."

Suddenly hungry, Nefertiti ate the cake in three bites and took the cup of beer Sebek offered. She heard a little girl's laughter, turned, and without warning beheld the cavernous eyes of the starving girl in Memphis. Sailors, dockworkers, and officials plowed past them while she stared at nothing. What could she do? Akhenaten wouldn't listen to her when she told him of the peoples suffering. Her constant reminders of the consequences of his campaign against the gods already threatened to drive a wedge between them.

"Is something wrong, majesty?"

There were few men to whom she could speak freely. Sebek was one of them.

"Sebek, I swear that being a great royal wife is a burden heavier than a pylon gate, more confining than the bonds of a war captive. I can't rest from this burden if my guards won't let me. I ask you to help me by leaving aside courtly politeness and diplomacy, just once in a while." She waited for a reply, but Sebek appeared to have lost his tongue. Loneliness weighed on her ka with the heaviness of a thousand gold collars. She turned away.

She hadn't gone far when Sebek appeared at her side.

"Majesty, I promise not to object."

"Object? To what?"

"To thy majesty when she tries to drive her chariot down a near-vertical slope." Sebek glanced around the docks. "To visits to the dock vendors and the tomb makers' village."

Nefertiti began to smile for the first time since leaving Memphis.

"We'll follow thy majesty cheerfully. Even if it means spending hours in the House of Life reading from old, dust-infested books." Sebek hated reading. "Such duties are better than listening to the complaints of thy majesty's tenants."

"I hold audience but once a month," Nefertiti said.

Sebek bowed as he walked. "I am thankful, majesty."

"You don't sound like it. Are you weary of serving the great royal wife, Sebek?"

Sebek gave a hooting laugh. "Not when thy majesty insists upon roaming the streets of the city in common dress and without her attendants. My men and I are as agitated as scorpions in a basket."

Nefertiti smiled at the warrior. She'd grown to depend on his humor. As the years passed she had witnessed the results of her husband's religious intolerance and neglect of the empire. During that time pity for and loyalty to Akhenaten warred with her compassion for those who suffered under his rule.

"Thy majesty is troubled."

Nefertiti nodded but said nothing. Lately she had the feeling of foreboding. Akhenaten's intolerance was growing, and the more she tried to convince him of his error, the less he listened. He still loved her, but for how long?

In the distance she could see the river. A fishing boat rowed by two sun-browned boys and an old man glided toward the docks.

"If you fail," she muttered to herself as she watched the old man and the boys, "if you fail, who will speak for them?"

Near Memphis, reign of Tutankhamun

There was an unreal quality to the light that burst over the horizon, or perhaps it was only his perception. Meren felt as if he were seeing everything through chilled honey. His thoughts were thick and slow. Surrounded by disbelieving and hostile men, he could only stare in confusion at the king.

"Well?" The king's voice was shaky but demanding.

When Meren didn't answer, Tutankhamun turned away and held out his hand. A bodyguard gave him a bloody dagger. The king thrust the sullied blade at Meren. Meren found himself staring at his own weapon, which he'd left in his tent. He knew it because it was one of a scarce few in Egypt made of iron. The flat of the blade shone dully-where it wasn't smeared with blood. Lifting his gaze to pharaoh's, Meren shook his head in silence, knowing that any words he spoke would be as feathers swept away in a Nile current.

"I gave it to you," Tutankhamun said in an unsteady voice, "and you tried to kill me with it!"

Meren found his voice at last. "No, majesty, I-"

The king's legs buckled under him. The crowd of soldiers made a sound of dismay as the royal bodyguards caught and lifted the boy. Horemheb shouted orders for the king to be returned to his tent. Then he whirled on Meren and pointed.

"Lord Meren, I arrest you for treason."

Horemheb reached up and clamped a hand on Meren's arm. Without thinking, Meren snatched the sword from his friend's hand and jabbed him in the chest with his foot. Horemheb flew back into the men behind him as Meren hauled on Wind's harness and let out a shrill whistle. At once Star reared, snorting and pawing the air. Infantry and charioteers alike scuttled out of the way.

While Star reared, Meren charged through the crowd. Men scattered, and he aimed for the pickets. Cantering directly at the line of horses, he leaned down and slashed the tethering ropes as he passed. As he cut the tethers, he gave another ear-piercing whistle and slapped several rumps with the flat of his blade. It was enough to stampede the animals, and in an instant horses were racing through camp and jumping the palisades. Arrows buzzed past Meren's head as he galloped after the frightened animals. He whistled to Star when a charioteer rushed at him, his scimitar ready. Swerving to avoid the man, he hugged Wind with his knees, and the stallion sailed over the palisade with Star close behind them.

With the fiery boat of Ra cresting the horizon, Meren raced down the desert road that ran north to the delta and the border of Egypt. He rode hard until he'd left the camp far behind and the sun was fully above the skyline. Then he slowed to a walk to allow Wind to cool down. There was no time to try to make sense of this disaster. Horemheb would come after him, and he had to decide where he was going. If he were an escaped slave or criminal, he would attempt to gain one of the oases to the west or cross the delta and perhaps join the crew of a merchant ship. There was another alternative. From the times of the great ones who had built the pyramids, rebellious subjects and defeated invaders had traversed the roads from the delta border to Palestine and beyond. Horemheb would expect Meren to do the same.

But he wasn't a slave, and he wasn't a criminal or traitor, and his life was here in Egypt. Meren stopped and jumped to the ground. Wind was lathered but still in good shape, and Star even better. The two stood by patiently while Meren walked away from the road to gather handfuls of desert grass. He brushed the ground as he returned, causing his faint footprints to vanish. Then he led the horses off the road, erasing all traces of their passage. The going was slow, but at last he was far enough from the road that he wouldn't be seen when riding his horses. By the time he turned back the way he'd come, heading for Memphis, the day was warm, and the white light of Ra seared his eyes.

The journey took him all day and most of the night, and he hoped never to repeat it. Sweat stung his eyes. He could feel the heat of the solar orb sucking the moisture from his body, and his heart was filled with weariness and confusion. But he dared not stop. The horses needed water, and he had no doubt that Horemheb would eventually realize he wasn't trying to flee Egypt.

When he could no longer delay returning to water, Meren turned east and headed for the Nile. He wouldn't have to go to the river, for it was Inundation, and the flood stretched far beyond the riverbanks. Near dawn, he reached water and rested beside a small, outlying canal. The respite was short, however. He couldn't afford to be seen by some peasant from a nearby village. Before light he headed west again and made for a line of cliffs in the distance.