The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (27 page)

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Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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Ay lowered his head, staring at me intently.
‘That is fanciful nonsense,’ he murmured. ‘No one will believe you.’
‘They will certainly listen,’ I replied. ‘I’ll raise the question of why Prince Aziru was blinded and dispatched back to Canaan immediately. You didn’t want him here, did you? You couldn’t have him blabbing before the Royal Circle or trying to barter for his life and security in return for information. Finally, we come to Meryre. Did you organise his escape? And the same for Lord Tutu at Buhen? You wanted them out of the way. You wanted the whole incident conveniently forgotten.’ I sat back on the stool and picked up my wine cup. ‘I also have a prisoner, the priest Khufu. He may yet prove to be a source of interesting information. This is the way my accusations will go. My lord Ay presided over the Royal Circle. One faction, Meryre and the Atenists, posed a serious threat. You know, I know, and Meryre knows how the Shabtis of Akenhaten were merely a façade so that Meryre could act the victim, screaming about how his followers were being assassinated by some secret society loyal to the old order. You didn’t know which way to jump. You fear Horemheb and you don’t really trust Huy and Maya, so you cultivated Meryre, you allowed him to paw your granddaughter and nourish his secret ambitions. You quietly supported them but were not party to them. The usurper appeared in the Delta. Meryre wanted to join him, so he used the excuse of being an envoy from the Royal Circle to travel north. He had already been communicating with the enemy, you know how, sending hidden messages in statues and carvings of the Aten Disc. He demanded my presence, hoping I would take the Prince with me; you supported this, unaware of this daring raid planned to kidnap him. At the same time, you did not oppose Meryre’s demands that the fortress of Buhen be handed over to Lord Tutu’s supporters. You also communicated secretly with Prince Aziru; an ambiguous message, but Aziru would probably be sharp enough to read between the lines. You sat back and waited. If the usurper was defeated you’d soon get rid of Meryre and his faction so as to deal with the new problem, General Horemheb and his victorious regiments. You and Nakhtimin have already begun that, haven’t you? Raising troops and quartering them outside Thebes. Of course, the only fly in the ointment was the possibility that someone might talk, but there again, you can take care of that. Did I say one fly?’ I smiled. ‘I meant two. I am the second. You want custody of the Prince, so it’s time Mahu retired. You daren’t have me murdered; that might raise suspicions, and as you know, I am a hard man to kill. Nor do you want to invoke a blood feud with Sobeck and Djarka or incite the curiosity of General Horemheb.’ I sipped at my wine.
Ay walked over to me and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. When I glanced up, he was grinning down at me.
‘Do you have anything else to say, Mahu?’
‘Yes, my lord. You are not thinking clearly. Horemheb and Rameses will only trust you as long as I have custody of the Prince. I am the balance between your two factions. They will have noticed what happened in the courtyard.’ I pointed to the gold collar of office around Ay’s neck. ‘I would wager every piece of jewellery you are wearing that General Horemheb is already discussing matters with General Rameses. How prominent you were in the victory parade. How you insisted on keeping the Prince close to you. How you seemed intent on usurping the agreement of the Royal Circle that I am the Prince’s protector.’
Ay sat down on a chair, resting his elbow on its arms, fingers before his face.
‘What will you do?’ I whispered. ‘Arrest me? Kill me? Force me to retire? Do you think Horemheb is going to accept that?’
‘Will you be with me, Mahu?’
‘If it’s for the good of the Prince, I’ll sleep with the hyaenas in the desert.’
Ay threw back his head and laughed.
‘Do you know, Mahu, I have always enjoyed our little chats. I am so glad I talked to you first. I do appreciate what you have done, and …’ he laughed softly, ‘and what you know.’
‘That’s our little secret,’ I replied. ‘A bond between us. Now,’ I got to my feet, ‘what I propose, my lord Ay,’ I crooked my arm, ‘is that we leave here arm-in-arm, the best of friends, the closest of allies.’
Ay stretched out his hand.
‘Welcome back, Baboon of the South. I agree with what you say. Let’s walk arm-in-arm, smiling to the world. Let’s celebrate our friendship and be ready to meet the Royal Circle.’
Ay was a rogue, a charlatan, a viper beneath the rock, a cobra basking in the sun. He had a heart as black as night and a wit as sharp as any dagger. He also had a charming insolence, a ready laugh; he was a man who would slip one mask off and another mask on. He was like a gambler, but not the sort who’d throw the knucklebones and weep because he had lost. Win or lose, Ay always smiled as he walked away from the gambling pit, and that time was no different. We strolled out into the passageway. He made me stop to examine a glowing wall painting in brilliant blue, gold and dark blood-red depicting Pharaoh’s victories against a host of vile Asiatics. The horses pranced, their plumes stiff in the breeze, as the chariots charged over hundreds of fallen enemy. So dramatic that the more you looked, the more certain you became that the standards held aloft were now swaying and that you could hear the thrilling blast of the trumpets.
‘We are friends, Mahu,’ Ay whispered. ‘Look at this painting and the hieroglyphs beneath. Spell them out for me.’
‘
User Maa Traa. Sete Eera
– the justice of Ra is powerful,’ I translated. ‘He is chosen by Ra.’
‘And this?’
He went through the rest of the hieroglyphs: Kemet for the Black Lands; Deshet for the Red Lands; Tashemau for Upper Egypt; Tahu for Lower Egypt. He was like a teacher taking me around the painting, oblivious to the guards who thronged the corridor. He pointed to the
isu
, the joint of meat offered in sacrifice after ritual; to the creatures and plants of Egypt, such as Mut the vulture, Ashear the lizard, Awadj the papyrus plant, Nkhd the rush plant.
‘What is all this, Mahu?’ He gestured with his hand. ‘The victorious Pharaoh, the plants of Egypt, the Black Land of the Nile and the scorching sands of the desert? It’s all the kingdom of Egypt, that land beloved by the gods, blessed by the sun, washed by the Nile.’ He beat his hand passionately against the wall. ‘To this is my allegiance; this is my soul, my Ka, my dream. I would sacrifice myself, you, my daughter, the Prince and all of the Royal Circle for the sake of Egypt.’
All cynicism had drained from Ay’s face. His eyes were hard, his lips a thin line. Yet even then, I didn’t trust him.
‘You look doubtful, Mahu?’
‘There is one flaw to your argument, my lord.’
‘Which is?’
‘Who will decide what is best for Egypt?’
I was sure he was going to reply, ‘I am Egypt’, just from the way he opened his mouth and leaned closer; then he thought different. He relaxed, smiled, patted me on the shoulder and led me out.
The courtyard was now empty. Horemheb and Rameses had left with their entourage. Grooms and stable boys were putting away the chariots. A few officers, courtiers and priests lounged by the fountain, dipping their hands into the cool water, splashing their arms and faces. The glory of the occasion was passing, like incense growing faint in the air. I made my farewells to Ay.
‘Mahu!’ He shouted me back. ‘You are not staying at the palace?’
‘No, my lord. I feel safer with Colonel Nebamun. I would ask for the Prince to be sent back there. Where the Lady Ankhesenamun goes is a matter for you to decide.’
Ay agreed, and walked away. Nakhtimin stepped out of the shadows and, surrounded by his staff officers, escorted Ay from the temple courtyard. I found Sobeck and Djarka in one of the small gardens overlooking a canal dug in from the Nile. They were throwing pebbles at the lotus blossom floating on its surface.
‘An interesting meeting?’ Sobeck asked.
‘Meeting my lord Ay is always interesting.’ I smiled. ‘Djarka, how on earth did he get his hands on the Prince?’
‘I had no choice.’ My manservant’s dark face looked rather pinched, his cheeks unshaven. His black hair, usually combed straight and carefully oiled, was unwashed, his eyes red-rimmed from dust or lack of sleep. ‘Ay swept into Memphis like a storm wind, soldiers everywhere. All I had was a mercenary corps. Horemheb and Rameses were absent; he soon became cock of the dunghill.’
A hoopoe bird swooped low over the canal in a flash of colour. In a thicket beside us a hare suddenly coursed out, making me start.
‘That’s Horemheb’s idea,’ Sobeck murmured. ‘He likes hares; the bloody palace now teems with them. Apparently his dwarfs have to chase them. I have been listening to the gossip: Horemheb keeps his wife under lock and key.’
I recalled Mutnojnet, Nefertiti’s unlikely sister, a quiet, comely-faced woman who seemed to worship the ground Horemheb stood on.
‘And?’
‘Well, not so much under lock and key,’ Sobeck retorted. ‘That’s unfair to the good general, but they are preparing for themselves the most exquisite tombs out in Sakkara. You must go and see them.’
‘Why are they interesting?’
‘Horemheb regards himself as if he was Pharaoh or his heir.’ Sobeck’s eyes were watchful. ‘According to the paintings ordered for his tomb and the inscriptions carved on the walls, you’d think he had spent most of his life saving Egypt from a myriad of enemies. What I am saying, Mahu, is that it gives you some insight into the man.’
‘The rest are no different,’ Djarka intervened. ‘Look at the tombs abandoned in the City of the Aten. What was it Maya wrote on his? “When I began I was very good, when I finished I was brilliant.” He’s still a young man. They will be trouble, won’t they?’
‘They’ll be trouble,’ I agreed, ‘but not yet. Everyone is watching everyone else, strengthening their position. Now Meryre and his gang have gone, the lines will be clearer. There will be no more talk about the Aten or returning to its city, or,’ I added drily, ‘the Shabtis of Akenhaten. How did Meryre escape?’
‘One day he was here,’ Djarka replied, ‘the next day he was gone. He was confined in Lord Nebamun’s house, close to the river. The guards were few. About three days after Lord Ay’s arrival here, Meryre and his retinue disappeared.’
‘Any news from Buhen?’
‘The same,’ Djarka replied. ‘It was becoming a gathering place for every refugee from the City of the Aten. Tutu was lording it over the garrison commander. The news of the great victory at Sile seeped out; Tutu and his entourage left, and haven’t been seen since.’
‘Where will they go?’ Sobeck asked.
‘Where can they go?’ I replied. ‘They are traitors, and priests or not, the Royal Circle will post rewards on their heads, dead or alive. The Red Lands will be scoured. They’ll be safest in Canaan or the Hittite territories, but we’ll see.’
Sobeck threw his last pebble into the canal and stretched out his hand. ‘I have done what I can; now I must go. I have business in Thebes, Mahu.’ He gave his crooked smile. ‘I am sure there will be those who think, out of sight out of mind.’
‘Sobeck, I haven’t thanked you …’
He clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Mahu, you will. I’ll make my farewells of Maya and leave.’
I felt sad as I watched him go, my comrade-in-arms. We had gone through the dangers in the Delta and Sobeck had played his part; now he wanted to return to the slums of Eastern Thebes and what he called his own private kingdom! Djarka and I returned to Colonel Nebamun’s house. The old soldier was delighted that we were his guests. I asked him to organise the mercenaries, receive the Prince and keep a close watch until I returned.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I want to look for my old friend Pentju.’
After some searching, I discovered the physician had decided to go to the Red Chapel at the Temple of Ptah to make an offering. I was intrigued. Pentju was like myself: he didn’t disbelieve in the Gods, he just didn’t bother them and hoped that they wouldn’t bother him. I collected a dagger from the House of War, together with a stout cudgel, and made my way up to the temple. For a while I became lost in the wretched slums, cobbled lanes nothing better than dark tunnels, which squeezed themselves past buildings. The squalor and dirt were a sharp contrast to the luxury and opulence of the palace. Flocks of crows and kites and packs of yellow pi-dogs scrabbled raucously, fighting with beak and claw over the heaps of filth where flies swarmed in dark clouds. I passed rickety doors, half opened to reveal stinking passageways, a place as dangerous as any war camp. I was glad to reach the basalt avenue leading down to the Temple of Ptah. I went through the monumental gates set between orange walls over which majestic lions of blue, yellow and red enamel mounted guard. A dense crowd clustered here: peasants in their short tunics, and elegant noblemen with their wives in perfumed robes. In the central courtyard a group of priests gathered before the soaring statue of Ptah, chanting their hymns and offering incense:
Lord, the countenance of the sky.
Thy shape is the god …
Once into the temple proper, moving through the smoky torchlight, I found a temple guard and introduced myself. He agreed to take me to the Scribe of Offerings, the priest who made a faithful record of all who visited the temple to pay their devotions. He led me across the precincts and through the courtyard where the executions and sacrifices had been made earlier in the day. The place still seethed with excitement; clouds of dust blowing like gold still hung heavy after the victory celebrations. We passed workshops, schools and granaries, and the house of the God’s handmaids. I was truly intrigued at why Pentju should come here. He had no devotion to Ptah and there were temples enough in Thebes to make offerings. At last we reached the Red Chapel, set amidst fertile lawns and fringed by palm groves. The Scribe of Offerings, bathing in the Pool of Purity, acknowledged Pentju had been there.

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