Chapter Sixteen

Tutankhamun admired a sleeping Suhad in the filtering morning light with a pensive, half smile.

There was something different about her. The thought had been nagging at him for several weeks now. While Tutankhamun acknowledged that some time had passed since he had been intimately acquainted with her, he also recognized that his memory of her body's contours had not at all dimmed. There were definitely inexplicable changes in her body that both fascinated and confused him. Not only did he notice the differences but he could see that those differences were becoming more and more pronounced with each passing day.

In the past, he might not have noticed at all. In all his years of intimacy with women, beyond satisfying his lust, Tutankhamun had never paid particularly rapt attention to a woman's body. They were, most often, briefly enjoyed and then forgotten. He was never with them long enough to memorize any particular feature about them nor had he ever had the desire. Suhad was altogether different. He knew every sleek line and gentle curve of her, had kissed and caressed her most secret places on more than one occasion. He could map out her beauty marks and blemishes and childhood scars with his eyes closed.

And, because he knew her so well, Tutankhamun did not easily miss the newfound fullness in her breasts or their responsive sensitivity. He noted with speculative interest the subtle flaring of her hips as well as the convex rounding that swelled just above her pelvic bone and the glowing health of her hair and skin. Tutankhamun wasn't at all sure what all of it meant but he knew what he suspected.

He splayed his hand across her lower abdomen with a gentle smile. There were times when he lay with her in the quiet hours of the night with his hand pressed against her belly just as it was now that he could swear he detected some telltale movement, a fleeting thump... Sometimes it was so faint and so quick that he thought he must have imagined it. And, when Suhad would continue on sleeping, as if nothing untoward had happened at all, he began to consider that perhaps he had. After all, he wasn't an expert. This was all unchartered territory for him.

Beyond the part that he took in the actual conception, Tutankhamun knew very little of childbearing and had even less interest in learning about such matters. What he did know was rudimentary and crude at best and could be summarized succinctly. If a woman of childbearing age she menstrual blood then she was not with child and if a woman of childbearing age did not have a menstruation then she would most certainly bear a child. Simplistic, perhaps, but fairly accurate. Considering the mounting evidence, his own instincts and, most pertinently the fact that Tutankhamun could not remember a single time Suhad had bled in the last six months, he was strongly inclined to believe he was right. That left only the question of why Suhad had yet to say anything.

Granted, he was no more an expert on the mechanisms of a woman's menses than he was on conception and pregnancy itself. His limited experience in a woman's monthly cycle of bleeding mostly centered around his vague knowledge of Ankhesenamun's habits. Usually during those times his sister would shut herself away in her bedchamber anywhere from three days to an entire week. She would be quite moody and withdrawn and, sometimes, even ill during that time but, once her time had finally passed, life would resume as normal.

He had been living in close quarters with Suhad since returning to Thebes. Though they officially had separate bedchambers and barring the few weeks they had been in discord, they almost always spent their nights together. He had become very familiar with her habits both at bedtime and during her morning routine. Not once, in all that time, had Suhad ever behaved in a manner remotely close to how Ankhesenamun had...at least, not that he could recall. Even with the weeks of their brief separation that had to be accounted for Tutankhamun remained convicted. He had watched her closely even then and he had noticed nothing untoward.

Tutankhamun wondered, and not for the first time either, whether his child was growing inside of Suhad at that very moment. The theory made sense. The changes in her mood and appetite. The inordinate amount of time she spent napping. The undeniable metamorphosis her body was plainly undergoing. The secret she believed too big to share with him. He wanted to ask her directly but he hesitated, partly due to fear of crossing some heretofore undefined line that led into a sacred domain meant only for women and partly because he had no idea how they would proceed if she was with child.

And then there was also the niggling fear that he might be wrong. Could he withstand the possible disappointment that was to follow? Could Suhad? Or would there be encompassing relief because having a child amidst so much upheaval seemed like an unwise prospect? What if asking the question alone provoked in them unspoken desires that could not be easily fulfilled at present? While the idea of creating a child with Suhad filled Tutankhamun with unrestrained joy and a strange sense of excitement that he could not remember feeling before, he also recognized that the timing was not optimal.

As of yet, he still had not informed Ankhesenamun of his intention to elevate Suhad to queen and return her to her rightful place as princess of Egypt. It was evident by now that the gods would never grant her a child and, perhaps, that was truly what they intended and the reason they had led Suhad to him in the first place. Tutankhamun firmly believed that but he knew Ankhesenamun would reject the theory entirely. He knew that, no matter how gently he broke the news to her or what flowery words he used or how convicted he was in his faith that all was happening as the gods intended, Ankhesenamun would be livid. He fully expected her resistance and fury because she would view his decision as nothing less than his rejection of her as queen. She would fail to understand that he was simply trying to embrace her as a sister instead.

Given the turmoil he knew that would unleash, Tutankhamun recognized that he could not tell Ankhesenamun anything of his intentions until his enemies had been dealt with first. He couldn't let himself become preoccupied with attempts to quell her murderous rage when his kingdom was on the verge of being conquered. One month, that was all he needed to set matters straight.

Tutankhamun estimated that within the next month he would have accomplished his plans in full. General Horemheb and his planned rebellion would be vanquished and the Mitanni would hopefully no longer prove to be a threat. Only then would he marry Suhad. And then, if they had not already, they would conceive a child together as heir to his throne.

Suhad shifted in her sleep then, exposing the soft swells of her bare breasts to his avid eyes as she did so and thoroughly distracting him from any further thoughts on the matter. He lowered his head to nuzzle against her warm skin, coaxing her into gradual wakefulness with the slow, circling demands of his tongue. Afterwards, when his desire for her had been satiated for the moment, Suhad watched with sleepy eyes when he reluctantly rolled from the bed and shrugged into his discarded robe.

"Will I see you later?" she yawned.

He bent forward to press a kiss to her temple through the rumpled curls of her hair. "I should return by the evening," he replied, "Have you some means of entertaining yourself in my absence?"

"Nahkt has agreed to take me into the market place today. I'm to teach him how to haggle. He's never done it before." Tutankhamun grunted at that, his expression sour and mildly envious. Suhad bit back a knowing smile. "Come now, you're not going to begrudge me my only friend here, are you?" she tsked.

"He's not your only friend. You have Lagus."

"Whom I see only slightly more than I see you," she replied grumpily.

"Just...promise me that you will guard yourself with him. Remember that Nahkt is the Vizier's son. You cannot trust him fully, Suhad."

"He's nothing like his father. He's not after his own interests. He truly wants me to feel welcome here."

"Or so he would have you believe."

Suhad flopped onto her back to regard him with a speculative look. "You do believe me when I tell you there is nothing between us, do you not?"

"Of course."

"Then...are you sure you aren't being a tiny bit jealous at the moment?"

"I'm being cautious," Tutankhamun sighed in clarification, "Beware of giving your trust too easily."

"What a contradiction you are. You warn me to maintain my guard with Nahkt and yet you continue to trust his father implicitly. How do you reconcile the disparity?"

"That is where you are wrong, my love," he countered softly before dropping an affectionate kiss to the tip of her nose, "I do not trust Vizier Ay at all."

Two hours later, Tutankhamun was seated upon his throne while Lagus and Ay briefed him on their latest strides in intercepting General Horemheb's escape plans as well as devising a counterattack. "They intend to wait until the day of his execution," Lagus informed him, "and then there will be an uprising."

"We should dispose of him now," Ay advised, "before his treasonous plot can even begin to unfold."

"I cannot do that," Tutankhamun replied, "To do so would only cause Horemheb to become a martyr in the people's eyes. He will die, Ay, but only when it is clear to everyone what a treasonous criminal he truly is."

"And the Mitanni?" Ay prompted, "They continue to gather their forces. I have no doubt King Tushratta prepares even now to move against us."

"I am devising a plan to deal with the Mitanni," the pharaoh said, "Once I have spoken with the queen, I will inform you of the details."

"Of course, my lord."

"You may leave me now." However, as Ay and Lagus started to turn away to fulfill the command, Tutankhamun said, "Lagus, please stay behind a moment. I would like to have a word with you. In private," he added on meaningfully when it looked as if Ay might linger. "You are dismissed, Vizier."

Ay respectfully lowered his eyes as he scooted obediently for the exit. "Yes, my king."

"Be careful, my lord," Lagus warned once they were alone, "If the Vizier believes that you have begun to devalue his counsel, he could become a very dangerous enemy. I do not trust him. Maintain your guard."

Tutankhamun flicked his hand in a dismissive wave. "Ay is the least of my concerns at present, Lagus."

"You worried about the illness that continues to spread across the country."

"More and more of the people succumb. The healers have proved to be ineffective against it. No medicine can cure it. Evidently, the gods cannot be bothered to intervene on our behalf. Soon, it will overrun Thebes, in spite of my best efforts. If something is not done soon, the Mitanni will undoubtedly take advantage of our weakened state and annihilate us."

"You implied to the Vizier that you have a plan in mind. I will hear it if you are inclined to divulge it at this time."

"Not a plan exactly," Tutankhamun murmured, "More like an alliance. I am going to propose a marriage alliance between Egypt and the Mitanni and pray that it meets with success."

"But what could you possibly hope to gain through a marriage alliance with your enemy?"

"Survival. We are weakened, not only by illness but a divided army with dwindling numbers and they are starving and without any provisions to replace what they have lost. They can hardly provide for themselves much less those joining within their ranks. That is the very reason they fight so hard to take hold of the fertile land along the Nile. Both of our nations are hurting in different ways. Perhaps, we can mutually benefit one another instead."

"That is a prudent undertaking although fraught with many variables," Lagus considered, "Your enemy must also have the ability to see the situation as practically as you do. However, the reasoning is sound. Dare I ask, who inspired this particular strategy?"

Tutankhamun lifted his shoulders in a light shrug, managing to bite back his answering smile. "She gives good counsel," he replied simply, "You know that."

"Indeed, I am well aware that she does, my lord," Lagus agreed, "But you are wise not to advertise that fact to others."

"I know it. My enemies would gladly use it against me...as they do already."

"I did warn you..." Lagus reminded him.

"You did."

"But," he added meaningfully, "it was obviously the right choice for you. Suhad makes you happy. A blind man could see it."

"Yes. She does make me happy. I have never known anyone, man or woman, like her. And when this business is concluded, I have every intention of making her my queen."

"That will not be an easy undertaking, my lord."

"I am aware, which is why I am counting on your support, my friend."

"You will always have it."

"And what if I told you...?" Tutankhamun paused, trailing off into preoccupied silence as he attempted to formulate his next words to Lagus.

"What is it, my lord?"

"What if I told you that Suhad and I had conceived a child together? What would you say?" Lagus was clearly stunned by the question and had a difficult time covering his dubious reaction. As Tutankhamun watched the commander struggle to regain his composure, he said, "Don't tickle my ears. Tell me what you truly think."

"Given all that is happening and what a dangerous era this has become for you and for her, the timing is...rather unfortunate," Lagus managed as diplomatically as he could, "Are you certain?"

"No, I'm not certain at all. It's merely a suspicion on my part. Suhad has said nothing of the sort but, I cannot dismiss my instincts on this. I feel I am right."

"And if you're not? If Suhad has not confirmed it for you then why beg trouble where there is none, my lord?" Lagus posited wisely, "You have enough with which to contend without adding the complication of a child, which would surely be perceived as a threat by your enemies, to the issues at hand. Concentrate on subduing your enemies first. When all of this is settled, then you shall turn your attention to the business of making children with the woman you love."

Once his meeting was finished with Lagus, Tutankhamun had little time to meditate on his friend's wise counsel because he needed to prepare himself both mentally and emotionally to face his sister. He had pointedly avoided all unnecessary conversation with Ankhesenamun following the night he had shown up at her bedchamber unbidden and had, without preamble, dragged her into bed. That night anger, despair and hopelessness had been the driving force behind his actions and when it was all over he felt lower than he had an the onset. Ankhesenamun, on the other, had been pleased at his apparent change of heart. She had even invited him to stay so that they could confide in one another like they had in times past, but Tutankhamun had been eager to leave, feeling too disgusted with himself and with her to remain in her presence.

His stomach churned sickeningly with the memory as he approached her chambers now, though he was careful to keep his features neutral to conceal the unrest he felt inside. He would simply tell her of his plans and then take his leave. How difficult would that prove to be?

Upon his entrance, Ankhesenamun offered him a welcoming smile and dismissed her servants so that they might speak in private. She closed the distance between them without hesitation, enfolding him in a brief embrace and bestowing a sisterly kiss to his cheek. She seemed not to notice how he stiffened at her proximity.

"It is good to see you, brother. I'm surprised that you are here," she said, "You've been rather determined to avoid me since our night together."

"Let us not speak of that night," Tutankhamun managed uncomfortably.

"Should I not wonder what prompted your sudden change of heart?" Ankhesenamun wondered, "Or what caused you to be so very fierce and demanding that night...almost as if you were trying to purge yourself of something...or someone." He growled her name in warning. "Come now. I am your sister. I know when something troubles you. I only seek to help you."

"I do not wish to discuss it. I granted your request. Is that not enough?"

"Forgive me for being hurt that you've practically ignored me all these weeks. I did not force you to come to me, Tutankhamun!"

"I know. My apologies. I've been preoccupied lately."

"Does that mean that you are ready to discuss the state of our kingdom...and our marriage?"

"I'm here to discuss how we can possibly save ourselves from the Mitanni and, namely, preserve this kingdom."

Ankhesenamun sat down onto her settee. "I'm listening."

"I want to propose a marriage alliance between Herit and the Mitanni prince."

His sister blinked at him incredulously. "What did you say? You want to do what?"

"I cannot fight a war against an army that size while the half of mine that is not treasonous succumbs to illness," Tutankhamun argued, "This could help us avoid annihilation."

"I'm trying to understand, brother. You are saying that you wish to form an alliance with the Mitanni, our sworn enemy, and you want to use our cousin to do it?"

"King Tushratta has an unwed son. Herit would become a powerful Queen and an ally to Egypt. It could unite our lands and ultimately build this empire."

Ankhesenamun digested his suggestion with narrowed eyes full of suspicion. "Who really is it that makes this proposal to me now?" she demanded, "Is it my brother, the Pharaoh of Egypt or is it his Mitanni whore?"

"Do not call her that!" Tutankhamun bit out sharply, "Never again!"

With the flaring of his temper, so did hers. Ankhesenamun surged to her feet and rounded on him in hissing rage. "And do not pretend that this sudden revelation you've had dawn upon you was not at all influenced by her!"

Refusing to be sucked into yet another circular argument with her, Tutankhamun regarded her with inscrutable eyes, bridling his emotions once more and choosing to ignore the wild accusation altogether. "I know that this will be done with great sacrifice to you. I realize that Herit is your favorite of our cousins."

"What are you thinking, brother?" she wondered tiredly, "Have you no idea what your own people are saying about you? They question your devotion to Egypt due to your devotion to her! You are alienating your people and creating the very divisions you are seeking to bridge! How can you allow her to influence you so thoroughly?" She took his face between her hands, forcing his impassive stare to her impassioned one. "It has always been the two of us since we were children. You and I. No one could divide us and now nothing remains as it once was! When did you abandon me? When did I lose you?"

He jerked from her hold, his carefully constructed facade of calm slipping a notch as his anger flared. "When did I abandon you?" he scoffed, "Perhaps you should first ask yourself when you abandoned me! How many times did you lie with Ka while I hovered on the precipice of death? How eager were you to help him claim what was rightfully mine?"

"It always comes right back to that, doesn't it? I grieved for you! I have never wished you dead, Tutankhamun! You are my brother and I love you! I had nothing to do with the plot against you!"

"But you did carry on with him for months, did you not?" Ankhesenamun jerked her eyes aside with a guilty wince. "Did you think me ignorant or blind to the happenings in my own house? I'm not a fool, Ankhesenamun, though you have attempted to make me one again and again."

"And so now this is your way of punishing me...because I dared to love another?" she concluded thickly, "By taking away all that I hold dear piece by piece, by shoving your Mitanni lover beneath my nose and taunting me?"

"No. That is not what I'm doing. I want to preserve this kingdom and nothing more."

"You cannot even see how thoroughly she clouds your judgment and I fear that we will lose everything before you finally realize it."

Tutankhamun squared his shoulders, recognizing that nothing more could be gained through their exchange. "I will give you the remainder of the evening to come to terms with my proposal and say your goodbyes to Herit," he said, starting for the exit, "I should want her to leave for her journey shortly after first light, sister."

"Exactly what sort of future do you expect you can have with her?" Ankhesenamun demanded at his back, "She's a peasant! She's completely ignorant of our customs here! She's not even of pure Egyptian blood! She's nothing, brother, and no one."

"She's mine, Ankhesenamun," he told her in parting, his tone both resolute and simultaneously filled with steely admonition, "She is mine."