and behave—and Amenhotep
was no such man.
But if not Amenhotep, then who should reign? Aye wondered.
He answered his own question:
me.
Nefertiti suddenly turned his way. She caught him staring but pretended not to notice. She never seemed to notice him.
Aye smiled and glanced down to the street. Miraculously, the pharaoh had survived the first leg of his journey and was now
making the turn for home.
Just then a wheel flew off, bouncing wildly into the crowd and nearly beheading a spectator. Screams rent the air. Terrified
onlookers fled, certain that the chariot would careen into them and kill dozens of innocents.
The pharaoh was thrown forward out of the basket onto the flank of the horse in front of him. He somehow managed to hold on
to the reins but he dangled facedown over the side of the animal. The frightened team galloped faster and faster, dragging
the chariot, hooves perilously close to the pharaoh’s face.
Aye turned toward Nefertiti, whose hands now covered her mouth. Even as the future of Egypt hung on what happened in the next
few seconds, Aye couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was extraordinary in every way, truly a queen, possibly the most impressive
person in all of Egypt.
Then the crowd exploded with a roar so loud that the ground beneath the reviewing stand shook.
Aye flicked his eyes back toward the street and saw that the pharaoh had somehow righted himself and pulled himself up onto
the back of the horse. He now sat astride the white charger, fully in control as the team galloped on. Down came Nefertiti’s
hands. Away went the look of horror. She was a woman renewed, glowing with pride and love.
As the pharaoh halted the horses at the base of the reviewing stand, the crowd screamed in adulation. He looked up at Nefertiti,
his eyes relieved and confident. He dismounted and walked slowly down the center of the boulevard, basking in the divine certainty
that he was both ruler and god.
And then Nefertiti placed her lips to Aye’s ear. He could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her skin. More than ever,
he lusted for this beautiful woman.
“Starting tomorrow, Aye,” she told him, “Egypt will be changed forever. Mark my words.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. The only thing that mattered was the beating of his heart and the way his name
had sounded in her mouth.
“And Aye?”
“Yes, my queen?”
“If I ever see you looking at me that way again, I will feed your heart to the crocodiles.”
Chapter 13
Amarna
1345 BC
ONLY IN THE ANCIENT WORLD was such a thing possible—such a miracle in architecture. In just two years, the city of Amarna
was complete. Aye had been in charge of the site, and now he sent word to the pharaoh. He figured he had three weeks, maybe
four, until Akhenaten and his host of minions arrived.
But he had underestimated the earnestness of his king’s desire to flee Thebes.
A week after his message was received, Aye was sipping ale on the terrace of the new royal palace. He was bored and lonely.
His wife was still in Thebes. Even worse, so were his harem girls.
He gazed out at the Nile, marveling at the view. It truly was a gorgeous afternoon. The sky was a clear blue, and the heat
tolerable if he stayed in the shade.
Then the royal vizier saw a sight so shocking that he nearly dropped his ceramic mug.
Cruising up the Nile was an armada of ships. Dozens. No, make that hundreds of vessels. Their great trapezoidal sails were
visible from miles away. Aye could see thousands of citizens from Thebes lining the decks, ready to start their new lives
in Amarna.
And on the prow of the largest barge, to see firsthand all that he’d created, stood Akhenaten. The stunning Nefertiti and
their three coquettish daughters were at his side.
Akhenaten raised the royal standard in triumph, but Aye was focusing on Nefertiti and those three girls.
No boys. Just girls.
“I’ll kill him,” Aye said in a flash of
was no such man.
But if not Amenhotep, then who should reign? Aye wondered.
He answered his own question:
me.
Nefertiti suddenly turned his way. She caught him staring but pretended not to notice. She never seemed to notice him.
Aye smiled and glanced down to the street. Miraculously, the pharaoh had survived the first leg of his journey and was now
making the turn for home.
Just then a wheel flew off, bouncing wildly into the crowd and nearly beheading a spectator. Screams rent the air. Terrified
onlookers fled, certain that the chariot would careen into them and kill dozens of innocents.
The pharaoh was thrown forward out of the basket onto the flank of the horse in front of him. He somehow managed to hold on
to the reins but he dangled facedown over the side of the animal. The frightened team galloped faster and faster, dragging
the chariot, hooves perilously close to the pharaoh’s face.
Aye turned toward Nefertiti, whose hands now covered her mouth. Even as the future of Egypt hung on what happened in the next
few seconds, Aye couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was extraordinary in every way, truly a queen, possibly the most impressive
person in all of Egypt.
Then the crowd exploded with a roar so loud that the ground beneath the reviewing stand shook.
Aye flicked his eyes back toward the street and saw that the pharaoh had somehow righted himself and pulled himself up onto
the back of the horse. He now sat astride the white charger, fully in control as the team galloped on. Down came Nefertiti’s
hands. Away went the look of horror. She was a woman renewed, glowing with pride and love.
As the pharaoh halted the horses at the base of the reviewing stand, the crowd screamed in adulation. He looked up at Nefertiti,
his eyes relieved and confident. He dismounted and walked slowly down the center of the boulevard, basking in the divine certainty
that he was both ruler and god.
And then Nefertiti placed her lips to Aye’s ear. He could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her skin. More than ever,
he lusted for this beautiful woman.
“Starting tomorrow, Aye,” she told him, “Egypt will be changed forever. Mark my words.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. The only thing that mattered was the beating of his heart and the way his name
had sounded in her mouth.
“And Aye?”
“Yes, my queen?”
“If I ever see you looking at me that way again, I will feed your heart to the crocodiles.”
Chapter 13
Amarna
1345 BC
ONLY IN THE ANCIENT WORLD was such a thing possible—such a miracle in architecture. In just two years, the city of Amarna
was complete. Aye had been in charge of the site, and now he sent word to the pharaoh. He figured he had three weeks, maybe
four, until Akhenaten and his host of minions arrived.
But he had underestimated the earnestness of his king’s desire to flee Thebes.
A week after his message was received, Aye was sipping ale on the terrace of the new royal palace. He was bored and lonely.
His wife was still in Thebes. Even worse, so were his harem girls.
He gazed out at the Nile, marveling at the view. It truly was a gorgeous afternoon. The sky was a clear blue, and the heat
tolerable if he stayed in the shade.
Then the royal vizier saw a sight so shocking that he nearly dropped his ceramic mug.
Cruising up the Nile was an armada of ships. Dozens. No, make that hundreds of vessels. Their great trapezoidal sails were
visible from miles away. Aye could see thousands of citizens from Thebes lining the decks, ready to start their new lives
in Amarna.
And on the prow of the largest barge, to see firsthand all that he’d created, stood Akhenaten. The stunning Nefertiti and
their three coquettish daughters were at his side.
Akhenaten raised the royal standard in triumph, but Aye was focusing on Nefertiti and those three girls.
No boys. Just girls.
“I’ll kill him,” Aye said in a flash of
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