by Paul Doherty
‘Who,’ Djarka asked, ‘is this real assassin?’
‘Ankhesenamun calls me the Striped Hyaena,’ I whispered.
‘Beware of the woman from outside,’ Sobeck intoned a maxim of the scribe Ani, ‘who is not known in the city. She is a water deep and boundless.’ He wagged a finger in my face. ‘Beware of such a woman.’
‘Many thanks for the advice. Oh, by the way, Djarka, the painting of the pelicans in the House of Adoration? Have it changed tomorrow; remove the scene of the fowler and his net.’
mesu-hesui
(Ancient Egyptian for ‘terror-stricken beings’)
Chapter 3
I went along a painted corridor deep into the palace. The windows on either side overlooked the gardens, but these had been ill-tended and the stench of corrupt vegetation blended with the fragrance of the flowers. Nakhtimin’s mercenaries stood on guard in alcoves and recesses. From the courtyard below I heard a servant recite the curse against crocodiles; these river beasts sometimes followed the irrigation canals into the palace, where they’d lurk amongst the bushes and shrubbery. The chilling, ominous prayer wafted up:
Stop crocodile, son of Seth!
Do not swim with your tail,
Nor move your legs any more,
May the well of water become a well
of fire before you
Stop crocodile, son of Seth.
I crossed a courtyard blazing with light; guards stood aside, copper-plated doors swung open. I entered the women’s quarters, at the centre of which lay Ankhesenamun’s chambers, with their red and yellow lotus pillars, floors of polished tile and walls decorated with the most vivid paintings. Flunkies, servants and officials lounged about: the Director of Her Highness’ Nail-Doers, Chief of the Scented Oils and Perfumes, Holder of the Imperial Sandals, Keeper of the Jewellery, Master of the Cloths, all eunuchs with the bulging belly and breasts of pregnant women. They gossiped and moved around in a swirl of perfume, all officious, pretending to be busy. A cat chased a black and white monkey, which scampered up a pillar screeching in annoyance. A blind harpist, dead-eyed, plucked at strings. Dancing girls and acrobats in beaded, fringed loincloths, bodies coated in perfumed sweat, hair piled high in bound cord, were trying to clear a space to practise their skill, whilst flirting with the burly mercenary officers.
I went through more doorways, their lintels and pillars carved with lacework inscriptions, into a small room which served as a chapel where a group of shaven-headed priests garbed in panther skins lit bowls of incense before a statue of the Pharaoh Tuthmosis. This was once the heart of the Great Palace of Amenhotep the Magnificent, Ankhesenamun’s grandfather, who loved to collect pottery and vases of cobalt blue and delighted in covering the walls with the symbol of every deity of Egypt: the goose of Amun, the bull of Ptah, the goat of Osiris, the ram of Khnum. The air was sweet from fat drenched in perfume and the scent of countless flower baskets, as well as the incense smoke from the small thuribles glowing in the corners. A chamberlain stopped me outside the Painted Chamber. He knocked and led me in. I flinched at the heady perfume whilst my bare feet felt the lapis lazuli dust strewn on the floor. Caskets and coffers lay about, lids open. Lamps and candles glowed, glittering on the robes piled in a heap. A pet goose screeched whilst a monkey squatting on a table devoured a plum, its juices dribbling down on to the floor. On either side of the curtain were two black wooden busts of Akenhaten, their eyes of jasper peering sightlessly into the darkness, a reminder of his presence which caused a shift amongst the shadows in my soul. The carved face, in the light of the oil lamps glowing beneath, exuded an eerie life of its own, as if still possessed by the power of that mysterious Pharaoh.
The chamberlain bowed towards the busts, then pulled the curtains aside. Ankhesenamun was sitting on a high stool circled by oil lamps. She was naked except for a loincloth, a see-through veil thrown across her shoulders. She was being anointed on her face and head by her friend and constant companion Amedeta, who served as her principal lady-in-waiting. In looks, they were almost similar. Amedeta was slightly older, yet she had the same sensuous face, sloe eyes and pretty mouth. She was dressed in a diaphanous robe and floated around Ankhesenamun grasping an unguent jar carved in the shape of two chickens trussed for sacrifice. She moved silently, body swaying beneath the robe, the heavy tresses of her perfumed wig almost shrouding her face, around her throat a silver necklace. She and Ankhesenamun were murmuring to each other. As I approached, they began to recite a love poem aloud, beautiful lilting voices mouthing the words together:
I am your most beloved sister.
I am to you as the field in which
I have grown flowers,
All kinds of fragrant herbs flourish there.
Delightful water channels cool me and you,
A lovely place to walk with your hand in mine.
Our voices thrilling, our hearts full of pleasure to be
walking together.
I lived by being close to see you,
To see you again is better to me than
meat and drink.
When they had finished the poem, Amedeta continued her anointing whilst Ankhesenamun stared out through the window as if listening to the sounds of the night. I heard the rattle of a chain and glanced to the corner; it was only her trained cheetah stirring in its sleep. I coughed and stepped forward. Ankhesenamun turned. I had to remind myself that she was only a girl between fourteen and fifteen summers, for in the oil lamp she looked a beautiful, sensuous woman with those heavy-lidded eyes, her lips parted.
‘Why, Mahu, Baboon of the South! Why are you here so late at night?’
Amedeta had moved so her back was towards me. I could tell she was laughing quietly to herself.
‘And how is His Majesty?’
‘He sleeps.’
‘Why are you here, Baboon of the South?’
‘I prefer that title, Your Highness, to the Striped Hyaena.’
Ankhesenamun laughed and whispered to Amedeta. The lady-in-waiting turned, smiling seductively over her shoulder at me. She put down the oil jar and slipped from the chamber.
‘Well, Mahu, why are you truly here?’
‘The Shabtis of Akenhaten.’
‘What Shabtis?’
‘Do not act the innocent with me. You know what happened.’
‘I know Rahmose was killed and his assassin now hangs from the Wall of Death.’
‘Rahmose was wearing my cloak.’
‘So?’
‘I was the intended victim.’
‘You don’t really believe that?’
Ankhesenamun got off the stool and came towards me. She pulled the gauze-like shawl tighter about her, which served only to emphasise her full breasts, their nipples painted in gold.
‘Would you like me to dance for you, Uncle Mahu?’ She stretched out her arm, clicking her fingers, and moved rhythmically, languorously, little steps, hips swaying.
‘I do not want you to dance for me, Your Highness, but to answer my questions.’
She paused, hands coyly together.
‘Mahu, you are so dull.’
‘I’m alive. I could have been dead. I want to know how a gardener owned a precious ruby. How a gardener attacked a man wearing a striped cloak. You knew what I was wearing this morning.’
‘Oh, Mahu, others know you wear it!’
‘How many others give gardeners beautiful rubies?’
‘Oh no.’ Ankhesenamun flounced down on a high-backed chair. ‘I know you wear a striped robe. So according to you I seduced the gardener, gave him a ruby from my casket and told him to kill you. However, he made a mistake and murdered Rahmose instead. He then tried to flee, but the door he tried was wedged fast shut and the guards killed him. He was a gardener in the royal household, so someone here must have hired him.’
‘Your Highness is very knowledgeable.’
‘I am knowledgeable because you are right. I did arrange it. The gardener,’ she pouted, ‘well, he was a friend and h
as done similar tasks before.’ She played with a sphinx armlet of gold inlaid with lapis lazuli, cornelian and turquoise, and then, as if bored by that, picked from a nearby table an ebonite fan edged with gold and shook it vigorously to cool her face.
‘I am not a child, Mahu. I have been married to my father. I have given birth to one child who died. I am surrounded by enemies and so, like you, I bite before I am bitten. Why not ask me outright and I’ll reply?’
She rose and went through the curtains behind me, I heard her pull across the bolts on the door. She walked back, no longer seductive and languorous, but businesslike, pacing up and down, twisting the ring on her finger.
‘I heard the news from the Delta about the impostor who has appeared.’
‘You are certain he is an impostor?’ I asked.
‘I am sure. Well,’ she shrugged, ‘I think so. But leave that for a while.’ She turned to face me squarely. ‘I had Rahmose killed because I believe those sanctimonious hypocrites Meryre, Tuthmosis and the rest of the devout are much more dangerous than you, or even Grandfather, think. If they are not killed, they’ll certainly kill you.’
‘You have proof of this?’
‘The gardener,’ she raised her hand, ‘I told him exactly what to do, which door would be left open, but he was becoming too arrogant. I placed the wedge beneath the door. He paid the price for his insolence.’
‘But you said you had used him before?’
‘Sobeck must have told you how there are other precious rubies for sale in the markets in Eastern Thebes.’
‘I am sure there are.’
Ankhesenamun sat down on a chair. ‘Mahu, I am thirsty. Pour us each a goblet of Carian wine and come and sit close to me.’ She gestured to a footstool. ‘We are allies, not enemies. Father trusted you, that’s why he made you guardian of his son.’
I filled the goblets, came back and sat on the footstool, staring up. You are Nefertiti’s daughter, I thought, if not in looks then certainly in soul. As if she could read my mind, Ankhesenamun tweaked the end of my nose, a favourite gesture of her mother.
‘I thought you’d come, Mahu. You’ve been back in Thebes only a few months. I could not search you out but had to wait for you to approach me. So, I shall tell you the truth.’ She grinned. ‘Or at least part of the truth. I am with you and the Prince, not with my grandfather. He nurses ambitions, you know, Mahu.’ She chuckled at my look of puzzlement. ‘As long as Tutankhamun lives,’ she whispered, ‘Ay, Horemheb and all the rest of the hyaenas are kept in check. But if my half-brother dies, to whom does the double crown go?’
‘You could rule as Queen,’ I replied. ‘It would not be the first time.’
‘But who would support me, Mahu? Grandfather? Horemheb?’
‘Hatchesphut ruled alone.’
‘History!’ Ankhesenamun snapped. ‘And she married her half-brother so there was always a male heir. Between me and the darkness, Mahu, there’s nothing.’
‘So, Ay dreams of becoming Pharaoh?’ I laughed. ‘It’s not inconceivable.’
‘But so do others, Mahu! Horemheb claims to be a royal bastard, of the blood of Amenhotep the Magnificent. And why stop there? What about General Rameses? Or even Huy, Maya … ?’
‘No,’ I replied, shaking my head.
‘Or even Meryre? That’s why they are all united against this usurper. Enough contestants for the crown imperial reside at court without pretenders in the north.’
‘Meryre?’ I scoffed.
‘He sees himself as High Priest of the Aten, the spiritual successor of my father, but he is corrupt and sanctimonious.’ She leaned closer, her lips only a few inches from my cheek. ‘Did you know our High Priest invites me to his supper banquets? In his cups he admitted he would love to see me and Amedeta couple together on a bed. A vile man, Mahu, of bounding ambition, without the talent to match. This trouble in the Delta, I suspect Meryre has a hand in it, whatever he says! In his cups he is silly and clucks like a chicken. But sober, Meryre is as dangerous and as threatening as the rest. What if, Mahu,’ she drew back, ‘Meryre and the Atenists use this usurper to sweep the board clean of all of you, Horemheb, Rameses and the other Children of the Kap? How long do you think little Tutankhamun will survive, or myself?’ She smiled thinly. ‘Though Meryre has ambitions in that quarter: marriage to me when he proclaims himself Pharaoh of Egypt.’
‘No.’ I shook my head in disbelief. ‘I have spies in Eastern and Western Thebes; Sobeck and Djarka sift the gossip like wheat from chaff.’
‘Do you think Meryre is going to tell anyone?’ Ankhesenamun laughed. ‘Do you know the whereabouts of all my father’s treasures?’ She rose and walked across the room, keeping her back to me as she took off the shawl and donned a sleeveless shift. Then, rewrapping the shawl, she came back and sipped from her wine cup.
‘How do you know all this, Highness?’
‘Because Meryre thinks I’m his ally.’
‘And why should he think that?’
‘Because I told him that the Shabtis of Akenhaten are a sect of assassins controlled by you.’
‘What?’ I moved so violently the wine in my cup slopped over. The cheetah scrambled to his feet but Ankhesenamun turned and cooed softly in his direction. The great cat stretched, amber eyes glowing at me, before sprawling back on the floor.
‘Listen to me, listen to me,’ she urged. ‘The Shabtis of Akenhaten do not exist. The gardener was seduced by Amedeta, who paid him to kill minor officials, supporters of Meryre’s circle, Atenists who appeared to have forsaken the great vision.’
‘One man!’ I exclaimed.
‘And why not?’ Ankhesenamun laughed. ‘You are Chief of Police, Mahu. There is murder and rapine in Thebes every day, whilst at night the city is as dangerous as a crocodile pool. I decided to strike at Meryre; the gardener was my weapon. At the same time I lulled Meryre’s suspicions. He believes I am opposed to my grandfather and the Children of the Kap.’
‘And what does he intend?’
‘Eventually to seize power himself.’
‘But why not confront him? Hand this information to your grandfather? Ay and the rest would tear him to pieces.’
‘What proof, Mahu? Apart from hushed conversations. And how would I convince God’s Father Ay, not to mention the rest, that I wasn’t a part of Meryre’s plot?’
‘So why did you have Rahmose killed? Meryre will think that I am responsible.’
‘Mahu, in his eyes you and the rest are already guilty. Rahmose was dangerous.’
‘He was an old soldier suffering from fever.’
‘He was dangerous to me, Mahu. God’s Father Ay had singled him out.’
Ankhesenamun paused and closed her eyes.
‘Rahmose, how can I put it, was beginning to have reservations about Meryre’s ambitions.’
‘Of course,’ I whispered. ‘And if he was suborned by Ay, Rahmose might tell God’s Father what the Princess Ankhesenamun had been involved in.’
‘Did I say just God’s Father Ay?’ She smiled, opening her eyes. ‘Or me? No.’ She shook her head. ‘Rahmose was also being courted by his former friends Generals Horemheb and Rameses. They, too, have been busy on their own business.’
I put down the wine cup and placed my face in my hands. What Ankhesenamun had told me made sense. The Royal Circle was breaking apart; the only clasp was Tutankhamun. If he died there would be three factions: the generals, led by Horemheb and Rameses; the great nobles and officials, Ay, Huy, Maya and possibly myself; finally the Atenists, led by Meryre. Each would try and suborn the others. Alliances would be fluid as people changed groups or decided to jump from one camp to another. Nothing was distinct. Horemheb and Rameses had the Memphis regiments, but Ay had Nakhtimin’s troops and the mercenaries around Thebes. Which way would Huy and Maya go? Not to mention Pentju and Sobeck? The latter controlled the gangs of Thebes and would be useful in any attempted coup.
‘So the Shabtis are a figment of your imagination?’
‘Y
es. I portrayed them as fanatics deeply loyal to my father’s memory, acting on their own or controlled by one of the factions in the Royal Circle. I promised Meryre that I would discover if anyone else was involved.’ She blinked prettily. ‘Apart from you.’
‘And what else have you offered?’ I demanded.
‘That you will eventually surrender the Prince into his care.’ Ankhesenamun tapped me on the cheek. ‘Don’t be foolish, Mahu, the only thing I have offered is myself. Meryre nearly choked in his excitement.’
‘And now the Shabtis will disappear?’
‘Naturally. I’ve caused enough chaos. The gardener served his purpose. Meryre believes I am estranged from God’s Father Ay and looking for other allies.’
‘Has he mentioned anything about the Usurper in the Delta?’
She shook her head. ‘Only hints. Once, in his cups, Meryre mused on what would happen if my father returned, but that’s as much as he said. Now, Mahu, you are going to ask why I am telling you this. I have heard the decision of the Royal Circle. You and Meryre are to be sent north to negotiate.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Now, Mahu, I only promised to tell you part of the truth. I’ve shared my little secret so that you will be safe. I’m warning you. Now you know some of what I know, you’ll be wary of Meryre. Be vigilant; you must do whatever you have to.’
‘Of course,’ I whispered. ‘If something happens to me, Tutankhamun becomes more vulnerable, and the more vulnerable he becomes …’
Ankhesenamun pressed her fingers against my forehead. ‘You and I, Mahu, are closely linked to my half-brother. You are the one man my father trusted, even when his brain became fevered and his wits wandered. He entrusted Tutankhamun to you, and in doing so, entrusted me. Of all the hyaenas you are the most loyal. You have no ambition.’ She took her hand away and laughed. ‘Or at least, I think you don’t.’