Free Sunrise on the Mediterranean by Suzanne Frank Page B

have, his temple had a roof. It’s even cool inside, if you have ever been inside.” He looked at Cheftu, at
     his long, curling hair.
    “You obviously haven’t,” Wenaten said to him. “Anyhow, the Aten wants to rain his light down on us. All day. Every day. From
     dawn to dusk. Hot, blistering heat.” Wenaten touched his forehead. “Being at sea has healed my sunburns, but you should have
     seen them! Peeling skin like an Ashqeloni onion! A great tribute to the Aten.”
    “That’s disgusting,” RaEm said haughtily.
    “It is a part of the new court attire. A sunburn. Burns testify that one is a good Egyptian and devout in his worship of the
     Aten.” Wenaten hesitated a moment, seeming less ridiculous and more meditative. “The envoys from other lands are convinced
     Pharaoh is mad,” he said ruefully. “Most of Egypt’s nobility has already disavowed him.”
    RaEm was watching the little man, openmouthed. She’d probably never heard of discontent with the ruling class, certainly not
     in Egypt. Cheftu smothered a smile. What would she think if he told her that his countrymen had not only overridden their
     monarch, Louis, but chopped off his head also?
    Rebellion was not an ancient Egyptian concept, for Pharaoh was god incarnate. At least, rebellion
hadn’t
been an Egyptian concept. “Who is Pharaoh?” Cheftu asked carefully.
    The small man drew to his full height and extended his hand upward, palm flat. “Pharaoh, living in Aten forever! is Akhenaten.”
    Ak-nah-ten, Cheftu repeated mentally. He lives in Akhet-ah-ten, obviously named after himself.
    “Who is consort?” RaEm asked.
    Cheftu could see the wheels of her greed spinning. “
Aii
, used to be Nerfertiti. What a woman… .” Wenaten drifted off, a dazed expression on his face. “She even looked like a woman.
     Alas, she was banished. Even shipped across the Great Green, I think. Her face was lovely enough to inspire a thousand ships
     to set sail.” He sighed again.
    Cheftu’s skin prickled. When would these men share water? His tongue was swollen.
    “If she is gone, then who rules beside Akhenaten?” RaEm purred at the spindly ambassador.
    “No one for long. Pharaoh has married each of his daughters, attempting to whelp a son, an heir to the throne.” The little
     Egyptian wiped his nose on his palm. “It’s been two Inundations since I set foot in Egypt. I will know nothing more until
     we arrive in the Delta.”
    A shout made them turn, and Wenaten crowed with delight that the ship was now in the waters beside the islet.
“Aii
, I appreciate your allowing me to rest in your home,” Wenaten said, bowing. “The Aten blesses you.”
    “Wait!” RaEm shouted. “You cannot leave us here! We have nothing!”
    “You should have considered that when you married this long-haired fop. What do you do?” Wenaten asked Cheftu.
    “We’re not married,” Cheftu said through gritted teeth. “And I’m a … royal adviser,” he said, ignoring RaEm’s snort.
    Wenaten stopped and glared at him. “Then why are you naked? Sitting out here, with your bride, and not even married! What
     kind of adviser are you when there is no king around!” He looked over Cheftu’s shoulder. “Is there a king around?”
    “I didn’t—there isn’t—” Cheftu began, then gave up, chasing after Wenaten as the small man boarded the skiff. “My lord, we
     are not married. We do not live here. We are stranded.”
    “Take us home to Egypt,” RaEm wailed. “Please, for the love of the gods. We are Egyptians!”
    Wenaten stopped, looking from one to the other. “Why did you not say so at the start? Fool thing to move here, middle of nowhere,
     nothing to plant,” he muttered. He shouted to a sailor, told him to prepare two more sleeping pallets, threw Cheftu a cloak,
     then sat down in the skiff.
    “I hope he remembers to send it back for us,” Cheftu murmured, watching the smaller vessel, feeling the warmth of heavy linen
     around his body