Warlock: A Novel of Ancient Egypt (Novels of Ancient Egypt)

by Wilbur Smith

  Their love was so apparent that it cast a glow upon all those around them, and wherever they went together there were smiles and laughter. As Nefer’s chariot sped through the streets of Thebes with Mintaka on the footplate as his lance-bearer, her dark hair flowing in the wind like a banner, the goodwives ran out of their houses and the men paused from their labors to shout greetings and good wishes. Even Naja smiled benignly upon them, and none would have believed that he fiercely resented the attention of the populace having been diverted from his own nuptials and brides.

  Lord Trok was the only somber presence at the hunting parties, the picnics in the countryside and the banquets in the palace.

  Their time together sped by too fast.

  “There are always so many people around us,” Nefer whispered over the bao board. “I long to be alone with you even for just a few minutes. There are only three more days before you have to return to Avaris with your father. It might be months, even years, before we meet again, and there is so much I want to tell you, but not with all these eyes and ears pointed at us like nocked arrows.”

  She nodded, then reached across and moved a stone that in his preoccupation he had overlooked. He glanced down and almost discounted it, until he realized that his west castle was now under a forked attack. Three moves later she had broken his front. He kept up the losing battle for a while longer, but his forces were in disarray and the outcome was inevitable. “You caught me when I was distracted by other things,” he groused. “So much like a woman.”

  “Your Majesty, I make no claims to being anything else than a woman.” She used his title with an irony that bit like the jeweled dagger she wore on her belt. Then she leaned close and whispered, “If I were alone with you, would you promise to respect my chastity?”

  “I swear by the wounded eye of the great god Horus that I will never, as long as I live, cause you shame,” he told her earnestly.

  She smiled at him. “My brothers will not be over-pleased to hear that. They would welcome an excuse to slit your throat.” She slanted those magnificent dark eyes at him. “Or, failing your throat, some other part of you might satisfy them.”

  Their chance came the next day. One of the royal huntsmen came in from the hills above the village of Dabba to report that a lion had come out of the eastern wilderness and raided the cattle pens during the night. He had jumped the stockade and killed eight of the terrified beasts. In the dawn a horde of villagers, brandishing burning torches, blowing horns, beating drums and screaming wildly, had driven him off.

  “When did this happen?” asked Naja.

  “Three nights ago, Your Grace.” The man was prostrate before the throne. “I came upriver as soon as I could, but the current runs strongly and the winds were flukey.”

  “What has happened to the beast?” King Apepi interrupted eagerly.

  “It has gone back into the hills, but I have sent two of my best Nubian trackers to follow it.”

  “Did any man see it? What size is it? Lion or lioness?”

  “The villagers say that it is a large male, with a full mane, thick and black.”

  Up until the last sixty years lions had been almost unheard-of in the lands along the river. They were royal game, and had been hunted ruthlessly by successive pharaohs, not only because of the damage they inflicted on the livestock of the peasant farmers but also because they were the most sought-after trophy of the royal hunt.

  During the long, bitter struggle of the Hyksos wars the pharaohs of both kingdoms had been preoccupied and the lions had been hunted seldom. In addition, the human corpses left on the battlefields had provided an easy source of food for the lion prides. In the last few decades they had flourished, their numbers had increased many-fold, and so had their boldness.

  “I will have the chariots loaded onto the boats at once,” Apepi decided. “With the state of the river we can be at Dabba early tomorrow morning.” He grinned and punched his fist into the horny palm of his sword hand. “By Seueth, I would like a chance at this old black-mane. Since I have had to give up killing Egyptians, I am starved for real sport.”

  Naja frowned at the sally. “Majesty, you are expected to sail back to Avaris the day after tomorrow morning.”

  “You are right, Regent. However, most of our baggage is already loaded and the fleet lies ready to depart. Moreover, Dabba lies on my way homewards. I can afford a day or two to join in the hunt.”

  Naja hesitated. He was not so addicted to the hunt that he wished to neglect the numerous affairs of state that awaited his attention. He had looked forward to the departure of Apepi, whose boisterous, uncouth presence in Thebes had long since palled. Also, he had other plans afoot, which could only be furthered once Apepi had left Thebes. Yet he could not allow the Hyksosian Pharaoh to hunt alone in the Upper Kingdom. Not only would it be churlish to do so, but it would be impolitic to let Apepi behave in the southern kingdom as though he had sole right to it.

  “Your Majesty,” Nefer intervened, before Naja could compose a suitable refusal, “we will join in the hunt with the greatest of pleasure.” He saw an opportunity for magnificent sport, for he had never had the chance to run down a lion in his chariot and test his own courage by standing down the charge. But, a hundred times more important, the hunt might also delay Mintaka’s dreaded departure. This happy circumstance might even provide the opportunity that had so far eluded them of spending a short time alone. Before Naja could prevent him Nefer had turned to the huntsman, who still lay with his forehead pressed to the tiled floor. “Well done, my good fellow. The chamberlain will give you a gold ring for your trouble. Return to Dabba at once in the fastest felucca in our fleet. Make ready for our arrival. We will go after this beast in full array.”

  Nefer’s only cause for regret was that Taita would not be with him during his first lion hunt to offer counsel and advice. The old man had disappeared into the wilderness on another of his periodic and mysterious forays, and no one knew when he would return.

  In the early morning of the next day the hunting party disembarked on the bank of the river below the village of Dabba. Then all the horses and twenty chariots were off-loaded from the small convoy of lighters and galleys. While this was being done, the lance-bearers sharpened the spear blades, restrung the hunting bows and checked the arrows for balance and straightness. While the horses were watered, fed and groomed, the hunters ate a hearty breakfast that the villagers had provided.

  The mood was ebullient, and Apepi sent for the tracker who had returned from the hills to report. “It is a very big lion. The biggest I have ever seen east of the river,” the man told them, increasing their excitement.

  “You actually saw him?” Nefer demanded. “Or did you only read his sign?”

  “I saw him clearly but only at a distance. He stands as tall as a horse and he walks with the dignified tread of a monarch. His mane waves like a sheaf of dhurra millet stalks in the wind.”

  “By Seth, the fellow is a poet,” Naja sneered. “Stick to the facts and eschew the fine words, knave.”

  The huntsman touched his heart with his fist to show his contrition, and went on with his report in a subdued tone. “He lay up yesterday in a wooded wadi two leagues from here, but he left at the fall of night to prowl. It is four days since he last fed and he is hungry and hunting again. During the night he tried to drag down an oryx, but it kicked him off and ran free.”

  “Where do you hope to find him today?” Nefer asked, in a kinder voice than Naja had used. “If he hunted he will be thirsty as well as hungry. Where will he drink?”

  The huntsman looked at him with respect, not only for his royal eminence but also for the knowledge of the wild he displayed. “After his attempt to bring down the oryx, he went into stony ground where we could no longer read his tracks.” Apepi made a gesture of annoyance, and the huntsman hurried on, “But I expect him to have drunk this morning at a small oasis. A hidden place little known to any except the Bedouin.”

  “How long to reach this
place?” Nefer asked, and the man swept his arm through part of an arc, indicating the sun’s progress over the passage of three hours.

  “Then we have little time to waste.” Nefer smiled at him, and turned away to shout at the troop captain of the chariots, “How much longer, soldier?”

  “All is ready, Majesty.”

  “Sound the mount up,” Nefer ordered, and the rams’ horns blared as the hunters scattered to the waiting chariots. Mintaka walked at Nefer’s side. In these informal circumstances all royal dignity was forgotten, and they were simply boy and girl on an exciting outing. Lord Trok spoiled the illusion: just as he leaped into his own chariot and gathered up the reins, he called across to King Apepi, “Your Majesty, it is not wise to let the Princess ride with an untried boy. This is not a gazelle we are hunting now.”

  Nefer froze and stared at Trok with outrage. Mintaka laid a small hand on his bare arm. “Do not provoke him. He is a formidable fighter with a terrible temper, and if you challenge him even your rank will not protect you.”

  Nefer shrugged off her arm furiously. “My honor will not allow me to ignore such an insult.”

  “Please, my heart, for my sake, let it pass.” It was the first time she had used such an endearment. She did it deliberately, knowing the effect it must have on him: she was already learning to manage his volatile moods and tempers with a loving woman’s instinct far beyond her years and experience. In the instant, Nefer forgot Trok and the slur to his honor.

  “What did you call me?” he asked huskily.

  “You are not deaf, my darling.” He blinked at this second endearment. “You heard quite clearly.” And she smiled into his face.

  Apepi bawled into the silence, “Do not worry, Trok. I am sending my daughter to take care of Pharaoh. He will be quite safe.” He gave a snort of laughter and shook the reins. As his team jumped forward he shouted again, “We have wasted half the morning here. Huntsmen, take up the chase!”

  Nefer steered his chariot behind Apepi, cutting steeply past the noses of Lord Trok’s team. As he went by he gave Trok a cold glare, and told him, “You are impudent. Rest assured that this is not the end of it. We will speak further on this matter, Lord Trok.”

  “I fear he is now your enemy, Nefer,” Mintaka murmured. “Trok has an evil reputation and an even more evil temper.”

  Led by the royal huntsman, who rode bareback astride a scrubby but tough little pony, the hunting column climbed into the bare, stony hills. They went at the trot, saving the horses, letting them blow after every steep gradient. Within the hour they found one of the Nubian trackers waiting for them on a hilltop, and he ran down to report to the huntsman. They spoke to each other earnestly, then the huntsman trotted back to report to the royal party. “The Nubians have cast the hills but without finding the spoor again. They are sure that he will drink at the waterhole, but not wanting to disturb him they have waited for us to catch up.”

  “Lead us to the water,” Apepi ordered, and they went on.

  Before midday they came down into a shallow valley. They were not far from the river, but this seemed like the deep desert, waterless and forbidding. The huntsman trotted alongside Apepi’s chariot and said, “The waterhole is at the head of this valley. The beast will probably be lying up nearby.”

  Naturally Apepi, the old warrior, took command, and Nefer did not dispute his right to do so. “We will split into three squadrons, and surround the oasis. If the chase breaks cover we will have him surrounded. My lord Regent, do you take the left wing. Pharaoh Nefer Seti, take the center. I will cover the right flank.” He brandished his heavy war bow over his head. “Whoever draws first blood will win the trophy.”

  They were all expert charioteers and the new formation evolved swiftly and without check. They threw out a wide net to encircle the waterhole. Nefer had his bow over his shoulder and the reins unwrapped from his wrists, ready to drop them in an instant to leave both hands free to draw. Mintaka pressed close to his side. She held the long lance ready to hand to him. They had perfected this change of weapons over the past weeks, and he knew he could rely upon her to slap the grip of the lance into his palm at the very moment he needed it.

  They approached the oasis at a walk, closing in steadily. The horses sensed the tension in their drivers, and perhaps they had picked up the lion scent. They flung up their heads, and rolled their eyes and blew through their nostrils, stepping high and nervously.

  The line of vehicles closed slowly around the patch of low scrub and rank grass that concealed the waterhole. When the encirclement was complete, Apepi raised his hand above his head to signal the halt. The royal huntsman dismounted and went forward on foot, leading his pony. He approached the sparse brown cover cautiously.

  “If the lion was here, surely we would have seen such a large animal by now.” Mintaka’s voice shook, and Nefer loved her all the more for this little show of fear.

  “A lion can flatten himself until he becomes part of the earth, and you could walk close enough to touch him without ever suspecting his presence,” he told her.

  The huntsman went forward a few paces at a time, stopping to listen and search every bush and clump of rank grass in his path. At the edge of the scrub he stooped and picked up a handful of small stones, and began to lob them systematically at each possible hiding place.

  “What is he doing?” Mintaka whispered.

  “The lion will growl before he charges. He is trying to provoke the beast and make him reveal himself.”

  The silence was broken only by the plop of the pebbles, the snorting of the horses and the restless stamping of their hoofs. Every one of the hunters had nocked an arrow and was poised to draw at an instant. Suddenly there was a squawk and clatter in the grass. Every bow went up at once and the lance-bearers hefted their weapons. They all relaxed and looked sheepish as a chocolate brown hammerhead stork launched itself into the air and flapped away down the valley in the direction of the river.

  The huntsman took a minute to recover his nerve, then began to work his way, a pace at a time, deeper into the cover until he reached the seep. The brackish water came up a sluggish drop at a time, and filled a shallow basin in the rocky ground, hardly enough to quench the thirst of a great predator. The huntsman went down on one knee to search the rim of the basin for sign, then shook his head and stood up. More quickly he worked back through the scrub, and at last mounted the pony and trotted back to Apepi’s chariot. The other hunters drove across to hear his report, but the huntsman was crestfallen. “Majesty, I was mistaken in my judgment,” he told Apepi. “The lion has not come this way.”

  “What now, fellow?” Apepi was making no effort to hide his disappointment and irritation.

  “This was the most promising place to look, but there are others. From where we last saw him, he could have crossed the valley, or he may be lying up close to here and waiting for darkness before drinking. There is cover further down.” He pointed back to the stony slopes.

  “Where else?” Apepi demanded.

  “There is another waterhole in the next valley, but there are Bedouin encamped there. They might have scared off the beast. There is another small water seep below those hills to the west.” He pointed out a low line of purple peaks on the horizon. “The lion could be at any of those places, or at none,” the man admitted. “Also, he might have doubled back and be on the edge of the plain where there is an abundance of water. Perhaps he has been drawn by the smell of cattle and goats as well as by thirst.”

  “You have not the least idea where he is hiding, have you?” Lord Naja demanded. “We should call off the hunt and get back to the boats.”

  “No!” Nefer cut in. “We have barely begun. How can we give up so soon?”

  “The boy is right,” Apepi agreed. “We must go on, but there is much ground to cover.” He paused for a moment, then reached a decision. “We will have to split up and search each area separately.” He looked across at Naja. “My lord Regent, you take your squadron to the Bedoui
n encampment. If they have seen the chase they will direct you. I will ride to the seep below the hills.” He turned to Trok. “Take three chariots down the valley. One of the trackers will go with you to search for sign.” To Asmor he said, “Take three chariots and cast back along the edge of the plain to Dabba, in case he has returned to where he last killed.” Then he looked at Nefer. “Pharaoh, you cast in the opposite direction, north toward Achmim.”

  Nefer realized that he was being given the least promising ground to cover, but he had no complaint. This new plan meant that for the first time he and Mintaka would be away from the direct surveillance of his guardians. Naja, Asmor and Trok were being sent in different directions. He waited for someone to point this out, but they were all so wrapped up in the hunt that no one seemed to realize the significance of this move. Except Naja.

  He looked hard at Nefer. Perhaps he was weighing the advisability of countermanding Apepi’s orders, but in the end he must have realized that this would be unwise and concluded that Nefer was guarded by the desert as effectively as he would have been by Asmor: there was no place for him to run to, and if he took Mintaka with him on some wild adventure he would have the entire armies of both kingdoms upon him like swarms of wild bees.