Tiy and the Prince of Egypt (25 page)

She
paced the small cabin as her insides churned with unease. Every time she blinked she saw Kamen’s face flash before her eyes. She couldn’t stand there and do nothing when someone filled with so much hatred toward Amenhotep was so close. She knew Ma’at, goddess of truth, would be displeased, but she begged for quick forgiveness for breaking her promise and dashed up the companionway into the open air of the upper deck.

Tiy’s eyes scoured the deck, narrowing in on Kamen at the stern, his bow raised and a sharp arrow trained for Amenhotep’s unprotected head. Her heart lurched to her stomach.

“Amenhotep!”
she shouted, but she wasn’t loud enough. He had just sent a Nubian rebel to the Underworld and was leaping up the platform stairs at the main mast. She pushed toward him, ignoring her throbbing leg as she reached the platform stairs and barreled into him, sending them both careening to the platform boards. Kamen’s arrow flew past their heads and over the railing, sinking into the Nile.

Amenhotep snatched
Tiy from the ground and pulled her behind his back, his sword stretched out before him. His shoulders heaved from the exertion of battle.

“You wretched girl,” Kamen
said as he jumped to the platform. He was seething, his face twisted into an angry mask. He swung his sword in unbridled fury and came down hard on Amenhotep’s sword. An older man called out Kamen’s name and rushed across the deck, taking the platform steps by two.

“Kamen, this man is Pharaoh!” the older man shouted.
He had the aged face of Kamen and the worry lines of a father. “Step back. Let one of my trained men fight this fight.”

Tiy sucked in a breath.
Kamen’s father was the rebellion leader, the man they’d been searching for! Kamen swung his sword again and Amenhotep deflected it with ease.

“He won’t be
Pharaoh for long if I have anything to do with it,” Kamen shouted.

The old man gripped his sword. “His power is greater than
yours. The gods protect him!”

Kamen’s returning laugh was shrill.
“We’ve killed one Pharaoh. We can kill another!”

“This isn’t a fair figh
t,” the old man said to himself. He puffed his chest and jumped into the battle with Kamen.

Amenhotep contended with
the two swords, swiping through the air with the strength of Shu’s desert winds. Kamen’s attacks were sloppy and lacking power, but the rebel leader fought with greater force. Amenhotep contended with the two, his strikes precise as he split his concentration and strength with the agility of a two-headed cobra.

Tiy
watched in terror as he fought, wishing she could help but not knowing how. Amenhotep had been fighting long before Kamen boarded the barge, and had to be tiring, but she had no weapon and there was nothing around her that she could use. She backed up against the railing, eyes wide as Amenhotep fought against the two men, his sword flashing through the air like lightning. She could no longer hear the chaotic screams behind her or the clashing swords. She could only hear Amenhotep’s labored breathing as he fought for his life.

Perspiration poured
down Amenhotep’s torso as he strained to withstand the onslaught of fury. Tiy flinched as each attack was warded off by Amenhotep’s increasingly weary blows. She searched around once more for a way to help him and to her complete surprise the Sudanese soldiers appeared to be retreating. Twisting her head toward the eastern banks, she sobbed in relief at the sight of not only the chariots led by her father, but the armies led by Merymose and Ramose as well. How they had arrived so fast, she couldn’t fathom and didn’t care. All she knew was that help had come.

She
looked back at Amenhotep and cringed with horror. Kamen and his father were growing weary, but their swords were striking Amenhotep’s golden pectoral as blow after blow went un-deflected. Amenhotep’s fatigued arms were failing him. It was only a matter of time before the pectoral failed him as well. He continued fighting, thrusting furiously toward his assailants.

A
fight between an Egyptian soldier and Sudanese soldier began at the base of the platform stairs and ended just as quickly with the sword of the Sudanese soldier falling to the ground. A flutter of relief spread through Tiy as the Egyptian soldier raced up the stairs and joined Amenhotep’s fight. He raised his sword to bring it down on the neck of Kamen’s father, but as he swung he was forced to redirect his swing at the last moment to deflect the sword of another rebel. Amenhotep was left again to contend with two.

Tiy
couldn’t watch any longer and do nothing. She leapt down the platform stairs and fetched the sword from the fallen Sudanese soldier. The cold steel felt formidable in her hands as she strained to lift it.

She crept
back up the stairs and stood near the railing, waiting for an opportunity to thrust the foreign blade. The three men circled one another, shifting positions, weaving in and out of one another. Amenhotep’s back was to her when she caught an opportunity to step in. Without hesitation, she lurched forward and raised the sword above her head.

“Tiy! No!” Amenhotep yelled
over his shoulder. He turned to push her out of the fight, exposing the open sides of his golden pectoral. Kamen thrust his sword into the soft flesh of Amenhotep’s side, and Amenhotep grunted in pain, falling to one knee.

Tiy’s
piercing scream filled the air, alerting several soldiers nearby who began fighting with powerful vengeance at the sight of their fallen king. One of them finished his opponent and took on Kamen’s father, but didn’t have the speed or strength to take on Kamen as well, Amenhotep raised a weak arm to block another blow, but the force of it knocked him back, blood pulsating from the wound in his side. He raised his sword again, but his bloodied hand shook and Tiy knew he could not withstand another blow. Roaring like a lion, she thrust her sword toward Kamen’s chest, forcing him away from Amenhotep and into a fight with her. Kamen deflected her strike with ease and turned to her with murder in his eyes and hatred on his tongue.

“It’s over
, you filthy ‘Gypt!” he shouted. “We’ve won!” He raised his bloodied sword high above his head, his back arched, and screamed with fury as he swung down.

Tiy
thrust her sword out in front of her, bracing herself for the inevitable blow. His sword bore down onto hers, nearly ripping it from her hand. She clenched both hands around the hilt and, as he began another downward strike, swung up to meet him. Their swords clashed and a resounding vibration shot up Tiy’s arms. With only a flash of a second to recover herself, Tiy barely managed to parry Kamen’s next blow. Again and again he brought his sword down with unbridled anger, each strike coming closer to killing her than the last. She knew that she didn’t have the skills or knowledge to expect to survive, but she hoped she could at least hold Kamen off until one of their soldiers reached them. As far as she knew, Amenhotep was still alive and there was still something to fight for. But no matter how badly she wanted to see if Amenhotep still breathed, she couldn’t take her eyes off Kamen.

Kamen moved his
body in a way she did not expect and fire erupted in her arm. Her eyes pulled down to find an angry slit stretching from her elbow to her wrist. Kamen’s eyes grew wild as he brought his sword across his chest and behind his shoulder as if he were going to hit her with the back of his hand. With only one good arm, Tiy held her sword with a shaking grip, squeezing her eyes shut as Kamen’s sword flashed down toward her.

B
ut the blow never came. She opened her eyes to see Amenhotep on one knee, his hand on the hilt of a dagger thrust into Kamen’s belly. Amenhotep caught Tiy’s gaze, his eyes filling with shadows of death. Saving her had taken the last of his strength.

H
e fell forward with a loud moan and lay motionless on the wooden planks. Tiy dropped to her knees, forgetting her wound as her mind escaped the horror in front of her. Everything blurred and an unsettling numbness settled over her. She knew she was screaming and reaching out to Amenhotep because she could see herself doing it. She could feel her mouth open in anguish and her arms stretching their full length, but she couldn’t hear her screams or even feel the strong arms that held her back as Amenhotep was carried below.

Empty
faces loomed in front of her, their mouths moving, but their words unintelligible. Egyptian soldiers swarmed the deck and sent the rebels and Sudanese soldiers to the Underworld. But she heard none of it.

Ramose was suddenly in front of
her, saying things she couldn’t comprehend. He pointed into the oblivion that had become the edges of her vision, blurred and skewed. He turned to the surrounding soldiers, livid.

“What is she doing here?” he shouted at the nearest soldier
. “Take her below!”

The soldier
s must not have responded fast enough for Ramose’s liking because he let out a frustrated breath and lifted her into his arms, carrying her below himself. All the while, the memory of Amenhotep’s eyes filled with love and fear…and death, haunted her.

She
was taken to Amenhotep’s chamber where Ramose laid her next to him. Her senses came to life as she curled next to his uninjured side, her skin able to feel the smooth bandages covering his torso, the cool sweat on his cheek. She listened to his shallow breathing and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. He lived. Nothing else mattered.

A priest
gathered her arm into his lap and set to work on the wound, tugging on her skin with needle and threat. Her vision blurred from the pain and she felt the priest press a hand to her head. He mumbled something to her, or to Ramose, she couldn’t be sure. His voice hummed like a distant dream in her mind.

“He is very fortunate to be aliv
e, the gods are protecting him,” the priest said.

“Queen Tiy watches over him,” Ramose said
. “She is the reincarnation of Nekhbet.”

The priest raised his eyebrows
. “Is that so?”

“Pharaoh Amenhotep is convinced.
”

“Pha
raoh Amenhotep is a god himself. It is only fitting for him to have a goddess as a companion.”

“I
agree,” Ramose said. “How is she? I don’t know what happened out there.”

Ramose and the priest turned
to look at her curled next to Amenhotep, their faces filled with concern.

“She is no worse than His Majesty, although I fear seeing him injured
has caused her mind to protect itself. It seems the goddess Nekhbet exists only for him.

“And he for her,” Ramose said nodding.

“Yes, his color is improving already,” the priest agreed. “Let us leave them to rest, they will heal each other.”

Tiy heard them leave, but her eyes remained on Amenhotep,
her senses returning to full awareness as she lay next to him. She breathed in his scent and closed her eyes.

Ra pushed the sun across the sky twice before Amenhotep stirred. They were well on their way to Memphis, having brought the Nubian rebellion to its knees. Merymose stayed in Nubia to organize the reformation and Ramose led the troops north.

When Amenhotep awoke, he
pressed his lips to her forehead before whispering, “Why do you keep scaring me?”

“
What do you mean?”

He was quiet for a long while.
“When that rebel came at you with his sword, and I was too weak to do anything, I…I’ve never felt more scared in my entire life.”

“But you saved me.”

“No, you saved me. Every breath you take, every morning you wake up next to me, every smile you send my way…saves me. I would be dead without you.”

Tiy’s heart hummed in her chest.

“I love you, Tiy,” he said. He had said it a thousand times before, as a friend would say it to a friend, but this time felt so different. He searched her eyes and she saw that illusive question in his gaze. She didn’t look away and blush like she would have before, but rather, she gazed into his eyes, watching him delve deeper into her own. He searched past the layers she shared with others, past the layers she shared only with him, past what she knew of herself, and into the portion of her soul that even she didn’t know. She felt naked and exposed, vulnerable and insecure. She hoped the answer he was looking for was there and that he wouldn’t be disappointed. She gazed into his eyes, trying to reach his soul as well, and as she searched she realized she had no reason to feel exposed or insecure. There was no animosity in Amenhotep’s eyes as he found the deepest parts of her, there was only love. It wasn’t the love of a friend that she saw, or the love of a brother to a sister. It was the burning love he felt for her and the yearning for her to reciprocate it. She knew then what he had wanted to ask all those years before, but had been too afraid. Did she love him back?

“I love you,”
she said in return, putting all her heart into the three little words. She knew he understood.

His lips met
hers, tender and sweet, and she wrapped her arms up around his shoulders and behind his neck, pulling him closer. His kiss became more passionate, releasing the years of yearning she never knew they each harbored until then. His arms held her tight and she didn’t care that she could barely breathe. She wanted him closer. Warm bursts of energy filled her body and took over her senses.

“Kha-em-maat,” he whispered in
her ear as the barge rolled back and forth on the river currents. “I knew it would be on this barge that you would realize the truth—that you have loved me from the beginning, just as I have loved you, from the moment I saw your hair shine.”

He gestured toward the ceiling in the cabi
n and she gasped at the sight. Painted above them were five images of the guardian goddess, Nekhbet, with her black tipped wings spread in magnificence. Her wings were dark, but her head shone with a shimmery whiteness close to the color of her own hair.

Amenhotep pulled off
her wig and set it on the bed near them. “The world might just see the black tipped wings,” he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair. “But I see the strength of the sun, the shimmering beauty of the sands, and the gentle goodness of the whispering wind.”

Tiy
was at a loss for words. He spoke so eloquently, expressing his feelings with ease and clarity while she had a hundred thoughts running through her mind, all trying to push their way through her lips at once. She wanted to tell him that her love for him was greater than words, that she wanted to bring him joy and happiness, and that she wanted to give herself to him and shine for him forever. But the words wouldn’t come so she pulled herself up to kiss him again.

Amenhotep pressed
her closer and moved his lips to her neck. She let her head fall back at his touch, the words she’d been trying to organize jumbling in her mind. She wanted to melt away in his embrace, but just as she was closing her eyes she noticed an inscription above Amenhotep’s bed. In an elegant script written above one of the five vulture goddesses were the words spelling out the exact thoughts and feelings she had wanted to share with Amenhotep but had not found an eloquent enough way to express. Painted on the ceiling were the words she wanted him to know, the words that would tell him just how deeply she loved him. She whispered them softly, hoping he felt the truth of them.

“
I have come so your heart might live.”

He held her closer. “I always knew you would.”

THE END