The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)

by Paul Doherty

  At the Temple of Ptah, Horemheb, amidst a sea of scented petals and puffs of incense, smashed the skull of the woman who had pretended to be Nefertiti, and a number of enemy captains selected for that occasion. The rest of the prisoners, the usurper included, were forced to kneel and watch whilst heralds proclaimed that similar executions would be carried out at Thebes and other cities. The corpses were dragged away by their heels, to be hung from the walls by chains. Horemheb and Ay sacrificed to Ptah, Amun-Ra and the other great gods of Egypt before receiving the final acclamations of the crowd and retiring to the domain of Ankheperkere, the old rambling palace of Pharaoh Tuthmosis III, its towered walls ornamented with carved lions, some black with red manes, others red with black manes. I shivered as I recalled those man-eating beasts in the House of Darkness near the usurper’s camp.

  When we had passed through the lofty gates, the formal celebrations came to an end. I immediately went to greet the young Prince, who seemed delighted at my return. Forgetting all dignity, he leapt into my arms and clasped my face in his little hands, squeezing my cheeks and kissing the end of my nose. He asked if I had brought him a present. Of course I hadn’t, but I said I had and winked quickly at Sobeck to find something appropriate. Ankhesenamun was all flirtatious, gently mocking me with sarcastic comments about the returning hero and did I want her to leap into my arms? Ay broke off from his discussions with Horemheb and gestured at me to approach. I ignored him, shouting for Djarka to take care of the young Prince and keep him out of the sun. Djarka, still looking rather dejected, forced his way through the throng, but Ay and Nakhtimin came between him and the Prince.

  ‘I do not think so, my lord.’ Ay opened his silver filigree fan, shaking it vigorously before his face.

  ‘My lord,’ I retorted, ‘I am the Prince’s protector and guardian. I have now returned to his sacred presence. His safety and security, as you know, are my concern.’

  Ay sighed and stepped closer. ‘There have been changes whilst you have been gone, my lord Mahu; perhaps it’s best if we discuss them away from here.’

  I was going to object, but there again, the courtyard was full of Nakhtimin’s men, foot soldiers in their leather armour and red and white striped head-dresses. They weren’t Neferu, raw recruits, but grizzled veterans whom Nakhtimin must have bribed to leave their fields and return to the ranks.

  ‘Things have certainly changed, God’s Father Ay.’ I smiled. ‘Djarka, follow the Prince wherever he is taken whilst God’s Father Ay has a word with me.’

  That mongoose of a man, that cobra in human flesh, took me through a side door of the palace, along the corridors, the walls on either side decorated from top to bottom with lurid scenes extolling the exploits of Tuthmosis I.

  ‘Very warlike,’ Ay drawled over his shoulder. ‘A great boaster.’

  ‘The way of all flesh,’ I replied.

  Ay walked deeper into the palace. Sometimes I must give the impression that Mahu, the Baboon of the South, is sly and cunning in all things. I am an old man now and I reflect. I have made foolish mistakes, and I did that morning. The ancient palace was full of Ay’s and Nakhtimin’s soldiers. They thronged the courtyards, guarded every entrance and lined the passageways. Ay was preparing to arrest me. By the time we reached the small writing chamber I must have passed at least three hundred well-armed soldiers. Once inside the chamber, Ay was all courteous and hospitable, gesturing that I sit on a camp stool whilst he offered sliced fruits from a silver bowl and filled the goblets of wine himself. He didn’t sit down, but stood over me, staring down rather sadly.

  ‘A great victory, Mahu,’ he murmured. ‘The usurper’s woman has been sacrificed! Her corpse and that of others, dangling over walls or above gates, will send a powerful message to those who wish to plot against the Royal Circle.’

  ‘Will Meryre join her?’ I toasted him with the wine.

  ‘Unfortunately, no.’ Ay ran a finger round the rim of the goblet. ‘About four days after I arrived here,’ he continued, ‘Meryre and his entourage escaped from Colonel Nebamun’s house, seized a barge and disappeared.’

  ‘Are you organising a manhunt?’

  ‘I tried to, but …’ Ay smiled apologetically. ‘We have other things to do than chase will-o’-the-wisps across the desert.’

  ‘And I suppose Lord Tutu and the other Atenists,’ I asked, ‘have also disappeared from the fortress of Buhen?’

  ‘Very clever, my lord Mahu. How on earth did you guess that? Yes, they fled, but they are no real danger. They are exposed as traitors, their armies defeated, their allies in Canaan nothing more than broken reeds.’

  ‘Or a blinded one.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Ay’s face grew sadder. ‘My lord Aziru has been sent back to Canaan as a warning to other princes. Rebels against Egypt will be crushed. He can sit in his tawdry palace like a blind beggar at the gates. He can dream and plot, but he’ll never be a danger again.’

  ‘These changes?’ I asked. ‘Carried out during my absence, when I was working for the good of all?’

  ‘We all do that, my lord Mahu. But I have discussed this with the rest.’ He continued briskly, ‘The Royal Circle is too large. We need to be more businesslike, more united, with a clear chain of command.’

  ‘And so you are going to ask me to retire? You will take the Prince under your protection?’

  Ay placed his wine cup down on the table, steepling his fingers together. ‘You look leaner, Mahu, more sharp-faced. Your foray north has made you more sensitive. Yes, you are correct. Perhaps it’s time, my lord Mahu, that you retired. An opulent mansion? Fertile estates?’ He leaned down. ‘Perhaps you will take a young wife, have a family? Forget the affairs of state?’ Ay lifted the wine cup.

  ‘And Huy and Maya agree with this?’

  ‘They see what has to be done in Egypt.’

  ‘And has the matter been raised with Lord Horemheb?’

  ‘In time, in time.’

  ‘Isn’t it rather dangerous?’ I asked. ‘I am being asked to retire, resign. Who will it be next year? Huy? Or why not Pentju? He’s only a physician.’

  Ay gazed dreamily at me.

  ‘And if I don’t,’ I continued, ‘what will happen then, my lord Ay? Will I be placed under house arrest? Or perhaps there will be an accident? I’ll eat or drink something disagreeable to me.’

  Ay shook his head, tutting under his breath.

  ‘The Royal Circle is not united!’ I snarled back, getting to my feet. ‘It’s dividing into two: Horemheb and the northern army; Lord Ay and the army of the south under his ghost-like brother General Nakhtimin, ably supported by the lords Huy and Maya. Two scales equally balanced, but if Mahu goes into the dark and you have custody of the young Prince Tutankhamun, then the balance tilts very heavily in your favour. Of course,’ I mimicked Ay’s gestures, ‘I will not be retiring, resigning, abdicating, farming or anything else. I will leave this chamber and I shall take the Prince into my care.’

  Ay made to protest, moving towards the door.

  ‘I wouldn’t call the captain of your guard, my lord. I was prepared to sacrifice my life for the safety of our Prince and the well-being of the Two Lands. I entered the enemy camp. Both Sobeck and I gathered information which was of great use to Lord Horemheb.’

  ‘And we are grateful for that,’ Ay purred. ‘Truly we are.’

  ‘I also discovered the usurper’s archives. Or should I say those of Prince Aziru?’

  That faint smile disappeared from Ay’s face. He now leaned against the door, arms behind him, head tilted back. In some ways he reminded me of Nefertiti, his daughter: watchful, careful.

  ‘In the course of a battle,’ I continued, ‘such records could easily be destroyed, but I found them. They are still in my possession. Ah, my lord Ay, General Horemheb hasn’t told you that, has he? But that’s because he doesn’t really know what this leather sack contains. I discovered a letter from you to the usurper. It carries your seal. How does it go? You say that you are writing on behalf o
f the Royal Circle, that you are sending envoys to meet with him, that I will be leaving Thebes by barge and that the messenger who took this letter will provide other necessary details. You close with the sentence, yes, that’s how it goes: “The message is important but the messenger isn’t.” Whom did you send, my lord Ay? Some hapless scribe, some luckless merchant? Or was it one of your mercenaries, armed with a pass and carrying a secret letter which was also his death warrant?’

  ‘I wrote on behalf of the Royal Circle!’ he snapped.

  ‘By whose authority?’ I retorted. ‘We’ll gather the rest and ask when you were given such powers!’

  ‘But the letter was innocuous. It simply declared what was going to happen.’

  ‘I don’t think so, my lord Ay. Your messenger also took details about our journey up the Nile, how we were taking the Prince Tutankhamun to the City of the Aten. Perhaps because of your letter, that attack was launched.’

  ‘I didn’t tell them that. I didn’t want that. I wouldn’t hand my grandson over to a usurper.’

  ‘No, I don’t think you would, but you were, how can I put it, showing the usurper and his chief adviser Prince Aziru where your sympathies lay. Your envoy also carried verbal messages which would sound meaningless to him but very meaningful to Prince Aziru and those advising the usurper. Perhaps an indication that, at a given time, after certain events, you might shift your allegiance. That’s why the messenger was executed: what he carried was more important than his person.’

  Ay lowered his head, staring at me intently.

  ‘That is fanciful nonsense,’ he murmured. ‘No one will believe you.’

  ‘They will certainly listen,’ I replied. ‘I’ll raise the question of why Prince Aziru was blinded and dispatched back to Canaan immediately. You didn’t want him here, did you? You couldn’t have him blabbing before the Royal Circle or trying to barter for his life and security in return for information. Finally, we come to Meryre. Did you organise his escape? And the same for Lord Tutu at Buhen? You wanted them out of the way. You wanted the whole incident conveniently forgotten.’ I sat back on the stool and picked up my wine cup. ‘I also have a prisoner, the priest Khufu. He may yet prove to be a source of interesting information. This is the way my accusations will go. My lord Ay presided over the Royal Circle. One faction, Meryre and the Atenists, posed a serious threat. You know, I know, and Meryre knows how the Shabtis of Akenhaten were merely a façade so that Meryre could act the victim, screaming about how his followers were being assassinated by some secret society loyal to the old order. You didn’t know which way to jump. You fear Horemheb and you don’t really trust Huy and Maya, so you cultivated Meryre, you allowed him to paw your granddaughter and nourish his secret ambitions. You quietly supported them but were not party to them. The usurper appeared in the Delta. Meryre wanted to join him, so he used the excuse of being an envoy from the Royal Circle to travel north. He had already been communicating with the enemy, you know how, sending hidden messages in statues and carvings of the Aten Disc. He demanded my presence, hoping I would take the Prince with me; you supported this, unaware of this daring raid planned to kidnap him. At the same time, you did not oppose Meryre’s demands that the fortress of Buhen be handed over to Lord Tutu’s supporters. You also communicated secretly with Prince Aziru; an ambiguous message, but Aziru would probably be sharp enough to read between the lines. You sat back and waited. If the usurper was defeated you’d soon get rid of Meryre and his faction so as to deal with the new problem, General Horemheb and his victorious regiments. You and Nakhtimin have already begun that, haven’t you? Raising troops and quartering them outside Thebes. Of course, the only fly in the ointment was the possibility that someone might talk, but there again, you can take care of that. Did I say one fly?’ I smiled. ‘I meant two. I am the second. You want custody of the Prince, so it’s time Mahu retired. You daren’t have me murdered; that might raise suspicions, and as you know, I am a hard man to kill. Nor do you want to invoke a blood feud with Sobeck and Djarka or incite the curiosity of General Horemheb.’ I sipped at my wine.

  Ay walked over to me and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. When I glanced up, he was grinning down at me.

  ‘Do you have anything else to say, Mahu?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. You are not thinking clearly. Horemheb and Rameses will only trust you as long as I have custody of the Prince. I am the balance between your two factions. They will have noticed what happened in the courtyard.’ I pointed to the gold collar of office around Ay’s neck. ‘I would wager every piece of jewellery you are wearing that General Horemheb is already discussing matters with General Rameses. How prominent you were in the victory parade. How you insisted on keeping the Prince close to you. How you seemed intent on usurping the agreement of the Royal Circle that I am the Prince’s protector.’

  Ay sat down on a chair, resting his elbow on its arms, fingers before his face.

  ‘What will you do?’ I whispered. ‘Arrest me? Kill me? Force me to retire? Do you think Horemheb is going to accept that?’

  ‘Will you be with me, Mahu?’

  ‘If it’s for the good of the Prince, I’ll sleep with the hyaenas in the desert.’

  Ay threw back his head and laughed.

  ‘Do you know, Mahu, I have always enjoyed our little chats. I am so glad I talked to you first. I do appreciate what you have done, and …’ he laughed softly, ‘and what you know.’

  ‘That’s our little secret,’ I replied. ‘A bond between us. Now,’ I got to my feet, ‘what I propose, my lord Ay,’ I crooked my arm, ‘is that we leave here arm-in-arm, the best of friends, the closest of allies.’

  Ay stretched out his hand.

  ‘Welcome back, Baboon of the South. I agree with what you say. Let’s walk arm-in-arm, smiling to the world. Let’s celebrate our friendship and be ready to meet the Royal Circle.’

  Ay was a rogue, a charlatan, a viper beneath the rock, a cobra basking in the sun. He had a heart as black as night and a wit as sharp as any dagger. He also had a charming insolence, a ready laugh; he was a man who would slip one mask off and another mask on. He was like a gambler, but not the sort who’d throw the knucklebones and weep because he had lost. Win or lose, Ay always smiled as he walked away from the gambling pit, and that time was no different. We strolled out into the passageway. He made me stop to examine a glowing wall painting in brilliant blue, gold and dark blood-red depicting Pharaoh’s victories against a host of vile Asiatics. The horses pranced, their plumes stiff in the breeze, as the chariots charged over hundreds of fallen enemy. So dramatic that the more you looked, the more certain you became that the standards held aloft were now swaying and that you could hear the thrilling blast of the trumpets.

  ‘We are friends, Mahu,’ Ay whispered. ‘Look at this painting and the hieroglyphs beneath. Spell them out for me.’

  ‘User Maa Traa. Sete Eera – the justice of Ra is powerful,’ I translated. ‘He is chosen by Ra.’

  ‘And this?’

  He went through the rest of the hieroglyphs: Kemet for the Black Lands; Deshet for the Red Lands; Tashemau for Upper Egypt; Tahu for Lower Egypt. He was like a teacher taking me around the painting, oblivious to the guards who thronged the corridor. He pointed to the isu, the joint of meat offered in sacrifice after ritual; to the creatures and plants of Egypt, such as Mut the vulture, Ashear the lizard, Awadj the papyrus plant, Nkhd the rush plant.

  ‘What is all this, Mahu?’ He gestured with his hand. ‘The victorious Pharaoh, the plants of Egypt, the Black Land of the Nile and the scorching sands of the desert? It’s all the kingdom of Egypt, that land beloved by the gods, blessed by the sun, washed by the Nile.’ He beat his hand passionately against the wall. ‘To this is my allegiance; this is my soul, my Ka, my dream. I would sacrifice myself, you, my daughter, the Prince and all of the Royal Circle for the sake of Egypt.’

  All cynicism had drained from Ay’s face. His eyes were hard, his lips a thin line. Yet even then, I didn’t trust him.<
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  ‘You look doubtful, Mahu?’

  ‘There is one flaw to your argument, my lord.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Who will decide what is best for Egypt?’

  I was sure he was going to reply, ‘I am Egypt’, just from the way he opened his mouth and leaned closer; then he thought different. He relaxed, smiled, patted me on the shoulder and led me out.

  The courtyard was now empty. Horemheb and Rameses had left with their entourage. Grooms and stable boys were putting away the chariots. A few officers, courtiers and priests lounged by the fountain, dipping their hands into the cool water, splashing their arms and faces. The glory of the occasion was passing, like incense growing faint in the air. I made my farewells to Ay.

  ‘Mahu!’ He shouted me back. ‘You are not staying at the palace?’

  ‘No, my lord. I feel safer with Colonel Nebamun. I would ask for the Prince to be sent back there. Where the Lady Ankhesenamun goes is a matter for you to decide.’

  Ay agreed, and walked away. Nakhtimin stepped out of the shadows and, surrounded by his staff officers, escorted Ay from the temple courtyard. I found Sobeck and Djarka in one of the small gardens overlooking a canal dug in from the Nile. They were throwing pebbles at the lotus blossom floating on its surface.

  ‘An interesting meeting?’ Sobeck asked.

  ‘Meeting my lord Ay is always interesting.’ I smiled. ‘Djarka, how on earth did he get his hands on the Prince?’

  ‘I had no choice.’ My manservant’s dark face looked rather pinched, his cheeks unshaven. His black hair, usually combed straight and carefully oiled, was unwashed, his eyes red-rimmed from dust or lack of sleep. ‘Ay swept into Memphis like a storm wind, soldiers everywhere. All I had was a mercenary corps. Horemheb and Rameses were absent; he soon became cock of the dunghill.’