Egypt

39

When the pylons and great walls of the temples of Thebes finally appeared before me, rising above the river waters and the surrounding cultivation, after so long away my heart brimmed over with the emotion of homecoming. Ra shone brightly upon the city that held my wife and my family.

But I confess, too, that the beautiful light seemed a cruel illusion. Little did the citizens of this great city know of the dark storm that would soon change everything: Horemheb and his divisions were on their way, to occupy the streets, palaces and offices of the city, and bring the arrests, executions and wholesale destruction that would surely follow, as he grasped power, took the Crowns, destroyed the carved names and faces of the statues of the old dynasty, and asserted his new dynasty. But more than even that, I was the only one of the original party to return alive: Nakht had died at Inanna’s compound; Simut was in chains, condemned; Zannanza had been brutally assassinated. And now Ankhesenamun was doomed.

And as for me, I was an opium addict, and until I was no longer in the grip of such craving, I would not allow my family to know me. Still worse, how could I find the courage to tell my wife of my actions? Before I could walk through the gate and back into my home and my old life, I would somehow have to atone for the dark truth of what I had done. And so, as I set foot once more on the stones of the city of my birth, I felt I was more a shadow than a living man: a thin black silhouette, separated from my old self and my old life.

News of Horemheb’s impending occupation, and of Ay’s death, must already have circulated, for there was a strange, new tension in the air of the city. Many smaller ships were being loaded with trunks containing personal possessions, as the rich tried to save their families and worldly goods by shipping them out of the city and down to their country houses. Crowds of merchants clamoured to buy cargoes of grain as if they were the last ever. Fear had already begun to grip the city. We had lived like gods on borrowed time, and now that dream was over.

In the small hours, three nights earlier in Memphis, I had watched the opium packages being transported from the backyard of the embalmers’ and loaded on to another, smaller commercial ship. I had watched the Official of the Dock sign the papyrus of authorization for the cargo, and give it back to a man dressed in military clothing. I had not recognized him. He and several other accomplices had then boarded the boat to accompany it to Thebes.

It had arrived at noon. I stood in the shadows and kept watch. Nothing happened until the sun set. Then, in the dark of the night, more men appeared, and carried ten wooden crates down the gangplank to a waiting cart. I followed it into the city. The moon was full, and its bone-light lit the streets. The single cart was accompanied by armed guards, running before and after in silence. They did not travel far. They turned past the Southern Temple, and then followed its eastern wall before turning into the spreading labyrinth of the eastern suburbs and their narrow side streets. I knew these streets and passageways well, for I had lived and worked there as a Medjay officer all my life. Some were thoroughfares with shops and markets, others were dedicated to different trades where the workshops opened directly on to the street; others still were low passages only wide enough for one man. So I ran through these, following the map of the place in my head, glimpsing the progress of the cart down dark alleys and side ways.

Finally, it stopped at the high wall of a merchant’s warehouse. The great wooden doors were immediately opened, and it drove in. I waited, breathless, listening to the sounds of the night city, which I seemed to hear intently, in enormous detail-the barking of the dogs across the districts, the cry of night birds, and the uncanny silence of the streets. I approached warily. Nothing distinguished the house from any other, except that its walls were high, it was separate from the buildings around it, and there was only one entrance. Disappointed, I found a discreet doorway in the shadows, and settled down to wait. The cart did not reappear, but all through the night, men in groups appeared in silence, knocked quietly, and were admitted-perhaps twenty altogether. None, however, left.

As I waited in the darkness, Ankhesenamun’s face began to haunt me; I remembered the warmth of her greeting, all that time ago, before we began our journey north. I remembered the fear in her eyes, and her noble call upon my loyalty to her. She was alone, in that lonely palace. Perhaps she had intelligence about Horemheb’s imminent arrival in the city; perhaps she was preparing to escape. But perhaps she was trapped there, unaware. Without Nakht to support her, or Simut to protect her, maybe I was the only man in the world who could help save her from the coming storm.

So when the night sky began to turn blue, and the first workers appeared in the dark streets, coughing and hawking and spitting phlegm, and still no one had appeared from the merchant’s house, I made my choice. I gambled that Obsidian would not appear in daylight. I had very little time.