Barkari

• Laura Roberts, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2011

The Nubian assassin looked up at the Pharaoh’s palace and felt a rush of adrenalin shoot through his body. Barkari understood the risks of his profession and he carried them with pride and a firm determination.
That was why Barkari had been chosen for this task.
Dressed in Egyptian servant clothes, Barkari approached the main entrance.
The guard allowed Barkari to pass without incident.
Barkari walked on.
Queen Ankhesenamun was pleased.
Another banquet had taken place in The Pharaoh and his beloved wife’s honour.
Ankhesenamun was with child.
After numerous miscarriages, Ankhesenamun would finally complete her task as Queen; she would give birth to Tutankhamen’s heir.
It was after the banquet when Barkari crept across the palace courtyard.
Suddenly Barkari heard someone coming and crouched behind a nearby fig tree. As he did, two men appeared. Barkari recognised one of them; it was General Horembeb, the Pharaoh’s deputy.
“This new religion is not what the Pharaoh wanted Tarik.” Horembeb sighed. “But what can be done?”
Tarik, the other man, paused for a moment. “If Tutankhamen wasn’t Pharaoh...”
“Enough! Do you want to be executed?” The General whispered. “I will speak with the Pharaoh; see that you don’t get yourself killed before then.”
Barkari grinned as the two men walked away. If the Nubian succeeded tonight, Egypt’s problems would be a thing of the past.
Ankhesenamun slept as her servant watched over her.
The Queen, like the Pharaoh, was dressed in the finest white linen; she looked pale in the moonlight.
Suddenly she woke and sat up in her bed.
Gasping she tore the sheets off her body and looked down.
“My Queen?” The servant asked.
White became red.
Ankhesenamun’s child was no more.
Ankhesenamun’s servant carried a pile of sheets away from the Queen’s chambers. The Queen had been mumbling the same sentence over and over.
“A girl,” she had said. “Another girl.”
Suddenly the servant heard a noise and she immediately stopped.
It could have been a trick of the candlelight but she thought she had seen something.
Panicking, she ran.
The Nubian almost laughed as he watched the servant flee.
Ignoring her, he approached his victim’s room, his employer’s instruction echoing in his mind.
Tutankhamen, the boy King lay asleep; his life was in Barkari’s hands.
He seized a knife hidden in his clothing and raised it high above his head.
The boy opened his eyes.
The two of them struggled; the Nubian clutching his knife, and the boy King, his arms barely holding the assassin back.
The Pharaoh rolled off the bed and ran towards the adjoining bathroom.
As Barkari reached him he watched Tutankhamen fall into the stone bath and hit his head.
Dazed, Tutankhamen didn’t see Barkari until it was too late.
The Nubian smashed the boy’s head against the stone bath; just to make sure.
Tutankhamen gasped as the blood flowed from his skull.
Then he was still.
Barkari came to his feet and left the room; leaving the Pharaoh staring at the ceiling.