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Authors: Paul Doherty

The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (41 page)

BOOK: The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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‘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.’
BOOK: The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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