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Authors: Paul Doherty
An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (49 page)
BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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‘They were always ready for flight,’ I declared. ‘Prepared to move on once their task was done.’
By now Djarka was coldly composed. We returned to the roof and those corpses lying in pools of blood, the flies already gathering.
‘What shall we do?’ Djarka asked.
‘How many people knew we were to be their guests?’
Djarka, his face still tear-stained, shook his head. I ordered him to help. We took the two corpses, wrapping them in sheepskin cloths and tying them securely with cord, then cleared out the secret rooms and placed the two corpses inside. I found a leather bag and gathered up most of the valuables. We drew buckets of water from the fountain and cleared away all signs of our struggle then waited until dawn to study the results of our handiwork. The rooftop was now like any other. In the kitchen we washed the platters and cups in bowls of water and, going down to the cellar, replaced the heavy beams and rehung the door. I checked the house most carefully. Only when satisfied did we leave.
‘Why?’ Djarka asked, as we slipped through the streets back into the central part of the city. ‘Why did we leave it like that?’
‘It’s the only way,’ I retorted. ‘I do not trust Akhenaten’s moods nor Nefertiti’s furious outbursts. The finger of suspicion would be pointed at you.’
Once home, Djarka stripped himself, throwing all his clothes at me.
‘Burn them,’ he called over his shoulder.
He went out into one of the courtyards, washed himself and returned to his chamber. I followed him up. He was preparing for a journey, marching sandals on his feet, a set of leather panniers already packed. Across his shoulder hung a bow and quiver of arrows, a dagger thrust into his belt, a staff in one hand.
‘Djarka?’ I asked.
‘I will leave lord Ay for the time being,’ he muttered and would say no more. He clasped my hand and disappeared. He was gone forty days and forty nights out in the Red Lands. When he returned, his face was blackened by the sun, there were streaks of grey in his hair, and his body and face were hard. He talked little about where he had been but returned to his duties.
During his absence I was busy. I returned to the assassins’ house to ensure everything was well. Of course, questions were asked. I circulated the story about how the owner and his daughter had left in a hurry. Ay had no choice but to co-operate with such a tale, even though he guessed the truth. I confronted him alone in a garden at the palace. At first he acted all diffident, dismissing my accusations with a flutter of his fingers. I told him exactly what had happened and where the corpses of his assassins were hidden.
‘I leave it to you, God’s Father,’ I warned, ‘to take their bodies out for honourable burial. I don’t think you will.’
‘They will eventually smell,’ Ay countered coolly though he was visibly anxious about any eavesdropper or servant coming too close. ‘Or, there again, their corpses are sealed in …’
‘Why did you hire them,’ I asked, ‘and for whom?’
Ay walked away to sniff at some flower. He plucked this and came back twirling it in his fingers, moving his head and neck as if to relieve the tension in his shoulders.
‘My lord Ay,’ I whispered hoarsely, ‘you called me your friend, your ally?’
Ay lifted his head, raising the flower to his nose but using it to mask his lips. ‘Look into my eyes, Mahu. What do you see?’
‘Fear,’ I replied.
‘And fear it is. Soon you shall see the reason why.’
‘Was that the only way?’ I asked.
‘It’s over, Mahu.’ He took the flower away. He gestured with his hand. ‘This is all over. It’s gone wrong. The wine doesn’t taste so sweet or the food so delicious. We were to introduce the worship of the Aten, not go hunting for people who draw geese on the walls of their tombs or keep a statue of Isis in a cupboard. I never dreamed Thebes would be left to rot or our allies across Sinai go down in the dust because we would not help them. Worse still …’ He shook his head. ‘No.’ He threw the flower away. ‘You will see! The Sekhmets were an easy answer.’
Ay refused to tell me any more and that’s the nearest he ever came to a full confession.
The twelfth year of Akhenaten’s reign was now upon us and the King became immersed in celebrating his great jubilee, the anniversary of his coronation. Envoys from other kingdoms were invited to the City of Aten. There was feasting and processions, troops marching backwards and forwards, military displays, festivals and gift-giving. This was a last blaze of light before the darkness. Akhenaten performed his public office with all the majesty he could muster. Dressed in the glorious paraphernalia of Pharaoh, he entertained envoys from Kush, Canaan, Libya as well as ambassadors of the Mitanni and the Hittites. He lectured them on the virtues of the Aten, he and Nefertiti portraying themselves as the dazzling incarnation of their god. This was only a mask. During the ceremonies he showed a marked coldness towards his wife. I had been so busy on my own affairs I hadn’t reflected on how, in the previous months, Akhenaten had often absented himself whilst Lady Khiya had virtually vanished from the court.
All this was the precursor of the storm. The tempest broke when the jubilee festival was over and Akhenaten and Nefertiti presided over a meeting of the Royal Circle. The only people invited were the Devout and the children of the Kap. It began in the usual perfunctory way. Meryre intoned a prayer to the Aten which went on and on. Horemheb sat beating a tattoo on his knee whilst Rameses pretended to doze. Everyone else was subdued. The great persecution of Amun was now complete, leaving a sour taste in people’s mouths. Of course Pentju was not there, being banished from Nefertiti’s presence. I’d glimpsed his face three days previously and wondered why he looked so secretive, eyes red-rimmed as if he had been crying. The meeting was also attended by three of Akhenaten’s eldest daughters, Meketaten, Meritaten and Ankhespaaten. The twins were comely enough but Ankhespaaten was the one with vigour and life, a beautiful young girl probably no more than ten summers old. She had inherited some of her mother’s seductive, alluring beauty, eyes full of expression, her movements exquisitely feminine. Even at that early age she displayed her body, clothed in perfumed robes, to catch and draw the attention of men. All three daughters kneeled on cushions at Nefertiti’s feet. The twins were subdued but Ankhespaaten, a glorious fillet of gold binding her hair, stared imperiously around, eyes constantly moving, a faint smile on those lovely lips.
When Meryre ended his boring litany Akhenaten remained seated, hands on the arms of the throne, head down. On this occasion he wore no crown, simply a band of gold with a jewelled uraeus in the centre. He lifted his head. Nefertiti went to touch his hand, a common gesture. Akhenaten thrust this away. Nefertiti ignored the insult, no reaction except for a slight tilt of her head. She stared across at me, a stricken look. I realised how the years had passed; she had aged, her cheeks no longer so smooth, her body slightly plump.
‘Your Majesty.’ Tutu, from where he sat opposite the King, bowed. ‘Your Majesty has words for us.’
Akhenaten’s hand went across his face.
‘You all must have …’ he began.
I remember those words so well, for they unleashed the storm.
‘You all must have wondered what will happen when I go back to my Father to be reunited with the One across the Far Horizon, Who will sit here and wear the Crown of Egypt? Who will hold the flail and rod? Who will intercede for you’ – he lifted his hands as if in prayer – ‘with me and my Father?’
Nefertiti, shocked, turned her face. The conventional chatter and gossip of the court was that Akhenaten’s eldest daughter would succeed him. Nefertiti made a strange move with her hands as if courtiers were standing too close to her and she wanted them to move away.
‘My lord, you have a daughter,’ Tutu said, puzzled.
‘And now I have a son.’ Akhenaten’s declaration rang through the chamber.
‘My lord!’ Tutu gasped.
‘I have a son,’ Akhenaten repeated. ‘Flesh of my flesh, body of my body. The Prince Tutankhaten, the offspring of Princess Khiya the Beloved! Nor is he the first …’
I shall never know why Akhenaten chose that time and place to make his declaration. Perhaps all the resentment and disappointment had curdled together to come pouring out.
‘He is not the first child,’ Akhenaten continued. ‘We also had a daughter who died, born prematurely. The Prince, however, is a vigorous child. He is my successor, the blessed seed of the Aten, the breath of God. He is my heir and shall be proclaimed as my heir.’
The Royal Circle was now in consternation. I had to admire Akhenaten’s cunning even as I grieved at Nefertiti’s public humiliation. She had made a hideous mistake. Khiya had become a Royal Ornament, a flunky of the court, someone who was seen and patronised. Like the rest, Nefertiti had failed to observe the Mitanni Princess’s long absences, her periods of seclusion in the rambling palaces of the Aten. An easy achievement, for who would seek Khiya the Monkey out? She was not liked by Nefertiti and so why should any power-hungry courtier wish to associate with her? Except of course Pentju … a man of nimble wits and cunning heart. He must have had a hand in this but, at the time, I sat like the rest in stunned silence. The look on Nefertiti’s face was heartwrenching: her manner wild-eyed and confused. The glory of Egypt, the necklaces, crowns and jewellery which adorned her no longer enhanced her beauty or her status but seemed to emphasise the mockery. Some of the Royal Circle moved to congratulate Akhenaten. Nefertiti suddenly stood up. She moved the children aside and knelt on the cushions before Akhenaten, her back to us.
‘My lord,’ her voice was strong, ‘my lord, I beseech you.’ Akhenaten was forced to look at her. ‘I am your Queen, your Great Wife. Surely the offspring of a Mitanni monkey will never wear the Double Crown?’
Akhenaten remained silent, face tense, body taut. He had to confront the fury of Nefertiti. She now moved forward; kneeling upright, she placed her hands on his knees, the classic pose of a supplicant.
‘I am your Queen, your wife.’
My heart wept at the pleading in her voice.
‘I have spoken. What Pharaoh has said,’ Akhenaten’s voice carried through the chamber, ‘will be done!’
Nefertiti remained kneeling, though she withdrew her hands.
‘Why, my lord? Why now? Why here? Could you not have told me in the privacy of our chamber?’
‘I have spoken,’ Akhenaten replied. ‘My will is manifest. My will shall be done!’
His twin daughters were now crying, sobbing quietly, moving to kneel beside their mother. Ankhespaaten, however, turned to face us, a beautiful little thing. She sat back on her heels, hands on her thighs and gazed coolly round as if she wanted to remember each of our faces.
‘You have betrayed me!’ Nefertiti sprang to her feet and moved away, half-facing her husband. She made her appeal to the Royal Circle but what comfort would she find there?
‘You have betrayed me,’ she repeated.
‘The Lady Khiya was the Divine One’s loyal rightful wife,’ Tutu spoke up. Beside him Meryre was nodding vigorously.
‘Silence!’ Nefertiti screamed.
If it hadn’t been for Ay’s outstretched hand she would have advanced threateningly on the sycophantic Chamberlain. She turned back on her husband. ‘You have betrayed me! You swore an oath!’
Akhenaten lifted his hand as a sign for silence. Nefertiti refused to concede.
‘You swore an oath, a great oath that would last for ever. Only our children, the flesh of the Sun, would inherit the Double Crown!’
‘Betrayed?’ Akhenaten now changed tack. ‘You talk of betrayal, my lady?’
‘What do you mean?’ Nefertiti hissed.
Akhenaten gestured at Ay, whose head went down.
‘Where is the brat?’ Nefertiti snarled.
‘He is safe.’
‘And the Monkey?’
‘She is dead.’
I gazed speechlessly at Akhenaten: the murmur of conversation died away.
‘The Lady Khiya is dead,’ Akhenaten repeated. ‘She has travelled to the Far Horizon. She is beyond our care and our tears, but not our memory. She died last night. The physician …’ I noticed the single title. ‘The physician was unable to staunch the bleeding.’
‘Then let her body rot!’ Nefertiti shouted. ‘And I pray her brat follows suit!’
Akhenaten sprang from the chair and, bringing up his hand, he punched Nefertiti full in the face, sending her flying back. Ay tried to catch her but the blow was so powerful Nefertiti was sent sprawling to the floor. The twins were screaming. Ankhespaaten remained kneeling. Courtiers half-rose, not knowing what they were to do. Nefertiti pulled herself to her feet, dabbing at the blood on the corner of her mouth. She whispered at Ay but he seemed like a broken reed, just slumped on his cushions, fearful of where Akhenaten’s rage might lead. Nefertiti now lost all control. She was screaming at Akhenaten who shouted back. Both their robes were now dishevelled, one of Akhenaten’s slippers had come off. The Royal Circle was so shocked it could only sit and watch Pharaoh and his Great Queen shouting at each other like a peasant and his wife in some back street of Thebes.
BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
2.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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