Chapter Text
It was early in the morning, but he already felt the suffocating heat slowly filling the air, his sweat marking the soft sheet a faint humid and uncomfortable scent. Well, what to expect when you lived in a land (mostly) surrounded by deserts, where sand dunes stretched endlessly, rains barely dropped by and the great sun burnt up everything within its reach?
Actually, he had to expect, even pray for, a bunch of things. Life in royal palaces was not always relaxing, not as simple as wondering how today’s weather would be, or what surprise for lunch. For example, there was a whole kingdom to take care of.
Firstly, would the annual flood of the Nile arrive in time this year, or would it arrive at all? If it did, water would once again cover both banks of the Nile and leave fertile black silt when it receded. Hence, farmers could begin a new growing season and feed the rest of Egypt. Nothing to complain. Otherwise, drought would come as an uninvited guest, thus famine would follow – a marvelous combination that never failed to panic inhabitants of this arid territory, then eventually led to the decline of a dynasty.
Secondly, were all neighbors friendly? Furthest North1, Hittite was growing strong, became a powerful kingdom that even rivaled Egypt, always prepared for war and was constantly at war. In the southern border was Nubia, Egyptian colony. They had been living – apparently – in peace for years, but still Nubian envoys’ face did not appear quite pleased as they came to give the annual offerings on behalf of Egypt’s conquered land. Not to mention the Libyans who controlled the land to the West of Egypt, whose envious eyes were always settling on the magnificent Upper Egypt and the bountiful Lower Egypt.
If something went wrong, people would assume it was a punishment from the mighty gods and blame Pharaoh for having failed as a devoted servant of the deities. Too much pressure for one man to handle.
Fortunately, I am not, and will never be, Pharaoh after all.
Stopping his mind from wandering around, Newt lazily got up to prepare for a new day. He then went to the dressing room to put on a white linen shendyt, no shirt because he intended to stay inside the whole day, so there was no chance that he would get exposed to the boiling sun. Done for the clothes, he quickly applied a light layer of eyeliner2 around the contour of his brown eyes.
Often, Newt would go to the training field unless the bad-tempered ankle messed up with him. Today was that day. It was not pleasant to move around when your ankle did not obey. So he headed to his preferred little shelter instead.
It’s going to be a peaceful day.
After picking all the needed papers, including the copies of some official reports that an archivist made for him, he carried them to a stone table placed near the edge of the room to receive as much sunlight as possible. Newt spread the papers on its flat surface, grabbed a chair and made himself comfortable. Even though it was not supposed to be his quarter, this room was one of Newt’s favorite place, where he spent hours peacefully reading, thinking, or simply enjoying the morning sunlight as well as contemplating its gleaming reflection on the skyline-silver lake lying before his eyes. Far away, a high brick wall stood between the palace and the outside world, defending all assaulters who ever wanted to intrude the palace.
This room was part of a small palace situated beside that of the King. The walls of said palace had a floral pattern also featuring birds and red or white calves. The floors were painted to resemble the Nile teeming with fish. Some chambers were decorated with brightly colored tiles depicting flowers, grapes and vines, birds and fish, while others included glyphs meaning protection, health and good luck. Enormous columns with intricate design were seen in every hallways and chambers, each making its way to the towering ceiling and standing proudly while supporting the entire weight of the roof. Elegantly decorated, this palace had been originally built for the Queen, in other word, the Great Wife of the King, but up until now, there was no such person in royal daily life. Plus, uninhabited palace was such a waste, so Alby told him to use it freely, however Newt wished to. Having a brother who happened to be Pharaoh was a big advantage. He noted to himself to use this benefit as much as he could.
Even though Newt enjoyed his own tidy quarter, sadly, it was not blessed with such breathtaking view compared to the Queen’s palace. So, he allowed himself to borrow one of the (most beautiful) rooms in the Queen’s quarter, which gave a pleasant view over the picturesque artificial lake. At first, he went here simply to relax, contemplate the lake’s beauty, enjoy fresh breezes that brought along pure air and somehow, he could feel the uproar of inhabitants’ daily life on this dearest land. Bit by bit, he filled the room with paper scrolls of books, documents, reports, put them in big vases classified into distinct categories, arranged some furniture and finally converted the empty room into his private library.
Eventually having enough of the view of the room, Newt came back to his work.
There’s some obscurity in those numbers. Newt thought while sliding fingers along the papers, a slight frown on his face. He read attentively, marked all the suspicious parts with red ink, continuously flipped from papers to papers, lips pursed and fingers tapping on the table’s surface.
This bloody scribe’s gotten himself into problems. Just check the report about his income last year, and things will all get clear. Newt stood up and hastily approached the vase that indicated Reports. For not paying attention, he tripped on his feet when approaching these vases of books. A shriek came out of his mouth when he felt the left ankle hit somewhere rather hard. Wanting to prevent the dreadful fall, he instinctively, not any less desperately, grabbed a vase nearby to hold back. Shit. He thought, because now he was going to collapse on the ground together with that vase. Shattered pieces of the going-to-break vase would leave ugly scars all over his body.
Abruptly and miraculously, a hand gripped him back right when Newt had closed his eyes, already been ready to sacrifice himself to the holy ground. Newt’s savior helped him stand steadily on his feet and somehow saved that vase at the same time.
“Little brother, if you manage to break the other ankle, I’ll have you locked in your room forever.”
Newt walked back, a hiss escaped his mouth when his left leg touched the ground while leaning on the King who stayed by his side. Finally finding a comfortable position on a nearby chair, Newt bent down to rub his swollen ankle, a grimace of pain showed on the pale face. His brother sitting beside him watched the prince worriedly. Catching his brother’s concerned look, Newt sat back upright in his chair and faking a smirk.
“Slim it, Alby. I’m fine. Stop that look, it’s like you’re mourning for me already.”
Alby smiled a little at the remark, but soon a flash of sadness and guilt was formed in his eyes, “I should’ve tried to heal your ankle completely,” Alby sounded regretful, “I simply thought it would get better by itself… And now you have to suffer it every day.”
Newt shrugged evenly, but the smirk now changed into a sincere smile. “You and I both know that is not your fault, so just stop blaming yourself, okay? Also, stop exaggerating! I don’t suffer it every day, it just occurs when I push myself off the limits. Yesterday I did walk a bit too much. The ankle got sore afterwards. And I must have banged it somewhere when I tripped. You’ve done everything you can, brother. Those new medicinal herbs you gave me are incredible. It eases the pain almost immediately.”
The elder let out a discreet sigh, but the corner of his mouth turned upwards and he ruffled his brother’s hair. “Got to do everything I can for my little brother, right? Don’t push yourself too far though.”
The prince nodded, but he shoved Alby’s hand gently and playfully. “I’m 17, not 5. Stop patting my head like that. And how did you know I was here?”
“You didn’t come to the training field today. I’ve already been there, but Gally said not seeing you this morning. So I guess you came here.”
Newt grinned. “Tell me, what’s the matter that makes the King wander around this immense palace looking for me?”
Pharaoh gave him a genuine smile. “Well, having lunch alone is boring, so I look for some companion.”
Newt raised his eyebrows while showing a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Alby, you let me use the Queen’s quarter, and now you wander around the palace desperately looking for me to join you at lunch. I’m afraid that people might soon assume that I am the royal Queen.”
“Great, let’s have lunch, then proceed to get married.” The elder rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless with his little brother. After a moment, Newt’s face became thoughtful, before he looked back at the King and asked, “Do you know the scribe Vizu, one of Deir el-Medina ’s3 leaders?”
“No clue,” Alby shook his head, “what’s special about him?”
The prince did not reply, instead he handed Alby all the papers on which some numbers were highlighted with red marks. The King’s eyebrows quirked at Newt’s action, but still he took those papyrus papers without saying anything. Alby took a glance on it and stated, “This is the report about the monthly income of Deir el-Medina’s leaders. I see that you’ve noted down at some parts. These marks pointed out that scribe’s income, right?”
“Yes, what else do you notice?”
Alby glanced back at these reports. This time he read it more carefully, while Newt was waiting with patience. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know. It looks perfectly normal for me.”
“That’s the point, Alby. It looks perfectly normal, though the reality tells me otherwise.”
“What do you mean?” The older brother frowned as he looked up from the reports.
“As confirmed in this report, his monthly income only reaches the average standard profit for a person assuming such position - scribe and village’s co-captain at the same time. The point is, he must gain much more than this trivial number.”
“How can you be certain about it? We can’t accuse a village’s leader by simply seeing his trivial income. Do you have any proof concerning his odd profits?”
“Yes, I’ve seen his wealth by my own eyes! And-” Newt stopped suddenly, bit at his lips as if he regretted the things he had just said.
Alby’s eyes narrowed. “And how did you witness it by your own eyes, Newt?”
Awkwardly, Newt scratched his head, trying to select the right words to say, or to calm the situation. Truth seemed to be the best choice in this case. He swallowed and answered reluctantly without looking at the King’s black eyes. “I…had a relaxing walk in that village yesterday.”
“You WHAT?!”
It was the exact reaction he had expected, followed with Alby’s face that was darkening until it turned into a glower. Newt explained rapidly, “I just wanted to, you know, enjoy some, uh, fresh air so I secretly left the palace, I had to… well it doesn’t matter now. I’ve got the important information.”
Newt felt Alby’s anger boiling up, so he quickly assumed that the pathetic attempt at saving his own arse from getting eternally confined in a secret chamber hidden somewhere at the bottom of the Royal Palace had failed. I’m doomed.
“How many time have I told you not to go out of the palace by yourself?! A prince does not traipse from villages to villages without any guard. Actually, he should not leave the palace without guard at all! And there you are, my little brother, the prince of Egypt, the second rightful heir, eventually sneaking out like it is a hobby!”
Still, it really is an irresistible hobby, Newt thought. Alby’s vivid reaction grew more…vivid than he had anticipated. Newt was about to defend himself (he had already prepared a very touching speech), but clearly the elder would not let him get that chance easily. Out of all people living in this land, Newt was proud to be the only one gifted with the talent of making Egypt’s sovereign lose his mind, one way or another.
“What would you do if someone recognized you Newt? What would they do if they recognized you? Have you ever thought of it? I strongly believe that it isn’t difficult to identify you in the crowd.”
“Alby, listen. My face is not quite well known. I adopt a quite discreet life and rarely show up in front of Egyptian citizens. Besides, I nearly transformed into a different person when going out. You know, muds, or charcoal, make skin darker. I also covered my head with a kerchief. Come on Alby, I looked pretty similar to a normal laborer with all those make ups on!”
“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you can go for a walk around Egypt whenever you feel like! Just in a blink and someone can pull off the kerchief to recognize who you are. Newt, golden hair is not the thing that people will ignore.” The King said as he gestured at Newt’s golden locks and all over his body, covered by pale white skin. Newt let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair. Alby was right. His appearance itself made him outstanding in every circumstance.
Newt was different from everybody, even from his own brother. Whereas Alby’s skin was covered by a shade of dark brown as every Egyptian would have, his was like the pale and ivory moonlight. Sometimes, his whole body seemed to radiate under the burning sunshine, making him look like he was actually shining, as the Pharaoh always teased. No wonder why it rarely failed to capture other’s attention. However, what always left people with mixed emotions between awe and enviousness was the Prince’s golden hair. Egyptians believed gold was the skin and flesh of Ra, their mightiest god whose powers transformed into the brilliance of the glowering sun upon their head. As precious as treasures they hoarded. As bright as color of endless sand dunes covering and protecting this land.
Without this golden treasure, Newt would have been banished from the palace, even from Egypt, for a long time ago. Difference either cursed you, or saved you.
But now, Alby's wrath had to wait.
“Brother, I’m sorry for worrying you, okay? Should we talk about it later? Because I have important thing to tell you right now,” he spoke and pointed a finger at the papyrus paper, directing their conversation’s subject to the main problem. Alby glared at him, though he became calmer now, then nodded and gave Newt the sign to continuing.
“I’ve been to this scribe’s mansion, and seen parts of his properties. It tells me that something was wrong,” Newt showed Alby the papers as he spoke, “There’s no way that man can only gain such low profits, basing on the incredible vast lands and the giant cattle herd he possesses. It must be double, or triple than the number written here. He’s either too lazy to make farmers work on his fields, or…”
Newt waited for a slight reaction, but Alby’s face was unreadable. He was attentively listening throughout Newt’s explanation, yet remained silent. With a deep breathe, the Prince concluded, “…or he’s hiding something about his fortune.”
“What do you think it might be, Newt?”
“He might hide the exceeding profits for himself, or else, he’s doing it for other people. With good or bad intention, only Amun4 might know.”
“He has begun this clandestine affair for how long? Do you know?”
“Almost a year, apparently. I’ve compared these monthly records. You see, since the beginning of this year, his income has gradually decreased, until it reaches a certain number and keeps varying around it. I was about to get the report of the last few years to make a final conclusion, then unfortunately, but elegantly, tripped over my own feet.” The blond said the last part with a hint of sarcasm, but groaned at the sight of his brother slightly raising the corners of his mouth, “Don’t you dare laugh on my face again, Alby.”
The king was just about to deliver a witty comeback, but the threatening glare Newt sent him made Alby stopped abruptly. “I won’t, I won’t. Don’t get mad, little brother. I believe we should start an investigation on this scribe’s case as soon as possible, on his whole family and on other leaders of Deir el-Medina as well. If he already got away with those lies many times, someone else must have colluded with him. This will also give our warnings to other officials,” Alby said as he leaned back on his chair, eyes firmly looking into Newt’s, “punitions must be given, hence justice will be maintained.”
Newt nodded and gave his older brother a smile. “You’re doing great, Alby. You’re doing great for our people.”
He patted Newt’s shoulder, but he said nothing else. Lost in thoughts, he was looking at the lake, now shimmering under the blazing sunlight and turning into a large silvered mirror. After a while, Pharaoh let out a sigh.
“Wish you can assist in royal court with me, little brother. I feel overwhelmed sometimes.”
Alby’s sudden words surprised Newt, though he just answered with a sad smile. “You know that is impossible. Things have changed, brother.”
“I know. Sometimes people still wish for the impossible to happen. Maybe it could be true one day,” Alby said with a low voice, “you’ve helped me and this land countless times, yet no one knows about what you did. It’s not fair for you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just want to help. If it wasn’t because of me, you would not have to be King that soon.”
“Soon or late, I’ll have to step on the throne anyway. Don’t let the past tear you apart from the present. It’s not your fault. I know that, you know that. Our father wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”
The mention of their father sent a sharp pain to Newt’s heart, like a rock being thrown on still water. He could never forget the warmth of his father’s loving embrace around his body, before the former King faded away from this world. Apart from it, other events on that fateful day were all blurry - pieces of turbulent memories that he tried to deny. People tugged him away from the cold body belonging to whose he once called beloved father. Alby went mad, ordered to hunt, to seize, to execute anyone involving in this murder.
Accident? There was no accident. They wanted to kill my father and my brother, and had partly succeeded. These are all of them, the murderers? Kill them. I want to see their head cut off their horrid body. Gally, why don’t you do it? Proof? I need no proof. Fine. I’ll do it myself.
Newt remembered seeing dark red liquid all over his brother’s body that day. He also remembered Alby’s anguish scream when the older brother ran toward him, who was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. No no no. Newt. Newt. Little brother. Wake up. Don’t leave me. Save him. What are you waiting for. Save him or I’ll kill you all. Save him, please. Darkness slowly covered the prince’s mind. He woke up a week after. Alby was crowned Pharaoh. Newt got a limp until the end of his life.
Since then, all courtiers were virtually unanimous in their opinion that the prince should stay away from the throne, not assist in any royal affair. For the prince’s utmost safety, my King. If they see him in court, as a rightful heir of Egypt, they will try to attack again. So Alby agreed. Newt never went to the inexhaustible halls of the royal court again. He used to assist to every court with his father and brother. Alby sat on the right of their father’s throne, and Newt to the left. Now it was only Alby on the throne and two empty chairs by his side.
“Do you miss him, little brother?” Alby softly spoke, eyes staring off into the distance. The sound he made was so quiet, as if it was a whisper to no recipient, like he was talking to himself.
“Every day, Alby. Every day.”
“So do I.”
They enjoyed the comfortable silence for a while, simply listening to the breezing sound that the wind brought in and pursuing their own thoughts, until Alby stood up as the noise from his stomach was ruining the serenity of Newt’s sacred place.
“I suggest leaving works behind and having something for lunch. How about that?”
“Sounds great, let’s go then.”
They folded up the papers, carried with them the necessary ones while putting the others back to corresponding vases, and left the room. Alby was walking ahead with Newt following behind. It reminded them of the good old time. Alby often went ahead, teasingly dared Newt to catch him. Come on little brother you’re slimmer than me. Must run faster then. Little brother. Alby always called him little brother. Some habits never changed. Some others did. Newt used to run fast, really fast. He used to love running. Now he did not want to mention the old passion again.
As they were heading out of the room, the King then stopped. He looked over his shoulder and softly spoke, “Promise me that you won’t leave the palace like that ever again, little brother.”
A promise. It was simply words after words. Just open your mouth and accept it. I promise to do this. I promise not to do that. I promise not to sneak out of the palace again. The blond knew he would break that promise one day. He simply knew it. So what was the point of promising if you would not keep it?
“I promise.”
Still he nodded nonetheless, because he also knew such easy promise meant a world to his older brother, from who Newt saw a glint of fragility in his eyes. Echoed in his mind the first words Alby said to him when the Prince finally woke up after a week falling in unconsciousness.
Stay with me, little brother. We only have each other now.
While walking past the halls to the dining room, they talked about lot of other things, just banal subjects that royal brothers often chattered about.
Have you laid eyes on some other girls? No Newt I’ve decided to crown you my Queen. How was the court this morning? Well horrible people keep complaining about everything. Poor Alby being Pharaoh more like being Complains Listener. That’s why I want to put you at court so we can share half of those complains. No thanks I don’t want to shorten my longevity. I’m so pissed some Nubian tribes still mess with us at our southern border. Did you send out some warnings? Yes of course little brother and I’ll send out armies as well to end this mess forever.
Before they entered the room, which led to heaven because Alby’s stomach was screaming in agony, the King asked, “I just need to get this clear. Why do you pay that much attention for this particular scribe, Vizu, right? There are a hundred of scribes living all around our territory. Why does this lucky one catch your attention?”
“Because he’s a bloody jerk, that’s why. I’ll explain to you later-”, Newt did not finish his phrase when all of a sudden, screams burst out from a corner of the yard before the dining room’s entrance.
“Intruder!”
They turned to the source of this hubbub and saw a group of soldiers chase after a person who was struggling to get away of their reach.
“Protect Pharaoh, protect the Prince!” Shouted a man who was giving orders to the soldiers. “Seize him!”
Naked feet, the poor man kept running without looking behind. Blood oozing from severe injuries on his back soaked the ragged shendyt around his waist. Like a hopeless and hunted animal, he was now pushed to the dead-end, with great walls in front of him and ferocious soldiers surrounded from behind, whose spears and swords aimed toward the intruder. Terrified, he turned his back just to realize that all ways out were blocked with Egypt’s dreadful soldiers, his hands shaking, every breathe quivering in fear. At that moment, Newt caught a glimpse of the intruder, and he felt his heart leap.
This boy. Could he be?
A statue of Anubis5 god stood between the intruder and the closest doorway leading to the outside world. Disregard of all consequences, he made a move to save his life. Eyes were widening in shook when witnessing such blasphemous gestures against the Embalmer God.
Gally, Alby’s most trusted General, had his mouth opened in shock at the action but it was soon replaced by thunderous rage as his eyes seemed to glare daggers at the stranger and his fists clenched tightly. The man was giving commands in order to seize the intruder, angrily yelled, “He’s climbing on the statue of Anubis! Shoot him down. Sacrifice him to our Embalmer God. Anyone who gets me his head will be rewarded.”
“You dumbass…” Newt muttered under his breathes. Then he hurriedly came to the General, leaving a very confused Alby behind.
“Tell your men not to touch him until I give you orders,” Newt ordered as he grabbed the bow of a soldier that was standing nearby, “I’ve got this.”
“But your Highness he’s just- !” The General retorted.
“This is my order,” he replied with such cold voice that made the General instantly stepped back. The man looked to Pharaoh, who was now standing beside him, to seek for some support, but Alby waved him away while observing the scene with curious expression. So it was a no from both royal members. Gally sighed, resisted the urge of letting out a frustrated groaning. The General shouted out to his soldiers that were closing up to the statue’s feet, demanding them to stay away. Though there was a fleeting hesitation spotting on their faces, they obeyed the leader’s order and stood back. However, they still tensed up; even Gally did so, hands tightening around the weapons, gazes fixed on the boy who kept clambering up the status without paying attention to the loosening soldiers below, as if escaping was the only thing that would save him from the upcoming death.
Holding the bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, Newt came closer to said intruder. The closer he approached, the better view he got. Now, he was certain.
There you are.
Right when he found an ideal spot, the blond positioned himself in a firm stance, placing the iron sharp of his arrow on the wooden bow. Pulling the string backward, the Prince narrowed his eyes, tried to concentrate fully on the target in order to obtain an exact aim. He must not miss. With one deep inhale, he released the string.
The boy cried out as the arrow hit its target. The stabbing pain from his bleeding leg made him lost the hold on the statue’s slippery surface. He fell off and collapsed on the ground.
Gotcha.
Newt hastily approached the boy, teeth bared to put away the sharp pain stinging from his swollen ankle. Dozens of spears pointed at the fallen victim, who was lying on the ground and curling up in pain. The Prince motioned them to step back as he took a close look on the shaking intruder, whose lips went pale, eyes were tightly shut and breathes came out painfully. He was not going to hold on any longer; meanwhile Gally was ready to end this boy’s life right the moment when he received an order, whether from the Prince or worse, from the Egypt’s Ruler. Decision had to been made now.
“Put him in jail. No one touches him without my permission.”
“Master Jeff6, you’ve got an urgent letter.” A servant sprinted into the room, breathes ragged from running and sweat trailing from his hairline. Jeff looked up from his papyrus, a confused expression showing on his face.
“Calm down boy. Whose is it?”
The apprentice did not respond, but he seemed anxious when he handed his master a little scroll paper. The physician raised an eyebrow at him while opening the letter. After reading the short message contained within, he frowned and asked the young apprentice, who still stood by his side, “Who gave you this?”
“It was from Master Minho.”
The physician’s face grew darker, but then he quickly stood up and told his trainee, “Prepare my equipment, Clint. Our patient has some severe wounds and broken bones. Be quick. We will leave immediately.” The young apprentice hurriedly arranged all the required equipment in a small wooden chest. In the meantime, Jeff tore the letter to pieces and tossed it into a plant pot. “Maybe the Prince will explain us later.”
Go to the jail. Must not be seen. Minho is waiting. He will distract the guards to let you in. Room at the end of the first row. There is a boy. Bleeding wounds. Broken bones or ribs. Save him. Destroy this letter. The Prince.