Tutankhamun The Boy King

Tutankhamun The Boy King
Copyright all rights reserved to Monica Pereira 2013
Smashwords Edition

Tutankhamun rode on his chariot.  He narrowed his eyes as he rode away from town.  He hated the palace and the people -  they hated him.  They expected him to be the son of god, and he didn't know what they wanted.  Whenever he stood to stand before the people they jeered.

“He is not a king;”  they said.  “He is a false;”  they accused.

“People please, I stand before you as your king do not argue lest you make Ra angry;”  he declared. 

“You are not a king!”  they said.  “Boo!  Boo!  Get out of those royal clothes!”  

“People please!  I object your obstinacy!  Calm down or I shall kill all of you!  I am your god on earth and the embodiment of Ra!”  

With that on the air the people began to throw rocks and Tutankhamun was left to take his chariot and flee.

“My life is a mess on wheels!”  told Tutankhamun as he narrowed his eyes as anger boiled his blood.   “How can I calm the people?”  he asked.


Tutankhamun stopped at the barricade his army general Horenheb held in place.  Tutankhamun glared at the militant who was more Greek then man and he narrowed his eyes.  The army had such great respect that he began to wonder if Horenheb were the real leader. 

Horenheb looked to Tutankhamun and raised his arm.

“Hello there!”  he greeted.  “How is my king today?”

“Your king is a boy;”  told Tutankhamun.  “The people make me afraid and I have run away;”  he declared.

“Your people are well educated;”  told Horenheb.

“What does that mean?”  asked Tutankhamun.

“It means they think you are a false;”  told Horenheb.

“What?  Such a thing from your mouth!”  gasped Tutankhamun as he saw red spittle form in front of his vision.  “What are you army man?”

“I am your general;”  told Horenheb.

“Well that means much but not when you tell me it is educated to think I am not a king!”  gasped Tutankhamun.

The army men around Horenheb laughed and Tutankhamun choked on his breath.  He had forgotten about the world and he stood aloof as he swallowed his hatred down.

“Let us talk inside of the tent;  told Horenheb before he invited Tutankhamun with a swing of his arm.

“Yes that would be wise;”  told Tutankhamun before he followed the general into a tent.


Tutankhamun accepted the cup of ale Horenheb gave him and he glared at him as though he saw his own father in front of him.

“It is hard being the kings son.  Are you sure Amenhotep was my father?”  asked Tutankhamun.

“He is like your father;”  told Horenheb.  “And he allows you the blessing you have on your brow;”  

“What blessing?”  asked Tutankhamun as he touched his face.

“You have been blessed with an alien to be accepted in elongated life.  You are immortal, and you are the song of Ra;”  told Horenheb.

“So I am not related to Amenhotep if I do not have his blessing on my brow?”  gasped Tutankhamun.  “Why, that means I am a lie!”  he shouted.

“You are the son of Ra;”  told Horenheb in a calm manner.  

“Who was my mother?  Who was my father?”  gasped Tutankhamun.  

“Ra was your father;”  told Horenheb.

“When was I born?  Where did I grow up?”  asked Tutankhamun.

“In the palace;”  muttered Horenheb as he began to see hard in his soul.  “Do you not recall?”

“Of course I do!  But if Akhenaten is not my father then damn you!  I do not know my mortal life!”  gasped Tutankhamun.

“So be it!”  gasped Horenheb.  “You go back to the palace and you sit there until you remember who you are!”  

“Who am I?”  gasped Tutankhamun in wail.

“The son of Ra!”  shouted Horenheb as he grew as red as a juniper berry.

Tutankhamun let his anger sizzle as he glared at Horenheb.  For a moment he saw someone who was mighty and he began to shrink.  

“Why are you not a king?  Why are you not son of Re?”  he asked as his wits scampered away with the wandering hounds.

“I am a general;”  told Horenheb.  “If you wish me to be a king write it in your will;”  he added.

“I will;”  breathed out Tutankhamun as he glared at Horenheb.  “Excuse me I must run back to the palace;”  he muttered.

“You hurry;”  told Horenheb before he sat and wiped his brow.

Tutankhamun raced out of the door as swift as a hare.  He did not see Horenheb as he smiled in his darkened corner as happiness touched his mind.  Horenheb had been handed the royal crown and he sipped his wine slowly as he grew delighted over the idea of him being a king.


Tutankhamun took to his chariot after he dispatched a runner to race to the castle and send the message that Horenheb would be his successor if he ever died without creating a royal son.  Tutankhamun raced away as the sun set behind his shoulders.  The day grew dark quickly and soon the scavengers of the world crawled out of hiding -  scavengers included men who were drunk.  

Tutankhamun was stopped by a man on a horse as he rode through the desert, and soon he was surrounded by a gang of drunkards.  

“Hello men;”  cheered Tutankhamun.

“Your horse is small;”  told the man on the horse.  “You shall fall;”  he muttered before a rock hit Tutankhamun's head and knocked him to the ground.

Tutankhamun moaned as his mouth tasted the sands of the desert.  He had heard something crack, and he wasn't sure what it had been.  He could not feel pain as a mortal man felt pain.  He could only feel what he heard and he had heard a crack.

“Did I break my leg?” he asked.

“You broke your sword;”  muttered  a drunk man before all of Tutanhamun's gold and weave were taken from his person and from his horse.

When naked the men jeered Tutankhamun as they lit a fire and began to grow spite for what they saw.

“Look a weak king!”  gasped one man.

“A fool!”  gasped another.  “Is that what you are?  Ptolemy the fool?”  he asked.

“Who is Ptolemy?”  asked Tutankhamun.  “I am your king, take me to my horse and lead me home!”  he declared.

“A question and a command!”  gasped one man.  “You cannot question and command, you must do either one!”  he declared.

“I command you take me to my horse and lead me home!”  gasped Tutankhamun.  

“I command you!”  gasped the same man.  “You did as I advised!”

“Make him your visiar!”  gasped another man.

“Yes make me your visiar then you shall never go anything but astray!”  gasped the man before he kicked Tutankhamun in the ribs.

Tutankhamun heard a snap and suddenly he couldn't breathe.  He moaned as he grew winded of his strength and he began to forget about his lordship.

“And what is this!”  gasped the same man before he stole Tutankhamun's phallus from his very own loins.  “A stick!”  he declared.  “A stick for a phallus?” he asked.  “Is this king even human?” he jeered.

“He is a native!”  growled another before he kicked Tutankhamun in the head.

Tutankhamun felt his eyes grow weak and he began to growl.  He growled inside of his chest as he tasted blood in his mouth.  He couldn't feel his body, but he knew that when a king tasted blood they would surely perish.

“Ra will punish you!”  he screamed before another punch made him fall into the dark.


Tutankhamun died for a short while.  When he woke he was in the palace tomb and he didn't like what he saw -  an empty room with scriptures he could not read.

“Where am I?” he asked.

His grandmother Tia walked into the room.  Tutankhamun glared at her and sneered.  Tia narrowed her eyes and sneered back.

“A foul mood for someone who has woken up from their death?”  she asked.

“Have I died?”  asked Tutankhamun.

“Yes you did;”  told Tia as she nodded.

“Then how am I still able to breathe?”  asked Tutankhamun.

“Because Ra made it so;”  told Tia as she eyed Tutankhamun carefully.  “You sent a runner and he found you;”  told Tia.  “He returned you to the castle, and I must say I have been shocked until I have grey hairs on my head;”  she told Tutankhamun.

“But grandmother you have always had grey hairs on your head;”  told Tutankhamun as he rolled his eyes.

“But they feel more grey now!”  told Tia.  “Why did you give Horenheb the kingship?”  she asked.

“I thought I saw his lordship;”  told Tutankhamun.

“But he is not an Egyptian, he is of foreign blood.  Surely you must know he is Greek?”  asked Tia.

“He commands the army;”  told Tutankhamun.

“That is because he was given leadership of them;”  explained Tia.  “He is not a king, he is not made of Ra!”  she gasped.  “He would be better on the Greek throne if he were not so barbaric!”  she added.  

“I thought I saw him as a great lord;”  told Tutankhamun.

“Well then that is why you have been punished!  You saw in error!”  gasped Tia as she glared at Tutankhamun as though he were a stranger.

“I made no error;”  told Tutankhamun as he saw the Isis in Tia sneak out from her shell.  “Please bring me food and water as I need both;”  he told.

“I will bring you a stick so you may walk to your palace;”  told Tia.  “Then you shall eat all the food and water servants may bring!”  she declared.

“You ask a poorly man woken from their death to walk?”  asked Tutankhamun in a tone slightly annoyed.

“Yes I do;”  told Tia.  “For I think you are still in errors and by the time you reach the castle you may see the sense to withdraw your decision;”  she added.

“There will be no withdraw!”  gasped Tutankhamun.  “I told you I saw a king in Horenheb and I told you that he will be given the throne if I shall die before I have a royal son!”  declared Tutankhamun.

“Well your loins have been taken away!  Horenheb is already king!”  gasped Tia as she grew a rash of rage.  

“Well I am not dead!”  gasped Tutankhamun.

“Then change your will!”  gasped Tia.

“No!  I saw Horenheb as a king!”  swore Tutankhamun.  “Now get out of my way!”  he gasped before he moved to storm out of the room.

However Tutankhamun did not walk a step before a crack brought him the greatest of pains.  Harsh throb rolled up his leg to his brain and he quivered before he saw his leg snap in half.

“Evil woman!  What have you done!  I feel human!”  gasped Tutankhamun before he fell down into a dark tunnel.

Tia walked up to Tutankhamun's fainted form which had landed on soft sand that had been freshly raked. 

“Then you are human;”  she told Tutankhamun.  “And that is all you will ever be;”  she added before she picked up her feet and walked away.


Tutankhamun woke on his royal bed.  He had been washed as he smelt of frankincense, however he felt like doom.  His face felt pale, his eyes drooped, and his leg still throbbed; he began to cry!

“What is this?”  gasped Horenheb as he walked up to the royal bed.  

“Horenheb, brother, next king!  I am ill!”  gasped Tutankhamun as he began to quiver.  “Tia nursed me and I can feel my flesh!  I am dying!”  he told.

“Nonsense!”  gasped Horenheb.  “It is but a break in the leg, a bump on the brow, a loss of blood;”  he muttered before he blushed -  through his trial and errors Tutankhamun had not once shed blood.

“See?  You are lying!  I am dying!”  gasped Tutankhamun.

“Nonsense!”  gasped Horenheb.  “Why the people have gathered in the streets and are waiting to celebrate the march of the season.  The Apex Bull shall be revived, and you shall be given flowers;”  he told.

“I don't want flowers!  I want my immortality!”  gasped Tutankhamun in complaint.

“You are still alive!  That makes you immortal;”  told Horenheb.

“Nonsense!  I can feel my failings!”  gasped Tutankhamun.  “I have lost the gift from Ra!”  he complained.

“It is still in you;”  told Horenheb.  “It is still inside of you, you are still the son of Ra;”  he advised.

“Ra is not Akhenaten!”  gasped Tutankhamun before he began to moan.  “Send me my medicine man, re-write my will!”  he gasped.

“You are not dying;”  told Horenheb as greed made him want to bump Tutankhamun on the brow as he laid injured.  “Come meet the people;” he muttered.  “I have a horse outside of the entrance door;”  he added.

“I can't stand!”  gasped Tutankhamun.  

“I never said it had a chariot;”  told Horenheb.  “You shall ride;”  he muttered.

“What do you mean ride?  A chariot is the only way a king meets his people;”  complained Tutankhamun.  “And I cannot stand;”  he muttered.

“You need only ride a little; wave to the people and then come back to bed;”  told Horenheb.  “They are waiting to see that you are well;”  he muttered.

“I am not well!”  gasped Tutankhamun.  “My face is pale!”  he complained.

“It is not pale -  look!”  gasped Horenheb before he pushed a hand mirror in front of Tutankhamun's face.

Tutankhamun leered and then he rubbed his lips.  He looked darker then usual, and this calmed him a great deal.

“I look healthy;”  he muttered before he smiled.  “I see a tan;”  he added. 

“Yes you are healthy;”  told Horenheb.

“Fine then;”  told Tutankhamun as he began to grin.  “I shall meet with the people;”  he added.

“Let me take you to your horse;”  told Horenheb before he pushed a chair on wheels up to the bed.

“Thank-you for your understanding;”  muttered Tutankhamun before he was helped to the chair.


Tutankhamun was lifted onto the horse.  He grabbed the reigns and nodded. 

“How do I look?”  he asked Horenheb.

“Like a king;”  told Horenheb as he nodded back.

Tutankhamun was led forward -  he felt a little woozy, but he managed to sit up on the fine horse.  It had been a long while since he had ridden a horse the old way -  he felt felt like a stranger performing a foreign act.  

“Is this really for a king?”  he asked as he was led down a slope and up a path which was lined with people who held flowers.

The people cheered as they threw petals at Tutankhamun.  Tutankhamun smiled -  however he strained.  His body quivered under its bronze skin and he fell faint.  Tutankhamun saw the people as they cheered and he began to fear them -  they looked like scavengers, meat eaters, killers;  Tutankhamun raised his hand and began to fear them ever more.  A rock hit the side of his head and Tutankhamun fell!  

The crowd gasped!  However all Tutankhamun heard were the jeers of the strangers in the desert.

“Look a weak king!”  gasped one man.

“A fool!”  gasped another.  “Is that what you are?  Ptolemy the fool?”  he asked.

“Who is Ptolemy?”  asked Tutankhamun.  “I am your king, take me to my horse and lead me home!”  he declared.

“A question and a command!”  gasped one man.  “You cannot question and command, you must do either one!”  he declared.

“I command you take me to my horse and lead me home!”  gasped Tutankhamun.  

“I command you!”  gasped the same man.  “You did as I advised!”

“Make him your visiar!”  gasped another man.

“Yes make me your visiar then you shall never go anything but astray!”  gasped the man before he kicked Tutankhamun in the ribs.

Tutankhamun heard a snap and suddenly he couldn't breathe.  He moaned winded of his strength and he began to forget about his lordship.

Tutankhamun opened his eyes and he saw Horenheb before him.  He wanted to smile however he could no longer move his body.  He felt cold, and coldness grew over him until he fell numb.  Tutankhamun cheered behind his dead face -  he had been given back his immortality, and he finally felt like Ra's son once again.  However he was dead, and Ra could no longer touch him as the people huddled around to block out the sun's golden rays.  

“Take him to the tomb!”  told Horenheb as he glared at Tutankhamun.  “Tell the world their king is dead;”  he declared.  “Instead of a festival there shall be a mourning;”  he said.

“No!”  gasped Tia as she broke out amongst the crowd.  “He didn't change his will!”  she muttered.

Horenheb smiled behind her.  Tutankhamun wanted to tell Tia he had aimed to change his will, but the activities of the festival had distracted him.  As Tutankhamun saw Horenheb smile he knew that he had given the kingship to a foreigner, however he could not say he were sorry -  Horenheb still looked more like a king then any other, and he wanted to cheer; however as he was lifted up he fell into the dark once again.  The world was left behind as Tutankhamun met the underworld which gave him a new throne to sit on as he waited for his ascent into the next life where Ra was to meet him as father to him his only son.