Chapter 8

The morning following Setana's sentence, the Pharaoh slept in. He slept well, better than he could remember sleeping in years.

He had been wide awake a large part of the night writing the document that would grant Ksunamun the title of Princess. Even though making a common girl into a princess was nigh unprecedented, Amenhotep was glad. He'd heard of twice in the past where a commoner became a princess, and both times the queen was highly favoured by the people - they felt she was connected to them, and because she had the pharaoh's ear, could help them.

The pharaoh drafted his document with utmost care, being sure his wording was perfect, his case solid. This formal request - we would call it a bill, in our modern politics, could not be denied.

He would ask the High Priest of Atem-Ra, Atemakhu, to read and sign it, then it would be done. The other High Priests did not need involvement, just the one representing Atem-Ra, for he was in a sense the 'ruler' of the other High Priests. It was fittingly so, he was the representative of Atem-Ra, and Atem-Ra ruled the other gods and goddesses.

Amenhotep slowly sat up in bed. Kiya was gone - that was no surprise. She was the type of woman who slept little, going to bed late, waking with the birds. Without a doubt the Queen was out doing some pointless thing she considered productive.

At length the Old Pharaoh fully woke. After he had a small breakfast and his head stopped offering the sensation of being abnormally light, he ended up feeling much healthier than he had in days. He was still quite ill, but his breathing was much less laboured. He surmised it was the weight that been lifted from his shoulders the day before, with the discovery of Akhenaten's intent to wed.

The old Pharaoh stood, seized the freshly written scroll from the desk, and laboriously headed out to the throne room - somewhere he hadn't been in over a month.

Ksunamun had remained in Akhenaten's chamber the previous night, and had woken up with the Prince sprawled out beside her, his head nestled comfortably against her shoulder.

The reality of her situation began to sink in a little more then, for when she had slept she had dreamed, and how many times did you - how many times could you - have a dream within a dream? Especially one so vivid - so detailed - leaving such a lasting impression?

The night before had been beautiful, even if it had been riddled with unfamiliarity, and with Akhenaten being exceedingly nervous.

He had confessed to her that this was not the first time that someone had tried to kill him. Ksunamun had been surprised, but she did not doubt him. His eyes and his features had been undeniably frank, his voice and body language dreadfully honest.

Akhenaten had told her that it had been his uncle, a man named Horemheb, who was responsible. Apparently this Horemheb was quite a jealous creature, and had plotted the Prince's murder. Horemheb had been discovered though, for the High Priest of Atem-Ra had discovered the plot from a useful blend of rumours and logic, and had reported what he'd surmised to the Pharaoh.

Ksunamun was made to understand that the only reason Setana had come so close to succeeding was because he'd somehow found a way to conceal his scheme from everyone. He'd made a point of hiding from the new High Priest of Atem-Ra, Atemakhu. Setana had obviously intended to succeed where Horemheb had failed.

What had really startled Ksunamun was the fact that this first attempt had happened when Akhenaten was twelve. Akhenaten had shrugged, saying that in his position, there was, and always would be some form of threat. He said it was nothing, a trifle. That it was just a matter of rising above them, being victorious. Ksunamun saw through this façade, for his eyes said plainly that he was shaken, he was bothered, and he could barely deal with it.

The Prince had begged her to stay when at last she wanted to go to her new chamber for the night. He said that he just did not think he could bear having to spend the night alone - not after what had happened that day.

Needless to say, Ksunamun had empathised, and reluctantly agreed. If it had been her in Akhenaten's place, she would want someone like Akhenaten by her side for certain. She did not think she would even be able to sleep without someone to protect her.

Trying to make the idea of staying with him the night more appealing, he pointed out that if she stayed with him, she would be safe too. There was no threat against her, but one never knew for certain, did they?

Ksunamun had found it almost funny, the idea that there might yet be someone with murderous intentions in the palace, but outwardly she took him seriously.

He was peacefully asleep now though, and his slumber made Ksunamun glad, for the Prince had trouble allowing sleep to come when he'd gone to bed for the night, her by his side. Last night was gone, though, slipped away as sand fell through the fingers of someone who tried to hold it. Now it was morning, and everything felt fine, secure.

In a placid whisper she uttered his name, the word escaping her lips like a relieved sigh.

She knew that both she and Akhenaten could have gotten in a lot of trouble for this closeness. Usually, the rules were strict about engaged couples; they were allowed the briefest of touches, nothing more. Ksunamun did not really care, though, because simply to be near Akhenaten was worth any reprimand.

She thought briefly of getting up, facing the new day, then realized she did not have to. There were no chores to be done, no deadlines to meet. With this in mind, she settled back down, making herself level with the Prince. She then slipped her arms around him, and allowed herself to sleep longer.

Amenhotep had sat in his throne for what seemed like an eternity, trying to make his fragile heart slow down, and to breathe properly. It was getting far too hard for him to move around the palace, and he did not like in the slightest the amount of difficulty he encountered in simple things he used to take for granted.

He still clutched within his bony, claw like hand the scroll, the all important sheet of papyrus. The papyrus that would make him feel like his life was truly completed, like he had at last had everything in order.

Amenhotep in truth did not want to live anymore. If Akhenaten had already been married, the old Pharaoh might have already given in to the sweet temptation of death.

A young slave bowed low before the Pharaoh, and approached the old man cautiously.

"Libations, Your Majesty?" The slave asked timidly, holding a golden goblet and a jug of an almost sickeningly sweet, syrupy red wine.

"Yes - I think I will," Amenhotep agreed, leaning back in his throne, "Just how old are you?" He asked off handedly.

"Twelve," the boy answered automatically.

"Young man, do you realize that I am more than twice thrice your age?"

"Yes, my Pharaoh. Atem-Ra has blessed you with a good age and great wisdom."

Amenhotep chuckled as he took the goblet from the slave, "It doesn't feel much like a blessing. Anyhow, I'm sure you do not want to listen to an old man ramble. You are free to go, young one."

The young slave bowed once more before leaving as he was bidden. Amenhotep nursed the wine down slowly, knowing he'd have a wait ahead of him yet before the High Priest of Atem-Ra would enter the throne room.

Akhenaten woke slowly, not really wanting to rouse at all. Ksunamun's arms were around him, her cheek pressed against his.

Once he had realized Ksunamun was still there, he woke fully as fast as his stubborn body would allow. He wanted to enjoy, to fully appreciate, this situation.

He moved slowly, trying to make himself a little more comfortable. Ksunamun softly moaned in her sleep, and he shivered involuntarily. He wondered vaguely what she was dreaming.

What was really pressing him, though, was the time. He had the strange feeling he'd slept in too much, and ruefully realized he'd have to savour this moment, for a moment was all it could be. He'd have to get up and face the day ahead without much more delay. Akhenaten wondered then, if Setana had been tried. And, if he had, how he'd been sentenced. He wasn't really concerned at that moment, but humanly curious.

Akhenaten tenderly stroked Ksunamun's soft hair as he slipped away from her. Amazingly, she stayed asleep, merely shifting her position a little. Her face looked so sweet to Akhenaten, he couldn't help but kiss her on the cheek before he got up to dress for the day.

The light, cream hued fabric of his night robe danced around his ankles as he padded bare-foot around the chamber, seeking a clean robe. Before long he found one, a simple garment of creamy hue, and changed in to it hurriedly.

If he was quick, he could still bring Ksunamun's breakfast to her, and they could eat together.

Amenhotep was glad when at last, the High Priest of Atem-Ra appeared, and swept over to his throne in a few long strides.

"Your Highness," the priest greeted, bowing deeply, "I received your message."

"I must say I'm quite glad of that," Amenhotep commented as the High Priest stood tall, leaning on his staff only slightly. "I apologize for not telling you why I required your presence, but I had to keep it a secret as long as possible."

"That is not a problem, my Pharaoh. It is but a short ride from my temple to here." The High Priest offered politely.

"I suppose I might as well hurry up and tell you. My son - he's at last found a bride!"

"This is good news," the priest agreed, "So, how am I involved?"

Amenhotep handed the scroll to the High Priest. "Atemakhu, you are involved in a big way, I assure."

The High Priest was not used to hearing his name anymore, and so he met the Pharaoh's gaze in amazement. He knew not that the Pharaoh remembered his name. Amenhotep's face looked happy, and the years seemed to temporarily melt from his countenance with his glee.

"Open it!" Amenhotep urged, gesticulating towards the scroll.

Atemakhu began slowly, gingerly, it seemed, to open the scroll. He read it carefully, his narrowed eyes scanning the papyrus almost critically. "So the girl is a commoner?"

"Aye, but she is from a good family. From what I have seen, she is of quality, and they are truly in love."

"The Ptah's? I must concede then, she is from a good family. I wonder, did your union with Kiya have anything to do with your easy acceptance of this?"

"You know it did!" Amenhotep laughed. He sighed. "This girl, Ksunamun, she's a sweet girl, Atemakhu. And she's fair of face, as well. If it is not too much for me to say, I believe she will give Akhenaten healthy, strong sons."

Atemakhu was uncomfortable at that statement, and so was silent, a silence that was prudent, for he did not trust his tongue.

"I have said too much." The Pharaoh was apologetic.

"Nay, my pharaoh - I'm just a little surprised. I suppose I expected young Prince Akhenaten to marry a woman who is a princess by blood."

"Well Atemakhu -" Amenhotep paused as he developed an explanation. "My son is a free spirit of sorts. There are princesses he could have chosen because I would have bent the rules and allowed him to choose, however, he met them all and didn't take to a single one. I think he wants a woman who is not so - so restricted in her actions, you know?"

Atemakhu nodded, though he wasn't really following.

"My son has a wild side. I know he tries not to show it, but he does every time he goes out on a ride simply to get out of the palace, all the time he used to spend outside, and in many of the things he says. And that whole sordid business with Saraia did not help things."

"Aye, I heard of Princess Saraia."

"I imagined you would have. The slaves take the secrets out of this palace and scatter them to the four winds. I suppose it must be their entertainment."

Atemakhu decided to change the subject. "So then, you wish me to sign this."

"Yes, Atemakhu, I'd be most grateful."

The High Priest nodded. "Alright then, I just need a reed and some ink."

Amenhotep drew both of these things from his pocket. "I was prepared for that."

"Thank you, my Liege." Atemakhu nodded seriously as he took the reed with it's split end and dipped it in the ink. With a flourish, he placed his signature at the bottom of the scroll, and then the symbol of Atem-Ra. "There's one thing, now." The High Priest said slowly as he pressed the scroll back into Amenhotep's hand.

"The diadem, I know. I have only got one, I'm afraid."

"Your mother's." The High Priest said needlessly.

Amenhotep only nodded. "I want it to go to her, I really do. But there must be one forged that is uniquely hers, it is tradition."

"Yes, I know. A diadem made as a sacred gift to a Princess when she weds the Crown Prince."

Akhenaten sat on the bed beside Ksunamun, cradling in one arm a tray with fresh fruit, bread, and wine on it.

He set this down with utmost care, then proceeded to try to wake Ksunamun. He shook her gently, but she refused to stir. He then called her name, softly at first, then with increasing volume until her eyes lazily opened.

Akhenaten smiled down at her. "Sit up, I've brought our breakfast."

She obeyed, but she was in no rush. "What is there?" She managed to say before a hearty yawn fought it's way from her.

"Look and see for yourself," Akhenaten smiled as he gesticulated towards the fare he'd brought. "Eat quickly, then you should go to your chamber and change."

There was no argument from Ksunamun, she was still wearing the dress from the previous night. If she did not change, things would really look suspicious.

Ksunamun decided upon a goblet of wine, and a small bun. She wasn't very hungry, but she would eat a little something anyways, because Akhenaten went to the trouble to bring in the victuals that were before them on the glistening golden tray.

Akhenaten's appetite seemed to be much larger than Ksunamun's, for he wasted no time starting in on a goblet of wine, several pieces of fruit, and bread. He devoured them with what seemed like reckless speed to Ksunamun, but then she remembered that he hadn't eaten anything after the leopard meat they had shared for breakfast, or was it lunch? It did not really matter. She had eaten more recently than the Prince. She'd gotten a bit to eat while he'd had his nap in the afternoon of the previous day.

"Not keen on breaking your fast, are you?" Akhenaten commented, "I mean, you did not eat very much yesterday morning, either."

"It has never really been of great appeal to me." She shrugged. It was only a half-truth.

"That is quite alright." Akhenaten said dismissively, "I mean, I just thought-"

"Like you said, it is alright." Ksunamun interrupted, silencing the Prince, "Thank you for fetching us the food."

Akhenaten popped a grape in his mouth, and chewed it thoughtfully. After swallowing, he kissed Ksunamun. He did so teasingly, licking her lips, the taste of wine on them causing him to linger there.

The two most powerful men in all Khemet unhurriedly made their way down a long, labyrinthine set of corridors. Their pace would gave been much quicker if it weren't for the Pharaoh's failing heath. The High Priest did not mind slowing from his own quick long stride to the Pharaoh's slow saunter, however. He looked at it as a leisurely stroll, and took the opportunity to admire the architecture of this section of the palace.

They walked in silence, the absence of sound only broken by the reverberation of the two men's footfalls echoing on the stone floors.

At length, they approached the dead end of a corridor, and directly ahead a small, dark chamber. This chamber was guarded by two heavily armoured guards who bore deadly weapons: scimitar swords, and spears.

The Pharaoh passed by the guards as though they did not even exist, his long cloak of violet trailing behind him regally.

Atemakhu followed the Pharaoh, making sure to stay well clear of the cloak. When both men were in the chamber, the Pharaoh requested of one of the guards that a torch be brought to him.

It was only a short time before the requested torch was handed in to the Pharaoh, who took it gratefully, and nodded, excusing the guard.

Amenhotep led Atemakhu to the back of the chamber, where there was a highly embellished golden box. It was unmistakably a jewellery box - the jewellery box that belonged to Amenhotep's mother, old Queen Halashien.

This moment - seeing the box after many, many years, was very emotional for the Pharaoh. Memories flooded his mind against his volition. Memories of his mother, who he still missed dearly, even after so many years. I will see you again soon, mother, he thought to himself as his old, mangled hands, once so young and strong, rested on the golden surface of the jewellery box.

There were engravings on the glistening gold, relief art, depicting the cat goddess, Bastet, and Isis.

"Atemakhu," the Pharaoh said softly, wonderingly, "Will you do an old man a favour?"

The High Priest's answer was automatic. "Yes, my Liege. What may I do for you?"

Amenhotep continued to face away from the priest. "I need you to place an order with the Guild of the Royal Gold. I need you to place the order for Ksunamun's diadem, on my behalf."

"Yes, Sire."

"I would do it myself, but I'm too weak - I fear I may not be fortunate enough to see my own garden one last time before I die." He sniffed, "I haven't been outside in ages."