Nefertiti
“A warm wind tore at our sheaths, snapping our short cloaks in the air.“The temple will be two stories high and two hills across.” Maya pointed across the sunstruck dunes. Their crests vaulted one after another, cones of white sand shimmering in the heat.“Where will the materials come from?” Nefertiti asked.“The men will use the rocks from the Eastern Quarry.”Amunhotep was impatient. “How long will it take?”The wind picked up, drowning out the builder’s words. Panahesi and my father moved closer....“Six seasons, if the men can work daily.”Amunhotep’s face darkened. “In six seasons, I could be assassinated!” he shouted. Since he had executed the High Priest of Amun, this was his fear. Everywhere he went, hired guards from Nubia accompanied him. They stood outside his door while he slept and hovered like ravens behind his chair while he ate. They were here now, clustered at the bottom of the hill, their spears ready to dispense with any enemy of the king. In the halls of the palace, Nefertiti had whispered to me that Amunhotep was afraid that the people didn’t love him.MoreLess
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