Egypt

by Nick Drake

  Nakht stared back at him.

  ‘I am Royal Envoy to All the Foreign Lands. I know very well the tricks of Aziru, here in this great city. Let all present know, I speak the truth. I stand by my words. Aziru is a serpent. He will strike and poison any who trust him.’

  ‘My royal Father, we have heard enough! Let us take this man, this envoy, to the place of execution, and let us show the world our contempt for our enemies!’ shouted the Crown Prince in reply.

  The King gazed at both Nakht and the Crown Prince. But then, to my intense relief, he motioned Nakht to continue. The Crown Prince was apoplectic, but silenced by the authority of his father.

  ‘Egypt respects Hatti. The King is a great warrior, a hero-king, and a God. His glory is known everywhere. He has conquered empires and great cities. Let him now consider an even greater victory: that of a peaceful alliance, of mutual benefit, bringing forth a new age of order and triumph. Let diplomacy and love achieve more than force of arms ever could! Let us conclude a new treaty. Let our two empires be joined in marriage,’ cried Nakht, with a rhetorical theatricality I had never suspected might lie within his character.

  Silence dominated the great hall. Nakht had spoken brilliantly, and I could see some of the Hittite courtiers were engaged by his proposal. The King studied him, and then spoke, with Hattusa translating.

  ‘We have heard the words of our sister, the Queen of Egypt. We will give them consideration. Remain in our city, under our protection, until we call for you again.’

  Nakht and Hattusa bowed low, and then the King hurried back into the private royal apartments as swiftly as he had come, followed by servants carrying the trunks full of gold. Some of his ministers stared at us with open antagonism–as did the Crown Prince. Others gave nothing away. We backed out of the pillared hall, bowing as we went. We could hear the furious argument that broke out between the Hittites who remained behind even before the great doors closed.

  22

  Now that the audience was over, Nakht could not contain his anxiety. He paced back and forth in the antechamber, trying to catch his breath, like a man who had just run a race and didn’t know whether or not he had won. The ambassador, too, was nervous.

  ‘I think that went very well. I think you did extremely well.’

  ‘But was it good enough?’ asked Nakht.

  ‘We shall see, we shall see. But the offer is there, on the table. It is a very fair offer. No one could mistake the integrity, or the value of it, for both sides,’ said the ambassador.

  Nakht shook his head.

  ‘The Crown Prince, for one, is never going to be persuaded. He has another agenda. And there is an old admiration and appetite for war within both our cultures, which interprets peace as weakness…’

  ‘You are right about that. As for the Crown Prince, he will do everything and anything necessary to protect his inheritance of the throne, and the continuation of the war. He has the most to lose through a marriage alliance,’ agreed Hattusa.

  But as we prepared to make our way out of the palace, the ambassador was suddenly accosted by a messenger, who whispered urgently to him.

  ‘We have been asked to attend an urgent meeting with the King’s brother, the Chief Steward,’ he explained. ‘Immediately.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Nakht, rubbing his hands together. ‘The wheels are already in motion.’

  We were swiftly escorted through the palace to a private apartment, where the Chief Steward was waiting, together with several other nobles from the audience.

  ‘We wish to discuss your proposal in more detail. We have some questions,’ he said quickly.

  ‘We note the absence of the Crown Prince from this meeting,’ replied Nakht.

  ‘This conversation is private. It has not happened. Nothing has been spoken. No scribe will make a record. Is that understood and agreed?’ said the Chief Steward.

  Nakht inclined his head. I could tell he was pleased, and was feeling in control of the situation.

  ‘The King is disposed to consider your proposal further. At first this marriage seemed a sign of Egypt’s absurd desperation, and he would have dismissed it without thought, had not your speech contained other points of interest. But many questions remain. For instance, if we were to concede, and supply Egypt with the prince your Queen so obviously needs, how will the nobles of Egypt react to a Hittite prince on the throne? Surely he would be merely a puppet, and one could imagine his usefulness could easily be–outgrown. What would happen then?’

  ‘He would be welcomed for these reasons: firstly, he will take his place in the greatest dynasty Egypt has ever known. He will join a Queen who is admired and loved, and who commands the affection of all her subjects…’

  The Chief Steward shook his head. ‘Let us be candid. Your Queen is desperate. She will soon have no husband. She has no child. She is confronted by an avaricious priesthood, and a rebellious army whose general has made no secret of his claim to the crowns. She is playing her last throw of the dice, and we are not so stupid as not to know this. That is why you are here.’

  ‘Of course, you are right,’ admitted Nakht, to my surprise, but then he continued: ‘But one must always seek a way to turn a crisis into a success, don’t you agree? I’m sure this is a general rule of politics here as well. You have a King whose recent marriage has caused great disagreement among his own family. The Princes are antagonized. Their mother has been banished. She, too, has her supporters. There is considerable dissent within the Hittite court about this. The mother of the Princes was extremely popular. In addition, your recent harvests have been poor. Your people are hungry, and your troops, when they return, will need to be paid and fed. All kings know they have to make difficult choices, especially when faced with internal dissent; usually, they organize a marriage, or find a useful war. Well, the war is no longer useful, and the marriage has only made things worse…’

  The Chief Steward stared at him, then glanced at his colleagues, who conferred among themselves in their own language. Nakht waited calmly.

  ‘There may be room for a mutually beneficial solution to both of our internal political dilemmas. However, you get both domestic and international stability from this. What do we get?’

  ‘You get a Prince on the throne of your arch-enemy, Egypt, which you present publicly as a diplomatic triumph, tied up with an excellent new economic treaty. You get peace in the Levant, which means we negotiate a division of the existing minor powers, a fair share of the spoils, and a balance of power which will allow you to expand further to the east, as I understand is your intention, following your alliance with Babylon. You cancel at a stroke the justification for the Crown Prince’s belligerent attitude to foreign affairs, and you focus his youthful energies more wisely on other areas of concern,’ said Nakht confidently.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Freed from the vast burden of our wars, your armed forces can be settled along your domestic borders, where, I understand, they are needed imperatively. After all, they cannot be everywhere at once. Your local enemies must know this. I believe there have been a number of aggressive sorties and attacks recently…’ he added, for effect.

  I could feel the negotiation going Nakht’s way, but the Chief Steward followed up swiftly.

  ‘Egypt and Hatti are the only two truly great empires in the world. But look at it from our point of view. Mittani we have conquered. Babylon we have conquered. Byblos, which is yours, has struggled and may fall. Ugarit is now loyal to us. Qadesh you have lost. Carchemish is ours. The game is in our favour. We hold more pieces than you.’

  ‘For now,’ conceded Nakht. ‘But Assyria remains a thorn in your side, and it will not rest until it has won Mittani. Arzawa is inclined to us. Alashiya will always remain our trading partner. But above all, you are almost entirely dependent on the import of Egyptian wheat. What would you do without it? One bad harvest, one harsh winter, and your people would starve. If you refuse us what we propose now, we might stop all grain trading in the fut
ure. You could not expect sympathy if General Horemheb were to take power in Egypt.’

  Nakht watched as that sank in. He knew he had won that round. So he straightened his robes, and then introduced another subject.

  ‘And what of Aziru of Amurru?’ he continued.

  ‘He is loyal to Hatti,’ replied the Chief Steward awkwardly.

  ‘Be careful, brother. How can such a treacherous creature as Aziru be considered loyal? You are aware of his connection to the Army of Chaos? His alliance with you is false and unreliable, and yet you protect him–or at least your Crown Prince does. Dangerous petty tyrants like him create the conditions in which anarchy flourishes. Do not be beguiled by him. It is in both our interests to subjugate him, and his forces, and bring stability to the region–a stability we jointly monitor and control, through the agreed appointment of vassal kings, which we instate, supported by loyal garrisons and forces.’

  The Chief Steward gave nothing away.

  ‘We have no contact with the Army of Chaos.’

  ‘Of course not,’ agreed Nakht, diplomatically. ‘Not officially, anyway. But let us be candid–we are aware of Aziru’s contacts with the Army of Chaos, and of his negotiations with some inside the Hittite administration. We are aware of his change of loyalty. We have much experience of this snake, and we warn you, brother, to take care lest you are bitten and poisoned in turn.’

  The Chief Steward shook his head.

  ‘This is a matter of internal policy. It cannot concern Egypt.’

  ‘It deeply concerns Egypt. It must form part of our agreement. Aziru must be dealt with, in such a way that he will trouble none of us any further. By that, I mean definitively. That is something you could help us with. I have not said that, of course.’

  The chamber was silent. No one could be in any doubt as to the meaning of Nakht’s words.

  ‘We must consider further. You have brought an unexpected new element into the proposal. There are–implications,’ said the King’s brother.

  ‘I quite understand. These things are complex. There are always competing loyalties. There are always risks,’ replied Nakht. ‘But there are great gains to be made by compromise. I would remind you, gentlemen, that the opportunity for change comes only once. It must be grasped confidently.’

  The Chief Steward stood up, and Nakht followed suit.

  ‘You and your retinue will remain under guard, here within the walls of the palace–for your own security, of course. But the King also wishes you to witness and admire the marvels and wonders of his city, so you can tell your people of his great achievements. The ambassador here will escort you. I will of course report privately to the King immediately, but I cannot say when he might have the leisure to consider all of this further. No decisions have been made.’

  ‘No doubt he has many pressing concerns to attend to. But I would remind you: every day is important. Let us not hesitate. Those who would destroy our proposal for peace and stability are gathered around. They are here, in this city. We know this. We must not give them time to strike.’

  The Chief Steward considered him.

  ‘Then is it well you are here in the city for our great festival to celebrate the bounty of the harvest, which begins tomorrow. We call it the Festival of Haste.’ And he smiled at the irony.

  23

  The next morning we set out into the Upper City, accompanied by Simut’s and the Hittite guards. The ambassador and Nakht conferred together, while Simut and I concentrated on making sure nothing went wrong, as we made our way through hostile crowds of Hittite men. Finally we reached a wide limestonepaved street between two large complexes of buildings. Two monumental pylons built of enormous blocks of stone faced each other, flanked by sentry rooms. This was the entrance to the Sanctuary of the Storm God.

  At a gesture to the guards from the ambassador, we were allowed to pass under the pylons, into the sudden cool of the shadows. We came out into an open area, with offices and narrow storage rooms full of large jars on either side on the ground level, and stairs leading up to more offices on the upper floor. This in turn gave way to an enormous paved courtyard, within which the temple itself stood.

  Whereas our temples are ancient, and every surface of their massive structures is covered with hieroglyphs and reliefs, here the decoration and carving in the stone friezes was sparse and basic, and portrayed the Hittite Gods, who were of modest stature. They wore pointed hats with little horns attached, and slippers curled up at the toes, and carried axes–but this was not my image of a powerful God of Storms. All around us, Hittite priests, dressed in the strangest clothes–long robes, shoes with upturned toes and skullcaps–and carrying staffs that curved upwards in spirals, went about their business, with a pomp not unlike that of our own priests.

  ‘On the northern side is the House of Purification, where all worshippers must wash themselves before entering the temple itself. The King enters through the nearby gate, crosses the courtyard, purifies his hands, and then enters the shrine to enact the rites,’ said Hattusa.

  ‘Fascinating. May we enter?’ asked Nakht, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

  ‘Not into the shrine itself, of course. But come with me…’

  Hattusa led us around to a portico, and we passed through that into an inner courtyard. In front of us were two doorways set into decorated stone walls. Priests coming and going looked askance at us, disconcerted by our presence in their sacred temple.

  ‘This is as near as I can allow you to the sanctuaries themselves,’ said Hattusa quietly. ‘Any closer, and we would commit an act of desecration. But in the right-hand room stands the statue of Arinna, the Sun Goddess, Queen of Heaven and Earth, Queen of the Land of Hatti. And in the left, that of the Storm God. Unlike your sacred shrines, which are dark, ours are full of light. Each sanctuary has many windows. Our Gods are everywhere. Every rock, every tree, every spring in our land has its God, and here in this temple we serve and worship the greatest of them. And we provide them with food offerings of perfect cleanness, and entertainment. “Are the desires of Gods and men different? In no way! Do their natures differ? In no way!”’ he declaimed.

  I had the strange sensation that Hattusa was talking slightly nervously to pass the time, as if waiting for something to happen. And then something did. From out of the archway of the Temple of the Sun Goddess emerged a foreign woman of astounding beauty, her head covered with a magnificently embroidered cloth. She was followed by a small retinue of young women. Instantly, Hattusa sank to his knees, his head bowed, and we followed suit.

  She spoke to him in the Hittite language. She then turned to gaze imperiously at Nakht. Her face was ravishing but also full of elegant sorrow. She was Babylonian. Hattusa introduced her formally as Queen Tawananna of the Hittites–but she politely interrupted him, and spoke in competent, beautifully accented Egyptian directly to Nakht. I was sure now that this was an ‘arranged’ meeting.

  ‘Wise old Hattusa, why have you not brought this nobleman into my presence before? One hears so much about the Egyptian Royal Envoy Nakht.’

  Nakht bowed.

  ‘And I of Your Highness. It is an honour to be in your presence. The Gods have smiled upon us,’ he said.

  ‘May they continue to do so,’ she replied.

  They regarded each other for a moment, and I saw Hattusa looking at both of them, as if waiting for a play to begin.

  ‘Shall we walk together a little way?’ he suggested. They both inclined their heads to offer their assent, and our little group moved back across the huge courtyard. The women kept careful vigil around the Queen. Although there were many priests and servants going about their business, the open air made for a safe place to converse in private for Nakht and the Queen.

  ‘By chance, I was here to perform the rites and to consult the oracles,’ she said.

  ‘And may I ask: were the oracles favourable?’ Nakht said.

  Queen Tawananna spoke more quietly now.

  ‘Both favourable and unfavourabl
e.’

  ‘May I know more?’ asked Nakht. ‘What exactly did they foretell?’

  ‘Negative influences threaten our well-being. There is a shadow. The shadow is angry. The shadow is among us. The sky is dark now, without a moon. But good magic may defeat him. Good magic may reconcile old friends. A large star is predicted in the heavens on a favourable night of blessings.’

  Nakht seemed to take this seriously.

  ‘The Gods have spoken. We heed their warnings,’ he said.

  After a little silence, the Queen spoke again, as if she did not wish this meeting to end yet.

  ‘How is my sister, the Queen Ankhesenamun? I think of her often, and wish her well.’

  ‘Life, prosperity, health to the Queen, she is well. I have been honoured to offer you her expressions of love. She desires your well-being. She desires you to know she is your friend in all things, at all times.’

  The Hittite Queen listened carefully.

  ‘I have need of her friendship. I am a stranger in a strange land. I am Queen here, but there are some, even close, who are not friends.’

  ‘We are aware of them,’ said Nakht.

  She glanced at him, relieved.

  ‘The oracle speaks of a shadow. I am afraid of the dark,’ she added.

  ‘May the Gods protect you,’ he said. ‘We hope to draw the shadow into the light.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it. Send my love to my sister. I will do all I can to help her in her quest. And I hope the same from her.’

  ‘The Queen’s gratitude and loyalty to her sister will be boundless,’ offered Nakht and he bowed.

  Without looking back, the Hittite Queen and her retinue crossed the courtyard and entered a covered carriage, which jolted away through the gatehouse into the streets, accompanied by a running guard. There was a moment’s silence. Hattusa looked at Nakht.

  ‘May all go well, brother,’ said Hattusa, as if in response to the strange conversation.

  ‘I have hope,’ said Nakht, gazing into the distance where the Queen’s carriage was disappearing. ‘Truly, may the Gods protect her.’