“Is he there?” I cried.
Ipu pushed us farther in front, so close that we could reach out and touch the men’s horses. And then we both saw him. “He is here, my lady!” She was screaming. “He is here!”
The procession passed and I shouted out his name, but the people were cheering too loudly. Their sons were coming home; Egypt’s soldiers had been victorious. They were heroes. Then I thought of Akhenaten.
“Ipu! We have to go. We have to get to the palace!” But the crowd was moving. It swelled and swayed. Children ran after the horses and women threw flowers at Horemheb’s feet, following the soldiers down the Royal Road. “We have to go! Akhenaten will kill them!”
We pushed our way out and at the edge of the crowd, his eyes searching frantically, was Djedefhor. “My lady!” he shouted.
“Djedefhor!” I almost cried in relief. “How did they do it? How did they defeat them?”
“General Nakhtmin is a great tactician. With Horemheb’s training, the Hittites were slaughtered! Horemheb has brought back the head of the Hittite general.”
I stepped back in shock. “The head?”
Djedefhor nodded. “To lay at Pharaoh’s feet.”
I imagined Horemheb riding triumphantly into the palace, his soldiers following on his heels as he burst into the Audience Chamber, tossing the general’s head at Akhenaten’s sandals. I could imagine the horrified look on Akhenaten’s face, and the dark glare of Nefertiti, who would neither shudder nor look away. Then I imagined Akhenaten’s anger filling the halls, ordering death for every soldier returning from the fronts of Kadesh. My voice rose with fear. “Djedefhor, can you take me to the palace?”
He took my arm and led us through the crowds. Then I gathered my skirts and we ran like thieves through the back alleys of Amarna until we came upon the gates of the palace, guarded by two dozen of Akhenaten’s Nubian men. The procession was only a few blocks behind us and the noise could now be heard even in the courtyard where Akhenaten’s trees grew in manicured rows. “Open the gates!” I cried, thrusting my ring with the insignia of Nefertiti under the guards’ noses.
The guards passed looks among themselves, and then the tallest one grunted his approval. Grudgingly, the soldiers opened the gates. “Come!” I shouted to Djedefhor and Ipu, but a tall Nubian stepped in front of me.
“They remain outside.”
I looked at Djedefhor, and he nodded to Ipu. “She should go to your villa, and I will wait here in the courtyard,” he said.
“I’ll return,” I promised. But with what kind of news, I didn’t know.
I heard my father’s voice in the Audience Chamber even before the guards pushed opened the heavy doors. Inside, Nefertiti was with the princesses Meritaten and Meketaten. Akhenaten was standing before the Horus thrones. He was dressed in gold armor and carried a spear. He threw open the doors to the balcony, and the cheering of the crowd echoed from below.
“HOR-EM-HEB! HOR-EM-HEB!”
The wind blew the chants up to the Audience Chamber, and the veins in Akhenaten’s neck grew thick. “Arrest them!” he commanded. His white cloak swirled around his ankles. “Arrest them and make sure that none of those men see the light of day!” He stalked from the balcony, his eyes as hard as coal. I don’t think he saw me when he passed. I don’t think he saw anyone. “The people want heroes?” Akhenaten sneered. “Ay!” he shouted. “Bring a chest of gold from the treasury.”
“Your Highness—”
My father bowed and went away to do Pharaoh’s bidding.
Akhenaten turned on my sister. His eyes glittered, cold as an adder’s, and he gripped Nefertiti’s shoulders so hard that I gasped. “When your father returns, we will go to the Window of Appearances. Then the people will remember who loves them. They will remember who built a city out of sand for the glory of Aten.”
There was a commotion outside, and I saw that beneath the balcony Horemheb was standing on a block of granite. Nubian guards surrounded him, waiting to see what he would do. Then the people began to cheer, and Horemheb held up the bloodied head of the Hittite general he had killed. I gasped, and Nefertiti pressed closer to the balcony.
“He’s brought back the head,” she said in a horrified whisper. “He’s brought back the head of the general!”
Akhenaten rushed to the balcony. In the courtyard below, Horemheb held the severed head high to the cheering crowds. Then the general turned and recognized Akhenaten. He tossed the bloody trophy over the balcony, where it rolled against Akhenaten’s white sandals. Akhenaten reeled backward. It was the closest he had ever come to battle, and it was the closest I had come to such gruesome death. I covered my mouth as blood splattered across Akhenaten’s legs. Panahesi rushed forward to draw Pharaoh away and the doors to the Audience Chamber swung open. My father had returned with seven men, six of whom carried a chest laden with gold.
Akhenaten grabbed Nefertiti’s arm. “To the Window of Appearances!”
He stalked through the palace, the entire court on his heels. My father studied the blood on Akhenaten’s feet and said to me, “Stay close and say nothing.”
We swept through the halls to the bridge between the palace and the Temple of Aten. From there, the Window of Appearances looked out over the same courtyard as the one where Horemheb stood with his men. But unlike the balcony from the Audience Chamber, the Window of Appearances was official. When the window opened, all of Egypt stopped to listen. We entered the chamber, and Panahesi rushed to throw open the window. At once, the chanting stopped below. Akhenaten looked at Nefertiti for guidance. She stepped forward, raising her arms.
A thousand Egyptians dropped to their knees.
“People of Egypt,” she called. “Today is a day of celebration. For today Aten has given mighty Pharaoh a victory over the Hittites!”
A cheer went up throughout the crowds.
Nefertiti continued. “Aten looks on Pharaoh with pride, and the blessings of Aten are bestowed upon us!” Akhenaten dug his hands deep into the wooden chest, tossing armfuls of coins out to the people. Women began to shriek and children cried with laughter; men leaped into the air. No one noticed the guards fanning out around the soldiers, marching them away to the dungeons of Amarna.
I surged forward, but my father held me tightly. “There is nothing you can do for Nakhtmin,” he whispered. I wrestled my arm away. Suddenly, Tiye was there, speaking quietly but sharply.
“Don’t be foolish. This is not the time.”
“But what will happen to him?”
“The people will either rise up,” she predicted with brutal honesty, “or every one of those soldiers will be executed.”
We stood back and watched as Akhenaten tossed handfuls of gold over the balcony. In the crush to reach the glittering coins, the soldiers had been forgotten. Guards ordered the men to drop their weapons, and directed them to step clear of the crowd and to follow them into the palace. Every one of them complied.
Even Horemheb. Even Nakhtmin.
“Why aren’t they resisting?” I cried, pressing closer to the Window of Appearances.
“It is a hundred of them and five hundred Nubian guards,” Tiye said.
My father turned to me. “Go now,” he said quickly. “Go to Nefertiti’s chamber and wait for her there.”
Light flickered from two dozen oil lamps and illuminated the paintings on Nefertiti’s walls. An artist had painted Nefertiti and Akhenaten raising their arms to embrace Aten, and the rays of sun ended in tiny hands whose fingers caressed my sister’s face. The pair of them together looked like gods, while Aten was unknowable, untouchable, a disk of fire that disappeared every night and reappeared at dawn. I looked around the room, but
