James Patterson - The Murder of King Tut

“There is a messenger to see you, Highness,” Yuye announced.

“Who is it?” demanded Aye.

“That is none of your concern,” Ankhesenpaaten said. Her heart was beating wildly. “You are dismissed, Vizier.”

A dark-haired man was led into the courtyard after Aye departed. The visitor had left a small retinue behind at the gate. One look told the queen this was not a Hittite prince.

“What is the meaning of this visit?” the queen asked. She looked at Yuye in desperation.

Yuye only shrugged as the Hittite, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the queen, struggled to explain himself.

“I have a message from my king,” said the Hittite. He handed it to the queen, and she read it quickly. Then the Hittite verbalized the message. “Where is the son of the late pharaoh? What has become of him?”

Ankhesenpaaten nearly flew into a rage. “Do you see a male child wandering the palace halls? Do you? Do you see a young prince on a chariot galloping about the grounds? Oh, what I would give for a young boy. Does your king think this is some sort of trick? Did my letter to him seem insincere or unclear?”

The Hittite shuffled his feet and lowered his eyes. “What shall I tell my king?”

“Tell him this: ‘Why should I deceive you? I have no son, and my husband is dead. Send me a son of yours, and I will make him king of Egypt.’”

The Hittite stood there not sure what to do next.

“What are you waiting for?” asked the queen. “We are running out of time! We have until my husband is buried, no longer.”

As the Hittite fled the palace, Yuye slipped away to find Aye.

The queen stood alone.

Egyptian Border

1324 BC

THE HITTITE PRINCE’S NAME was Zannanza.

He and his entourage rode fine white horses down the well-traveled dirt road to Egypt. He was pure Hittite by birth, his father’s pride and joy. At age twenty-two, Zannanza had already demonstrated courage on the battlefield and shown confidence and diplomatic skill in the royal court. His impending marriage to the queen of Egypt would unify the two nations and make history.

Zannanza would be the new pharaoh and would possess a level of power not even known by his father. The messenger had told the prince that the Egyptian queen was a beautiful young woman. He had described her as “fiery” and “graceful.” Zannanza was eager to meet her and take her as his wife.

Now Zannanza drank from a water skin, then passed it to his vizier. “Do you see them?” asked the vizier.

“How could I not?” Zannanza replied.

It seemed that the queen had sent a welcoming party. A small band of Egyptians waited at the border, taking refuge from the sun in a verdant oasis. Zannanza imagined they would have something to eat-fruit, perhaps. And fresh water. He had ridden hard all day.

Zannanza and his soldiers and courtiers galloped toward the waiting Egyptians.

As they arrived, a small man with a potbelly trotted forward on his horse to welcome them.

“Greetings. I am Horemheb, the queen’s general. She sends her best wishes, Prince.”

“I am Zannan-”

The Hittite prince’s words ended abruptly. He had not seen the archers behind the tents, nor the arrow racing toward him straight and true that would pierce his forehead. He toppled off his mount, royal blood flooding onto the sand in a massive pool.

His entourage suffered a similar fate. Anyone who escaped the arrows was chased down and hacked to bits by Egyptians wielding swords and axes. As buzzards circled, Horemheb dismounted and walked over to Zannanza.

With his sword, he severed the prince’s head and held it high. Horemheb’s men cheered and then raced to loot the other bodies.

“For the queen,” Horemheb said with a sneer, throwing the head into a bag for its trip back to Thebes.

Tut’s Palace

1324 BC

THE THRONE ROOM WAS DARK and depressing. Ankhesenpaaten and Aye had argued for hours, beginning just after dinner. Now it was midnight, and the queen and the royal vizier spoke by the light of the moon. This same debate had raged for more than a week, and this night the words chosen were no different.

The queen’s protestations were heated and loud, unmuffled by draperies and potted plants.

Anyone still awake in the palace could hear her frantic voice, and she knew it.

“Make no mistake: I will rule as king. And you will be my queen,” said Aye.

His hands were on his hips as he glared at the stubborn young woman. His sagging neck and paunch made him look more like her grandfather than a man capable of fathering a royal heir.

“I will not do it,” she shot back, panic-stricken as he moved closer.

Ankhesenpaaten paced, trying to buy time.

Yuye entered the room, as if on cue.

“What is it?” asked the queen. “Do you have news? Tell me.”

Tut’s Palace

1324 BC

AYE BURST OUT LAUGHING. “Yes, she has news. Tell her the news. Tell her the fantastic news about her Hittite prince-who is riding here to save the queen and become pharaoh.”

Ankhesenpaaten glared at him. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew.” He laughed some more before turning his attention back to Yuye. “Your lady-in-waiting has been a useful spy. Please, Yuye. Tell the queen the news she has so longed to hear.”

Shame coursed through Yuye’s body, and she couldn’t meet the queen’s gaze. When she spoke, it was in a low monotone. “The Hittites received your missive, Majesty. Their king sent a son to Egypt to marry you and serve at your side as king.”

“And?” asked Ankhesenpaaten.

“And this prince, whose name was Zannanza, was met at the border by General Horemheb. They had a discussion. Then the prince and his men were slaughtered. A courier galloped here this day with the news-and this.”

Yuye placed a leather bag on a table. Aye stepped forward and emptied the contents onto the floor. The prince’s severed head hit the tile with a loud thud.

Ankhesenpaaten staggered backward. She could barely breathe as she looked at the head, then faced the vizier.

Aye showed no deference to her now. He mocked her openly. “You are a traitor. I control the priests, I control the money, and I control Horemheb,” he declared. “Choose wisely, Majesty. You can either marry me and keep your life, or you can choose to die, just like your husband.”

Aye turned and paraded from the room, sandals slapping softly. He took the girl Yuye with him, and that night, to be safe, he made certain she would keep quiet-by slitting her throat. If the lady-in-waiting could betray the queen, she could betray him as well. And the stakes were too high for that.

Tut’s Palace

1324 BC

THE WEDDING RING WAS made of glass and glazed in blue. It had been commissioned to commemorate the important ceremony. Inside the band were inscribed the cartouches of the newlyweds: Aye and Ankhesenpaaten .

The queen slipped the ring onto her finger and pretended to be blissfully content. The banquet hall was filled with revelers, and the party would continue well into the night. Bulls had been slaughtered, then roasted over open fires. Beer was served in copious amounts. Try as she might to be a quiet bystander, Ankhesenpaaten was the queen of Egypt. Her every move was being watched, and the country’s more illustrious and well-connected residents were curious whether she was truly in love with her new husband.

Hence, the importance of wearing her ring and appearing radiant and happy to all.

She wore a white gown with a floral collar, and eyeliner that showcased her deep brown eyes. Aye stood across the room with Horemheb, looking very much like the old and prosperous pharaoh he now was. He was forty summers older than his teenage bride, and he already had a possessive wife his own age.