Pity the boy is a delinquent.
He could inherit the throne of Egypt…
… and change the world forever.
But does he?
This is the first novel to set Akhenaten in his childhood.
Making use of the theories surrounding a king, who has been thought to be Moses, the book entertains with a poetic tale of children and what might have been, if only it were true!
Reviews
Awesome story
Looking forward to reading this book. From what I’ve read on the bus its brilliantly written by an author who is thoroughly knowledgeable about the characters and the history of Ancient Egypt.
Amazon Review
Great Story! Interesting Concept!
The Moses theory has been around for ages about Akhenaten. Although I share different ideas on the subject, Sharons story is captivating! Her writing is excellent and I highly suggest this book to believers and non, as the story is so mesmerising!
Amazon Review
Excerpt
AMENHOTEP III
I was Egypt’s favourite son. Whether Amon loved me or not, I have no idea, but Ma protected me. No child had ever won Egypt’s throne and kept it, except Pepi-the-Great, who inherited the Double Crown at the tender age of six … and me.
I suspect Peps kept the throne into his nineties because no one else wanted the job. In his time the country was in ruins. In mine Egypt was at her zenith. My father and two brothers died in the year of my coronation. Being twelve was both miserable and incredible. I was literally dragged from the harem, where I lived, and transformed into a god-man overnight.
Ma ruled for the first few years, while I was a figurehead. She was an excellent mentor. I was a monarch who had few problems … until my son came along, but that’s another story.
“Blast!” cursed the king, removing several small talons from his left forearm.
“Your majesty might be wise to consider a glove,” the court artist, Men advised.
“Imhotep is female. She isn’t supposed to scratch.”
“How on earth do you expect a falcon to hold on by anything other than its two-inch talons?”
“One-inch! She’s a baby, aren’t you my sweet?”
Amenhotep tickled the brown-and-white chick under her chin whereupon she screeched, spread her feathers and hooded her eyes to stare malevolently at his companion.
“She’s a killer with a bad temper. Only yesterday Arath’s horse lost an eye.”
“The head of security exaggerates. Our horses are in perfect condition.”
Cautiously, the king placed one hand over the tiny falcon and moved her onto a perch next to a dead mouse. His bird’s eyes rounded and in seconds she was tearing the entrails out of the small mammal. Men shuddered, moving away from the ravenous bird.
“Why, by Amon’s beard, do you insist on calling her Imhotep?”
“He was our greatest architect and I aspire to his lofty achievements.”
“Precisely – he. It’s bad luck to name a girl after a man. Look at her – she’s a menace!”
“My girl’s just eating.”
“Why not simply call her Sekhmet and be done with it?” suggested his friend, referring to the goddess who had nearly cannibalised all mankind.
“Don’t listen to him,” Amenhotep soothed, picking up the bird and placing her tenderly in a large wooden cage. “Nap time, sweetie. Sekhmet indeed!” He brushed his hands against his leather corselet. “Now, let’s check the blueprints for my latest monument.”
