by Wilbur Smith
Quickly I stepped between the couple, breaking their eye contact. Tehuti looked at me as though I were a stranger whom she had never seen before. I touched her hand, and she shuddered slightly and her gaze refocused on me.
‘Come with me, Tehuti,’ I commanded. I watched her face. With a huge effort she regained control of herself.
‘Yes, of course. Forgive me. My thoughts were elsewhere, Taita. Of course I will go with you.’
I ushered her towards the door of the treasury. Zaras fell in behind her. There was elasticity in his step and an expression of awe mingled with elation suffused his features. I knew him well, yet I had never seen him in this state.
Once again I interposed myself between the young couple. ‘Not you, Captain Zaras. See to it that the balance bars are transferred to the next treasury, and then the men can take another short rest.’ These were trivial orders to give to an officer of his rank, but he had to be distracted from his present dangerous fascination.
Only now I realized that Tehuti and Zaras could never have met before. She lived in the little world of the palace harem, from which she was only allowed to emerge with a strict system of chaperonage surrounding her. I was perhaps the most important link in that protective chain.
As a beautiful princess her virginity was of inestimable value to the Crown and the State. It was possible, of course, that Zaras might have seen her from a distance during one of the royal processions or in the pageantry of the religious festivals. However, he had never served in the household guards. All his military service had been at the battlefront or in the training and exercise of his troops. I was certain that until this day he had never been close enough to her to have any inkling of her extraordinary presence and beauty.
I snapped a quick instruction to Zaras: ‘Feed the men and give an extra noggin of beer to each of them. Let them rest until I give the word to resume.’ Then I led the two princesses up to the surface, leaving Zaras staring after us.
When we emerged from the gates to the tomb I paused to glance into the east, and I saw that the roseate harbingers of the dawn were already staining the eastern sky. Then I looked down the ranks of men and realized that many of them were reeling with exhaustion. Zaras had been correct in both respects.
I hurried up the gangplank of the third trireme and as I reached the deck there was the sound of trumpets and of chariot wheels fast approaching from the direction of the river and the city on its far bank. I hurried to the ship’s rail and peered into the darkness across the plain.
There was torchlight and such commotion out there that could mean only one thing: Pharaoh had received my message and had returned to Thebes. My heart beat faster as it always does when I know that the royal presence is near. I ran back down the gangplank, shouting for additional torches and for an honour guard to assemble, but Pharaoh was too quick for me.
His chariot came thundering out of the night with the rest of his squadron strung out behind him. Pharaoh had the reins wrapped around his wrists and when he saw me he shouted a joyous greeting and leaned back on the reins.
‘Well met, Taita. We have missed you.’ He threw the reins to his co-driver and jumped down to the ground while the wheels were still turning. He kept his footing like the skilled charioteer he is, and he reached me in a dozen swift strides. He seized me in a crushing embrace and swung me off my feet in front of all my men, oblivious to my dignity. But I can forgive him anything and I laughed with him.
‘Indeed, Majesty. It has been far too long. An hour without your presence is like a week without sunshine.’
He set me on my feet and looked about him with an enquiring expression. I saw now that he was filthy with the dust and grime of a hard campaign, but that he was invested also with the grace and nobility of a true pharaoh. He saw his sisters waiting to greet him and pay their respects. He embraced them both in turn, and then he came back to me.
He pointed out the three great triremes lying at the wharf. ‘What ships are these? Even with their masts unstepped and their oars shipped they are twice the size of any other I have ever seen before. Where did you find them, Taita?’ The message I had sent him was cryptic and devoid of details. However, he did not wait to receive my answers to his questions, but he went on immediately, ‘And who are all these ruffians? I sent you off with a handful of men and you return with your own little army, Taita.’
He swept his gaze along the ranks of men that reached from the wharf down into the depths of the royal tomb. Those closest to us dropped the chests of bullion they were passing and threw themselves to the ground in obeisance.
‘Please do not let appearances deceive you, Mighty Majesty. No ruffians here. All brave men and true warriors of your Egypt.’
‘But what of these ships?’ He turned back to study the triremes with intense interest. ‘How do you account for them?’
‘Pharaoh, let me take you to a place where we can talk more freely,’ I implored him.
‘Oh, very well, Taita. You have always loved your little secrets, have you not?’ He strode away towards the gates of the tomb without looking back at me. I followed Pharaoh Tamose down into his putative father’s tomb.
He paused as he entered the first treasury chamber, and he studied the stacks of wooden chests that filled the capacious room. I thought he might enquire again about the contents of the chests, but I should have known better that he would not lower his dignity to do so.
‘It is strange that each of these chests should be branded with the emblem of the Supreme Minos,’ was all he said before he walked on into the next chamber, then into the third where Aton knelt before him.
‘And it is odder still that my dignified chamberlain should be party to this monkey business of yours, Taita.’ Pharaoh lowered himself on to an uncompleted stack of the chests, stretched his legs out in front of him and regarded the two of us with an expression of intense curiosity. ‘Now tell me, Taita. Tell me everything!’
‘Perhaps it is better that I show it to you, Pharaoh,’ I demurred, and went to the chest I had opened for his sisters. I set the lid aside and I lifted out the same shining ingot that I had shown to the princesses. I went down on one knee to offer it to him. He took it from my hands and turned it slowly in his own. With his fingertip he traced the hallmark that was stamped into the metal. Again this was the rampaging bull of Crete.
At last he asked softly, ‘It has the weight and feel of veritable silver. Surely it cannot be so?’
‘Surely it can be and it is, Pharaoh. Every chest you see here is full of the same ingots.’
He was silent again for a long time, and under the dust and sun-bronzing of his face I saw him flush with intense emotion. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse.
‘How much is there, Tata?’ He used my familiar name, which was always an expression of his gratitude and affection towards me.
‘Every one of these chests is full, Mem.’ In return I used his baby name. I was the only one to whom he ever granted that liberty.
‘Stop your silly games. Tell me how much silver you have brought back to me? I am struggling to encompass the magnitude of it.’ His tone was still awed.
‘Aton and I have weighed the greater part of it,’ I replied.
‘That does not answer my question, Tata.’
‘We have weighed only the bullion from the first two Minoan ships, and a part of that from the third and last. So far the total is four hundred and forty-nine lakhs, Pharaoh. There is probably another one hundred lakhs still to be weighed, although it might be as much as one hundred and fifty.’
Again he was silent, shaking his head and frowning. At last he spoke once more. ‘Almost six hundred lakhs. That is enough to erect a city twice the size of Thebes with all its temples and palaces.’
‘And then to build ten thousand ships and still have sufficient left over to fight a dozen wars, my Pharaoh,’ I agreed softly. ‘Enough to win back all of your very Egypt from the Hyksos barbarian.’
‘You have given me the whe
rewithal to cut down and destroy Beon and all his multitudes,’ Pharaoh agreed; his voice quickened and rose with the vision of it.
‘You are too late, Pharaoh.’ Aton came to his feet and moved in front of me to get the attention of Pharaoh. ‘Beon of the Hyksos is dead and drowned already.’ He stepped back and pointed at me with a flourish. ‘Taita has killed him,’ he declaimed.
Pharaoh’s gaze swivelled back to me. ‘Is this which Aton avows true? Have you killed Beon in addition to all your other services to my Crown?’ Pharaoh demanded.
I bowed my head in acquiescence. I find boastfulness abhorrent in any man, more especially in myself.
‘Tell me about it, Taita. I want every detail of the death of that monstrous animal.’
Before I could reply Aton cut me off. ‘Please give me your royal attention once more, my Pharaoh.’ He bowed to the king. ‘This is a tale that deserves all your royal attention. After our final triumph over the Hyksos tyrant it will become part of our glorious military history. Future generations will sing of it to their sons, and the sons to their sons. I beg Your Majesty to allow me to arrange a triumph this evening which will be attended by every member of the high council of state and all your royal family. It will be a triumph during which we will be able to pay due honour to a feat of arms which has probably never been equalled in our history.’
‘You are right, Lord Aton. Taita has laid before me a feast that cannot be swallowed at a single gulp. We must savour every mouthful. I must inform my council of this incredible stroke of fortune. Eight of my councillors are ensconced in my palace in Thebes, near at hand. Lord Kratas follows close behind me from the north and you, Taita, and Lord Aton are already here. We can assemble the full council within three or four hours.’
‘Ample time for you to bathe and rest, my Pharaoh.’ I glanced down at his attire.
‘It is good honest dirt, Taita, and paid for in Hyksos blood.’ Pharaoh grinned at me. ‘But as so often is the case, you are right. Have my slaves heat the water for my bath.’
By the time the high council of Egypt was fully assembled the third and last trireme had been unloaded and the bullion from its hold weighed on the balance. The formal triumph had been prepared and the sun was setting.
I went to inform Pharaoh, expecting him to be resting. To relieve him of the necessity of travelling to his palace and returning again before nightfall, I had ordered that his father’s burial chamber be set aside as his temporary lodging. It had never contained a corpse and so the chamber was not tainted with death. It was a quiet cool place and well aired by vents drilled through the rock to the surface. His servants had set up his cot and all his portable campaign furniture here.
Far from resting I found Pharaoh very much awake and alert, pacing the chamber and dictating despatches to three of his secretaries. He was dressed in a clean uniform, over which he wore a polished bronze breastplate embossed with gold. His hair was freshly washed and curled. He was as handsome as his mother had been beautiful.
When I went down on one knee before him, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. ‘No, Taita,’ he chided me. ‘It is my fast intent to make you a nobleman and a member of my inner council before much longer. You must no longer kneel to me.’
‘Pharaoh is too gracious. I do not deserve such honour.’ I adopted my self-effacing role.
‘Of course you don’t,’ he agreed. ‘I do it only to prevent you from endlessly bobbing up and down in front of me. By Seth’s in-growing toenails, as Kratas might say, I swear you make me giddy. Stand up tall and tell me the full tally of the treasure you have garnered for me.’
‘I promised you 600 lakhs, my Pharaoh, but we are twenty lakhs short of that amount.’
‘That is enough and more than enough to win me back my kingdom, and for you to keep your head atop your shoulders.’ At times the royal sense of humour tends towards the ghoulish. ‘Are the other members of my council assembled?’
‘Every single one of them, including Lord Kratas. He arrived an hour ago.’
‘Take me to them.’
When we came out through the gates of the tomb I realized at once the magnitude and extent of what Aton had contrived in my honour. Pharaoh led me down between the ranks of royal guardsmen in full ceremonial uniform to the great tent that had been set up on the bank of the canal.
When we entered his entire court was already there, waiting to greet us. This included the royal family: his two sisters and his twenty-two wives and his 112 concubines. Then there were the noble lords, his military generals and the state councillors and their high-ranking staff; every man and woman in all of Egypt that Pharaoh dared trust with the secret of the Minoan millions was gathered here to greet me.
They rose to their feet in unison as we entered and the men drew their swords to form an arch for Pharaoh and me to pass beneath. At the same time a massed band of lutes and wind horns in the desert outside the tent burst into a heroic march.
It took Pharaoh and me some time to reach the seats that had been prepared for us. Every person in the assembly wanted to touch me, to grip both my hands and to shower me with compliments and salutations.
At close intervals around the wall of the tent stood enormous jars of wine, each of them taller than a man. When at last the entire company was seated the servants filled large goblets with red wine from the jars and set one in front of Pharaoh. He waved it away.
‘Taita is the one we are here to honour. Serve him the good red wine and let him be first to drink of it.’
Every eye in the great tent was on me as I came to my feet and raised the goblet towards Pharaoh.
‘All honour towards Pharaoh. He is our very Egypt. Without Pharaoh and Egypt we are but dust. All our petty strivings are nothing.’ I brought the goblet to my lips and I drank a deep draught while all those lords and ladies came to their feet and shouted my name. Even Pharaoh smiled.
I sensed that the less I said the more they would love me, so I bowed to Pharaoh and sat down again.
Pharaoh stood over me and laid his right hand on my shoulder. Then he spoke out in a strong clear voice that carried to every corner of the great tent.
‘Lord Taita has met with my favour,’ he began simply. ‘He has performed for me and for Egypt a service as great, or greater even, than any man before him. He deserves to be honoured by me and by every Egyptian born and yet to be born.
‘I have elevated him to the nobility. From henceforth he shall be known as Lord Taita of Mechir.’ Pharaoh paused and there was a polite silence in which most of the illustrious company tried to conceal expressions of mystification. Mechir is a village on the east bank of the Nile, thirty leagues south of Thebes. It is a cluster of nondescript mud huts, and a population made up of an equally nondescript assortment of specimens of the human race. Pharaoh let us ponder this conundrum for a short while.
‘I have also granted to him, to have and to hold for all time, all the royal estate situated on the east bank of the River Nile between the southern wall of the city of Thebes and the town of Mechir.’
A gasp of astonishment went up from the assembly. The river-bank from Mechir down to Thebes is thirty leagues of the richest irrigable land in the entire royal estates.
In a single breath Pharaoh had made me one of the ten richest men in Egypt.
I looked suitably stunned and delighted by his magnanimity. However, as I kissed his right hand the naughty thought did occur to me that since I had made him one of the richest kings in the world neither of us had suffered too bitterly by this exchange of favours.
Now Pharaoh lifted his silver goblet of wine and smiled around the assembled company. ‘My queens, my princes and princesses, my lords and ladies, I give you the toast. Here are gratitude, honour and long life to my Lord Taita.’
They came to their feet with cups held high, and they shouted out together, ‘Here are gratitude, honour and long life to Lord Taita.’
It was probably the first time in our history that an Egyptian pharaoh had toasted
one of his own subjects. But now he resumed his seat and gestured for the rest of the company to do the same.
‘Lord Aton!’ he called down the length of the table. ‘The wine is excellent. I know that the banquet will be no less.’ Aton has the reputation of being the greatest connoisseur in the land. Some say that this is the main reason he had reached the exalted status of Master of the Royal Household.
Reputations are not always deserved. Aton is good but not the best. The fillets of Nile perch he served had been insufficiently salted, and the desert bustard was a trifle overdone. In addition he had allowed the palace chef too liberal a hand with the Baharat spice. If I had been given the task I suspect that the fare would have been better prepared, but the wine was good enough to dilute these trivial shortcomings.
The company was in fine and boisterous fettle by the time Aton rose to introduce the eulogy. I had given passing thought as to which poet I might have chosen if I had been in his sandals. Naturally I was disqualified from selection by the fact that I was the subject of the composition. So I expected it would probably be either Reza or Thoiak that Aton had selected for this great honour.
In the event Aton stunned us all. Although he gave credit and praise to the recognized bards of Egypt, he tried to justify his final decision by emphasizing the fact that the one he had chosen had been an eyewitness to the actual events. Of course, this was a preposterous idea. Since when have the facts been of any great importance to a good story?
‘Great Pharaoh and royal ladies, please draw close and lend your ear to a valiant officer of the Blue Crocodile Guards who sailed with Lord Taita.’ He paused dramatically. ‘I give you Captain Zaras.’
The assembly was unmoving and unmoved as Zaras stepped in through the curtains of the tent and bent the knee to Pharaoh, who looked as surprised as any person present. I thought that I was probably the only one in the assembly who had ever heard of Captain Zaras of the Blue Crocodile Guards. Then something snicked into place in my mind as neatly as a blade into its scabbard.