by Nick Drake
Distantly, I heard a high-pitched music calling urgently through the air; it must be the ceremonial trumpets blasting their emergency from the temple walls. The great pylon gates would be closing firmly now against the people. Inside, priests in white robes would be scurrying to offer sacrifices to sustain Ra from the unprecedented threat of darkness that was suddenly sweeping over everything.
It felt like the end of the world. I thought of the children, and Tanefert. I hoped they would be at home together, where at least they could shelter behind the solid wooden door. I hoped they would not be afraid. The vast shadows drew even more strength and gathered together into a strange twilight; and then everything suddenly went very quiet. Even the northerly wind, which always sprang up in the late afternoon, faded and then completely died. It was as if the world was abandoned; down below in the far fields, I could only see a few mules standing uncertainly, untended, and the last few workers running for their lives across their carefully tilled rows. I heard the tiny screams of an abandoned child, but I could not see him, and anyway he too was swiftly lost in the encroaching gloom.
By now the sun had faded so much it was possible to watch, between the woven mesh of my fingers, the extraordinary, unaccountable spectacle that was taking place in the heavens. A black curved sword’s edge had imposed itself upon the great disc of the sun. Then, bands of shadow like those at the bottom of a sunlit pool rippled vastly and at speed across the land below, then over us, then onwards across the Red Land; I held my hands out to catch at them, but somehow they made no impression on my skin. As the light dimmed further it turned to something strangely grey, as when all colour is leached away from an overwashed garment.
Everything accelerated; the great black bird of night swept completely over the face of the day, and instantly the imperishable constellations of the heavens shone brilliantly, as day passed into night in a moment of time that could not be measured by the dripping of a water clock. Ra, Lord of Eternity, disappeared as surely as if he had departed below the horizon of the sky at sunset. Now all that remained was a thin corona of light around the great black conquering disc of darkness; it looked as if the God of the Sun had been forced to offer his glory in surrender. All around me was night; and yet impossibly I saw the very edges of the distant horizon in every direction displaying the oranges and yellows of sunset. It was suddenly cold, as in winter, and utterly still.
And then I saw with my own eyes a sight I shall remember until the moment of my death: the great Eye of Creation, staring down at me; the ebony of the pupil, the brilliant white corona of the iris, and momentarily a thin band of crimson, like blood, flickering around the edges of the darkness. I could not breathe, and the world ceased and was silent; and it seemed to me the most beautiful mystery I had ever seen.
But as suddenly as the darkness had conquered the light, the balance of power shifted again, and a shimmering arc of the thinnest brilliance, like the honed blade of a gold knife catching the sunlight, emerged from the opposite side to dazzle the darkness with its triumph. At first the world turned opalescent grey again, and the strange battalions of shadow rippled quickly over and away from us again, but this time in the opposite direction; and quickly the familiar blue of the sky was restored. The stars faded fast; and the world began to fill again with colour and life and time.
Horemheb was fascinated. I had never seen him so enraptured. He turned to me with a look of triumph on his handsome, harsh face.
‘Did you see? The Aten was consumed by the darkness. It is a sign from the Gods that they will not sustain the corrupt power of this pathetic dynasty. There will be a new order! This is a new Sun, shining on a new age!’ he shouted decisively, and he beat his fist against his chest triumphantly. His officers gave him a disciplined cheer.
And with that he rode off down the barren hillside, accompanied by his running officers, leaving Thoth and me to make our own way back to the palace. And as we returned along the dusty path, the image of the Eye of heaven haunted my imagination. It was the symbol of the dark circle made real. My instinct had been right. It was not just the mysterious symbol of a society; it was also a prophecy of something real to come. I suddenly recalled what Nakht had said about the dark circle: ‘It means that in the darkest hour of the night, the soul of Ra is reunited with the body and soul of Osiris. This allows Osiris, and indeed all the dead of the Two Lands, to be reborn. It is the holiest, most profound moment in all creation.’
But the more I thought about that, the more ambivalent it seemed. Did this heavenly event foretell a miracle of the return to life, or an impending catastrophe?
45
The palace officials were running up and down the corridors in great confusion like ants in a colony that has been disturbed by children poking sticks. I entered the Queen’s chamber, and found her in intent conference with Ay, Khay and Simut.
Ay glanced at me briefly. His face was hollow with tiredness. For once he looked discomposed.
Simut was giving an account of the aftermath of the eclipse.
‘There has been significant disorder in the city. Crowds that gathered in front of the temple gates are refusing to disperse. There has been looting, buildings have been set on fire…and I must report the Medjay have only worsened the situation by their attempts to control the crowds. There have been running battles in some quarters with certain dissident elements…’
Khay interrupted.
‘The people are calling for the King. They refuse to leave until the King appears and speaks to them.’
Ay sat very still, his brain whirring, seeking a solution. His refusal to announce the death of the King had now trapped him. He was caught out by his own lie.
‘That is only one of our problems. Horemheb will seize this opportunity to bring his divisions into the city to control the unrest,’ said Simut.
‘And where are those divisions?’ snapped Ay.
‘As far as we can tell, they are in Memphis. But our intelligence is not clear,’ he admitted. ‘Even the fastest messenger cannot relay orders between here and Memphis in less than three days, and then they will need to mobilize, and sail south. Unless Horemheb has foreseen everything, and prepared divisions to march on Thebes more quickly.’
There was a moment of silence, while each person considered what ought to be done with the precious time that remained to us.
‘I will speak to the people,’ said Ankhesenamun, suddenly.
‘And what could you possibly say?’ Ay replied. His sinister eyes flickered, curious now.
‘I will tell them the truth. I will say the events in the heavens are a sign of a renewed order on earth. I will explain that the King was united with the God during the darkness, and is now reborn in the Otherworld. I remain here, as his successor, with his sanction. If I do that, then Horemheb’s bid for power will be annulled.’
They gazed at each other, adversaries joined by mutual necessity.
‘You are a clever child. It is a good story. But many will be suspicious of it.’
‘The darkness was a great and rare event. It is a spectacle without parallel, and people need to understand it. My words will have to persuade the people.’
Ay quickly thought through the ramifications and possibilities of her proposal.
‘I will support you, but words are powers and must be chosen carefully. When you speak of yourself, I would prefer “representative” to “successor.”’
She considered this.
‘We return to our original disagreement once again. There is little time, and I see no other solution. Why should I not name myself as successor? For that is what I am.’
‘You carry the blood of your family. But remember this: you cannot enact your power without authority over the offices of the government. And I alone exert that authority.’
‘In my name,’ she replied quickly.
‘Indeed. And that is why we must fashion a strategy to our mutual advantage.’
She considered the situation. She had to make a
swift choice.
‘Very well.’
‘And the content of the speech will be agreed between us?’ he said. She glanced at Khay, who nodded.
‘Of course.’
‘Then prepare yourself well, for this appearance is the most important one of your life.’
As soon as Ay had left, she jumped up.
‘Where have you been?’ she said fretfully, and with a touch of anger. ‘I was concerned for your safety.’
‘I went to visit my friend Nakht in the city. And on the way back I was offered an invitation I could not refuse to an audience with Horemheb.’
She looked astonished.
‘And you went?’
‘I had little choice. They took me captive.’
‘And what did he say to you?’
We sat down together, and I recounted everything I had discovered about Sobek, and that I had now proved, through the witness of the boy, that he was also responsible for the killings in the city. Finally I described to her everything Horemheb had said to me. She looked astounded for a moment.
‘We must protect your family from his attentions.’
‘Yes, but we must also think. So far, he has only made threats against them, and he will not carry them out until you have informed him of your decision. So we must keep him in uncertainty for as long as possible. At the same time, I have a plan to catch Sobek. And we can then interrogate him and discover if and how Horemheb or Ay are connected to his actions. And that information will give you great power.’
She nodded, her eyes on fire with the exhilaration of the moment. Suddenly she could see a way forward for herself and her dynasty.
‘This darkness has shocked me. I feel the Gods’ eyes upon me. I feel they can see inside me. Everything is at stake, not just the future of my dynasty, but also the fate of the Two Lands. But strangely, I find I feel, for the first time in many months–entirely alive.’
Smoke drifted across the great open space before the Temple. The crowd stretched back along the Avenue of Sphinxes. Some were chanting, others shouting, most praying. I watched from the vantage of the pylon gateway roof. We had travelled swiftly and secretively by ship and then chariot to the temple itself, under the protection of Simut’s guard. Now, at his signal, the trumpeters raised their long, silver instruments towards the horizon and blasted out a fanfare. Suddenly the attitude of the crowd shifted, from chaotic discontent to attention. The spectacle they had demanded was about to begin.
The Queen appeared from the gateway, arrayed in the gold robes of state and the crowns, and the silence gave way again to screaming and shouting when it became clear she was alone. But in the long, low angles of the late light, she glowed. She continued forward, ascended the dais, ignoring the cries and laments, and then stood to confront the great beast of the multitude. She waited to be heard. It would be a battle of wills. Finally silence fell. I saw thousands of faces, rapt, anxious, devoted to her glorious presence.
‘This has been a day of wondrous omens,’ she called out. ‘The Gods have revealed themselves to us. So let us worship them.’
She raised her arms, serenely; and then, slowly, many in the crowd followed suit. Those that did not were at least silenced.
‘Ra, the King of the Gods, has triumphed over the forces of darkness and chaos. Life is renewed. The glory and power of the Two Lands is renewed. But in that moment, he has taken something he greatly desired. What he has taken is of great value to us. Greater than gold, and greater than life. I stand before you now, as the daughter of Kings, and the daughter of the Goddess Maat who brings justice and order, to give you the news of our great sacrifice, and the God’s great gain. For in the moment of darkness, witnessed by all living things, the King Tutankhamun was united with Ra, as the King must be, and, as it is written in the great books, he is now one with the King of the Gods. And the world is remade. The world is reborn again.’
Her words echoed around the open space. A vast wail of lamentation rose up and spread out through the crowds and the city. I saw people turning to each other, many persuaded, a few shrugging, uncertain. They knew this story of the sacrifice of the King for the renewal of life, for it is one of the oldest of the stories that explain to us how things are in the world. And she had used it wisely. Her words might well convince the multitudes. The elite would certainly require a more sophisticated explanation, but it would be difficult for them to question the story.
She pressed on.
‘I stand before you now. I am the best-loved daughter of Ra. I am maat. I am order over chaos. I am the Eye of Ra at the prow of the Ship of the Gods. Under me, our enemies will perish in the darkness, and our world will flourish in the light of the Gods.’
This was followed by another persuasive fanfare from the trumpets; and now, most of the multitude roared their approval. The Queen’s spirit and her beauty seemed to have won them over. But I saw there were others who turned away, unsatisfied, shaking their heads. The battle to win the Two Lands after the death of Tutankhamun remained to be won. If I could prove a connection between Horemheb and Sobek then Horemheb’s position would crumble. If I did not, then I could not see, at this moment, what could prevent him from appropriating, in the name of the army, the kingship.
46
That evening, Thoth and I returned to Nakht’s town house. Minmose offered to shave my head, for if I was to pass through the temple gateway, I needed once again to transform myself into the appearance of a priest. As I was sitting under his blade, with a cloth around my neck, Khety arrived. Luckily for him, he would not need to perform these ritual ablutions, for he was to attend as Nakht’s experimental victim–a non-elite character.
‘Is the guard in place at my home?’ I asked first.
He nodded. ‘Tanefert was not happy about the imposition. But I explained the necessity as well as I could, without frightening her.’
I sighed with relief.
‘And did you impress upon her to make sure the children do not go out, in any event?’
‘I did. Don’t worry. They are safe. They will be guarded night and day.’ Then he allowed himself a quiet chuckle. ‘You make an unconvincing priest,’ he said.
‘Be careful, Khety. You will soon find yourself in a much more compromised position.’
He nodded.
‘That’s what I enjoy about my work. Every night is different. One night patrolling the streets; the next, taking dangerous hallucinogens…’
‘Nakht has concocted something that will look plausibly like the fungus, but will have no effect at all.’
‘So I have to pretend?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Nakht, as he entered in his robes. ‘I have made up a simulacra of the dried fungus using ground beans.’
‘I hate beans,’ replied Khety. ‘My wife cooks them, but they have a horrible effect on me…’
‘You will not need to consume more than a mouthful, and so the noxious effects should be absolutely minimal,’ Nakht replied. And then added: ‘Which is surely a relief for all of us.’
‘But what sort of thing should I talk about when I’ve taken the powder?’ asked Khety.
‘Nothing to start with. And then, slowly, imagine that the light of heaven is revealed to you. Let your mind accept the illumination of the Gods.’
‘And what does that look like?’ asked Khety.
Nakht glanced at me, dubiously.
‘Think of light. Describe the beauty of the light, and how you see the Gods moving in light, as if light were thought and thought were light.’
‘I’ll try,’ said Khety, hesitantly.
Nakht had ordered chariots to carry us from his house, up the long Avenue of Sphinxes, to the Great Temple of Karnak. The streets were dark. I noticed boarded-up shop fronts, and some blackened interiors–the damage done during the riots. But the city seemed quiet again. We arrived at the gates, and Nakht spoke to the temple guards, who assessed Khety and me by the light of their lamps. Nakht’s fame here was great, and I prayed that they would
ask few questions. He chatted cheerfully to them for a moment, and then, with a last questioning look, we were swiftly waved through. We passed under the gateway and once more into the vast shadowy arena within the temple walls. Beyond the great raised hammered bowls of oil that had been lit throughout the Enclosure, like a constellation of small suns, everything disappeared into an obscure penumbra.
Nakht lit his oil lamp, and we set off across the open ground in the direction of the House of Life. But instead of entering there, he led us further to the right of the building. We followed down several dark passageways between separate buildings–workshops and offices, all deserted for the night. The passageways narrowed and the buildings gave way to storage rooms and magazines, until we reached the high back wall of the Great Enclosure itself. Just there stood a tiny, ancient structure. As we approached I saw the figure of Osiris, God of the Dead, was carved everywhere on its walls, in his white crown flanked by two plumed feathers, surrounded by column after column of dense inscriptions.
‘This chapel is dedicated to Osiris,’ whispered Khety.
‘Precisely. The God of the Otherworld, of night, and darkness, and death before life…but of course he is in truth the God of the light beyond the light, as we say. Of illumination and secret knowledge,’ Nakht replied. Khety nodded, as if he understood, then raised his eyebrows at me.
We passed through the outer chamber, and into the small, dark inner chamber of the temple. Quickly Nakht lit oil lamps in niches around the walls. Rich drifts of incense floated on the shadowy air. He installed me behind one of the pillars, near the entrance, from where I could observe everything that came to pass, and anyone who approached. Then we settled down to wait. And eventually, one by one, twelve other men in white robes arrived. I recognized some of them from the party at Nakht’s house. There was the blue-eyed poet, and the architect. Each man wore a gold pendant on a gold chain around his neck. On each one was an obsidian circle: the dark disc. They greeted Nakht with great excitement, and then examined Khety like a servant for sale. Finally, only Sobek had failed to appear. I felt my plan crumbling away between my fingers. He had not, after all, taken the bait.