SIX

| ANKHESENAMUN | AMARNA | 14th CENTURY BCE |

Ay’s condescension is unbearable. My subjects come to me, but it is he who decides all matters. I am a nothing more than an ornament in this place. Never have I felt more powerless. Each time I speak, he waits, then declares the opposite decision. My subjects look from me to him, their confusion tangible. They do not know who to bow to and obey, their queen or the ancient vizier who stands by her shoulder, perched like a vulture, seeking to take the last of her power from her. I only endure it because I know who is coming. How soon this charade of a court will be overturned, and my power restored.

Food is brought. The only good outcome so far this day. All wait while I dine. I cannot eat much for my hunger has fled, but it feels good to eat and enjoy the saltiness of the crumbled goat’s cheese and the sweet, rich texture of fat, sun-ripened olives, and dates. To savor the doughy warmth of bread straight from the oven. I am content after only a few bites, but already I feel restored. My fingers are dipped into rosewater and dried by my attendant. Another brings a tiny flagon of lily-scented almond oil, places a few drops upon the backs of my hands and massages it into my palms and my fingertips.

The proceedings continue, disputes over a transaction of land, a dowry unpaid, the list is endless for I have not sat upon my throne in months. But I wait, and endure because I know the summons for the merchant has been sent. He is to come once the proceedings finish. There is a tangible feeling of impatience among the attending nobility. They wish for the complaints and grievances to come to an end as much as I. I glance at the remaining number still waiting their turn. Ten more petitioners. Only ten. And then he will be here.

Behind the thin fabric of my gown, my nipples harden at the thought of him striding into my reception hall, all the way from another empire far to the north, to claim me as his queen. I lift my fan to hide my excitement. My longing for him is visceral. And on my wrists, my mother’s gift of golden cuffs glimmer in the glow of the freshly lit braziers and lamps. I gesture to one of my attendants to pour wine, and sip it to settle my nerves. Soon he will come to me, and Ay’s near-stolen crown will be snatched from his grasping fingers. I cannot wait. Truly. It is a delicious torture, and a tale of love my mother would adore. I sense the presence of Aten, sheltering me. Nothing can go wrong now. Nothing. I am certain of it.

The next petitioner has begun his complaint of stolen livestock, he claims they were taken by the man who also stole the woman he was to marry away from him. His expression is soured by his bitterness, and I find it hard to feel anything for him except distaste. I wish him to depart from my presence but because I am in a good mood, I decide in his favor, and the transformation in his appearance is stunning, for he is, in fact, a handsome man. Behind me, Ay draws a sharp breath, his displeasure clear.

“My Queen,” he says in that oily, false voice of his and I imagine he is holding his palm against his chest to show a humility he neither feels nor believes. “It will be as you decree.” Then, quietly so only I will hear: “Perhaps Her Majesty tires and would prefer I dismiss the remaining petitioners so she may rest?”

I know what he’s after, the wily jackal. He wants me gone so he can lord his power over my court once more. I ignore him and nod for the next petitioner to begin. They launch into their tale of woe while I bask in the heat of Ay’s impotent rage, the soft goose feathers of my fan a shield against the smile on my lips.

| ZANNANZA | HATTUSA | 14th CENTURY BCE |

Amarna is nothing like I expected. Everything feels new and looks new. I have heard how the entire city was built during the reign of Amenhotep, raised out of the desert from nothing more than a well and a goat herding oasis. It is a marvel to me. Even had I not known it was built in such a brief time, I would be impressed. There is a sense of harmony in every angle and curve of the city’s palm-lined avenues, plazas, and temples. Symmetry abounds. It is a feast for the senses. I am accustomed to the chaos of a city built and extended over hundreds of years, not this - a pristine, perfect place of beauty and calm.

Birdsong fills the air. Above, stretched over flower-laden terraces a riot of rich blue, green and red awnings ripple in the brisk river breeze. I am a price of an empire so I will not gape, but the boy in me wishes to. I breathe my thanks to Teshub for the gift he has given me and smile at a child holding out a basket of dates toward me. I gesture to one of my men to purchase a handful, and the child’s eyes widen at the size of the heavy pouch of gold he carries.

Of course, it is planned, this show of wealth. Even in a new city, things will be the same as in even the oldest one. People are always the same. I will continue through the market and barter, buy and sell some choice trinkets my father gave me from Babylon and by the time evening arrives, everyone will know there is a wealthy merchant in the city and I will be summoned to the palace. Nobles never wish to miss a chance to purchase a pretty bauble. And this perfect city, with its white walls and glass bead mosaics embedded into every threshold will most certainly be full of vain and wealthy nobles with gold to spend.

At last, I will kneel before her, the miracle who sent for a prince of Hatti to protect her throne from her enemies. After the most arduous journey of my life, I am here. Ahead, perched on a rocky cleft, the royal citadel, walled in white and crested with inverted pyramidions of gold, its palm-lined terraces soaked in the sultry heat of Arinna’s light. The widow queen may even stand upon one of its many indigo-draped terraces now, locked in her patient vigil, unaware the one she awaits is already here, walking among her subjects, invisible. The thought thrills me.

Soon, my queen, I will be by your side, Zanannza Prince of Hatti, son of Teshub, Pharoah of Egypt.