An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (23 page)

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Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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Outside the door Maya clapped me on the shoulder. ‘I hoped you’d join me.’
We walked across the courtyard into the garden. The perfume of the flowers was cloyingly sweet under a starlit sky. Maya took out his fan and wafted it. I noticed he carried a little pouch strapped to his left wrist. He didn’t walk in his thick-soled sandals but rather swayed like a woman, moving slowly, swinging his hips as he fanned himself prettily.
‘“Beauty has its own face. It is she”.’ Maya brought the fan up to his face, staring coldly at me over the rim as he quoted the poem. ‘“Loveliness has its own form. It is hers.” A remarkable woman.’ He simpered.
‘Do you say that yourself,’ I asked, ‘or is it what you have learned from others in the House of Secrets?’
Maya snapped the fan closed and put it back into its little pouch. He nodded towards the lotus-covered Pool of Purity shimmering in the moonlight. ‘You have your bodyguard here, Mahu?’ he asked archly. ‘Am I to go for a swim again?’
‘No.’ I patted him on the shoulder, gesturing that we walk on. ‘Were Imri and his Kushite spies working for the House of Secrets?’
‘I don’t know,’ Maya whispered. ‘They could have been spies, but not for the House of Secrets. They did not report to God’s Father Hotep.’ He paused and chuckled at my surprise. ‘Oh yes, clever Baboon. Imri and his companions may have been spies, but for whom?’ He hunched his shoulders prettily. ‘I don’t know. Were they murdered, Mahu?’
‘They were spies.’
‘I don’t deny that. What you’ve got to ask yourself though, is for whom?’
I curbed the panic seething within me.
‘And Aunt Isithia?’ I asked. ‘You received my message?’
‘Oh yes. Aunt Isithia,’ Maya purred back, ‘is a most interesting case. A former caster of horoscopes though now she is forbidden to meddle any further. You do have an interesting relative, Mahu. She may not cast horoscopes but she is a keen hand with the whip,’ he blinked, ‘an expert in inflicting delicious pain.’
‘What do you mean?’
Maya laughed behind his hand. ‘You know what I mean. Do you think you were taken into the Kap for your looks and your breeding? Oh, I’ve been through your records
and
hers. Isithia wanted you out of the way for many reasons. She still enjoys the protection of the Divine One. She instructs some of the lesser concubines, the Royal Ornaments, in certain arts of love: techniques, perhaps, which may come as a surprise to them but certainly not to her.’
‘Could she have learned about Sobeck?’
‘Possibly.’
I scratched my cheek. ‘So, Aunt Isithia wanted me out of the way because she hated my mother, she hated me, she saw me as a burden and she had other interests?’
‘Correct,’ Maya simpered.
‘Which would become difficult to pursue as I grew older?’
‘You speak with true voice, Mahu.’
‘And now?’
Maya started as a bird of the night swooped low: a black, fast-moving shadow under the starlit sky.
‘And now?’ I repeated.
‘Your aunt is well-protected. She has highranking friends amongst the priests of Amun-Ra. Why, Mahu,’ he mocked, ‘don’t you visit her?’
‘You know the reason I don’t, as you know why she doesn’t visit me. Well, not for years.’ I chucked Maya under the chin. ‘Come, lovely one,’ I whispered, ‘did Imri ever visit her?’
‘Perhaps,’ Maya smiled, ‘but he also visited the Crown Prince Tuthmosis.’
‘So it was Tuthmosis,’ I stated.
Maya stepped back as if to hide his face. ‘Now you have it, Mahu. Your Prince’s brother is very frightened.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of the stories.’ Maya squinted up at the night sky. ‘That his brother, this Grotesque, has been touched by the gods, chosen for some special task. His marriage to that beauty will not help. She is unique,’ Maya mused, ‘with that reddish hair and light blue eyes. Such strange colouring. I heard rumours that they are not true Egyptians but descendants of Wanderers …’
‘Who
is
a true Egyptian?’ I asked. ‘And what does the House of Secrets know about Princess Nefertiti and her father?’
Maya pulled a face. ‘Very little. They have been concealed like arrows in a quiver.’
‘Who by?’
‘The great Queen Tiye.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘it’s now evident. About the Princess,’ he continued, ‘we know nothing. Ay has a record as a capable administrator, a skilled commander of chariotry.’ Maya tapped his sandalled foot and turned as if to go back. I caught his arm.
‘Why do you still watch Aunt Isithia? Oh, I know about the horoscopes, and her stay in the Chains in the House of Secrets.’
Maya stepped so close I could smell his perfume.
‘She’s linked to something more sinister,’ he whispered. ‘Sometimes the Divine One suspects that the Grotesque, your master, is not his son.’ He lifted his fingers for silence. ‘He cannot bring himself to believe he is the father of such a man.’
‘What? But … ?’
‘Shush.’ Maya pressed his fingers against his lips. ‘Listen, Mahu. Have you ever heard of the prophet Ipurer? He lived about five hundred years ago. He prophesied a violent revolution, of everything being turned on its head, of a Messiah who would come to shepherd his people and whose presence would be,’ Maya squinted, ‘what is the line? – “cooling to the flame”.’ He swung the little pouch on his wrist. ‘The prophecy finishes with these lines: “Truly he shall smite evil. Where is he to stay? Has he come or does he already sleep and walk amongst you?”’
‘Legends! Superstition!’
‘The Magnificent One
is
superstitious, Mahu. And his fears are shared by the priests of Amun. Can’t you see how it goes? The Divine One is confronted with a sickly and ungainly grotesque about whom dark things are uttered. Fertile ground for our priests who also want him gone, who can hint that perhaps he is the Messiah, prophesied by Ipurer. Isithia may still have her uses in concocting a poison to solve the problem. Ah well, so much for the great ones, eh?’
‘So, Aunt Isithia still distils her potions?’
‘And offers instructions to others.’
‘She’s an old bitch!’
‘A true murderess,’ Maya replied. ‘The blood of her own kin stains her hands.’
‘What?’
‘I came across a police report. A few scribbles. Isithia truly hated your mother. She may not have supplied the best medicine for her, when she was recovering from your birth.’
‘I …’
‘Can’t you speak, Mahu?’
In truth I felt a hideous coldness, a clenching in my stomach.
‘But, but my father would have … ?’
‘Your father never suspected. Many women don’t survive childbirth. When Aunt Isithia was in the cells she was baited with this.’
‘Why wasn’t the matter pursued?’
‘It was nothing much. Information laid anonymously to the House of Secrets, the tittle-tattle of servants, studied and filed away.’
I recalled Dedi and her whispered hoarse comments in that darkened garden so many years ago.
‘Well, well, Mahu, will you take revenge? If you do,’ he urged, ‘do not take it now.’
I had drunk many goblets of wine yet I felt sober. I wanted to run away, leave the palace and go out to Aunt Isithia’s house, clutch her scrawny throat and confront her.
‘Not now, Mahu.’ Maya clutched my wrist. ‘You have learned well. Hide your face, hide your feelings, hide your hand. Strike when you must. Wait for your day. Stay now,’ he urged, ‘and I’ll tell you more.’
‘About what?’
‘Tell Ay to be careful.’
‘Of whom? Spies?’
‘No, assassins.’ Maya peered up at me. ‘Ay is seen as Queen Tiye’s principal adviser and now as your master’s.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Oh, Mahu,’ Maya smiled, ‘assassins don’t wear proclamations round their necks. They don’t send you pretty little letters telling you they are coming.’
I grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him close.
‘Why are you telling me this, Maya? How do I know you are not just dirtying the pool? You have a talent for mischief.’
‘Sobeck.’
‘Oh come!’ I snarled, pressing more heavily on his shoulders.
‘Sobeck’s gone.’
‘No.’ I withdrew my hands.
‘He escaped.’ Maya looked quickly to the left and right. ‘You know how it is, Mahu, out in those prison cages. They are chained, they exist on water, food that’s grown there, anything their guards may hunt as well as the charity of Sand Dwellers and Desert Wanderers. If they can escape, what can they take with them? Anyway, Sobeck took his chances. He went out in the Red Lands. They found his corpse, the skeleton picked dry. They only recognised him by the manacles still round his wrists and the clay tablet lying nearby. He had stolen a knife and a water bottle; both were gone. The back of his head was stoved in.’
I groaned and turned away. ‘Poor Sobeck!’
‘Nonsense.’ Maya came up behind me. I whirled round. ‘Think, Mahu, Sobeck was a warrior. He’d escape with a dagger and a water bottle. Libyans don’t creep up and smash you on the back of the head. They stand far away and pick you off with a barbed arrow. No such arrow was found nearby. Don’t you see, Mahu? Sobeck killed someone, took his clothing, the water bottle and knife, then put the manacles round his victim, together with the prison clay tablet. He’s escaped.’
I heard a bird screech. I walked over to a bush, plucked the flower growing there and sniffed its fragrance. My mind teemed with thoughts, images and memories.
‘Sobeck will return to Thebes,’ Maya continued, following me across. ‘You know he will, Mahu. He’ll come back to the city. He’ll look for his friends: the only one he can trust is you. If he survives the desert he will contact you. He will ask for your help. This is the price you pay for what I have told you. Say to Sobeck that Maya had nothing to do with this treachery, that Maya loved him, still does and always will.’ He clasped my wrist and sauntered off into the night.
I went and sat by the Pool of Purity: the blue lotus blossoms were now open, the air sweet with their perfume. I couldn’t believe what Maya had said about Aunt Isithia, Sobeck, and Tuthmosis. I wanted to make sense of it, put it all together. I heard a footfall, but didn’t turn.
‘You learned a lot, Mahu?’ Ay squatted down beside me.
‘A great deal.’ I told him about everything except Sobeck. Ay, of course, was not fooled.
‘Why should that little bag of secrets confide in you?’
‘We once had a friend in common.’
‘I didn’t know you were that way inclined, Mahu.’
‘I am not but he is.’
‘What will you do about Isithia?’ Ay asked.
‘What do you advise?’
‘Wait!’ Ay got up and gestured at me to follow. ‘Wait, Mahu, as I will. So our enemies have turned to murder: do you know who the assassin could be?’ I shook my head. ‘I do.’ Ay grinned in the darkness. ‘But he, too, will have to wait.’
He looped his arm through mine. ‘I love going down to the Nile, and watching the black and white kingfishers dive and swoop. They move so fast, you have to concentrate. Sometimes I don’t see any at all and I wonder where they have gone. So, when they return, I am even more curious.’
‘Have you come,’ I asked, ‘to talk about kingfishers in the dead of night?’
‘The party is ending.’ Ay turned towards where the light could be glimpsed pouring through the windows of the palace. ‘Your friends have eaten and drunk more than they should. They are being helped out by their servants. Horemheb, however, marched off as if he was on the parade ground. We will have to watch him, Mahu, him and Rameses. Two hearts that beat as one, and cunning hearts at that.’
‘The kingfisher?’ I queried.
‘Ah, yes.’ Ay whistled under his breath. ‘The great scribe Huy brought an invitation. In a few days’ time, as you know, the Divine One celebrates the Festival of Opet where he moves from the Temple of Amun-Ra at Karnak down to Luxor. A glorious, triumphant procession as Pharaoh communes with the gods.’
‘The Kingfisher?’ I asked again, though I half-expected Ay’s reply.
‘The Divine One has moved as swiftly. He has graciously invited his second son to take part in the official festivities.’
‘And has our master accepted?’
Ay clapped me on the shoulder.
‘He has no choice, Mahu, and neither do we.’
The great sweeping avenue, lined either side by golden-headed sphinxes, marked the great processional route linking the temples of Karnak and Luxor. On that particular occasion, the last day of Opet, it was flanked by a living, thick hedge of people. Thebes had emptied itself of its inhabitants and the crowds were swollen by visitors from every city in the kingdom as well as beyond on this glorious, sunfilled day when Pharaoh showed his face to his subjects who revelled in the glory and might of Egypt.

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