An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (15 page)

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Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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‘You speak with true voice, Maya.’
I went and sat on the tiled edge of the pool.
‘If I had betrayed Sobeck,’ Maya followed me, clutching his robe, teeth chattering, ‘if I had betrayed Sobeck they would have asked me how I knew. We would
all
have been arrested. Have you got that through your thick skull?’
‘But you were a spy,’ I countered, ‘in the Kap. You discovered that I visited the Veiled One. You knew I had been entertained by him.’
‘What?’ Maya drew back. ‘Oh yes, I knew there was something between you and that grotesque. Don’t get angry with me, Mahu, that’s what he is. That’s why we had this party, isn’t it? So you could bully me? So he can show his face off and pretend he’s not a recluse? I never told anyone anything about you, Mahu. Who cares anyway?’
‘So the spy must be someone else?’ I countered. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the stammer out of my voice.
‘Is that true, Mahu? Who will you have out next? Try and push Horemheb’s head beneath the water. He’ll cut your balls off. Or if he doesn’t, his trained viper will. Can’t you see, nobody in the Kap would tell the Divine One about Sobeck! I work in the House of Secrets, where it has been known for a messenger to be killed for the message he carries.’
I stared in disbelief. ‘Then who was it? They even knew exactly where Sobeck and the girl lay, the very part of the grove. Perhaps Weni was the spy?’
‘Weni?’ Maya started to laugh. ‘He didn’t know his crotch from his arse! Oh, in the early days he was good but in the end he couldn’t roll out of bed without a beer jug being thrust under his nose. Sobeck told me about the way you visited the pool. Do you think you know everything, Baboon? We all know why Weni died. He didn’t stumble or fall. He made fun of that grotesque and paid with his life.’ Maya clambered to his feet and, gathering as much of his dignity as he could, walked down the path toward the postern gate. He paused, head down and even from where I sat in the poor light I could tell he was crying. He turned and came back. This time the tears were more dignified.
‘Shall I tell you why I came here tonight? Do you think I
wanted
to be here? I came to see you, you stupid Baboon! We shared something in common – Sobeck. He liked you, even though he claimed you had no soul. I told him he was wrong, but in the end he was proved right. I came because I thought you might be my friend. I also came to thank you. Oh, the story is well-known. How you knelt at the feet of the Veiled One and begged for Sobeck’s life. You stupid, monkey-faced bastard,’ he spat out. ‘I came to thank you!’ He turned and walked away.
‘Maya!’
I hurried after him. He paused but didn’t look round.
‘Maya, I was raised by a witch. I had no friends. I was brought to the Kap because my aunt couldn’t stand me. You and the rest poked and bullied me. True, I gave as good as I got, but Sobeck was different. He was betrayed – don’t doubt that. The lovers were caught red-handed going back to the palace. The guards knew where they met.’
‘Oh, by the way,’ Maya interrupted, speaking over his shoulder, ‘you mentioned Weni. He was dead long before Sobeck and his playmate used to meet in the grove.’
‘I am sorry, Maya. For the first time in my life, I am apologising. I was wrong.’
I thought he’d ignore me but he sighed, turned round and came back, hand extended.
‘Mahu.’
I clasped his hand.
‘Mahu, I am still in your debt. I couldn’t believe what I heard, that you pleaded for Sobeck’s life. I couldn’t do that nor could the rest. I won’t forget that. I’ll never be your friend but I will be your ally. Moreover, if you are looking for a spy then don’t look amongst the children of the Kap.’ He shook his wet robes. ‘Give my apologies to your master and the rest. Tell them I feel slightly sick and wish to go home.’
He plodded away. I went through a side door up to my own chamber. My robe was dishevelled, the bracelet I had worn was now in the pool. I remembered the dagger and went down into the darkness to recover it.
‘Is everything all right?’
I whirled round.
‘Are you well, Mahu?’
Imri, sword drawn, stood under the outstretched branches of a sycamore tree.
‘I’m well,’ I called back. ‘I shall be with you shortly.’
I returned to my chamber, stripped myself naked and cleaned myself with a cloth. I refused to wear a wig for such occasions. I dried my hair cropped close to my head, cleaned my face, dabbing fresh black kohl under my eyes, and put a pair of sandals on my feet to hide the dirt between my toes. I fumbled in my jewellery box to replace the bracelet.
When I rejoined the feast, nobody commented on how long I had been away or the whereabouts of Maya. Huy was now busy with a girl. Horemheb and Rameses had already exchanged their partners. The Veiled One was sipping at his cup. By the empty cushions on his left, and the look on his face, his brother had left, not on the best of terms. I eased myself onto the cushions, picked up a piece of grilled chicken and chewed it carefully.
‘Maya won’t be returning?’ the Veiled One whispered.
‘No.’ I raised my cup to hide my face. ‘Maya is an ally, not a spy.’ The Veiled One stiffened.
I glanced quickly around. The soft plucking of the strings of the musicians and the noisy merriment hid our conversation.
‘When we first met, Master, in the grove, whom did you tell?’
‘Why, Mahu, no one except my mother. From that day you were marked.’
‘Yet Hotep knew. He taunted me with the knowledge.’
The Veiled One drank greedily from his cup; his sallow face became flushed. ‘Think, Mahu,’ he urged.
I closed my eyes. I recalled sitting in the glade, the journey to the house, poor Sobeck slipping through the trees, hand in hand with his illicit love. Both the place where I had first met the Veiled One and the olive grove lay between the Silent Pavilion and the House of Residence. My mind teemed. The Great Queen Tiye would never betray her son. Was this some game by my own master – some devious ploy? But how had he learned about Sobeck? And I recalled his outrage, not because one of his father’s concubines had betrayed him, but at the insult offered to the majesty of his office. Moreover, Sobeck’s misalliance had taken place for a considerable period of time before the army marched into Kush. So was it a matter of betrayal? Perhaps Sobeck had been glimpsed and followed – but by whom? I recalled the basket of figs, the vipers lurking there, the poisoned jar of wine and that murderous assault down near the riverside.
‘Master?’ I dipped my finger into the wine and drew the first letter. ‘I think I know the name of the spy.’
Three days later the Veiled One summoned me and Imri to a meeting out in the garden pavilion. My master was puce with rage. In his hand was a piece of papyrus which he waved in front of our faces. ‘Envoys from the Hittite King are coming to the Divine One’s court! They will be officially received by my father and my mother. Tuthmosis will be there, but I have not been invited.’ He closed the door of the pavilion, his strange eyes bright with anger. I could tell by his jerky movements and slurred speech that he had been drinking. ‘But I shall go.’
He ignored Imri’s gasp of astonishment and gestured with his hand for silence.
‘I shall go! It is but a simple walk away with my guard and household. I,’ he struck his chest, ‘am a Prince of Egypt. I have a right to wear the Uraeus. I have the sacred blood in my veins. I will
not
be challenged on this!’ He made a cutting movement with his hand. ‘I shall inform God’s Father Hotep,’ he spat the words out, ‘and others at my father’s court that I will make my presence known and show my face to the envoys of the Hittite King!’ He shook his fist. ‘I am not some pet monkey or a bird to be kept in a cage. My days in the shadows are over.’
A week later, on a balmy afternoon when the sun was setting slowly and the mountains to the west of Thebes were undergoing a dazzling change of colour, the Veiled One decided to go hunting. The Nile was full and lush, sweeping majestically, drenching the papyrus groves and bringing its richness to the Black Lands. A soft breeze cooled the sweat and refreshed the soul, and the eye was no longer blinded by the harsh heat and desert dust. The Veiled One decided he would hunt for birds amongst the papyrus reeds. Since his declaration a few days earlier about meeting the Hittite envoys, he had been strangely silent. Now he’d roused himself. He, Imri and I, armed with bow, arrows and throwing sticks would hunt marsh birds in the thickets along the Nile.
The Veiled One dressed simply for the occasion in a long white linen robe, tied round the middle with an embroidered sash, folded so it hung in a brilliant display of colour against the white robe. He wore a straw hat and carried his pet cat which always accompanied him on such trips. Imri advised keeping to the canals along the Nile but the Veiled One was insistent.
‘No, we’ll find more quarry on the river, particularly at this time of day. The birds are heavy and slow-moving.’
We went down. Imri had prepared an imperial skiff with seats in the stern and middle and a small throwing platform in the prow on which the hunter could stand. All three of us were expert with the pole. On this occasion the Veiled One did not immediately go along the jetty where the skiff was lashed but sat cross-legged on a rocky outcrop, face towards the sun, lips moving soundlessly, lost in his own world of prayer. I stared down at the river, still slightly swollen as it swirled by the thick groves of papyrus and overhanging willow trees. This stretch of the river was now fairly deserted, as it usually was just before evening.
‘I am ready!’ The Veiled One opened his eyes: he put on his hat, followed me down the path onto the jetty and into the skiff. As I clambered in after Imri, I noticed the Veiled One was carrying a leather bag which he placed carefully in the stern. I unloosed the rope, Imri grasped the pole and skilfully pushed the boat out into midstream. Occasionally, other craft passed us: fishermen, merchants, and an imperial barge full of soldiers and archers. These were followed by a flotilla of small craft, the statue of some god in the stern. Across the water drifted the smell of incense, the clap of hands and the faint music of the sistra and the lute.
‘Probably taking their god for a swim,’ the Veiled One laughed.
He issued instructions. We headed towards the far side of the Nile and a lush outcrop of water trees, bushes and papyrus groves. Imri looked askance at me. Such places were often the haunt of crocodiles, especially at this time of day, when they’d absorbed the heat of the sun and became more agile and aggressive in hunting their quarry. The Veiled One, however, insisted that Imri find a path through the papyrus groves. As we did so, birds burst from their cover in a brilliant display of plumage. I settled my feet on the shifting platform and loosened my throwing stick. The quarry were easy. Time and again I hit the mark and a plump body would fall in the water. Imri would pole skilfully towards it. I would scoop the bird out, make sure it was dead and place it in the basket. I heard splashes and glimpsed a crocodile, eyes and cruel snout jutting above the water.
‘Master,’ I knelt at the Veiled One’s feet, ‘this is dangerous. We have taken our tally. I think we should return.’
The Veiled One ignored me. ‘Imri, pass me the pole. I’ll show you how it can be done.’ The Veiled One gestured at me to move aside. Imri, his face laced with sweat, handed over the pole. The Veiled One held it as a soldier would a spear, rolling the edge a few inches from Imri’s chest. ‘The Hittite envoys didn’t come to Thebes.’ He picked up the leather bag. ‘Mother has written to me.’
The sweat on the back of my neck grew cold. An ominous silence quietened all sound in the papyrus grove: no more the squawk of birds or the flurry of wings. The barge swayed slightly. Imri the Kushite stood, muscular chest drenched in water, sweat and flecks of mud. He turned his head slightly, his good eye intent on the Veiled One.
‘Master?’ He spoke as if his throat and mouth were dry.
‘They went to Memphis,’ the Veiled One replied casually. ‘Quite a flurry, messengers being sent hither and thither as if my father knew I intended to make a grand entrance. You told him, didn’t you, Imri? You are my father’s spy. Just like you told him when I first met my Baboon here, that morning in the grove when I worshipped the sun. You also discovered the truth about Sobeck. The only time you leave our pavilion is to walk in the gardens. Did you glimpse that stupid girl flitting through the trees with her lover? And what about the tainted wine and the figs with the vipers in it? Or that day down near the river when the madman attacked me? You were in charge of my guard – that’s your duty! You weren’t there that day, were you? If it hadn’t been for the Baboon, I would be no more.’
The Kushite made to step forward but the Veiled One held the pole secure, moving it like a sword.
‘You are a traitor, Imri. A spy. You are an assassin who does not know how my Father protects me.’ The Veiled One’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘My true Father. He has revealed the treachery of your heart, the evil you plot, the malice you nourish.’
‘I … I …’ the Kushite stammered.
‘I … I what?’ the Veiled One mimicked. ‘What next, Imri? A knife in the dark?’
Something bumped into our barge, making it sway dangerously. I stared around. A crocodile, its eyes above the water, was floating like a log almost aware of what was happening though I knew he had been attracted by the cry of the birds and their corpses falling into the water.

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