The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (33 page)

Read The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) Online

Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
13.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘My lord, are you to leave us?’
‘I wish to go to the Seshent.’ He smiled. ‘The Place of Purification.’
‘And your son?’ I insisted.
‘The Stegout.’ Akenhaten referred to the Watchers of the Gods. ‘They hold the secrets my son wishes to know.’
He was speaking in riddles, deliberately teasing me. He flicked his fingers, a gesture that the audience was over, so I withdrew. I reported faithfully what had happened. God’s Father Ay and Meryre were deeply discomforted, and perplexed at what to do.
On my oath, Lord Mahu, as I hope to live, that was the last time I or any others saw Akenhaten, the Divine One. The next morning Lord Meryre, who had summoned up enough courage, demanded an audience, but the guards turned him away, saying Pharaoh had gone out in the eastern Red Lands to hunt. The High Priest accepted this, and when he approached the next day, the same excuse was given, though the captain of the guard looked both troubled and intrigued. Two more days passed before a careful search was made. The Divine One had left the city. Chariots and horses had been taken from the royal stables but no huntsmen, whippers-in or hounds had followed. No one had seen him leave. No one knew when he had gone or when he would return. God’s Father Ay sent out a chariot squadron; they scoured up to a distance of ten miles but could find no trace or trail. Lord Ay believed that Akenhaten may have left for a period of solitude, but after two weeks had passed he reached the conclusion that something else had happened. He and Queen Nefertiti decided to send out an expedition into the eastern Red Lands; they were confident, from the reports of spies and guards, that Akenhaten had not crossed the Nile into the western desert.
My lord Tutu intervened. He laid before us letters about the situation in Canaan and argued the Divine One might have gone there. Queen Nefertiti questioned why her husband should go into the hill country of the Canaanites. I suspect she knew the answer before he replied. ‘Your Majesty,’ Tutu reasoned, ‘is it not from such hill country that your people come?’
‘My people,’ Nefertiti snapped. ‘My people are those of Egypt!’ And would not discuss the matter again.
Meryre, however, did not trust her or God’s Father Ay. He began to cast about to discover what had happened. An expedition was prepared. Then, one night whilst I was serving sacrifice in a small sun temple, I heard the most hideous scream, like that of a soul in anguish, caught by the hellhounds, trapped in the
ketet
, the darkness of the Underworld. The scream was short but full of agony, like that of a man in a death trap. At first I thought I was dreaming. I hurried to investigate, as did the Lord Ay, who had been in a chamber nearby, but the Queen’s mercenaries had sealed the corridors and would not let us pass. I made a careful enquiry the next day. I reasoned that if a man had been killed, sent to the slaughter, his corpse would be thrown into some pit or crocodile pool. Others in the palace had heard the scream, and so the story began, the suspicion that the Divine One had been murdered, possibly assassinated by his own wife. Yet there was no proof and it became one story amongst many. One thing I did learn from an acquaintance was that the chief embalmer in the House of Life at the Temple of the Aten had also disappeared. He was Queen Nefertiti’s creature, a thin-faced, one-eyed fellow who rejoiced in the name of Keket, the Stammerer. During these days of mystery Keket vanished for a while, and when he rejoined his colleagues, he kept his own counsel. Nevertheless, for a man who had served in the embalming house of Thebes, Keket now appeared to enjoy great favour and considerable wealth, the source of which remained a mystery.
In the end, Lord Meryre had his way. An expedition was dispatched under General Rahmose into the eastern Red Lands, even as far as Canaan, to discover the whereabouts, if possible, of the Lord Akenhaten.
Lord Meryre was insistent that Djoser and I were part of this expedition. Meryre had now openly broken with Queen Nefertiti and refused to submit to the Lord Ay. We had no choice but to undergo that harrowing experience! We crossed the burning desert, stopping at the Oasis of Sweetness before eventually entering the Sinai and on into Canaan. A strange country, with its reddish sandy soil, twisted oaks, deep woods and muddy rivers infested with crocodiles. We continued north into the meadow plains, avoiding the squalid towns, journeying slowly along roads infested by outlaws and bandits. The inhabitants treated us with suspicion. Each valley is occupied by a separate tribe, so no force was strong enough to oppose us. Eventually we reached the territories of Prince Aziru and were taken under his protection. Rahmose explained the secret purpose of our expedition. Aziru solemnly agreed to help us. He had profited and prospered because Akenhaten had ignored the affairs of Canaan. Even when we reached the court, we found Hittite envoys being entertained as guests of honour.
Aziru made careful search for Akenhaten. At first he considered our expedition was a pretext for some other mystery but his spies also whispered strange tales about a group who had come out of Egypt, a caravan fiercely protected by sand-dwellers which had moved north into the hills around the Dead Sea. Aziru’s greed sharpened at the stories that this caravan contained not only an important person but also a fabulous treasure. It was there that the great lie was born. Armed with letters, General Rahmose was sent back into Egypt, whilst Djoser and myself remained at Aziru’s court. As the months passed, Hittite visits to the court became more frequent. At last Aziru took us into his counsel. He was now openly supported by the Hittite king, who sent nobles, military advisers and treasure south. Aziru reasoned that if the true fate of Akenhaten was unknown, then why not put forward a usurper and interfere in the affairs of Egypt? He opened secret correspondence with Meryre, who responded that such a scheme had his full support, whilst Djoser and I would act as his envoys. Meryre used the pretext of sending statues, symbols of Aten, as gifts; they secretly contained his treasonable correspondence. On the plains outside Aziru’s city, an army began to assemble: Hittite troops, mercenaries, as well as those princelings and chieftains of Canaan eager to support Aziru in mischief.
I speak the truth: I was not as fervent in my support of this mischief as my companion Djoser. When I first met the usurper and his woman, I openly derided their appearance and character. They were no more the great King Akenhaten and his Queen than desert sand is the finest gold. Nevertheless, Aziru was determined. Stories came from Egypt how Nefertiti had attempted to rule as sole Pharaoh, only to be overthrown; how a regency council governed the kingdom in the name of Akenhaten’s son. The change in his name from Tutankhaten to Tutankhamun symbolised the way things were going in Egypt.
Meryre’s rage was unbounded. In secret correspondence he informed us that the City of the Aten had been abandoned. How the Royal Circle had returned to Thebes, determined on the restoration of the old ways. Nevertheless, this Royal Circle was divided, so the decision was reached to invade the Delta and draw the power of Horemheb north. In the meantime, Aziru persisted in his search for the real Akenhaten and his treasure but was unable to discover anything new.
In the second year of my stay in Canaan, during the third month of the harvest season, we moved from Canaan down across Sinai and into the Delta. The rest, my lord Mahu knows. I have spoken the truth, and can say no more …
I questioned Khufu closely about everything he had written, but he was tired, he had drunk deeply and he was still frightened. His answers were often slurred and rambling, so I dismissed him to bed. I preserved his account, a manuscript I have kept close by me over the years. I pored over it that night, going through every line. Some of it I recognised. The confusion in the City of the Aten following Nefertiti’s disgrace had cloaked everything in secrecy. Akenhaten’s depression, his bizarre behaviour and lonely prowling of the palace precincts were well known. Khufu’s story did shed some light. Akenhaten had suffered some form of madness; whether this was divinely inspired or not I could not say. He claimed to have had visions of the future and left some secret wisdom in the custody of these mysterious Watchers, but who were they? Were they the same people who had helped him? Ever since he was a boy, Akenhaten had received assistance from the wandering tribes of the Apiru. Khufu had named the clan or sect directly responsible: Israar. According to Khufu, they had brought in their own priests and exorcists to purify Akenhaten’s mind. He had discovered a new serenity and peace and resolved to leave the City of the Aten.
This might appear ridiculous to some. Why should anyone abandon wealth and power? Yet, as I have said, the child begets the man. Akenhaten’s early days had been spent in lonely obscurity. He had experienced the austerity of a poor priest. When he became Pharaoh, although he exulted in the pomp and grandeur, he saw this only as a means to the worship of his God. So had he abandoned his city? Or was he murdered? The breach between Nefertiti and himself, whatever the pretence peddled to the rest of the court, had been irrevocable and final. Apparently, according to Khufu, the main reason for Nefertiti’s restoration was that she had taken a solemn oath not to harm the Prince Tutankhamun, which meant that even during her exile she had probably tried to injure the infant. The second reason for her restoration was so that Akenhaten could conjure up the illusion of normalcy, of harmony. He ceded the affairs of state to his ambitious, arrogant wife whilst he secretly prepared to abandon his family, his court and his empire.
Akenhaten had reached that calmness often found in a man who has experienced an agonising struggle and come through it to confront his own death. He had been determined to leave and was undoubtedly helped by Apiru, the men of Israar. They had removed treasure, gold, silver and precious stones, as preparation for Akenhaten’s secret life. Moreover, these were men who knew the desert, its secret paths, its hidden wells and oases. They would have experienced no problem in crossing the burning sands into Sinai and then north into Canaan. And who would take notice of them there? A country riven by petty blood feuds and tribal jealousies?
Grasping Khufu’s manuscript, I went and sat on a small balcony, staring out into the night. If Akenhaten had truly left, if he wished to remain hidden, pursuing his own vision, then what had Khufu heard? According to the evidence, someone had been murdered in the imperial apartments, but instead of a corpse being thrown into a pit or a crocodile pool, this creature of Nefertiti, the chief embalmer, had been summoned into her quarters and lavishly rewarded for some secret task. The embalming of a corpse? The tombs in the eastern cliffs of the City of the Aten were full of unmarked sarcophagi, coffins and corpses. What had Nefertiti plotted to do? Only a few months after this, she had attempted to assume supreme power in Egypt and been brought down by a pack of hyaenas, of which I was one.
I should have felt tired, but sleep escaped me. Had Akenhaten truly fled? Was Khufu’s story about a man being slain mere distraction? Ankhesenamun had whispered how her sister Meritaten had claimed to know about the poisoning of her own father-husband. Meritaten’s heart had been disturbed, nothing more than a weak girl terrified of her sombre father. Was her boast more a result of wishful thinking than the truth? Or was it all the work of Ankhesenamun’s fertile imaginings? Had Akenhaten travelled into Canaan determined on a life of seclusion only to be forced out by the rise of the usurper and the hideous events in the Delta? Had he come south once more to see justice done? To visit his son and communicate quietly to me that he was still alive? Nebamun undoubtedly spoke the truth. He claimed to have seen a man disguised as a priest with more than a passing resemblance to Akenhaten, fingering turquoise amber beads. Khufu had mentioned the same in his confession.
I recalled the golden emblem found in the usurper’s tent, and the map I had consulted in Nebamun’s library. I went and fetched both. I searched out the location of the City of the Aten and placed the emblem with the sun on it, noticing that its rays pointed to an area in south Canaan. Aziru, using a different map, must have done the same in his searches. I looked at the area and tried to recall the stories I had heard, of valleys and plains, thick woods, turbulent rivers and stretches of blistering desert where not even a blade of grass or the sturdiest bush could grow. I put the map away and went to the antechamber; Djarka lay asleep on a cot bed. I shook him awake. He staggered from his bed, threw water over his face and peered through the window.
‘My lord Mahu, it must be the third decan of the night? Can you not sleep?’
‘Tell me about your people,’ I demanded.
Djarka, rubbing his eyes, sat down on the floor, his back to the wall. I lit some more oil lamps.
‘Could this not have waited until the morning?’ he moaned.
‘Tell me about your people!’
‘You know it,’ he protested. ‘I am of the Apiru, who come from Canaan. Some remained with their flocks, others settled in the Delta, whilst the rest colonised Akhmin, becoming more,’ he laughed abruptly, ‘more Egyptian than the Egyptians. I belong to the latter. You know that. I served Great Queen Tiye, that’s how I came into your service. The loyal archer, the manservant, the Protector of the Prince.’
I ignored the sarcasm in his voice.
‘And do you know the men of the Israar?’
I made two mistakes that night. First, I should have questioned Khufu more closely. Secondly, I allowed Djarka to remain hidden in the darkness, even though at the time I sensed something was wrong.

Other books

Dead Letter (Digger) by Warren Murphy
Deep Surrendering: Episode Eight by Chelsea M. Cameron
The Deliverance of Evil by Roberto Costantini
Hell to Heaven by Chan, Kylie
Fame by Meghan Quinn
In a Glass Darkly by Sheridan Le Fanu