The Murder of King Tut by James Patterson, Martin Dugard Page A
Authors: James Patterson, Martin Dugard
Tags: HIS002030
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and sobbed in anguish.
Ankhesenpaaten ran a finger over the baby’s head, touching the small nose and stroking the soft black tufts of hair. The child’s
eyes were closed, and she kissed each one.
All too soon, she knew, the royal embalmer would mummify this newborn and place it in the royal tomb to await the death of
her parents.
“We will get to know one another in the afterlife,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered. “I love you, my darling Nefertiti.”
Chapter 44
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
IT WAS HIS TIME NOW, but was he ready—quite possibly
to die?
Tut stood alone in his tent, his stomach a knot of nerves and fear. Adrenaline raced through his body as he anxiously clenched
and unclenched his fists, then bounced lightly on his toes a half dozen times. He was all of seventeen years old, and he was
going to war.
Outside, he could hear swords clanking and horses whinnying as his great army assembled on the morning of battle.
His
army.
Egypt’s
army.
Tut whispered a silent prayer to Amun. He strapped on his leather chest armor, slid a sword into the scabbard at his waist,
then stepped out into the harsh desert sunlight to join his soldiers.
Unlike many of these men, whose wives followed the army, Tut had traveled alone. Sadness over the loss of their child had
changed things between Tut and Ankhesenpaaten. Even though she had become pregnant again, things weren’t the same. She was
moodier, more grown-up.
Unlike his father, who stayed home with Nefertiti every day of his life, Tut began traveling. He hunted deer with Aye, whom
he continued to distrust. And he fell under the spell of General Horemheb, particularly on the subject of warfare. To be a
real man, Tut decided he needed to do battle. He needed to be here with the army.
Now he had a chance to fight for the first time. He would test his mettle today, and perhaps he would die.
The great Egyptian army was encamped near the Canaanite city of Megiddo, a desert fortress surrounded by towering walls of
mud and limestone. There was a good chance the Canaanites would refuse to come out and fight, preferring to endure an Egyptian
siege than to be slaughtered in full view of their women and children.
Tut prayed that this would not be so. He ached for his first taste of battle.
The gleaming sword weighed heavily against his hip as he inspected his chariot team. Like soldiers before him, Tut vowed to
be strong and to show no fear, but he worried that he might turn and flee.
“You have a talent for drawing, Pharaoh. Your images of the gods are so powerful that I feel the urge to bow down at the sight
of them,” said Horemheb, who had stepped up to Tut’s side. It was a snake-like compliment about Tut’s passion for art, a not-too-subtle
insinuation that the boy was timid like his father.
“Are you saying I should have stayed in Thebes, General?” Tut was unafraid to ask hard questions, even of men decades his
senior.
Now he wiped the sweat from his brow. He surveyed his men—infantry, archers, and charioteers assembling in long orderly columns.
A simple sweep of the eyes brought into view an arsenal the likes of which few had seen before: powerful bows and maces, highly
sharpened axes, spears, and daggers glistening in the sun.
Having so much power at his disposal excited Tut in a way that he never could have imagined. No, he was
not
his father’s son. He was a warrior!
Chapter 45
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
“I WAS PAYING YOU a compliment, Pharaoh,” said the crafty Horemheb.
“Then I accept your compliment. Tell me, General, what is our strategy today?”
The general’s large but powerful chest and belly were bronzed from the sun, and he squinted as he studied Megiddo’s distant
fortifications. “May I speak bluntly, sir?”
“Of course you may. You know me well enough by now. I need to know the truth—always. Speak your mind.”
“I have conquered this miserable town before. It is a den of whores and thieves
Ankhesenpaaten ran a finger over the baby’s head, touching the small nose and stroking the soft black tufts of hair. The child’s
eyes were closed, and she kissed each one.
All too soon, she knew, the royal embalmer would mummify this newborn and place it in the royal tomb to await the death of
her parents.
“We will get to know one another in the afterlife,” Ankhesenpaaten whispered. “I love you, my darling Nefertiti.”
Chapter 44
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
IT WAS HIS TIME NOW, but was he ready—quite possibly
to die?
Tut stood alone in his tent, his stomach a knot of nerves and fear. Adrenaline raced through his body as he anxiously clenched
and unclenched his fists, then bounced lightly on his toes a half dozen times. He was all of seventeen years old, and he was
going to war.
Outside, he could hear swords clanking and horses whinnying as his great army assembled on the morning of battle.
His
army.
Egypt’s
army.
Tut whispered a silent prayer to Amun. He strapped on his leather chest armor, slid a sword into the scabbard at his waist,
then stepped out into the harsh desert sunlight to join his soldiers.
Unlike many of these men, whose wives followed the army, Tut had traveled alone. Sadness over the loss of their child had
changed things between Tut and Ankhesenpaaten. Even though she had become pregnant again, things weren’t the same. She was
moodier, more grown-up.
Unlike his father, who stayed home with Nefertiti every day of his life, Tut began traveling. He hunted deer with Aye, whom
he continued to distrust. And he fell under the spell of General Horemheb, particularly on the subject of warfare. To be a
real man, Tut decided he needed to do battle. He needed to be here with the army.
Now he had a chance to fight for the first time. He would test his mettle today, and perhaps he would die.
The great Egyptian army was encamped near the Canaanite city of Megiddo, a desert fortress surrounded by towering walls of
mud and limestone. There was a good chance the Canaanites would refuse to come out and fight, preferring to endure an Egyptian
siege than to be slaughtered in full view of their women and children.
Tut prayed that this would not be so. He ached for his first taste of battle.
The gleaming sword weighed heavily against his hip as he inspected his chariot team. Like soldiers before him, Tut vowed to
be strong and to show no fear, but he worried that he might turn and flee.
“You have a talent for drawing, Pharaoh. Your images of the gods are so powerful that I feel the urge to bow down at the sight
of them,” said Horemheb, who had stepped up to Tut’s side. It was a snake-like compliment about Tut’s passion for art, a not-too-subtle
insinuation that the boy was timid like his father.
“Are you saying I should have stayed in Thebes, General?” Tut was unafraid to ask hard questions, even of men decades his
senior.
Now he wiped the sweat from his brow. He surveyed his men—infantry, archers, and charioteers assembling in long orderly columns.
A simple sweep of the eyes brought into view an arsenal the likes of which few had seen before: powerful bows and maces, highly
sharpened axes, spears, and daggers glistening in the sun.
Having so much power at his disposal excited Tut in a way that he never could have imagined. No, he was
not
his father’s son. He was a warrior!
Chapter 45
Egyptian Desert
1324 BC
“I WAS PAYING YOU a compliment, Pharaoh,” said the crafty Horemheb.
“Then I accept your compliment. Tell me, General, what is our strategy today?”
The general’s large but powerful chest and belly were bronzed from the sun, and he squinted as he studied Megiddo’s distant
fortifications. “May I speak bluntly, sir?”
“Of course you may. You know me well enough by now. I need to know the truth—always. Speak your mind.”
“I have conquered this miserable town before. It is a den of whores and thieves
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