James Patterson - The Murder of King Tut

Now he saw her.

The girl looked to be sixteen or seventeen. Tut remembered admiring her at a state dinner and thinking she might be the daughter of a local dignitary. That she was a great beauty, there was no doubt. She stood at the side of the bed, very demure, moonlight shining through her sheer robe. Tut was mesmerized at the sight of her: her shape, her long black hair, her dark eyes still painted. Her perfume was a pleasing combination of lemon and flowers.

“What is your name?” he said softly, surprised to feel the beating of his own heart, surprised that he cared about her feelings.

“Tuya,” she whispered.

“Take off your robe, Tuya. Don’t be afraid. There’s no need of that. Not here.”

Tuya did as she was told, pulling the fabric from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

“Turn around for me. Slowly. You’re very beautiful. Please, don’t be fearful.”

She spun in a circle, her shoulders back and head held high. Then she took a tentative step toward him.

“Wait,” Tut said, seized by a sudden image of Ankhesenpaaten. What was his queen doing now? And what would she say if she could see him? How would this affect their love-what Aye had called “cozy affections”?

Tuya stopped and self-consciously placed her hands over her breasts.

Tut got out of bed then and walked to her. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him, which only increased his arousal.

Next, he kissed Tuya’s lips and found them to be soft, even more so than Ankhe’s. Her breath was fresh and sweet, and she hungrily thrust her tongue into his mouth.

The young pharaoh didn’t think of his queen for the rest of that long sleepless night.

Tut’s Palace

1324 BC

ANKHESENPAATEN COULDN’T SLEEP. The mere thought of what was happening in Tut’s bedroom filled her with jealousy and more than a little sadness. From the time they were children, she had always loved Tut. And the men in the palace had always gotten in the way.

She stood and slipped on a robe, then walked quietly outside into the gardens. The air was cold, and she shivered from the chill. There was much on her mind. She thought of Tut again and that girl and then quickly banished the image from her mind.

He’s not enjoying it, she assured herself.

Oh, yes he is, shot back an inner voice.

That night at dinner she’d overheard the servants laughing at her, scornful that a queen was incapable of bringing children into the world.

Yes, I can! she’d wanted to scream. I have brought two wonderful children into this world. The gods have seen fit to send them to the afterworld, but I will bear more.

Why does no one point the finger at Tut?

Why does he not endure the pain of childbirth, only to have the infant perish? Why is he allowed to take a woman to his bed to produce an heir, while I am left here alone? What if I felt like taking a man to my bed? What then? Maybe I do feel like it sometimes.

She stood and paced. The queen was barefoot, and the path had many small pebbles that dug into the soles of her feet, causing her to step gingerly. One sharp stone made her stop completely. Yet she reveled in the petty annoyance. This is nothing like childbirth, Tut! That was pain!

She considered racing to the other side of the palace and confronting the lovers, all tangled and sweaty in his bed.

You told him to do it, she reminded herself.

Yes, but I didn’t mean it.

She would march in and claw the girl’s face until her beauty was gone forever. And then she would strike out at Tut.

No, I can’t do that. I do love him. He is my king, the king of all of Egypt.

But he abandoned you. He is in another woman’s arms this very minute. They are speaking intimate words-whispering and laughing and touching one another. That’s treason, in its own way. Why shouldn’t he die?

He is a pharaoh, and pharaohs have harems. This is just one girl.

But we promised each other. We promised to be true.

He would kill me if I broke that promise.

No, he wouldn’t. He may never touch you again. But he wouldn’t kill you.

It doesn’t matter. I could do it. A simple thrust with a knife is all it would take.

Be smart about this. Take a breath and think.

I am the queen. I am the woman of full noble birth. It was through marriage to me that Tut gained his throne.

I can do the same with another man. Just watch me.

Tut’s Palace

1324 BC

“IT’S YOU, PHARAOH.” Aye smirked, and nobody in the palace could smirk like Aye.

They marched side by side to the royal stables, the air smelling of manure and sweet green alfalfa. Tut was already late for his chariot ride.

Tuya had kept him up all night again, and rather than sleep the day away he was determined to revive himself with a hard gallop across the desert on the east side of the Nile. In truth, he was troubled and confused-about Tuya-and about Ankhesenpaaten.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Your words are a muddle.”

“Tuya is not with child. The problem is not her, Pharaoh, and it is not your queen. You are the reason there is no royal heir. It’s you! ”

Tut flushed angrily. “That is not possible! My manhood is beyond question.”

He had reached his chariot and now grabbed the reins from a young stable boy. The horses lifted their heads from a trough of alfalfa and whinnied in anticipation.

“From the looks of things, there are no arrows in your quiver,” continued Aye.

That was the last straw. “Guards,” commanded Tut. “ Seize him. ”

The contingent of six royal guards moved forward and towered over Aye, yet they were apprehensive, as if looking to Aye for leadership rather than Tut.

“ Now!” Tut screamed, rage and humiliation pouring through. He was the pharaoh. He could impregnate every virgin in Egypt if he wished. It wasn’t his fault that Tuya was having trouble bearing a child. Maybe Aye had chosen her because she was known to be infertile, all part of his scheme.

Aye didn’t struggle as the guards clamped their hands on his arms and shoulders. No-all he did was smirk.

“I am the pharaoh, Aye. You will remember that from now on.” Tut stepped into his chariot.

“I am going for a ride,” he told the captain of the guards, a Nubian with huge biceps. “By the time I return, you will have administered fifty lashes to the royal vizier. Am I understood?”

The smirk was gone from Aye’s face now, much to Tut’s delight. “As you wish, Pharaoh,” Aye muttered in supplication, “so it shall be.” Even ten lashes would have been too much. Fifty would lay Aye’s back open to the bone and leave permanent scars that would be a brand of shame for the rest of his life.

For just an instant, Tut thought that Aye’s tone was sincere, and he considered rescinding the punishment. But the defiant look in the vizier’s eyes was still there, and Tut sensed the humility was an act.

With a final glare, Tut whipped his reins and raced across the desert.

Egyptian Desert

1324 BC

THE FORGIVING ELM WHEELS of the chassis provided the only shock absorption, but the terrain was smooth and so was the ride.

A lone man could be seen in the distance, but otherwise Tut had the desert to himself, as he liked it.

Within a few minutes, his forehead was sweating, and the dust from the horse’s hooves covered his chest. This was what he loved, but today even a fast chariot ride didn’t help.

Tut was so caught up in thoughts of Aye’s insolence and his own inability to produce an heir that he didn’t notice that the desert had become more rugged in the few miles since his journey began.