Egypt (8 page)

I shook my head, and walked away, up towards the prow of the boat, trying to absorb what I was hearing. I saw we were close to the city.

‘If you think things are bad now, under Horemheb's rule there would be summary executions, curfews and the wholesale massacre of the palace hierarchy and the priesthood! The Queen and her supporters would be executed. He would simply commandeer everyone's riches for himself, and if the priesthood opposed him they would be decimated. Blood would run in the gutters. It would be the end of everything,' he said, as if to persuade me further.

‘Now you sound like Hor,' I said.

‘
Hor was right
.'

We confronted each other in silence. We were both angry and alarmed.

‘Even if your plan works, even if the Hittite King agrees to this proposal, and to a peace plan, and even if Horemheb does not launch a coup, I still have a question–why are you telling me all of this? Why am I being invited into the great secret?' I said.

Nakht looked quickly around, to confirm no one could hear us, took me by the arm, and spoke into my ear.

‘I have been honoured with the supreme responsibility of leading the diplomatic mission to the Hittite capital to negotiate the marriage agreement. It will be a secret mission. We will travel incognito. It is essential Horemheb has no intelligence about us, or our whereabouts. We will travel as merchants on the Way of Horus, as quickly as possible. We will charter a commercial ship from Ugarit to the southern coast of the Hittite lands. Once we arrive in the Hittite capital of Hattusa, I will negotiate the terms of the peace treaty, and of the marriage. If we are successful, we will then bear the responsibility of bringing the Hittite Prince safely back to Egypt. We will be accompanied by Simut, and a retinue of elite palace guards, who have all been carefully vetted for loyalty.'

‘And still I do not know what this has to do with me,' I said.

‘The Queen orders you to join this mission as my personal bodyguard. Simut and his guards will ensure the safety of the royal letters and the gifts of gold we will carry to the Hittite King, and they will manage the security of the mission in general. But you will be responsible for my personal safety. Let's be clear: if necessary you will be required to give your life for mine. I should add this is not my idea. The Queen insists. And perhaps she is right, for only I can undertake the negotiations. In addition, however, the personal safety of the Hittite Prince will also be your responsibility on the return journey.'

My heart pounded. I couldn't think how to respond.

‘You have put me in a position where I cannot say no,' I said.

Nakht's face hardened.

‘Not I, but the Queen. But I know you very well, my friend. I can see in your eyes that you are excited. I see something of the sparkle, the gleam of adventure, which has been missing for too long. Do not deny it. You relish excitement. You need mystery. You thrive on it. It is your meat and drink. And if I may be so personal,' he paused, ‘you might also value the very substantial reward that will be yours, in addition to the gold she has already given you, if we are successful.'

I gazed out at the Great River's panorama without seeing anything. He was right. I was excited. After these years of frustration and humiliation, and of domestic tedium, the prospect of such a journey, of such high responsibility, and of adventure in other lands, was like cool, clear water to a man lost in the desert.

‘I cannot simply leave my family. You
know
that. What would happen to them if…?' I said.

‘If we do not return? I have considered that. If we succeed, I have been authorized to offer you the role of Chief of the Thebes Medjay.'

I felt my heart skip a beat.

‘Nebamun is Chief of the Thebes Medjay,' I replied, as coolly as I could manage.

‘The Queen agrees it is time this city had a police chief whose dignity and worth reflected the power of his high position; someone who was capable of building the force into an organization better suited to its true purpose, which is to uphold the law of the land. Nebamun will accept his retirement with the grace that comes from receiving a large settlement of gold and a royal declaration of official thanks and respect,' he said, in his most persuasive voice.

Nothing in this world would give me more satisfaction than to reclaim my rightful position in the Medjay, and to see my rival, in all his arrogance and vanity, displaced.

‘You tempt me with the prize I desire above all others. But you know I promised my wife I would not leave the family again,' I said. Nakht inclined his head.

‘Listen to me. If I were to die tomorrow, I would have no family of my own to perform the rites for me. My tomb would not be visited by my descendants, for I do not have any. But I flatter myself that your own family might miss me. Believe me, I love them as my own. I take their well-being into deep consideration. I am aware of the grave perils of the journey ahead of us. The stakes are high, the way is full of dangers. We are going to the heartland of our enemies. We must cross through unknown and highly unstable territories notorious for the worst kind of barbarity. It's possible we will not return.'

He paused for a moment, and looked away at the docks that were approaching now. His eyes assessed everything, as if making an inventory of every ship, every cargo, entering the city. I suddenly saw his memory as a great, hushed scriptorium, its shelves stacked with thoughts and memories, all rolled and docketed like papyrus manuscripts.

‘So I propose the following,' he continued. ‘Your family shall lodge in my city house during the period of our journey. While they are there, they will want for nothing, and they will be safe and secure.'

‘But if I do not return, who is going to look after them? How will they eat? What will become of them?' I asked.

He turned to me, his face gravely sincere.

‘In the event of your death, my friend, I will provide for them like a father. I will be generous. You have my word. And if I should die too, then they would inherit my entire estate. They would never want for anything again. In any case, I drew up the relevant documents years ago. The Queen is not the only person in Egypt who has to consider her succession.'

I was so surprised by this that I barely registered the thud as the boat touched the quay.

‘There you have it,' he said. ‘But remember; everything is at stake. The world we know is hanging in the balance. It is no exaggeration to say the future of Egypt depends upon the success of our mission. We must do all in our power to ensure the right outcome. So, join me not only because the Queen commands you; do it so that your children can grow up in a decent world.'

And he stepped quickly up from the boat, and into his waiting chariot.

‘Can I give you a lift?' he enquired, solicitously.

I shook my head. I needed to walk.

That evening, I said nothing to Tanefert about my audience with the Queen. Nor did I give her the little bag of gold. All night, as I lay on the couch, my mind toiled like a scarab beetle trying to push its ball of dung into the light, going over and over the conversation with Nakht. And when dawn glimmered on the floor of our bedchamber, I felt as if I had been fighting with myself for hours. Sometimes I have woken from a night's sleep with the solution to a long-puzzled, intransigent mystery simply waiting for me. But that morning, my thoughts were still a jumble of shards.

Tanefert glanced at me as she rose from her couch, and pinned her long black and silver hair around her head.

‘You were restless.'

‘Did I disturb you?' I asked.

After all the years of marriage, of raising children, of surviving the volatility of my working life, I was still in love with my wife. But recently I had realized that she needed more from me than I had been able to give her. A little distance had opened between us, almost unnoticed, rarely acknowledged. We made love infrequently. The couch was for sleep at the end of exhausting days. I confided in her less often. Perhaps that is the fate of all marriages.

‘You can tell me anything,' she said quietly. ‘I hope you know that.'

I tucked a stray wisp of glossy hair behind her delicate ear. Outside, the girls were preparing their breakfasts, and taking charge of their baby brother. I could hear their amiable chatter, the banging of the dishes, and my son's early morning protestations. I reached out quickly and embraced my wife, kissing her and drawing her back down to the couch with an open need that surprised her.

‘I miss you,' she said suddenly, putting her hand against my chest, near my heart. Her eyes were shining.

‘I miss you, too,' I said, and kissed her again.

By the time we appeared in the kitchen, Tanefert winding her hair about her head once more, me rubbing my face as if to pretend I had just woken, the girls were ready to leave for their lessons, and I was late. They allowed themselves a giggle at my expense–for the older two girls were no longer innocents. I washed my face in the yard basin, and then, having taken Thoth from his place and attached his collar and lead, the girls and I walked together down the lane in the shade, and along the Alley of Fruit, where the market was already lively with sellers hawking bright fruit and vegetables.

At the crossroads, I kissed the girls, and watched as they cheerfully made their way off along the street, talking and laughing and arguing, until they merged into the crowds. I stood for a moment, enjoying the warm light of a new day. I had made this family, I loved my wife, and now, thanks to Nakht, I could finally see a way forward for all of us. I felt the stirring of an unfamiliar sensation: I felt alive and confident. I shook my head cheerfully at my own foolishness, and set off with Thoth at my side, moving nimbly and excitedly down a different street, into a fresh day.

But as soon as I entered the Medjay headquarters, I knew something was wrong: several of the men glanced at me, and glanced quickly away. I hurried over to Panehesy.

‘What's happened?'

The pity in his face told me the worst.

The body had been dumped in a foul side street of the slums, where locals tipped their stinking rubbish. It was a dismal place to deposit a man's mortal remains, an offence to the spirits of the dead. A couple of younger Medjay officers were peering down the alley in awe. When they saw me, they tried to dissuade me from going any further. But I shoved them away. I had to see.

Khety's head had been severed. It sat calmly in a small puddle of congealed black blood. With the cold habit of a lifetime, I noted the details: the sticky crimson prints of dogs and cats in the street dirt all around him. He must have been killed in the small hours of the night. His lips were blue, his skin inert, and his dead eyes half-open. When I examine a murder victim, I think about the kind of knife that might have made the wounds, but not about the suffering those wounds caused. This is because I owe it to the victim to work efficiently; I am not there for the benefit of my own feelings. I am there only to bear witness, as best I can, to the final truth of their death.

So I crushed the futile tears starting to my eyes, and the cries that stuck in my throat. Some force deep inside me was shaking me hard, but I steeled myself to do the necessary work; I focused, for Khety's sake, for his honour, giving him my final respects. I saw how the blades that accomplished the beheading had been extremely sharp; the cuts in his flesh were precise and knowledgeable. There was no hesitation, no prevarication, no uncertainty. Khety's head had been severed expertly, just like the Nubian boys'. And the killer had had a respect, amounting to an obsession, with neatness of composition: behind the head were the other parts of my friend's corpse, butchered like an animal carcass. His arms and legs were stacked against his trunk, like logs of flesh and bone. His hands and feet had been cut off, too; his fingers, snipped off, were laid on top like a dreadful decoration. And on them, disgustingly, the shrivelled remains of his penis had been placed. The killer had started with his extremities. I realized he would probably have been alive throughout much of the butchery. The world around me was spinning. I turned away and hurried, crouching, into the further shadows of the alley, where I vomited on the filthy ground, bucking like an animal.

A crowd of fascinated little street children had gathered to watch me. I grabbed a handful of stones and gravel, and hurled it at them as if they were dogs. They scattered, shouting and laughing.

I returned to the mutilated remains of my friend. Khety's dead eyes registered nothing. I reached out and took his head between my hands, as carefully as I could. A dead head is heavy. I felt a ridiculous urge to ask him questions, to interrogate him, even to slap his stupid face until his eyes flickered open, his jaw stirred into creaky motion, and he spoke again, if only to curse me for waking him from the dead. Like a madman, I kissed his cold brow, whispering my useless, propitiatory apologies. Two nights ago, my friend had asked for my help. And I had abandoned him. Now he was cruelly slaughtered. Perhaps I could have stopped him behaving recklessly. I could have saved him. Guilt hunched on my back like a vicious monkey, digging its sharp claws into me, and began to whisper its hot accusations into my ears.