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Authors: Paul Doherty

An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (21 page)

BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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‘I never knew, Mahu,’ he began, ‘there could be so much happiness. I have been in the Land of Incense. I have flown on eagle wings beyond the Far Horizon.’ He leaned closer, pride blazing in his eyes. ‘I am a Prince of the Blood, Mahu. I am Akhenaten but, first and foremost, I am a man. In that, there is no difference’ – he gestured with his hand – ‘between myself and those around me.’
It was the first and only time my master Akhenaten, beloved of the One, ever compared himself to another man, ever claimed to possess that ordinary humanity, ever boasted of our common heritage. He touched me gently on the forehead, rose and left. I knew what he meant. On occasions, both he and Tiye had hinted that, because of his disability, Akhenaten was a eunuch, impotent, incapable of the most sacred act, unable to beget an heir. It was one of those cruelties thrust into his soul by the malicious-minded priests and the detractors surrounding him. Nefertiti, with her consummate skill, potions and powders, soon changed all that.
My own relationship with Nefertiti developed; there was no more teasing and sometimes I would catch her studying me.
‘You are not a baboon, Mahu,’ she once remarked as I helped her supervise the gardens, ‘you are a cat, that’s what you are. You sit and watch us, don’t you, with those dark brooding eyes and heavy face? The Beloved,’ her constant description of Akhenaten, ‘always talks of you. How you have played, feasted and even fought together.’ I never contradicted her. In his fevered brain, Akhenaten apparently depicted me as a brother, the real blood-brother he wished he had.
Within a year Nefertiti’s influence over Akhenaten was complete. He wouldn’t do anything without her, constantly seeking her advice and, by implication, Ay’s. Sometimes he would rise late, heavy-eyed and drowsy, but always content, at peace. The most constant visitor was Ay, walking with his daughter or briefing the Prince on the gossip of the palace and what was happening in the great city of Thebes. Akhenaten, Nefertiti beside him, would listen carefully. Both of them would question Ay and later discuss what had been said. If my master changed, Nefertiti did not. She remained serene yet vivacious, a goddess in splendour, be it in her tight sheathlike dresses on formal occasions or in an elegant loose-fitting robe, flowers in her glorious hair as she moved around the palace. Never once was she, her father or the Prince invited into the imperial presence but this did not seem to bother them. In fact, they seemed quite content, as if lulling the suspicions of those they knew were watching them.
Nefertiti truly became mistress of the house. She would question Snefru and the servants, study the accounts, check the stores or go into the kitchens, supervising the cooks, winning them over with her charm and wit. She was fascinated by the gardens and proved herself a skilled herbalist, becoming in all but name, the palace leech and apothecary. She knew the properties of mountain celery – how, mixed with juniper berries and other ingredients it would calm pains in the belly; how birthwort in red wine would ease cramps and bring about sleep; how melon leaves could treat blood ailments whilst maringa oil mixed with figs would reduce inflammation in the gums. She was greatly interested in medicine and kept her own stores of potions and powders. She treated her own husband and, yes, the rumours were true – she was skilled in aphrodisiacs and in more exotic remedies for illnesses of the soul.
Ay was the only one who left the Residence, often journeying down to Thebes to the temples or to walk in the marketplace. He and Nakhtimin his half-brother would visit acquaintances, officials and officers and bring back all the gossip and rumour. Nakhtimin would often be the only guest at dinner, with food especially cooked by the Princess herself, delicious and savoury. The wine would flow and we would discuss, till the early hours, the affairs of Egypt, the growing might of the Hittites, the Magnificent One’s alliance with Tusharatta, King of the Mitanni, the disturbances in Canaan and how these problems must be resolved. On one occasion Ay announced that the Divine One, concerned that Ay was not receiving the help and support he needed, had despatched a highranking scribe to assist. The chosen scribe, Ineti, was from the House of Life in the Temple of Amun-Ra; he was lean-visaged and bony-framed. Ay had no choice but to accept him, but we all knew Ineti was really there to spy.
Queen Tiye also visited, but not as often as she used to: she had aged somewhat, seemed troubled and perhaps was a little jealous of Nefertiti’s closeness with her son. On rare occasions, Crown Prince Tuthmosis also arrived with his entourage. He looked better, though still thin, slightly weary with a racking cough. He, too, fell under the spell of Nefertiti and his envy of his younger brother was almost palpable.
If a distance had grown up between myself and Akhenaten, Nefertiti compensated for this. She would often single me out for discussion about this or that, her beautiful face always smiling, always serene but those striking blue eyes curious as if she hadn’t decided who I truly was. Sometimes she’d talk about her early childhood, her days in Akhmin, how her father had educated her and how, like her Aunt Tiye, she had entered the service of the God Min in the local temple. She could pull a bow, knew how to handle a sword or dagger and often asked me to accompany her to watch the Prince’s bodyguard be drilled on the parade ground. On occasion she’d even ask me to join her inspecting the Khonsu, the company camped beyond the walls. Naturally, she was a welcome guest there, being shown every honour. At first I thought she wanted to flirt with the officers, which she certainly did, but she was more interested in their knowledge, their experience in war, their handling of weapons, particularly the use of massed archers and the effectiveness of a chariot squadron. We went along the river, chatting to the marines, recalling the deeds of the great Pharaoh Ahmose who used barges to drive the Hyksos from the Delta. I revelled in such occasions. Nefertiti would often hold my hand, clutch my arm or whisper in my ear. She was not embarrassed about describing this to Akhenaten, remarking ‘how she and Mahu had been here or there, seen this or done that’.
About fourteen months after her arrival, in the Season of Peret, I suffered from stomach pains. Nefertiti learned about this and sought me out. I was surprised because, in the woods beyond the Residence I had found a small grove, a private place where I would go by myself with a jug of wine and some food to sit and think. I’d recall Dedi and her kindness, my days with Aunt Isithia, and I’d wonder why my father had been so cold. I tried to imagine my mother and, time and again, I would reflect on what Ay had told me. I’d go back along the years: my experience in the Kap, my friendship with Sobeck. Above all, I’d often wonder where the path I was treading would lead. At the time all seemed calm and quiet; Akhenaten and his wife, the ever-present Ay, the feeling of watchful calmness. Yet I also felt as if we were being prepared – but for what?
On that particular day the cramps in my belly were so harsh and painful I was glad to be alone. I took no food or wine but sat against the tree enjoying the green coolness of the glade. I heard a sound and looked up. Nefertiti stood there, a small basket in one hand, a cushion under her arm. She was dressed in a gauze-like robe, an embroidered sash round her slender waist. Usually she would have her hair bound or tied up. Now it was parted down the middle, tumbling freely to her shoulders. She wore no jewellery except for a silver Aten on a gold chain round her neck.
‘My lady.’
Before I could scramble to my feet, she placed the cushion on the ground and knelt before me.
‘Mahu, I understand you are ill.’ She gazed sadly at me. ‘Why didn’t you see me?’
‘I …’
‘Were you embarrassed?’ She must have noticed my cheeks flush.
I rubbed my stomach. ‘It will go soon enough. Must be something I ate.’
She opened the basket, took out a cup, poured in a few drops of liquid and handed it to me. I sniffed at the rim.
‘Juniper berries?’ I asked. Again I sniffed, this time more playfully. ‘And crushed almonds?’
‘And something else,’ she smiled. ‘Mahu, drink. It will calm the pains.’
I did so. No more than a mouthful, bittersweet to the taste, before those soft fingers took the cup from my hand. Nefertiti sat and watched.
‘Do you have such pains often?’
‘No, most glorious physician,’ I teased. ‘In fact, I am truly a baboon. I am very rarely ill.’
‘Aren’t you?’ She moved the basket so as to rest her hand just below my knee. ‘There are illnesses and illnesses, Mahu.’
‘My lady?’
‘Those of the soul,’ she retorted. ‘Why do you come here, Mahu?’
‘I thought I’d be alone. I thought no one could find me, so how did you?’
Nefertiti smiled, moving her head slightly from side to side.
‘I have a care for you, Mahu. I want to know where you go. The Beloved has told me about your bravery in the Kushite attack. How you have helped him,’ her voice grew hard, ‘with the traitors within.’
‘I am my master’s servant,’ I replied, reciting the diplomatic courtesy. ‘A mere footstool under his feet.’
She dug her nails into my leg until I winced.
‘If the Beloved heard that, he’d be angry. You are his friend, Mahu, his brother.’
‘He already has a brother.’
‘No, Mahu, he has a keeper. A young man who feels guilty about him.’
‘Could you not help the Crown Prince Tuthmosis?’ The words came spilling out before I could stop them.
‘Help?’ she queried. ‘How could I be of help to the Crown Prince?’
‘He has a racking cough.’
‘Dust,’ Nefertiti replied. ‘Our fates, Mahu, are written on the palm of God’s hand. What will be will be.’
‘You don’t believe that,’ I accused. ‘Neither you nor your father believe that.’
Nefertiti’s eyes were no longer sparkling, but cold, vigilant. I thought I had gone too far, given insult. She moved the basket and made herself more comfortable.
‘No, you are right.’ She paused, as if distracted by the cry of the birds. ‘Is that a hawk?’
‘No, my lady, a heron hunting over the river.’
‘No, Mahu,’ she continued. ‘Our fates are written on the palm of God’s hand but they are also written on our own. We do have a part to play. The Crown Prince Tuthmosis,’ she shrugged prettily, ‘he has his own physicians. If he asks for my help …’ She let the words hang. ‘Are you lonely, Mahu? Is that your sickness?’
I couldn’t stop myself. I began to tell her, haltingly at first, about my days with Aunt Isithia and my studies in the Kap. I am sure she knew this already but she wanted to hear it from my own lips. She seemed genuinely interested. Now and again she asked a question, particularly about my colleagues: Horemheb, Rameses, the friendship between Maya and Sobeck. I enjoyed it, sitting there in the silence, the Beautiful One before me. I was fully aware of her scent, her touch, her look: her very presence seemed like a cloud around me cutting me off from the rest of the world. I thought she would go but she stayed, telling me further details about her life. How she had a sister, Mutnodjmet, who loved pet baboons and dwarves.
‘You should introduce her to Horemheb,’ I teased. ‘They would have something in common.’
‘Perhaps I will. Tell me, how is your stomach now?’
Only then did I become aware of how the discomfort had completely disappeared. I felt calmer, more refreshed.
‘Have you ever flown, Mahu?’
I stared speechless.
‘Have you ever wished to fly like a bird?’ Nefertiti’s face was serious. ‘Or have you ever wished to feel the very essence of things?’
I recalled different dreams, the sensation of floating, of how I had once felt like a bird above the Nile, watching the boats, barges and punts below.
‘In my dreams,’ I agreed, ‘or when the wine has been drunk.’
‘And have you ever loved, Mahu?’
‘Once,’ I replied.
Again the sad gaze. ‘And what happened?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied, embarrassed and confused.
She opened the basket and took out a clay jug, modelled in the form of a poppy turned upside down.
‘From the Islands far out in the Great Green,’ Nefertiti explained, ‘a fragrant drink. Come, Mahu, don’t be suspicious. It will soothe your belly, your heart and your soul.’
She emptied this potion into the cup and I drank it greedily. I would have done anything she said. The drink was almost tasteless except for a slight sweetness. Nefertiti sat watching me all the time: her face seemed more beautiful, if that was possible, her eyes larger. She seemed to be closer, her breath upon my face. I was also aware of how the glade had changed. The trees took on a life of their own, the branches stretching down to caress me, the small wild flowers changing in colour, growing and receding as if the days and seasons had speeded up: their entire growth, flowering and dying caught in one exquisite moment. The sweetest music filled my ear. I felt so happy, I didn’t want to break from the moment. Memories came and went. Sobeck smiling down at me. My master leaning across the table and feeding me. The temple girls I had lain with were there, moving against a curtain of brilliant colour and, above all, Nefertiti. She was beside me, arms around me, her robes of glory slipping down her shoulder, her hands on my chest, moving down to my groin, the most delicious sensation of pleasure. We embraced. I could feel her cloying sweetness, her body sinuous, gorgeous in touch and smell. She was sitting astride me, hands on my chest, her beautiful face framed by hair which seemed to glow like fire, those blue eyes like sapphires catching the sun. I heard her voice deeper and sweeter. Other people were there. Ay kneeling beside us, also sharing her embrace. I was being lifted up, going towards the sky, which changed in colour from dark blue to a fiery red, dominated by the sign of the Aten. Then I was falling, dropping gently into a velvet darkness.
BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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