The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (6 page)

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Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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‘Of her own choice,’ I lied.
Tutu smiled to himself and glanced away.
‘But Akenhaten is different.’ Meryre spoke up. ‘I asked a question. Where is his corpse?’
‘How soon will this news be over Thebes?’ I demanded, ignoring the High Priest.
‘Within a week,’ Ay replied.
‘Then we must issue proclamations,’ I declared, ‘depicting this Akenhaten as a usurper, a pretender financed and supported by foreign troops.’
‘But he carries seals,’ Meryre retorted. ‘He flies the standard of the Aten. What if, Mahu, the woman is an impostor but Akenhaten has truly returned?’
I was forced to face the possibility.
‘What do we know of Akenhaten’s disappearance?’ Meryre continued smoothly. ‘We know that he rode out into the Red Lands and never returned.’
‘And there’s more, isn’t there?’ Ay demanded wearily. ‘Isn’t there, my Lord Maya?’
The treasurer sat, plump shoulders hunched. He muttered something under his breath. Rameses shouted at him to speak up.
‘When Akenhaten disappeared,’ Maya said, staring up at the ceiling as if fascinated by its coating of blue paint, its silver and gold stars, ‘so did a considerable amount of his treasure.’
‘Stolen,’ Rameses declared. ‘The city of Aten fell into chaos. People were helping themselves.’ He glanced round quickly. ‘Courtiers, officials, priests.’
‘No!’ Maya shook his head. ‘This was Pharaoh’s personal treasure, gold, silver, precious stones, about six large chests full. It could be transported by …’ He calculated. ‘Seven or eight donkeys.’
‘And why has this been kept quiet?’ Huy demanded.
‘Because it takes time,’ Maya replied tartly. ‘It takes time, my Lord Huy, to go through records to find out what we have and what we don’t. I tell you now we don’t have much. If the present crisis continues, we will have to start stripping the temples of their gold and silver, melting down sacred vessels. General Rameses,’ Maya flung a hand out, ‘talks of troops, but only the Gods know how we can provision, arm and pay them.’
I ignored the shouting and yelling. I was distracted by that painting. I also wanted to avoid Ay’s gaze as I tried to control the beating of my heart. My mind tumbled like dice in a cup. How much of this was true? Had Ay had a hand in it? Was he plotting, twisting and turning, spreading out his net? And if so, who was his quarry? I recalled the Shabtis of Akenhaten. I hadn’t told my colleagues how beside the body of each victim was found a scarab bearing the crown names of Akenhaten. I often wondered if such secret assassins were Ay’s work, a guise, a pretence to remove opponents in the city. He had done it before, so why not now? When I did glance up I caught the fear in his face: a passing glance, a movement of the eyes and lips as if Ay, the great schemer, had, for once in his life, been caught out in the open, his well-laid plans brutally kicked aside. He was looking at me beseechingly, as if uncertain what to say or do next.
Horemheb and Rameses now sat heads together. What were those two panthers plotting? My spies had also brought in reports about their hushed conversations. The Tuthmosid line was protected only by that small boy Tutankhamun. Once he died, why shouldn’t some ambitious general seize the war crown of Egypt? The Hedjet of Upper Egypt and the Deshat, the red crown, of Lower Egypt? Did Horemheb nourish dreams all of his own? What was that dark soul Rameses whispering in his ear? I glanced round the Royal Circle. The Atenists were grouped together. Despite their outcries and shouts they looked rather smug, pleased with themselves. Huy and Maya were also exchanging glances. Was this when the hyaena pack broke up? Would we now turn on each other? Rahmose was repeating his request that we treat with this usurper. Meryre kept chorusing like a child repeating a chant that this was a wise move, for how did we know he was a usurper? Pharaoh might be returning to his own. I took the dagger from beneath my robes and began to beat the handle against the tiled floor. The clamour died.
‘My lords.’ I smiled round in a show of confidence. ‘Let us deal with the facts. Queen Nefertiti is dead. She took poison. I know she did. I gave her the cup. I felt her body shudder in my arms; her corpse has been mummified and lies in a tomb in the eastern cliffs above the City of the Aten. A usurper has appeared in the Delta, financed and supported by the Hittites. He has suborned some of our regiments because they are hungry, leaderless and have not been paid in months. It is easy to march across a desert, but the great cities of Egypt will not open their gates so readily. Now, let us turn to this Akenhaten, whoever he is! We know what happened in the City of the Aten. How our Pharaoh quarrelled with his wife Nefertiti and banished her to a palace in the north of the city. He then withdrew himself, taking first his elder daughter and then the Princess Ankhesenamun as his Queens. He had children by both. However, the babies died, as did his elder daughter, Meritaten. What else do we know?’
‘We too were banished from his presence,’ Huy offered.
‘Of course you were.’ I smiled. ‘And then there was the reconciliation,’ I repeated facts they all knew, ‘between Akenhaten and Nefertiti: she now reincarnated herself as her husband’s co-ruler, adopting the title Semenkhkare-Ankheperure. For a while both reigned together, then Akenhaten disappeared and Nefertiti tried to rule under her new name. She plotted our deaths and had to be removed. A regency council was set up under God’s Father, Ay. We decided that Akenhaten’s vision was nothing but sand in the wind and moved back to Thebes. We have our Pharaoh, Prince Tutankhamun, to be crowned. So, this usurper is false. He must be dealt with, captured and executed.’
‘But what happens if he is the true Pharaoh?’ Meryre demanded.
‘You go on and on about that!’ Anen, the High Priest of Amun, shouted. ‘Do you know something, my lord, we don’t?’
I stared at Meryre, eyebrows raised. ‘A good question, my lord.’
Meryre looked as if he was going to deny everything, but I held his glance.
‘Akenhaten,’ he declared slowly, ‘believed we had all deserted him. He no longer confided in me but in a gaggle of chapel priests, led by two: Khufu and Djoser. At the time of Akenhaten’s disappearance, these two and other acolyte priests also vanished. However, before you ask where, you must recall how the pestilence had swept the city. Men died and were given quick burial; others fled.’
‘So it is possible,’ I persisted, ‘that when Akenhaten disappeared, went out into the Red Lands, those precious priests, led by Khufu and Djoser, followed suit, taking his personal treasure with them?’
‘That is a possibility,’ Meryre conceded.
‘And it is also possible,’ I demanded, ‘that Akenhaten was murdered by these priests, who then took his treasure, including the Royal Seals, and fled along the Horus Road into Canaan and the power of the Hittites?’
Again Meryre agreed. I watched that sanctimonious face and the others grouped around him. Did they really believe Akenhaten had returned? Were they simply guilty of wishful thinking? Or were they part of some far-fetched plot?
‘And on your most sacred oath,’ I asked quietly, ‘you know nothing of this usurper?’
‘I object.’ Meryre curled his lip.
‘I simply asked, my lord. Now I shall give the Royal Circle my advice. We should play for time. Let us send the high priest Meryre as our official envoy. You, my lord, will soon discover if this is our true Pharaoh or some puppet.’
‘Why me?’ Meryre demanded.
‘You are the High Priest of the Aten. You will simply be our messenger. I shall join you.’
Ay gazed in surprise. Rameses was smiling behind his hand. Horemheb was looking at me strangely, as if noticing me for the first time. Huy and Maya were all attention, as were the rest. Ay’s head went down to hide his grin. I had done what he wanted: united the council and yet exposed both factions to danger. Meryre would go to prepare the way and I would follow. Tutu was nodding in agreement. Horemheb, Rameses, Huy and Maya also signified their assent.
‘Meryre will go first,’ I repeated. ‘He will simply arrive in peace and ask that this usurper, whatever title we want to give him, is acknowledged by us and that we wish to treat with him. I will be the envoy of the Royal Circle. Meryre and myself will then negotiate.’
‘About what?’ Rameses barked
‘Anything and everything.’ I smiled. ‘If he wants Thebes, then we will give him it. If he wants to be proclaimed as the God Incarnate, then we shall press our foreheads against the ground.’
‘And?’ Ay demanded.
‘You, my lord, and the rest will be busy gathering troops from every province and city. Thebes should be left under the protection of General Nakhtimin, whilst Generals Horemheb, Rameses and Rahmose collect every soldier they can, every chariot squadron, every bargeload of marines, and sweep north. We shall bring this invader to battle, defeat him and show our enemies, both at home and abroad, that we mean business. No mercy, no quarter, fire and sword, total annihilation.’
‘And you, my lord Mahu?’ Horemheb asked. ‘You will sit at the enemy camp fire with your skin safe and protected?’
‘At the appropriate time,’ I retorted, ‘both my lord Meryre and myself, as well as the small retinue which will accompany us, shall escape.’
‘Why?’ Huy demanded. ‘My lord Mahu, you put yourself in great danger, not to mention my lord Meryre, of course.’
I found it hard to answer that question, but Ay knew my heart. I was truly curious. I wanted to see if the Veiled One had returned. I wanted to plumb this mystery but, of course, I didn’t say that. I had other demands to make. Horemheb and Rameses repeated Huy’s question.
‘In return,’ I demanded, ‘every member of the Royal Circle shall take an oath, an oath of unequivocal loyalty and obedience to Prince Tutankhamun, who shall be crowned during my departure, whilst his marriage to the Princess Ankhesenamun will be published for all to know.’
Everyone agreed. It would have been treason to refuse.
‘Secondly,’ I insisted, ‘the City of the Aten is crumbling, bats and owls now shelter in the halls, termites eat the wood, the courtyards are overgrown, the sacred pools and lakes are polluted. The tombs in the eastern cliffs …’ I paused. ‘The tombs in the eastern cliffs are protected by my mercenaries; they contain the coffins of those who were our friends and colleagues. They are to be transported back to the Valley of the Kings and given honourable burial.’
Again there was a murmur of agreement. Ay quickly intervened, insisting that Meryre and his entourage of priests leave as quickly as possible, whilst I should follow within the week.
The meeting of the Royal Circle broke up. Ay kept to himself, still seated on his chair, staring down at the rings on his fingers. Horemheb and Rameses drew Maya and Huy into conversation. Meryre and his group came across. The High Priest was acting anxious, fearful of guarantees about his own safety.
‘You are a priest, my lord. The High Priest of the Aten. You will go unarmed, bearing the green boughs of peace. You will be safe.’ I grinned. ‘Well, as safe as I shall be.’
General Rahmose, face all sweat-soaked, was shaking slightly, so I picked up my striped cloak and handed it to him. I always wore that cloak; it was a gift from Djarka against the cool of the evening, the type worn by his people, the Shemsu: light enough under the heat of the midday sun but sure protection against the freezing cold of the desert night.
Horemheb and Rameses came across and took me aside. Both generals were now elated at the prospect of military action. I idly wondered if I had been too clever. What guarantee did we have, apart from a personal oath, that, once victorious, these two panthers might not turn their troops south and march on Thebes? Ay must have been thinking the same, for he interrupted our conversation, bringing the meeting back to order, proclaiming that we would all take the oath the following morning. In the end that was our best guarantee. Whilst Tutankhamun was alive, the hyaenas who surrounded him would not turn on each other. Already proclamations were reminding the people that the Prince was the grandson of the Magnificent One, Amenhotep III, of the sacred blood and the royal line. Not even Rameses, for all his treachery, would dare raise his hand against Tutankhamun and commit such blasphemy.
The council chamber doors were flung open. We drifted out along the passageway, past Nakhtimin’s guards, into the courtyard, where our various retinues were waiting. The sun was now beginning to set, and the breeze was cool. I regretted my magnanimity in giving General Rahmose my cloak. I looked around. He was following Tutu and Meryre into the shadows of the gateway leading out. I glimpsed a white-robed figure abruptly detach itself from a group of priests waiting for their master. At first I thought this man was a messenger bearing important news. He moved swiftly, silently, like a racing shadow, a blur of white. I caught the glint of steel. Rahmose was turning, fearful, still weak with the fever. He could do little to protect himself. The white-garbed figure crashed into him and both men went sprawling. Rahmose’s scream rent the air as the knife rose and fell.
The assailant sprang to his feet as if to escape through a door back into the warren of passageways of the palace. Two of Nakhtimin’s spearmen followed in pursuit. The man reached the door even as I hurried forward. The door was locked. The man turned and Nakhtimin’s spearmen, ignoring my shouts, loosed their shafts. One spear took the man straight in the belly, pinning him to the door behind, whilst the other drove deep into the man’s chest. He shook and screamed, arms flailing even as the blood gushed out of the gaping wounds. The spearmen withdrew their shafts and the corpse slid to the ground.

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