The Murder of King Tut - James William Patterson [43]
Tut flushed angrily. “That is not possible! My manhood is beyond question.”
He had reached his chariot and now grabbed the reins from a young stable boy. The horses lifted their heads from a trough of alfalfa and whinnied in anticipation.
“From the looks of things, there are no arrows in your quiver,” continued Aye.
That was the last straw. “Guards,” commanded Tut. “Seize him.”
The contingent of six royal guards moved forward and towered over Aye, yet they were apprehensive, as if looking to Aye for leadership rather than Tut.
“Now!” Tut screamed, rage and humiliation pouring through. He was the pharaoh. He could impregnate every virgin in Egypt if he wished. It wasn’t his fault that Tuya was having trouble bearing a child. Maybe Aye had chosen her because she was known to be infertile, all part of his scheme.
Aye didn’t struggle as the guards clamped their hands on his arms and shoulders. No—all he did was smirk.
“I am the pharaoh, Aye. You will remember that from now on.” Tut stepped into his chariot.
“I am going for a ride,” he told the captain of the guards, a Nubian with huge biceps. “By the time I return, you will have administered fifty lashes to the royal vizier. Am I understood?”
The smirk was gone from Aye’s face now, much to Tut’s delight. “As you wish, Pharaoh,” Aye muttered in supplication, “so it shall be.” Even ten lashes would have been too much. Fifty would lay Aye’s back open to the bone and leave permanent scars that would be a brand of shame for the rest of his life.
For just an instant, Tut thought that Aye’s tone was sincere, and he considered rescinding the punishment. But the defiant look in the vizier’s eyes was still there, and Tut sensed the humility was an act.
With a final glare, Tut whipped his reins and raced across the desert.
Chapter 58
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
THE FORGIVING ELM WHEELS of the chassis provided the only shock absorption, but the terrain was smooth and so was the ride.
A lone man could be seen in the distance, but otherwise Tut had the desert to himself, as he liked it.
Within a few minutes, his forehead was sweating, and the dust from the horse’s hooves covered his chest. This was what he loved, but today even a fast chariot ride didn’t help.
Tut was so caught up in thoughts of Aye’s insolence and his own inability to produce an heir that he didn’t notice that the desert had become more rugged in the few miles since his journey began.
And he didn’t see the deep cleft that had probably been created by a flash flood.
That is, not until it was too late to avoid it.
Hitting the rut, Tut was thrown headfirst from the chariot. He landed hard on the ground and was knocked unconscious for a time.
He came to slowly, moaning, and found himself staring up at the face of the man he had seen in the distance.
The man was kneeling over Tut, checking for signs of injury, clearly unaware that the man before him was Egypt’s pharaoh.
Instead, the robber—and that’s what he was, Tut now realized—relieved the pharaoh of the expensive floral collar, then frisked the royal body for money.
Tut would have told the man who he was, except that—-strangely—he seemed unable to utter a word.
Only when the man was sure that Tut wasn’t carrying a purse did he leave, but not before stealing Tut’s sandals and kilt.
Night was falling as Tut faded back into unconsciousness.
Chapter 59
Tut’s Palace
1324 BC
“WE NEED TO TALK.”
“I’m listening.”
It was an hour before dawn. The entire palace was astir. After the largest manhunt in Egyptian history, the pharaoh had been located in the desert west of Thebes. Tut had been robbed of all his possessions, no doubt by a nomad. The young pharaoh was still unconscious.
In addition to a high fever, his body was covered with bruises and abrasions. Now Aye and Horemheb stood on opposite sides of his bed, looking down at their comatose ruler. The cavernous bedroom was dark, save for the moonlight shining in the window.
Aye said, “We should take this conversation into the hall.