Lynda Robinson - Drinker Of Blood

Although it had been closed, the temple hadn't deteriorated to this state the last time she visited the city. The house of the god was dark. Gashes cut through the paint on the massive pylons, and the great doors-stripped of their gold-hung open. She blinked. Was she mad? Did she see a peasant leading donkeys through the sacred precinct? Tents. She saw tents, and goats.

Mighty Amun, forgive us . There were weeds growing inside the temple courtyards. No wonder the gods had abandoned her. But she couldn't do anything to prevent this rapid deterioration. If she did, word would speed to Akhenaten. Her actions were watched by great ones and commoners alike, including those in her household. Some, like Tutu, kept their ears pricked for any transgression that might be used to lessen pharaoh's affection for her.

Walking along the railing, Nefertiti let the desecrated temples go by. Silence governed the normally talkative crew of the royal ship, but she paid no heed to the apprehensive glances the sailors cast at her. She would pray to the Hidden One for forgiveness.

Until she arrived at the palace, Nefertiti avoided looking in the direction of the temple. It only reminded her of the god's anger and how her children had suffered because of it. While her household prepared for residence, she tried to take comfort in the familiarity of her old rooms. The jewel-blue of the water scene on the floor had been the girl's delight. In a spot near the bed, her favorite painted fish gleamed, all black, blue, and yellow scales.

When she could stand no more of the bustle of unpacking, she dismissed her attendants. A stroll around the bedchamber convinced her that no one lingered nearby. From a casket she removed a pen holder. A tubular case made for rush pens, it was another of Akhenaten's myriad gifts. The container was modeled in the shape of a palm-tree column and consisted of wood overlaid with gold foil and inlaid with precious stones.

Nefertiti ran her fingers over the bright green-and-blue hieroglyphs that spelled her name before she removed the stopper and pens. With a last glance around the room she worked a finger into the tube and withdrew a roll of papyrus. The pen holder was discarded. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she unrolled the papyrus by the light of an alabaster lamp.

Her own handwriting scrawled across three pages in what she liked to think of as a plan to restore the Two Lands to Maat. It had taken her and Ay many days of plotting and planning to come up with these few scraps of paper. The most difficulty was caused by trying to balance the needs of the Two Lands against the prejudice of Akhenaten and the cries for revenge from the priests of Amun. Add to that the dissatisfaction in the army, and achieving harmony and balance became more difficult than making friends with a jackal.

Her fingers let the papyrus snap back into a tight roll. Never had she felt so desolate and alone. Ay's plans to return the army to its old efficiency, her strategy to round up those who embezzled imposts and dues intended for pharaoh, all depended on their ability to invoke obedience from the powerful priesthood and army. It was she who must command the loyalty to the throne despite the hatred Akhenaten deliberately courted.

With a sigh Nefertiti twisted the papyrus and slipped it back into the pen holder. She blew out the lamp, discarded her robe, and lay down. She said a brief prayer to Amun, asking for a peaceful sleep.

"Husband, why can't I hate you? Then my heart would find balance."

It wasn't within her ka to despise Akhenaten completely. No one had ever told her that love was a hard thing to destroy. For every time Akhenaten indulged in an excess of fanaticism, there was an unexpected kindness to match it. And Akhenaten was good to her as well. She remembered the day on which she'd become his wife. He'd given the largest feast she'd ever seen. And in the years that followed he had confided in her, trusted her, and become openly proud of her governing skills. When Nefertiti sequestered herself with Ay and a pile of foreign letters, Akhenaten would forbid the court to disturb her.

If only he was totally evil; but he's not. He's kind to the people of his city. He cares for those who are in trouble, once he can be brought to pay attention to them. He even keeps that drunken steward Ahmose, and I wouldn't have that idiot in my household for a week.

Nefertiti rubbed her temples and tried to ease the tension in the muscles across her forehead. She would try to forget Akhenaten for a little while. She needed rest, and she craved respite from this eternal battle between love and hate.

Three nights of solitude brought some peace to her ka. She spent this time cultivating the appearance of inactivity. She gossiped with her sister and ladies. She sailed on the river and chose new pleated gowns of the sheerest linen. Then word came from Shedamun that the priests of Amun would be in Thebes in nine days. By the end of those nine days, Nefertiti was sick of fittings and holdings feasts for local nobility. She was even more tired of the rituals of the Aten carried on by the ubiquitous Thanuro.

"The man is irritating," Nefertiti said to her father. "When he isn't performing rituals, he's busy ferreting out more of Amun's hidden treasures or trying to get me to give him yet another lucrative post."

It was the day of the meeting with the priests. She, Sebek, and Ay stood beside the Nile, watching fishermen cast their nets. Ay waded out among the water plants, spear in hand. His voice subdued, he stared into the river. "Thanuro knows that there are two paths to the king's favor-absolute devotion to the Aten, and service to you. Perhaps you haven't given the man enough to do." He stabbed downward, but missed.

Nefertiti chuckled. "He could give you fishing lessons."

Ay rolled his eyes and splashed drops of water at her.

Nefertiti returned the splash, then grew serious. "About our plans for this evening. Did you not say that famous dancer from Tyre was in the city?"

"Yes" Ay said.

"Is she good?"

Ay shrugged, but Sebek answered.

"Majesty, she and her troupe could hold the attention of an army."

"Bring her to the palace tonight and see that she distracts my household. Say that I've given permission for a banquet for my hardworking servants."

Sebek and Ay grinned at her.

That night Nefertiti set out for the meeting with an easy heart. Ay came with her into a poor district where the meeting was to take place, but she refused to take any guards other than Sebek. Thus it was a small party that stepped into the narrow front room of a deserted fisherman's house. Sebek remained outside.

In the uncertain light of clay bowls filled with oil, Nefertiti could barely make out three men in plain, cheap kilts. One carried an old walking stick, and none had the shaved head of a priest.

Nefertiti stepped from behind Ay and drew back the hood of the cloak she'd worn to conceal her face. Lamplight cast a dull gleam on the gold at her wrists. As the cloak fell away from her face, she heard a gasp quickly stifled. The three men knelt. The fact that they didn't touch their heads to the floor wasn't lost on Nefertiti. She gave permission for the men to rise and took the only chair in the room. Ay took up a stance at her right hand.

From a black corner Shedamun edged forward to stand between the priests and Nefertiti. "I–I told you the queen would come. I told you. Th-they didn't believe me, majesty."

Nefertiti made a slow, economical gesture with one hand. Shedamun quieted. She had to establish dominance at once. Already the man with the walking stick was eyeing her with satisfaction. She could almost hear the man's thoughts. He probably expected an awed and frightened woman.

"Father, you may give me the names of these men."