by Wilbur Smith
‘I have conceived a pressing interest in volcanoes.’
‘Which ones? They are legion, and situated in many lands.’
‘All those that arise close to the sea, perhaps on an island, or on the banks of a lake or a great river. I need a list, Mother.’
‘That is not a burdensome request,’ she assured him. ‘Brother Nubank, our most senior cartographer, has always had a consuming interest in volcanoes and other subterranean sources of heat, such as thermal springs and geysers. He will be delighted to compile your list, but expect it to be over-detailed and exhaustive. Nubank is meticulous to a fault. I will set him to work on it at once.’
‘How long will it take him?’
‘Will you visit us in ten days’ time, revered Magus?’ she suggested.
Taita took his leave and rode on another league to the gates of the necropolis.
A extensive military fort guarded the entrance to the necropolis that housed the royal tombs. Each one comprised a subterranean complex of chambers that had been excavated from the solid rock. At the centre was the burial chamber in which stood the magnificent royal sarcophagus containing the mummified body of a pharaoh.
Laid out around this chamber were the storerooms and depositories crammed with the greatest mass of treasure the world had ever known. It aroused the greed of every thief and grave robber in the two kingdoms, and in countries beyond their borders. They were persistent and cunning in their efforts to break into the sacred enclosure. Keeping them out required the perpetual vigilance of a small army.
Taita left his escort beside the well in the central courtyard of the fort to water the horses and refresh themselves, while he continued into the burial ground on foot. He knew the way to the tomb of Queen Lostris, as well he might: he had designed its layout and supervised its excavation.
Lostris was the only one of all the queens of Egypt to be interred in this section of the cemetery, which was usually reserved for reigning pharaohs.
Taita had inveigled her eldest son into granting this dispensation when he had succeeded to the throne.
He passed the site where the tomb of Pharaoh Nefer Seti was being excavated in anticipation of his departure from this world and his ascension to the next. It was thronged with stonemasons driving the main entrance passage into the rock. The rubble was carried out by chains of workers in baskets balanced on their heads. They were coated thickly with the floury white dust that hung in the air. A small group of architects and slave masters stood on the heights above, looking down on the furious activity below. The valley echoed to the ring of chisels, adzes and picks on the rock.
Unobtrusively Taita made his way up the funereal path until the valley narrowed and branched into two separate gullies. He took the left hand fork. Within fifty paces he had turned a corner and the entrance to Lostris’s tomb lay directly ahead, set into the cliff face. The entrance was surrounded by impressive granite pillars, and sealed with a wall of stone blocks, which had been plastered over, then decorated with a beautifully painted mural. Scenes from the queen’s life were arranged round her cartouche: Lostris in domestic bliss with her husband and children, driving her chariot, fishing in the waters of the Nile, hunting the gazelle and the waterbirds, commanding her armies against the hordes of Hyksos invaders, leading her people in a flotilla of ships down the cataracts of the Nile and bringing them home out of exile after the final defeat of the Hyksos. It was seventy years since Taita had painted these scenes with his own hand, but the colours were still fresh.
Another mourner stood at the entrance to the tomb, swathed from head to ankles in the black robes of a priestess of the goddess Isis. She knelt quietly in an attitude of adoration facing the mural. Taita resigned himself to the delay. He turned aside and settled down to wait in the shade at the foot of the cliff. The face of Lostris in the paintings set in train a series of happy memories. It was quiet in this part of the valley: the rock walls muffled the din made by the workmen lower down. For a while he forgot the presence of the priestess at the tomb, but then she came to her feet and his attention switched back to her.
Her back was still towards him when she reached into the sleeve of her robe and brought out a small metal tool, perhaps a chisel or a knife.
Then she stood on tiptoe and, to Taita’s horror, tore deliberately at the mural with the point of the tool. ‘What are you doing, you mad woman?’
he shouted. ‘That is a royal tomb you are defacing! Stop at once!’
It was as if he had not spoken. She ignored him and hacked at the face of Lostris with quick slashes of the knife. The underlying white plaster showed through the deep scoring.
Taita sprang to his feet, still yelling, ‘Stop! Hear me! Your reverend mother will learn of this. I shall see that you are punished as harshly as you deserve for this sacrilege. You are calling down on yourself the wrath of the goddess …’
Still disdaining to glance in his direction the priestess left the entrance and, with a deliberate unhurried gait, started up the valley away from him. Beside himself with fury, Taita ran after her. He was no longer shouting but he hefted his heavy staff in his right hand. He was determined to prevent her escaping the consequences of her actions, and violence clouded his mind. At that moment he would have struck her across the back of the head, crushing her skull.
The priestess reached the point where the valley turned sharply.
She stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. Her face and hair were almost completely shrouded in a red shawl and only her eyes showed.
Taita’s fury and frustration fell away, replaced by awe and wonder.
The woman’s gaze was level and serene, her eyes those in the portrait of the queen on the gateway to her tomb. For a moment he could neither move nor speak. When he found his voice again it was a husky croak: ‘It is you!’
Her eyes glowed with a radiance that lit his heart, and although her mouth was covered by the scarf he knew she was smiling at him. She made no reply to his exclamation but nodded, then turned away and walked unhurriedly round the corner of the rock wall.
‘No!’ he cried wildly. ‘You cannot leave me like this. Wait! Wait for me!’ He dashed after her and reached the corner only seconds after she had disappeared, still reaching out to her. Then he stopped and his hand dropped to his side as the upper end of the valley opened to him. Fifty yards from where he stood, it came to a dead end, blocked by a sheer wall of grey rock too steep for even a wild goat to scale. She had vanished.
‘Lostris, forgive me for rejecting you. Come back to me, my darling.’
The silence of the mountains settled over him. With an effort he gathered himself and, wasting no more time in vain appeals, began to search for a crevice in the walls in which she might be hidden, or a concealed exit from the valley. He found none. He, looked back the way he had come, and saw that the floor of the valley was covered with a thin layer of white sand that had been eroded from the rock. His own footprints were clearly defined, but there were no others. She had left no mark. Wearily, he turned back towards her tomb. He stood in front of the entrance and looked up at the inscription she had cut into the plaster in hieratic script: ‘Six fingers point the way,’ he read aloud. It made no sense. What did she mean by “the way”? Was it a road, or was it a manner or method?
Six fingers? Were they pointing in a number of different directions or in one? Were there six separate signposts to follow? He was baffled.
Again he read aloud the inscription: ‘Six fingers point the way.’ As he spoke the letters she had cut into the plaster began to heal, and faded before his eyes. The portrait of Lostris was undamaged. Each detail was perfectly restored. In wonderment he reached up to run his hands over it. The surface was smooth and unblemished.
He stood back and studied it. Was the smile still exactly as he had painted it or had it changed subtly? Was it tender or mocking? Was it candid or had it become enigmatic? Was it benign or was it now touched with malice? He could not be certain.
‘A
re you Lostris, or some wicked wraith sent to torment me?’ he asked. ‘Would Lostris be so cruel? Are you offering help and guidance - or laying snares and pitfalls in my path?’
At last he turned away and went down to the fort where the escort waited for him. They mounted and set out on the return journey to Thebes.
It was dark by the time they reached the palace of Pharaoh Nefer Seti.
Taita went first to Ramram.
‘Pharaoh is still in conclave. He will not be able to meet you tonight as he planned. You are not to wait up for his summons. He orders you to sup with him tomorrow evening. I press you most earnestly to resort to your sleeping mat. You appear exhausted.’
He left Ramram and hurried to Demeter’s chamber, where he found the old man and Meren facing each other over the boo board. Meren jumped to his feet with a theatrical show of relief as Taita entered. The complexities of the game were often beyond him. ‘Welcome, Magus. You are just in time to save me from humiliation.’
Taita sat beside Demeter and quickly appraised his state of health and mind. ‘You seem to have recovered from the rigours of the journey. Are you being well cared for?’
‘I thank you for your concern, and indeed I am,’ Demeter told him.
‘I am delighted to hear it, for we must be up betimes on the morrow. I am taking you to the Palace of Memnon, where we will listen to one who preaches a new religion. He prophesies the coming of a new goddess who will hold dominion over all the nations of the earth.’
Demeter smiled. ‘Do we not already have a plethora of gods? Enough, indeed, to last us to the end of days?’
‘Ah, my friend, to us it might seem so. But according to this prophet, the old gods are to be destroyed, their temples cast down and their priests scattered to the ends of the earth.’
‘I wonder if he speaks of Ahura Maasda, the one and only? If so, this is not a new religion.’
‘It is not Ahura Maasda but another, more dreadful and powerful than him. She will assume human form and descend to live among us. The people will have direct access to her gracious mercy. She has the power to resurrect the dead, and to bestow immortality and perpetual happiness upon those who merit such rewards.’
‘Why must we concern ourselves with such manifest nonsense, Taita?’
He sounded irritable. ‘We have graver matters to deal with.’
‘This prophet is one of many who are moving covertly among the people and, it seems, converting great numbers of them, including Mintaka, the Queen of Egypt and wife of Pharaoh Nefer Seti.’
Demeter leant forward and his expression became grave. ‘Surely Queen Mintaka has better sense than to be taken in by such nonsense?’
‘When the new goddess comes, her first act will be to rid Egypt of the plagues that afflict her and heal all the suffering they have caused. Mintaka sees in her the chance to bring back from the tomb her children who died from the plague.’
‘I see,’ Demeter mused. ‘To any mother that would be an irresistible lure. But what are the other reasons you spoke of?’
‘The prophet’s name is Soe.’ Demeter looked mystified. ‘Invert the letters of his name. Use the alphabet of the Tenmass,’ Taita suggested, and Demeter’s perplexity vanished.
‘Eos,’ he whispered. ‘Your hounds have picked up the scent of the witch, Taita.’
‘And we must follow it hotly to her lair.’ Taita stood up. ‘Compose yourself to sleep. I will send Meren to fetch you before sunrise.’
While the dawn was still a faint grey promise in the east, Habari had the horses and Demeter’s camel waiting for them in the courtyard. Demeter stretched himself out in his palanquin, with Taita and Meren riding on each side of him. The escort led them down to ford the river, where they saw only one of the monstrous toads.
It avoided them and they crossed to the west bank without hindrance.
They circled the Palace of Memnon and came to the postern gate, where Taita and Demeter left their mounts in the care of Meren and Habari.
As Mintaka had promised, one of her hand-maidens was waiting inside the gate to greet them. She led the magi though a maze of passages and tunnels until at last they stepped into a lavishly appointed room, which smelt strongly of incense and perfume. The floor was covered with silk rugs and piles of fat cushions. Richly embroidered tapestries hung on the walls. The hand-maiden crossed to the far wall and drew back the hanging that concealed a screened zenana window. Taita hurried to it and looked through the ornate tracery into the audience chamber where he had met Mintaka the previous day. It was empty. Satisfied, he went to take Demeter’s arm and lead him to the window. The two settled down on the cushions. They did not have long to wait before a strange man entered the room beyond the screen.
He was of middle age, tall and spare. The heavy locks that hung to his shoulders were streaked with grey, as was his short, pointed beard. He wore the long black robes of priesthood, the skirts embroidered with occult symbols, and at his throat hung a necklace of charms. He began to circle the room, pausing to draw aside the hangings and search behind them. He stopped in front of the zenana window and brought his face close to the screen. His features were handsome and intelligent, but his most striking attribute was his eyes: they were those of a zealot and burned with a fanatical glare.
This is Soe, Taita thought. He was in no doubt. He took Demeter’s hand and held it firmly to combine and augment their powers of concealment and protection, for they could not be certain what occult gifts the other man possessed. They stared back at him through the screen, exerting all their powers to hold the cloak of concealment around them. After a while Soe grunted, satisfied, and turned away. He went to wait by the far window, gazing out to the distant hills, which glowed like coals in the orange light of the early sun.
While he was thus distracted, Taita opened his Inner Eye. Soe was not a savant for at once his aura sprang up round him, but it was as none that he had seen before: it was inconstant, at one moment flaring strongly and at the next fading to a faint glow. Its colour shimmered brilliantly in tones of purple and vermilion, then sank away to a dull, leaden hue. Taita recognized a sharp intellect, corrupted with ruthlessness and cruelty. Soe’s thoughts were confused and contradictory, but there was no doubt that he had developed considerable psychic powers.
As a group of laughing women burst into the room Soe turned quickly away from the window. They were led by Mintaka, who ran excitedly to him and embraced him with affection. Taita was taken aback: it was extraordinary behaviour for a queen. She embraced Taita only when they were alone, not in front of her maids. He had not realized how deeply she had come under Soe’s influence. While she stood with one of his arms round her shoulders, her maids came to kneel before him.
‘Bless us, Holy Father,’ they pleaded. ‘Intercede on our behalf with the one and only goddess.’
He made a gesture of benediction over them, and they wriggled with ecstasy.
Mintaka led Soe to a pile of cushions that raised his head to a level above her own, then sat down, folding her legs sideways under her in the attitude of a young girl. She turned deliberately towards the zeinana window and smiled prettily at where she knew Taita was watching. She was displaying her latest acquisition for his approval, as though Soe was an exotic bird brought from a distant country, or a precious jewel given to her by a foreign potentate. Taita was alarmed by her indiscretion, but Soe was speaking condescendingly to the maids and had not noticed this exchange. Now he turned back to Mintaka.
‘Exalted Majesty, I have given much thought to the concerns you expressed when last we met. I have prayed earnestly to the goddess, and she has responded most graciously.’
Again Taita was surprised. This is no foreigner, he thought. He is an Egyptian. His use of our language is perfect. He has the accents of one who hails from Assoun in the Upper Kingdom.
Soe went on, ‘These matters are of such weight and moment that they must be kept for your ears only. Dismiss your maids.’ Mintaka clapped her hands. The girls jum
ped to their feet and scampered from the chamber like frightened mice.
‘First, the matter of your husband, the Pharaoh Nefer Seti,’ Soe resumed when they were alone. ‘She commands me to reply to you thus.’
He paused, then leant towards Mintaka and spoke in a voice that was not his own, a mellifluous feminine voice: ‘In the time of my coming I shall welcome Nefer Seti into my loving embrace, and he shall come to me joyously.’
Taita was startled, but beside him Demeter started wildly. Taita reached out to calm him, although he himself was almost as agitated.
Demeter was trembling. He tugged at Taita’s hand. Taita turned to him, and the old man mouthed a silent message that Taita read as clearly as if it had been had shouted aloud: ‘The witch! It is the voice of Eos!’ It was the voice that Taita had drawn from him while he was in his trance.
‘But the lord of these is fire,’ he mouthed back, and spread his palms upward in full accord.
Soe was still speaking, and they turned back to listen: ‘I shall raise him up to be the sovereign of all my corporeal kingdom. All the kings of all nations of earth will become his loyal satraps. In my name he will reign in eternal glory. You, my beloved Mintaka, will sit at his side.’
Mintaka burst into sobs of relief and joy. Soe smiled at her with avuncular indulgence and waited for her to recover her poise. At last she sniffed back the tears and smiled up at him. ‘What of my children, my dead babies?’
‘We have spoken of them already,’ Soe reminded her kindly.
‘Yes! But I cannot hear it too often. Please, Holy Prophet, I humbly beg you …’
‘The goddess has commanded that they be restored to you, and that they will live out the full span of their natural lives.’
‘What else has she commanded? Please tell me again.’
‘When they have proved worthy of her love, she will extend to all your children the gift of eternal youth. They will never leave you.’
‘I am content, Mighty Prophet of the Almighty Goddess,’ Mintaka whispered. ‘I submit my body and my soul completely to her will.’ On her knees, she crawled to Soe. She let her tears fall on to his feet, then wiped them away with the tresses of her hair.