The Season of the Hyaena

Chapter 14

‘My lord, my lord Mahu?’

The chamberlain of the Palace of the Aten, a pompous little man, came waddling up the path, clutching his robes lest they be caught by the bushes on either side.

‘My lord,’ he repeated, ‘that overseer, the one with the dust all over him.’ I sprang to my feet. ‘He’s at the palace gate. He demands to see you. He’s most insistent.’

I gestured at Sobeck to follow. The overseer was in the porter’s lodge, breathing hard in his agitation.

‘My lord,’ he gasped, ‘we were working in the gallery of the Royal Tomb. You’ve got to come.’

We hurriedly left the palace along the great eastern road, past the temples, through the market squares, up the dusty chariot paths and into the enclosure before the Royal Tomb. Mercenaries and workers milled about the entrance. They stood aside as the overseer led us through, down the steps and along the passageway. The secret chamber was on our right, but the overseer led us a further twenty paces and stopped where he’d placed a pole against the wall.

He grasped a flaring cresset torch and held it up, exposing a smooth expanse of plaster, carefully done to blend in with the wall. Once again it was surrounded with minute magical inscriptions. I immediately ordered the plaster to be broken. The workmen set to with mallets and hammers, the plaster cracked and fell away. I thrust the torch through the gap and gasped in amazement. This was no empty chamber but a storeroom of treasures. In the light of the dancing flame I glimpsed chariots, weapons, caskets of jewellery, their lids thrown back, beds, stools and tables.

I stilled the workmen’s cries. Sobeck grabbed a torch, and before I could intervene had clambered through. I shouted at him to be careful, but Sobeck was absorbed with what we had found, exclaiming in disbelief at the precious goods which filled the chamber from floor to ceiling.

‘A treasure house,’ he shouted. ‘Akenhaten’s House of Silver.’ I climbed through after him. ‘Nefertiti’s preparations,’ Sobeck whispered, staring round-eyed in amazement. ‘This is what she would have used for the Royal Burial.’ He picked up a beautiful gold-embossed fan and wafted his face. ‘Look at it, Mahu. Chairs and thrones, chariots and harnesses. We must keep this a secret,’ he chattered on. ‘We must prepare against the evil day.’

‘What evil day, Sobeck?’

‘When we fall from power.’

‘Then we fall from life!’

‘No, no.’ Sobeck pushed me deeper into this treasure house. ‘Mahu, one day the Prince will be a man. You and I will not be needed. What should we do in our old age, eh? Sit on a stool in our doorway, chomping on our gums?’ Sobeck gestured at the treasure hoard. ‘I am different from you, Mahu. I have fallen from power. I have spent months out in the prison oasis in the Red Lands. I’ve prowled the streets and alleyways of Thebes. I have sat with poverty and smelt its horrible stink. Why give this to the Lord Ay?’

I didn’t answer, but pushed my way through the various items. Crouching down, I opened a casket piled high with precious stones; beside it was a pair of gold-embossed sandals displaying scenes of a Pharaoh smiting vile Asiatics.

‘At least we know where Akenhaten’s treasure is,’ I declared. ‘Or at least some of it. Have you noticed, Sobeck, how much of this is heavy and couldn’t be carried away?’

‘You mean there’s more?’ Sobeck asked.

‘I know there’s more,’ I replied. ‘Akenhaten took some of the gold and silver bars, the precious stones, and left this. Nefertiti would have used it, melted it down and sold it, to finance her plans.’ I got to my feet. ‘We’ll leave this for the while. We’ll make a decision about it later.’

We left the secret treasure house. I gave orders for a wooden hatch to be placed over the gap. Sobeck was equally insistent, grasping the overseer by his tunic and threatening him and the workmen with the most dire punishment if they revealed the secret. Caught up in greed, Sobeck even distrusted me, demanding that some of his mercenaries join mine to guard the entrance.

‘Sobeck, friend.’ I tried to reason. ‘What is this?’

I had taken him further down the gallery away from the rest. Even then Sobeck was agitated, wiping the sweat from his face, staring back at the entrance to the treasure house as if fearful that robbers would break in.

‘It’s not yours,’ I whispered.

‘It is now,’ he retorted. ‘I went into the Delta with you out of comradeship; my loyalty deserves reward. If we had been captured, we’d now be rotting at the end of some pole. I’ve returned to Thebes and what do I see? The Lord Ay, Maya and Huy, swaggering rich and powerful. Horemheb and Rameses are no different, generals of the army showing off their collars of gold and silver bees of valour. That treasure’s mine, Mahu.’

‘No, Sobeck,’ I smiled, ‘it’s ours.’ The anger drained from his face. ‘But we’ll talk about that later. I wish to see the Stammerer.’

We returned to the palace and my own House of Chains, a small prison in the cellars beneath. I called two of my mercenaries and told them to prepare a room.

‘Just a bench and a stool,’ I declared. ‘And both of you go further along to another cell. You’ll hear the prisoner arrive. When you think it is appropriate, I want you to give the most chilling screams.’

Both men, Kushite archers, eagerly agreed.

‘And remember,’ I shouted out to them, ‘make it convincing.’

I waited for Sobeck to bring the Stammerer from the quayside. He arrived shouting and protesting at being pushed along by Sobeck’s retainers. He was a one-eyed, rat-faced man with lank hair and pitted skin. The robe he was dressed in was of fine quality, though it was stained and marked after his journey along the river. He was one of those petty palace officials, full of their own importance and always ready to take a bribe. He was all nervous, or pretended to be, as Sobeck thrust him down on the stool.

‘I wish to object,’ he declared. ‘I have been kidnapped, manhandled from my home. I have been given little food or drink and forced aboard ship to live with the filthy riff-raff of Thebes.’

Sobeck smacked him across the face.

‘That’s no way to speak about my cousins, my own kin.’

The Stammerer nursed his left cheek.

‘Why do they call you the Stammerer?’ I asked. ‘You chatter like a monkey.’

‘I used to stammer,’ the man declared, ‘but now it’s cured.’ He turned his head, peering at me with his good eye. ‘I have been told you are the Lord Mahu, Overseer of the House of Secrets. I wish to know why I have been brought here. By what right? Whose warrant? I am a citizen of Thebes. If I have done wrong, I should answer to the mayor.’

Sobeck smacked him again. The Stammerer would have jumped to his feet, but Sobeck pushed him back down. He was about to protest again when a hideous scream echoed along the passageway, a long-drawn-out cry of pain, followed by another. Even Sobeck started, whilst those on guard outside hurried along to see what was happening.

‘You are in the House of Chains.’ I spoke up. ‘And you are beginning to sweat with fear. You are not a reputable citizen. I think you are a murderer.’

‘I am an embalmer,’ the Stammerer yelped. ‘My services are well known in the House of Life.’

‘You have also got a reputation in Thebes.’ Sobeck leaned down. ‘I have heard the stories,’ he hissed, ‘about what you embalmers do with the corpses of comely women.’

‘That’s all lies,’ the man declared, wincing as Sobeck hit him again. ‘Stories put about by my enemies.’

‘We could put you on trial for that.’ I winked at Sobeck. ‘What’s the sentence for interfering with the dead? Impalement? Perhaps we could stage it on the river bank as a warning to everyone else. After you die, which will take hours, we could arrange for your corpse to be hung from the Wall of Death.’

‘What is it that you want? What do you want me for?’

‘You’ve forgotten to mention,’ I declared, but paused as another blood-curdling scream made the Stammerer quiver. ‘You’ve forgotten to inform us,’ I continued, ‘that you are no stranger to the City of the Aten, nor this palace. You once worked as an embalmer here didn’t you?’

The Stammerer stared longingly at the door.

‘Doesn’t that scream provoke memories?’ I asked. ‘One night three to four years ago, wasn’t it? In the imperial quarters of this palace. You were brought here to serve the great Queen Nefertiti!’

‘A treasonable bitch! She now-’

I hit him in the mouth.

‘My mistress,’ I said softly, ‘fair of form and fair of heart. A woman steeped in blood, but still my mistress, my Queen. Now answer my questions. You had a man murdered, didn’t you, and later embalmed his corpse. You shaved the hair and face and sent this miserable creature into the eternal night, having burned his heart.’

‘She murdered four men,’ the Stammerer blurted, wiping the stream of blood from the corner of his mouth.

‘Four?’ Sobeck asked. ‘Come, come.’

The Stammerer put his face in his hands and for a short while rocked himself backwards and forwards. ‘I promised,’ he murmured. ‘I took a great oath never to reveal what happened.’

I forced his face up. ‘Did you have a hand in these murders?’

The Stammerer nodded.

‘Years ago,’ he breathed out, ‘my family and I were fishermen. We hailed from the town of Akhmin.’

‘Ah,’ I sighed, ‘the same city as the Lord Ay. Now, would the likes of him have anything to do with fishermen?’

‘We were fishermen during the day, but at night we …’

‘You were pirates.’ I finished the sentence. ‘River killers. Men who lurked amongst the reeds, waiting for some hapless merchant; a swift arrow, and whatever he was carrying becomes yours.’

‘One night we were captured,’ the Stammerer continued. ‘We’d attacked a powerful merchant a few nights previously. He escaped and returned to set a trap. During the fight I lost my eye. We were taken before the courts and found guilty. We were sentenced to death, three others and me. The Lord Ay came down. He said he had certain tasks for us. We were taken to the nearby House of Life. He enrolled us in the Guild of Embalmers; at first we couldn’t believe our luck. We praised his charity and generosity.’

‘Go on,’ I urged. ‘And then the corpses began to arrive, the remains of those whom the Lord Ay wished to dispose of.’

‘Yes.’ The Stammerer swallowed hard, then moaned quietly as another hideous scream echoed along the corridor.

I nodded at Sobeck. ‘Do tell the guards to leave that prisoner alone. Give him some time to think. Perhaps he will agree to answer our questions.’

A short while later Sobeck was back. The Stammerer must have thought his smile was symptomatic of his sadistic mood, for he promptly fell to his knees.

‘My lord Mahu, pardon, mercy! The Lord Ay used us to embalm the corpses of his victims and sometimes we carried out other tasks for him.’

‘Get back on your stool.’ I prodded him on the shoulder. ‘You smell. I don’t like you too close.’

The Stammerer scrambled back.

‘Is that what cured your stammer?’ I asked. ‘The shock of being caught, the prospect of being impaled?’

The Stammerer nodded.

‘And of course when the Lord Ay moved to Thebes, you came with him?’

Again the Stammerer nodded.

‘You and your companions were given posts in the Necropolis. When Akenhaten and his court moved here you were given the usual licence and warrants to follow? What happened when Nefertiti used you?’

‘Four men had been caught,’ the Stammerer gabbled. ‘They were not Egyptians but Apiru. They were often seen in this palace, allowed to come and go carrying documents bearing the cartouche of Akenhaten. No one dared stop them. This was during the time of the Great Mystery.’

‘The what?’ I interrupted.

‘The Great Mystery: that’s what the Great Queen Nefertiti called it when Pharaoh, her husband, was seen no more.’

‘So did she not know what had happened?’

The Stammerer shook his head. ‘She knew that these Apiru had been visiting her husband. When he had been missing for three to four days, they were discovered near the King’s own treasure house. When the guards accosted them they showed their royal warrants, but,’ the Stammerer shrugged, ‘everyone realised something serious had happened. The officers became suspicious and brought the men before Queen Nefertiti. She had them imprisoned in a nearby chamber and asked me and my companions for our assistance.’

‘You tortured them?’ I asked.

‘They were brave men,’ the Stammerer replied. ‘Especially their leader, Yakoub; he was the last to die. The Great Queen asked where her husband was. What had become of him. She threatened them with public trial and execution, but Yakoub scoffed at her and asked how could they be accused of any crime.’

‘Who was present at this interrogation?’

‘Nefertiti’s mercenary captain, and others, two or three, men she trusted.’

‘Was Lord Ay there?’

The Stammerer shook his head again. ‘She asked them why they were in the palace so near to the treasure house. Yakoub replied that they had one more task to carry out for their master.’

‘Their master?’ I interrupted. ‘So that was when Nefertiti learned that her husband had left the palace but was still alive.’

‘That’s what I believe.’

‘Take him out.’ I turned to Sobeck. ‘Tell the guards to keep him in a nearby chamber.’

Sobeck pushed and shoved the man out of the cell, returning immediately.

‘So you now have proof that Akenhaten didn’t die here, but escaped?’

‘It’s not that,’ I whispered. ‘Why did he send a man like Yakoub and three of his followers into the Palace of the Aten?’

‘To take some treasure?’

‘No, I don’t think that was it.’

‘Then why were these Apiru found near the treasure house?’

I couldn’t answer Sobeck’s question. Instead I asked for the prisoner to be brought back. I thrust him down on the stool.

‘What happened to the Divine One,’ I whispered, ‘is neither here nor there.’

‘But I thought you wanted to know that?’

‘I’ll tell you what I want to know. Tell me again what Yakoub said.’

The Stammerer closed his one good eye, screwing up his face. ‘We were torturing him; being embalmers, we know a lot about the human body, where to inflict the greatest pain. By then the other three had died. Yakoub was beginning to fail. He spent a great deal of time cursing Nefertiti in his own tongue. She was seated in a chair behind us. She was dressed in the full regalia, as if she was at the Window of Appearances ready to give audience.’

‘Why was she there?’ I demanded. ‘What did she want from him?’

‘She asked why Yakoub had returned to the palace. He replied, “As I’ve said, to finish a task.”’

‘And?’

‘That’s all he would say. A day later, he died. Now the corpses of the other three were taken down to the river and thrown into a crocodile pool. However, Nefertiti ordered us to embalm Yakoub’s corpse, but not in the proper way. We were to take out his heart and place his corpse in a heavy bath of natron. We did what she asked. She had coffins brought from the Royal Treasury. We placed Yakoub’s corpse inside, soaking it in resin, and took it up to the Royal Tomb. There was a hidden chamber: its opening had not been sealed. We pushed the coffin through the gap. At the far side of the chamber stood a quartzite sarcophagus, I remember that.’

‘And the traps?’ I asked.

‘Nefertiti’s work. She told us what she wanted: the shaft holes for the snakes, the copper and brass embedded in the floor. We deliberately weakened the ceiling. We dug the pit, placed the stakes and covered that up. Nefertiti had the gap plastered over and ordered us to put the magical formula around it.’

‘Did you ask her why?’

‘She was terrifying,’ the Stammerer whispered. ‘My lord, she was truly frightening, face tight with anger, eyes blazing with fury. She reminded me of a panther. She walked so softly. I … I was terrified. She made me swear the blood oath.’ He shrugged. ‘The rest, my lord Mahu, you know. Nefertiti ended her days. I and the rest were only too pleased to flee back to Thebes.’

‘She rewarded you well?’

‘A basket full of treasure, my lord, from the House of Silver. She said if we ever breathed a word …’ He left the sentence unfinished.

‘Go on,’ I urged. ‘You’re released from your oath. I have found the coffin and Yakoub’s corpse.’

‘She said she knew our crimes, that no one was beyond her reach as Lord Pentju-’ The Stammerer stopped, fingers going to his lips. I leaned across and dug my fingernails beneath his good eye.

‘Do continue. What do you know about the Lord Pentju?’

Sobeck got up and went and stood behind him.

‘The Lord Pentju?’ I repeated.

‘She had his family murdered. At the time the plague was raging. The physician was locked in his own house; a small mansion where he looked after the baby Prince …’

‘I know all that.’

‘She had them poisoned,’ the Stammerer declared. ‘She claimed that people thought they were victims of the plague. She sent them wine and other delicacies as a gift.’

‘By all that is Holy,’ Sobeck breathed. ‘She killed Pentju’s wife and children!’

‘And the others in the house,’ the Stammerer whined. ‘They were sheltering there. They all ate and drank. The poison was quick-acting.’

‘You know more, don’t you?’

‘We were sent in.’ The Stammerer spread his hands. ‘What could we do?’ he wailed. ‘One of my companions delivered the food and wine. We visited the house, pretending to be scavengers coming to remove the corpses of plague victims.’

‘And was Lord Pentju informed?’ I pressed my nails harder.

‘Lord Pentju was informed. I was the Queen’s messenger. I told him that his wife and family had died in the plague but that the Queen, recognising his duties, realised he could not leave the Prince. She claimed she would see to the funeral rites.’

‘And Lord Pentju?’ I asked.

The Stammerer hung his head. ‘He listened to my message and walked away.’

‘He walked away?’ Sobeck asked.

‘Yes,’ the Stammerer agreed. ‘He walked back to the gates of his mansion; the mercenaries closed them in my face. I remember the bar being lowered, the bolts being drawn. I went back to the Queen and told her what had happened.’

‘And?’

‘She gave that terrifying smile, not looking at me direct as I knelt before her, but at some point beyond me.’

‘Why do you think Pentju’s family were murdered?’

‘I don’t know,’ the Stammerer gabbled. ‘My lord Mahu, you know how it is.’

‘No I don’t,’ I interrupted.

‘You deal with murderers?’ he whined.

‘Yes I do. But not ones who kill women and children.’

‘Nefertiti cursed Pentju and the baby Prince. She dismissed him as illegitimate.’

‘Illegitimate?’ Sobeck queried.

‘She meant he wasn’t of her blood line.’

‘And Yakoub?’ I asked. ‘Why was Nefertiti so cruel towards him?’

‘She was convinced he had come back for something, that he knew the truth about her husband. She suspected Pentju was involved in this with others of Yakoub’s blood. She mentioned a man called Djarka.’

Sobeck glanced quickly at me. I gestured at him to keep quiet.

‘My lord, we did what she asked, her rage was formidable.’ He fell to his knees again. ‘Lord Mahu, I beg forgiveness. I know nothing else.’

We left the cell.

‘Well?’ Sobeck asked. ‘What do you do now?’ He gestured back at the door. ‘Shall I have his throat cut?’

‘Take him back to the river,’ I snarled. ‘Where you put him is up to you!’

I wanted to hide my own rage. I ran from the House of Chains, across the courtyards into the deepest part of the garden, sheltering under the shade of the date palm trees. At first I was so distracted I could not keep still. I reflected on what Khufu had said, and that priest’s strange death. Everything else I had learned was also sifted as I tried to impose some order on the chaos agitating my heart. I must have stayed there for at least two hours, alternating between bouts of depression and anger at being fooled. Sobeck discovered where I was.

‘I am taking the Stammerer back to Thebes,’ he announced. ‘I think I can use him before I have his throat cut.’ Sobeck stood tapping his foot.

‘You haven’t come about the Stammerer,’ I accused. ‘It’s the treasure, isn’t it? You are not taking it, Sobeck!’

‘I didn’t say I was. I just want my share. When you return to Thebes the treasure will come with you. I want your promise that I’ll have half.’

‘Agreed.’ I clasped his hand.

‘And what about Yakoub’s corpse?’

‘I’ll take it back to its tomb.’

‘What are you plotting?’ Sobeck demanded.

‘Sobeck, take your Stammerer and any of the treasure you can safely conceal; the rest leave to me.’

He left. A servant came to tell me that one of Nebamun’s squadrons had brought in some desert wanderers with a girl they had kidnapped and tried to sell.

‘Fine them and whip them,’ I shouted.

‘The girl is Egyptian and highborn.’

‘She’ll have to wait. She’ll have to wait.’ I dismissed him, still restless and uneasy. I wanted to lash out. To distract myself I went to look at some acrobats training in a courtyard; one of the chamberlains had hired them for a feast he was planning. I watched their sweaty, oil-drenched bodies twist and turn, followed by the jugglers and the fire-eaters. I grew bored and began to mentally compose a poem about a hyaena, wounded and alone in the Red Lands: a ridiculous effort! I felt imprisoned by my obsession. Why not leave the court and my duties, I wondered, and take Lord Ay’s offer of a country mansion? I thought of the hyaena. You can lecture it, imprison it, but once free, it still hunts.

I went back to the garden. Amedeta came looking for me, ostensibly carrying a message from Ankhesenamun. A servant directed her to where I sat under a tree, almost hidden by the long grass. She flounced up shredding a lotus flower, her lovely face framed by a perfumed wig with silver fillets. She was all perfume-drenched, her dark sloe eyes, ringed with green kohl paint, bright with passion, lips full and red, breasts thrusting against her thin linen robe, bangles and anklets clattering and jangling. I was aware of her high-heeled sandals, the soft gold flesh of her legs, the golden gorget round her throat and the cornelian pectoral displaying Nekhbet, the Vulture Goddess, glinting against her chest. I took her as she intended to be taken, had plotted to be taken, soft arms around my neck, thighs either side of mine, eyes closed, mouth open in cries of pleasure. I took her and took her again, my nails digging into her back, lips pressed against hers. Afterwards she rose, smiled at me, throwing the last of the lotus petals down on to my stomach, and left, hips swaying, singing softly under her breath.

I stayed for a while then returned to the palace. I invited Djarka and Pentju to dinner out on the terrace. The darkness was lit by beautiful coloured oil lamps. The cooks served us a choice of dishes: strips of beef, aubergine salad, rice with broad beans and coriander, whilst the alabaster chalices were kept brimmed with the rarest wines. Djarka sang a song as a hymn of thanks. I dismissed the servants, explaining that I would serve my guests. For a while we ate in silence. Djarka and Pentju were watchful, now and again moving to wipe the perfumed sweat from their cheeks.

‘My lord,’ Djarka began, ‘why are we here?’

‘Because you are my friends.’

‘What is it you want to ask?’ Djarka was wary.

‘Why you murdered Khufu.’

Djarka swallowed what he was eating. Pentju lifted his cup, gazing at me across the rim.

‘You did murder Khufu,’ I declared. ‘You were both involved.’

‘Impossible!’

‘Djarka.’ I leaned across the table and pressed a finger against his lips. ‘You are my friend, as dear to me as any son. Now don’t,’ I raised my voice, ‘sit at table with me and lie when confronted with the truth. The only comfort I can take,’ I added bitterly, ‘is that you lie and deceive me to keep some great secret hidden. You murdered Khufu. You went to that window and enticed him to remove the wooden grill. Perhaps you said you had messages from me, or you wanted to help. Khufu followed you into the garden. You shared a wine jug, but you made sure his contained some powder which sent him into a deep sleep.’

‘But I examined the corpse.’

‘Shut up, Pentju! When Khufu was drugged you took him back to his chamber, going back through the window. You already had the rope ready, and what you did is what I found. You removed the door bolts as if they had been wrenched off and pulled the door shut. A wooden wedge was placed under the bottom to make it seem locked and bolted. You also replaced the wooden window grille from inside. When the alarm was raised the door was forced. I noticed the scuff mark on the floor. To those breaking in, however, it looked as if the bolts had been snapped. They found Khufu hanging by his neck, a pool of urine beneath his feet, the stool knocked over. When I examined the window it looked as if the wooden frame hadn’t been removed. Djarka, you’ve worked with me often enough to know what I’d search for. It’s easy to strew dust on a sill as if nothing’s been disturbed. You also prepared the ground outside, making sure there was no trace of what had happened; a full jug of water from the window of Khufu’s chamber would also help disguise any marks on the grass. To all appearances Khufu, frightened out of his wits, had hanged himself. In truth, he was murdered by you, Djarka, on the advice of the Lord Pentju. He wanted Khufu silenced because of what he knew.’ I paused. ‘Do you remember that scrap of papyrus I found in his chamber? I showed it you, Pentju. It listed Akenhaten, Nefertiti and Pentju, followed by a reference to Hotep the Son of Ptah, one of the Memphis triad, associating him with Tutankhaten. I also recalled the other references Djoser and Meryre had made: how they wanted you, Pentju, to be a member of their circle. When the Lord Akenhaten left his city, he must have told you, Pentju, guardian of his son, about his departure. I was ill at the time, or still recovering from the plague. Those who assisted Akenhaten must have taken him out to the Red Lands to the members of a clan called Israar of the Apiru tribe. Are you of Israar, Djarka?’

‘Of course, my lord.’

‘Did you help the Divine One to leave the city?’

‘I knew it was about to happen. You were very ill at the time. I often brought Yakoub and his companions into the city. The night they were captured by Nefertiti’s guard, I was waiting here in the palace grounds. When they never appeared, I knew what had happened.’

‘Why were you waiting?’

‘They had a message for me which I was to give to the Lord Pentju.’

‘What about?’

‘My lord, I don’t know. The prisoner you interrogated today, the one Lord Sobeck brought up to the quayside, I am sure he told you the reason why Yakoub and his companions failed to deliver it.’

‘What was Yakoub doing in the city?’ I insisted.

‘My lord, all I know is that he and his companions were to take something from the treasury and give it to me to hand on to Lord Pentju. I repeat, I don’t know what it was.’

I glanced at the physician. ‘Do you, Pentju?’

He shook his head and drank deeply from his wine cup.

‘Why,’ I asked him, ‘did Nefertiti murder your family?’

‘As an act of revenge.’

‘Or a warning,’ I added. ‘She really wanted to get her hands on you,’ I insisted. ‘And you know the reason why, Pentju? She had heard rumours, as had Meryre and others, that Akenhaten might not be Tutankhamun’s father, but that you were. You confided such a secret to Djarka but not to me, true?’ I paused. ‘Most of what I now say is a matter of logic. This scandal is something Khufu never confessed but only hinted at. Ptah is the third God of the Memphis trinity. Hotep is his son. On Khufu’s scrap of paper, you, Pentju, become Ptah; Tutankhamun is Hotep: in other words, father and son.’

Pentju closed his eyes. ‘The truth, Mahu, is this. I loved my wife and children but I also fell in love with the Lady Khiya. Nefertiti, as you may recall, humiliated me at a banquet when I joked about her not producing a son. I plotted my revenge. I advised the Lady Khiya to take no more of the potions and powders sent by Nefertiti. I also gave her medicines to improve the fertility of her womb.’

‘Did you sleep with her?’

‘Yes, yes, I did. If the Divine One had discovered that, both I and the Lady Khiya would have suffered death and disgrace.’

‘But he never did. Is the Prince truly your son?’

‘Others would like to say so, but no: he is Akenhaten’s. Of course, when I stare at his face I sometimes like to think he is mine, yet I must not say that.’ Pentju shook his head. ‘Tutankhamun is of the imperial bloodline, True Pharaoh in nature and name. Nefertiti started those rumours. In time she would have tried to poison Akenhaten’s mind. Meryre and his fellow conspirators also found such stories useful.’

‘Of course.’ I breathed. ‘If they had been successful, they could have swept Tutankhamun aside as the illegitimate by-blow of some court physician; that’s why the dying Djoser referred to him as the true usurper.’

‘Khufu was the last of such conspirators.’ Djarka spoke up. ‘My lord, we trusted you but you promised Khufu life and limb. He was a snake in the grass. Whatever you promised, would the rest of the hyaenas keep faith? Wouldn’t Lord Ay’s spies have searched him out? Brought him back to Thebes for questioning?’

I filled both their cups. ‘So,’ I stared into the night, ‘everything makes sense. Khufu’s death, the whisperings of Meryre and Nefertiti’s plot. She must have realised her husband wished to abdicate. If she’d managed to retain power, she would have staged a mock public funeral for him using Yakoub’s corpse and encouraged those stories about Tutankhamun being illegitimate.’

‘Do you think the Lord Ay knows?’ Djarka asked. ‘Nefertiti was his daughter.’

‘Lord Ay may know,’ I replied, ‘but it is not in his interest to publicise such scurrilous rumours.’ I held my hand up, fingers curled. ‘Tutankhamun is the clasp which holds everybody and everything together. What we have discussed here should go no further.’

Djarka and Pentju glanced at each other and nodded in agreement.

‘Tell me,’ I sipped from my cup. ‘According to Khufu, Akenhaten, in one of his mad speeches, talked about the Watchers holding a secret. I don’t think he was referring to rumours regarding his son’s legitimacy. He didn’t know about them, and even if he suspected, he would have kept such a matter quiet: no man wishes to publicise that he has been cuckolded. So, what was he referring to?’

‘I don’t know,’ Djarka retorted.

‘But you had conversations with Yakoub?’

‘Yakoub brought physicians and doctors to purge Akenhaten’s body and soul, to purify his flesh from the drugs of madness which had turned his head and blinded his heart. They talked to him about the true nature of the One, the Hidden God. They may well have talked about the future.’

‘And?’ I asked.

‘My people come from the western hills of Canaan. The Apiru are a tribe of herdsmen, of farmers and shepherds. Many years ago they wandered into Egypt; some, like Great Queen Tiye, became more Egyptian than the Egyptians, assuming high office, deserting their own beliefs. Queen Tiye paid service to the Fertility God Min, though in her case it was pretence. She returned to the old ways and taught them to her son Akenhaten.’

‘What is this teaching?’ I asked.

‘That there is only One God, an invisible being who creates all things and sees all things.’

‘There’s more?’ I insisted.

‘Yes, my lord, there’s more: stories that the Apiru, particularly my tribe of Israar, have been chosen by this Invisible God, whose name cannot be mentioned, to produce a great Messiah whose rule will stretch from the great river to the far islands, who will bring all kingdoms under his way …’

‘And Queen Tiye believed her son Akenhaten was this Messiah?’

Djarka nodded. ‘Queen Tiye’s theories became known to the priests of Egypt. They also knew of prophecies about the Gods of Egypt being overthrown, of a Messiah coming, of a great nation being formed. Most of it is superstitious nonsense: that’s why,’ Djarka held his hands up, ‘on the one hand Tiye and Akenhaten pursued their vision, and on the other the priests of Egypt opposed it.’

‘Akenhaten truly thought he was the Messiah,’ Pentju commented. ‘In his madness he really believed he would found a new city and a new empire, that all men would come under his sway. The dream died and Akenhaten became absorbed with wine and the juice of the poppy.’

‘And Yakoub?’ I asked.

‘Yakoub told the truth,’ Djarka replied. ‘Akenhaten was not the One but only a precursor. There would be other precursors, heralds, prophets. A nation would be formed out of Egypt, but he must withdraw to allow this to happen.’

‘How true is this story?’ I felt as if a cold breeze had tingled the sweat on my back. ‘Is it nonsense? The babble of priests?’

‘It’s dangerous nonsense,’ Djarka declared. ‘My lord, for twenty years Akenhaten turned everything on its head: the Gods, the temples, the rituals of death, life and the hereafter. He brought Egypt to its knees. Many in Thebes think the nightmare is over. Akenhaten has gone and this city will be allowed to die. However, if they suspected, the likes of Horemheb and Rameses and the other powerful ones of Thebes, that only the plant had been cut but the roots still survived …’

I held my hand up for silence. ‘I follow what you say. First we have Akenhaten and his madness. He disappears, but Meryre picks up the standard and brings foreign troops into the Delta to threaten Egypt …’

‘So far,’ Djarka leaned across the table, ‘people think Akenhaten’s madness has died with Meryre. If they knew the full truth, they would lash out at my people.’ He spread his hands. ‘Now you understand why I’m so reluctant to speak, or to trust even you, Lord Mahu.’

I felt a chill of danger, yet secretly marvelled at Lord Ay’s cunning. Horemheb and the rest had to be assured, comforted that Akenhaten’s vision had died, but if they began to suspect that those same ideas were still flourishing … Tutankhamun was Akenhaten’s son; Lord Ay and others of the Akhmin gang were of Apiru descent.

‘There could be a blood bath.’ Djarka broke my reverie. ‘Horemheb and Rameses would demand that anyone of Apiru blood be removed from high office either in the council or in the temples. The Apiru, like the Hyksos of old, would be declared to be the enemy within, to be ruthlessly crushed or driven beyond Egypt’s frontier. My people would pay a heavy price, as would those who have any ties with us.’

‘Tell me more about these rumours,’ I urged. ‘About the Messiah.’

‘What I say,’ Djarka replied, ‘is the chatter round our camp fires, but they talk of an albino, a man with hair and skin as white as snow, of strange eyes. He will lead our people out of Egypt into a Promised Land.’

‘What Promised Land?’ I asked, though I suspected the answer.

‘Canaan, a land flowing with milk and honey. Can’t you see, my lord Mahu, the new dangers? If Horemheb and Rameses, and those who support them, suspected what we are discussing now, they would regard it as treason! Stories about how a tribe Egypt has housed and sheltered would one day bring chaos to the Gods of Egypt before marching across its frontiers to occupy a land which Egypt regards as its own …’ Djarka shook his head. ‘They would offer only one solution: the total destruction of every single member of our tribe.’

‘How much do you know of this?’ I turned to Pentju.

‘Djarka has told me what he has told you,’ Pentju admitted ruefully. ‘But there is one difference, my lord Mahu. I believe what he says: one day the prophecy will be fulfilled. After all,’ he smiled bitterly, ‘Akenhaten did overturn the Gods of Egypt. What happened once can happen again.’

I picked up my wine cup. How long, I wondered, would it take for Horemheb to reflect on what had happened? He and the other officers of the Imperial Army would regard the dreams of the Apiru as a serious threat to Egypt’s very existence. Egypt depended on Canaan for wood, wines and the rich produce of its river valleys.

‘Perhaps it will never happen?’ I whispered.

Djarka held my gaze.

‘Then pray that it doesn’t happen,’ I snapped.

‘It will happen, or so my people think. They talk of it constantly. How long before others realise that the blood of Akenhaten is Apiru? Tutankhamun is of the same, so it may all happen again.’

I put my wine cup down and rose unsteadily to my feet. I walked to the balustrade and stared down at the gardens. Here and there a pinprick of light glowed from the guard posts. I turned quickly and caught the stricken look in Pentju’s eyes; he had not told me everything.

‘You are right, Djarka,’ I murmured. ‘It’s not finished! It’s not finished at all.’