by Lauren Haney
Bak knelt among the broken columns and scratched the dog’s head. The sturdily built animal, which stood higher than his knee, had slick white hair and a bushy tail that curled over its back. Its head was thick and flat, its brown eyes alert and intelligent. It wore a red leather collar studded with bronze squares. “I hope he’ll take a pleasant noonday meal in the royal house before crossing the river. That’d give us about two hours free of worry.”
Hori wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Why would he not listen to Amonked and Maiherperi? Why walk into the arms of a slayer?”
Bak gave the dog, trained as a tracker of men, a final pat and stood up; his eyes slid toward Kaemwaset. “It’s time we began.”
The priest untied the ends of a cloth bag he had hung on his belt and withdrew the roll of papyrus on which Hori had redrawn the plan. He handed it to Bak, who climbed over the broken wall into the main court. His companions followed.
Locating a column standing to waist height, facing the cliff behind the temple, he unrolled the scroll across the broken but relatively flat upper surface.
He and Kasaya glanced at each other, their thoughts alike, and both examined the vertical cliff face that loomed high above the temple. Here the tower-like projections were not as numerous or as tall, not as well-defined, as those behind Djeser Djeseru, and they would not shelter the temple as well. A significant break in this natural shield could be seen, and it occupied the worst possible location. It rose directly above what looked like a fairly recent slide that had partly crushed a portion of the columned hall near the sanctuary.
Menna had not been seen for some time, and the fishermen had vanished about thirty hours ago. Was one man or more somewhere high upon the cliff face even now? The most likely target for attack was the new temple and not the old, but. .
Shoving the thought firmly aside, Bak signaled his companions to gather around his makeshift table. While they looked at the plan, the dog lay in a nearby patch of shade, licking a paw. A warm breeze ruffled their hair and dried the sweat the sun stole from their bodies. The odor of fish drifted to them from the workmen’s huts, as did an acrid smell from the metalsmiths’ furnace. A familiar, comfortable scene that made a lie of Bak’s fears.
“We’ve no way of knowing for certain,” he said, “but let’s assume the temple in this plan was torn down and its foundations buried beneath the one in which we’re standing.”
Kasaya glanced around, skeptical. Hori eyed the ruin with distaste, reluctant to search again for something he had looked for twice without success. Kaemwaset nodded, his faith in Bak bolstered by prayer.
Bak turned his back to the cliff and studied the main court. Around the ruined block of rubble and stone in the center, a few paving stones had been removed and others were broken, but no gap was deep enough to reveal what lay beneath. If the need to know became imperative, they could dig a vertical shaft in the hope of finding the old temple, but such a laborious effort must be a last resort.
Turning slowly, he looked at the broken stone blocks and slabs among which he stood. Pairi and Humay had been somewhere here or in the colonnade court just beyond when he and his men had disturbed them. Had they been working their way around the temple and reached this point after many nights of fruitless searching? Or had they concluded the tomb they sought lay in this court or the next?
The dog growled, alerting them to a new arrival, the young scribe Ani.
“Lieutenant Bak!” Ani stepped over a chunk of rock and came to a halt before the makeshift table. “Senenmut is coming, sir. He’s about halfway up the causeway.”
“Already?” Bak moaned.
“Can we go see him, sir?” Kasaya asked.
“We’ve a task to do,” Bak snapped, then relented. “All right. We can see him well enough from the terrace.”
“Sir!” Hori looked pained. “The terrace is too low. We won’t be able to see anything. Can’t we go over to Djeser Djeseru?”
“We can’t take the time.” Bak’s eyes darted toward the priest. “Should you be there to greet him, Kaemwaset?”
“I see no need. This is a simple inspection, with no part of the temple to be dedicated.” Kaemwaset’s eyes twinkled.
“I’ll stay here with you. Searching for a hidden tomb will be much more intriguing than walking around a construction site I’ve seen many, many times before.”
Bak stood with his three companions on the edge of the terrace that faced Djeser Djeseru. Behind them lay the ruined colonnade they had walked through four nights earlier, carrying oil lamps and trying to look mysterious in the hope of proving to the workmen that the malign spirit was a flesh and blood man. The old temple was lower than the new and the view far from ideal, but it was good enough to satisfy Bak, who had no desire to attract Senenmut’s attention.
He studied the cliffs towering over the two temples. The lord Re, high overhead, reached into the crevices and cracks that broke the face of the cliff, making them blend together as a single rough-hewn mass. He saw no sign of life on the rim above, and if anyone had climbed partway down the cliff face, he was safely concealed among rocks, impossible to distinguish in the deceptive light.
Uneasy, preferring to face an enemy he could see, he focused on the procession walking at a good fast pace up the distant causeway toward Djeser Djeseru. Sunlight glinted on bronze spear points. Leather armor glistened, polished to a high sheen. Ostrich feather fans waved back and forth, stirring the air above lofty officials. Though he heard, faint and far away, the hunting cry of the falcon streaking down from the deep blue sky, neither the words spoken by Senenmut’s party nor the sound of marching feet carried across the sand.
Maiherperi had kept his vow and more, sending with Senenmut two companies of guards, one hundred men who carried the white shields of the royal house. One contingent marched at the head of the inspection party. Solely responsible for Senenmut’s safety, they could not leave his presence.
A second unit marched behind, men handpicked by Maiherperi and given red armbands to distinguish them from Senenmut’s personal guards. These men Bak could call upon when needed. Whether the royal guards were setting the speed of forward movement or whether the Overseer of Overseers had deemed it wise to come and go as quickly as possible, Bak could not begin to guess.
The inspection party was larger than he had expected. At least fifteen men rode on carrying chairs held high above the ground on the shoulders of porters. Senenmut had to be the man in front, and Bak thought he recognized Amonked by his side. Their faces and those of the men behind them were hidden in the shadow of white awnings that sheltered them from the sun. The latter were lesser noblemen, he suspected, men who hoped to gain advantage by breathing the same air as that of their sovereign’s favorite. Heralds, fan bearers, and scribes kept pace behind them.
Bak took a small, highly polished mirror from a square of cloth tied to his belt, caught the sun on its surface, and angled it toward the rear column of guards. Within moments a mirror flashed a response from the lieutenant in charge of the men wearing the armbands. Should one need the other, they each knew where to find him.
After taking another long, careful look at the cliff above the new temple, Bak turned away. He could find nothing out of order, but he was far from satisfied. Somewhere up there, he feared, a man lay hidden, waiting.
He walked to the fallen segment of wall where he had been surprised by Pairi. Warning the others to keep a wary eye on Djeser Djeseru and the cliff above, he scrambled over the broken stones and crossed the littered pavement of the main court to the opening in the rear wall, trying to re-create in his thoughts exactly what had happened that night.
Pairi had led him into the colonnade court, where he had been struck from behind. Another man, Humay no doubt, had been the one to fell him. Earlier, well before he had been struck down, Pairi had shouted, “Let’s go, my brother,” or something similar. He didn’t recall seeing Humay, but had sensed someone’s presence. Or had the frenzied shadows cast by the wildly flaring tor
ch sent his imagination soaring?
He backed up to stand beside the column where the plan lay, both ends curled to meet in the center. He closed his eyes and tried to bring back that night. The man-Pairi-appearing out of nowhere. He, Bak, leaping over the fallen section of wall and racing after him, torch in hand. Sparks flying, erratic shadows flitting over and around the fallen columns, Pairi’s fleeing footsteps.
Suddenly he remembered: While passing the block structure in the center of the court, he had glimpsed a man off to the right.
He eyed the right rear-northwest-corner of the main court. Both back and side walls rose higher than his head.
A slope of dirt and debris fallen from the cliff over many years pressed against them from the outside and had spilled over into the main court. The two rows of eight-sided columns that had once supported the roof behind the central, ruined block were sadly damaged. A few stood to various heights, but most lay broken on the pavement among remnants of architraves and roof slabs. Again he asked himself: Had Pairi and Humay reached this point after many nights of searching? Or had they found a rich tomb?
Seeking some sign of fresh disturbance, he walked along the spill, turned the corner, walked a dozen or so paces farther. The pavement beneath his feet was covered with sand and littered with chunks of stone of all sizes and shapes.
Voices drew him on to the fallen segment of wall. Kasaya, Hori, and Kaemwaset stood where he had left them, looking toward Djeser Djeseru. Senenmut and Amonked, easier to see than before, were walking slowly along the fill above the southern retaining wall, watching the men below slide a stone in place. Kaemwaset was pointing out various men in Senenmut’s party whom he recognized.
Bak turned away to retrace his steps. Rounding the corner and walking a few paces along the rear wall, thinking of the plan Hori had so painstakingly redrawn, he knelt to dig away the debris at the base of the spill. It was not as hard-packed as he had expected, betraying the fact that it had been recently deposited.
His expectations were small, a faint hope at best, but the lord Amon chose to smile upon him. The edge of his hand struck a hard projection. He quickly dug away more debris, revealing a slab of carved stone set into the pavement.
Barely daring to breathe, he moved a few chunks of broken rock and dug away more of the spill, revealing several carved slabs between the one he had initially found and the corner of the court. They formed two rectangular shapes. Shrines, he guessed, from their location at the rear of the court. Dedicated to the gods important to Nebhepetre Montuhotep. The base of a fallen column caught his eye. It stood almost directly in front of the entrance to the shrine farthest from the corner.
The shrines had been built during an earlier stage of construction!
Forgetting Menna, forgetting the likelihood of a rock slide, he ran to get the plan and returned to the corner. Unrolling the scroll, he compared the six small structures that lined the rear edge of the platform with what he could actually see. They might well be the shrines he had found-if the original temple lay beneath the northern side of the present building instead of being centered beneath it as he had assumed. If so, he had found the two northernmost shrines. He saw no sign of the other four, but he had every confidence that a diligent search would reveal them.
He wanted to shout for joy, but had he found anything to shout about? The shrines of gods contained no wealth except for the god himself and his accoutrements. Once removed, as these had been many generations before, nothing remained to steal. That did not mean the tomb Menna-or Montu-and the fishermen had been searching for was not close by. But where?
Returning to the terrace, he saw that Senenmut and his followers were walking among the rough-finished statues and architectural elements on the opposite terrace, stopping before first one image and then another. The porters had settled down with the carrying chairs near the old mudbrick temple of Djeserkare Amonhotep and Ahmose Nefertari.
They, at least, would be safe should a rock slide occur.
Senenmut’s guards stood at full alert around him and his party, while the other guards had spread throughout the construction site, searching for trouble.
He saw no one on the rim of the cliff, nor any movement on its vertical face. The lord Re had begun his descent to the western horizon, and shadows filled the deepest crevices.
The tower-like formations appeared to be separating themselves from the parent rock. Within the hour each individual formation would stand out in full relief against the cliff face.
“It’s time we showed Tracker here. .” He nodded toward the dog. “. . the tunic we took from the fishermen’s house.”
“You’ve found something?” Hori asked, his eyes lighting up, betraying the fact that he was tiring of the activity at Djeser Djeseru.
While Bak quickly explained what he had discovered, Kaemwaset retrieved a torn and dirty linen tunic that smelled of fish and sweat from the top of a tall column where he had left it earlier. The priest had proved to be the most proficient of the four when the patrol officer who had loaned them the dog had instructed them on how best to use him.
Openly pleased at playing so important a role,
Kaemwaset gave Tracker a good long sniff of the garment.
Bak, Hori, and Kasaya stayed well clear. The officer had warned that the fewer men to touch the cloth, the less confused the dog would be by conflicting smells.
Tracker put his nose to the pavement. He immediately headed off in the wrong direction, trotting back and forth among the fallen columns as if confused by too many paths.
Not surprising since the fishermen had frequently carried lights along the terrace, pretending for the workmen’s bene-fit to be the malign spirit.
“Take the dog into the main court,” Bak told Kaemwaset.
The priest grabbed Tracker’s collar and scrambled with him over the wall. Hori followed.
Bak stopped the Medjay before he could cross after them.
“You must stay on the terrace, Kasaya.”
“But, sir!” the young man said, crushed.
“Someone must keep a close watch on the cliff above Djeser Djeseru-especially when Senenmut climbs up to the temple-and you’ve the keenest eye of any of us. Should you see movement of any kind, any sign of trouble, call me.”
He handed over the small mirror. “At the same time, signal the officer in charge of the guards Maiherperi assigned to help us. The quicker you pass on the news, the more men he can get out of the way should a rock slide occur.”
“Can I not go with you and still keep watch?”
“I fear you’d become too distracted.” Bak laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Senenmut’s life and the safety of many others, men we’ve come to know and like, may well depend upon your quick reaction.”
Clearly not placated, Kasaya mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
Certain the Medjay would do what he must, like it or not, Bak clambered over the break in the wall. Kaemwaset released the dog. Tracker was less confused in the main court, as if the fishermen had trod the same path time and time again. Following a trail no man could see, he trotted toward the rear of the building. Bak and his companions hurried after him. At the opening into the colonnade court, the dog ranged back and forth again, as if he had either lost the scent or had too many choices. Staying well back, they watched him explore with his nose each trail of invisible footprints in turn. He followed one path to the robber’s shaft, another along the northern colonnade and into the ruined columned hall at the back of the temple.
Hori groaned. “Not in there, I pray.”
“The heart of the temple is slowly collapsing,” Bak explained to Kaemwaset, “not at all safe.” He eyed the darkness into which Tracker had vanished. “We saw no sign of intrusion among the columns, no footprints in the dust. Why do you suppose he went in there?”
The dog loped out from among the columns and sniffed his way directly to Bak. Tail wagging, he looked to Kaemwaset as if expecting a reward for a task well done.
&nbs
p; Bak, grinning in spite of himself, suggested the priest move closer to the break in the wall, where the dog had seemed the most confused, and give him another good, long sniff of the tunic.
The response was immediate. Tracker followed the scent to the corner where Bak had found the shrines, making him fear the dog was once again tracking the wrong man. He sniffed the paving stones in the area, retraced his steps, and went into the colonnade court. His nose drew him to the corner that lay behind the shrines. There he sniffed the floor and the intersecting wall, then stood up on his hind legs, stretch-ing himself as high as he could. He looked at the men behind him, pawed the wall, barked. His meaning was clear: he wanted to cross the wall.
Bak’s hopes shot upward. He had assumed the rocks and debris outside filled the corner where the walls intersected.
Maybe not. “Let’s go around,” he said, sounding much calmer than he felt.
As they hurried to the main court, Tracker dropped onto all fours and paced back and forth in front of the wall, whimpering, not wanting to leave. Though torn, Hori turned back to stay with him.
Bak and Kaemwaset exited the main court, ran past a startled Kasaya, and hurried westward along the terrace, which disappeared beneath the high mound of dirt and rocks that had piled up against the thick sturdy walls of the temple.
The climb upward was fast and easy, the debris packed solid by time and weather. At the top and around the corner where no one could see from the front of the building, they found the surface to be soft and loose, newly placed. It had clearly not fallen from above. A few paces farther, they discovered where it had come from. In the corner, where the colonnade court joined the main court, they found a large excavation dug down to the paving stones of what had originally been an open platform facing the cliff.
“Hori!” Bak called. “Somebody’s been digging here.
Bring the dog.”
“He’s on his way, sir. He heard you out there.”
Tracker raced around the corner and sped across the mound, flinging dirt in his wake. He half ran, half slid down into the excavation. Following his nose, he sniffed every square cubit of pavement, his tail wagging hard and fast.