The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)

by Paul Doherty

  I went and sat on a rocky plinth, gazing up at Djarka.

  ‘I wonder, Djarka, what Generals Horemheb and Rameses would make of these paintings. They’d quickly realise that the Apiru are the descendants of the shepherd kings, the allies of the cursed Hyksos. That they present a great danger to Egypt, with their notions of One God, of a Messiah, of being a chosen people. They’d declare war on the Apiru. They’d exterminate them as well as launch the most ferocious campaigns in Canaan to wipe out your people root and branch. Did you know of this?’

  Djarka went across and picked up his quiver of arrows and his powerful composite bow.

  ‘What are you going to do, Djarka? Kill me? Are you frightened I’ll send a message to General Horemheb in Memphis or the priests of Amun in Thebes? About this sacred place, where your people used to stop as they crossed Sinai into Egypt? A place where they could recall the deeds of the past and bury their dead? That’s why Meryre and Lord Tutu came here! I don’t know whether they are of your tribe; if not, they are still prime examples of how the ideas of you people can suborn the souls of even the most educated Egyptians. This is what Lord Ay sent Nakhtimin to discover. What do you want to do with it, Djarka?’

  Djarka plucked the string of his bow. ‘What will you do, my lord?’ He stepped back so his face remained hidden in the shadows.

  ‘I am going to lose my temper if I think my friend, a man I regard as a son, is thinking of killing me.’

  ‘I don’t threaten you,’ Djarka stepped into the pool of light, ‘but I beg you by all that’s sacred …’

  ‘To destroy it? Of course I will. This valley is now polluted. It is only a matter of time before one of my merry boys amongst the mercenaries babbles about these caves, and how the Lord Mahu and Djarka took a great interest in one of them. Sooner or later General Rameses will send his own troops here, and they’ll comb the valleys till they find it. So, Djarka, put down that bow and bring as many oil skins as we can spare.’

  We worked hurriedly. By early evening we had soaked that cave and all it contained: the mummies, the corpses of Tutu and his companions, and above all, those paintings. We threw in torches and the valley side burst into flame, the fire leaping out, burning the gorse and bushes around. Black columns of smoke curled across the valley before rising up against the dark blue sky. I never stayed to see how effective that fire was; I was eager to return to the camp and prepare for the next morning’s march. The troops were restive, desperate to be gone, tired, as one of them shouted, of the dead and the hideous night prowlers.

  I redoubled the watch. My guards had reported sightings of a huge hyaena pack led by a fearsome brute; the men had nicknamed it Seth, as it showed little fear of fire or our weapons. The presence of so much flesh, the sweet smell of the cooking and the lure of fresh water had stirred them into a killing frenzy. During the third watch of the night the entire hyaena pack attacked the camp. If I were superstitious, I would have thought the beasts were possessed by some evil demon: they struck skilfully and cunningly. They decided the gate was the weak point, and exploited the gaps between the carts. In their first assault they concentrated on two guards, leaping on to the carts, tearing them down almost before the alarm could be raised. The gap they created allowed the others to penetrate the camp. I was woken by screams, by the braying of conch horns, men shouting and yelling. I burst out of my tent, Djarka behind me, and glimpsed the hideous shapes. They didn’t so much attack us as try and force their way through to the horse lines, which provided easier prey. The sounds and sights were horrendous. Horses maddened by fear broke their traces, some pounding through the camp, others finding a gap out into the desert where others of the pack were waiting. It was a night of searing screams and hot spurting blood. The hyaenas were cunning. They would attack any man by himself but kept well clear of those sensible enough to organise themselves into a circle or square bristling with lances, shields and the sharp barbed points of our archers.

  We lost six men that night and about twenty horses. Six more animals had to be destroyed later, and it took us about an hour to clear the camp. We killed at least eight of the pack, including the leader, but they’d got what they came for. I decided to break camp immediately and flee that place. By dawn we were already on the march, leaving the hyaenas the victors of the field, hoping their kills of the previous night would distract them for a while. We abandoned many of our chariots and only stopped to distribute water when the noonday heat became too intense. We marched by day with a short rest at night; the only way to calm the men and impose any sort of order was to put as much distance between ourselves and the Valley of the Grey Dawn as possible.

  After four days of forced marching the men were grey with exhaustion, and our beasts began to flounder, but even the most anxious amongst the standard-bearers conceded that the danger was behind us.

  We rested at an oasis where a huge stela of Tuthmosis II boasted how this place was in the power of Egypt and its water belonged to Pharaoh. We were so thirsty, hot and tired, we couldn’t have cared if the Devourers from the Underworld had owned it. We took our rest and counted our losses: at least two dozen men over all and about thirty of our beasts. We continued our march in some semblance of order, alarmed by the growing interest of desert wanderers, who had learned that something had happened and realised our strength was considerably weakened. I ordered the men to wear battle harnesses and to advance as if expecting attack. The desert wanderers took notice of this and disappeared. Now and again they would reappear to dog our flanks, looking for any weaknesses or stragglers.

  Five weeks after leaving the Valley of the Grey Dawn, we reached the rocky, barren expanse leading to the eastern cliffs and down to the City of the Aten. We entered the city at dawn, and even then I knew something was wrong. The streets were busy enough, the markets preparing for the day, but dark glances and mutterings showed our presence was not appreciated. The palace was heavily fortified and defended. Nebamun was more interested in informing us about what had occurred in the city than asking what had happened out in the Red Lands. I immediately demanded to see the Prince. Once I had satisfied myself about his health and safety, I met with Nebamun and his officers out in the garden. We sat in a circle under the shade of a sycamore tree. Both Djarka and I had bathed and shaved, washing away the dirt and dust. I felt so tired, my limbs ached.

  ‘I have talked to my men,’ the old colonel began. ‘They have described your expedition to that place of slaughter.’

  ‘My lord Ay and the Royal Circle,’ I replied, ‘will be informed soon enough.’

  Nebamun half smiled at the snub, though his staff officers glowered at me. One of them spoke up.

  ‘We lost good men and horses.’

  ‘Horses die!’ I snapped. ‘Whilst it is the duty of the Pharaoh’s soldiers to lay down their lives if necessary.’

  ‘What did you find?’ Nebamun persisted. ‘Were such deaths necessary? They talked about a hyaena pack possessed by demons, of skeletons, of a hideous slaughter? How you set fire to a cave high up on the side of the valley.’

  ‘As I have said,’ I bit into a sweet grape, ‘I shall inform Lord Ay.’

  ‘He has already sent dispatches.’

  ‘I have seen them,’ I said. ‘My scribes had them ready. More of the same: don’t do this, don’t do that. What I want to know, Colonel, is how safe is this city?’

  ‘Lord Ay and his Royal Circle,’ Nebamun turned aggressive, ‘disapproved of your expedition, as did Generals Horemheb and Rameses. They could not see the point; the Prince and the Royal Household were left vulnerable.’

  ‘In which case, Colonel,’ I retorted, ‘I have more confidence in you than they do. Now, enough of bandying words. The city?’

  ‘The city seethes with unrest,’ Nebamun replied. ‘There have been attacks on officials and some of our soldiers. I have cancelled all leave to go into the beer shops or marketplace; gangs gather outside the palace gates.’

  ‘What do they want?’

  ‘A
ssurances that the city will be safe, that you, my lord, and, of course, His Highness, do not desert them. They talk about their livelihood, about their loyalty to Egypt. They have not moved here to live in a city which is going to be left to die.’

  ‘But they are right. You know, Colonel, as I do, for it is common knowledge, that once Lord Ay has settled Thebes, the Prince will return to marry the Princess Ankhesenamun and be crowned Lord of the Two Lands.’

  ‘How dangerous is this unrest?’ Djarka asked.

  Nebamun spread his hands. ‘The occasional attack, noisy encounters, rocks hurled. We are finding it more and more difficult to bring produce into the markets. They would have attacked you if it was not for your military escort. My lord Mahu, we should abandon the city, leave as soon as possible.’

  I thought of the treasures, my own possessions, the chest of secret documents buried in my private garden.

  ‘I propose we abandon everything,’ Nebamun insisted. ‘The war barges are ready. We could be gone within the day, let the city rot.’

  ‘So, Colonel, you have also received messages from General Horemheb. How is he?’

  ‘He wants the city to die and the memory of Aten to be forgotten,’ one of Nebamun’s officers declared cheekily.

  ‘I will think about what you say.’

  Djarka and I returned to our quarters. The Prince was sleeping. Ankhesenamun and Amedeta walked languorously into the room. They must have been testing certain perfumes, for their fragrance hung about like incense. They looked resplendent in shimmering jewellery. Ankhesenamun’s speech was slightly slurred; both had been drinking deeply.

  ‘Uncle Mahu,’ she lisped, ‘welcome back. We did miss you, didn’t we, Amedeta?’

  The lady-in-waiting smiled at me with her eyes. Ankhesenamun tiptoed towards me and touched my lips.

  ‘They are dry and cracked and not for kissing, are they, Amedeta? You should really take more care.’ She simpered at me like a cat, then walked away, glancing over her shoulder, an impudent, insolent smile on her face. ‘You should take more care, Uncle Mahu, and do what Grandfather asks.’

  ‘What is she implying?’ Djarka whispered, as he kicked the door shut behind her. Usually he would have been impatient to be away. During the last days of the expedition Mert had become ill with a slight fever, which had made her drowsy. As soon as we arrived in the palace, Djarka had asked for Pentju’s help; the physician had examined her and said it was nothing that two days’ rest and cups of pure water wouldn’t cure. ‘My lord,’ Djarka insisted, ‘the Lady Ankhesenamun was sending you warnings.’

  I broke from my reverie. ‘Yes, yes, she was! Stay there!’

  I went out into my garden and into the cypress grove. One tree I’d carefully marked. I pushed away the boulder and clawed at the earth. The chest was there, but the lock was broken. Inside, nothing. I knelt and cursed. All the documents I had found in the usurper’s camp had gone. I tossed the chest away and tried to control the surge of fear. Ankhesenamun and Amedeta must have found and destroyed them.

  ‘Are they gone?’

  I whirled round. Djarka stood at the edge of the grove.

  ‘Of course they are! Which means Lord Ay must be plotting.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My removal, even my death. The Royal Circle is shrinking. Meryre, Tutu, General Rahmose and the Atenists have gone. Horemheb and Rameses are busy playing soldiers in Memphis. Maya and Huy? Well, they can be bought. Sobeck is busy about his own affairs, so you and I are the next to go. Ay has one ambition, to have Tutankhamun crowned whilst he himself becomes the real power in Egypt. He wants this city to be abandoned, the Atenists destroyed. He wants to forget the past and concentrate on the future.’ I got to my feet. ‘He would have had me arrested earlier but he wasn’t strong enough, whilst I had the proof of his treason. Now that’s gone.’

  ‘Horemheb and Rameses would protect you.’

  ‘They can be bought, as can the rest. Lord Ay will be very clever. A new day dawns for Egypt. Mahu is part of the past, so let’s forget him.’

  ‘My lord Mahu, my lord Mahu.’ A servant came hurrying up. ‘Colonel Nebamun demands to see you.’

  Nebamun was waiting in one of the small courtyards. His men had brought in a prisoner, one of those wandering holy men, a gaunt creature with stick-like arms and legs, his skin blackened by the sun, his lean face pitted with scars and holes. Slightly demented, he showed no fear of the soldiers.

  ‘We found him outside the palace,’ Nebamun declared. ‘We have been wanting to take him for days. A self-declared prophet.’

  ‘A voice from the east,’ the man shouted. ‘A voice from the west. A voice from the north and the south.’

  ‘Whose voice?’ I yelled back.

  The man drew himself up, hitching the dirty kirtle around his waist. He grasped the staff he was leaning on. One of Nebamun’s men kicked it from his hand, but the self-proclaimed prophet chose to ignore this. Instead he advanced on me, one bony finger pointed, the nail coated in dirt.

  ‘The Voice of Devastation!’ he declared. ‘And listen to this voice. So say the Gods. I abhor this eastern land. I will not enter this place of destruction. The offerings you bring are detestable to me. I will pass through it. I will not stay. Fire followed by dust, the voice proclaims, the city is doomed.’

  ‘And who are you?’ I asked.

  ‘I am a swallow. I am a swallow,’ he replied. ‘A messenger of the Scorpion Goddess. I bring secrets from the Fields of Rushes. I have announced this city to be doomed.’

  ‘Who paid you?’ I asked, grasping the man’s finger and bending it. The prophet broke off his lamentations. I kept twisting the finger; he screamed with pain and fell to his knees.

  ‘I have not been paid, my lord. I take my staff and sweep the sky. I see visions: this city is doomed.’

  I gazed into his mad eyes and smelled the beer heavy on his breath. ‘If it is doomed,’ I declared, ‘then you had best leave. Colonel Nebamun, throw him into the river!’

  The uprising occurred that night. I’m not too sure if Meryre’s agents were active. The leaders were Marunet and Pera, two merchants who’d made a fortune in the alabaster mines. They’d planned to seize the Prince, hold him hostage and issue their demands to the Royal Circle. The first proof of their intention was slingshots, which sent our guards spinning from the walls, followed by a hail of arrows. A wooden pillar taken from a house and placed in a cart was used to force the gates, but they were beaten off just as the sun rose. I watched from one of the towers as our archers leaned over the parapet and dispatched the attackers. Corpses sprawled in blood, pierced with arrows; the skulls of others were crushed by our slingers. My view from the tower provided little comfort: already smoke and flames could be seen from many quarters of the city.

  ‘The mob intend to lay siege to us; we have no choice but to withdraw,’ Nebamun rasped.

  I asked for food and wine to be brought. I ate and drank watching the attackers withdraw back into the side streets off the main avenue leading down to the palace. Occasionally, groups of armed men would re-emerge to loose a few shafts before retreating into the shadows. At the ninth hour Marunet and Pera sent a herald in the name of the so-called Council of the City, an impudent fellow who swaggered up to the gate waving his sword as if he was an officer. He demanded entrance. I let him in, but had him arrested.

  ‘Why?’ he spluttered.

  ‘Treason!’ I replied.

  He was not so arrogant when we tortured him. My mercenaries began to skin his legs and arms, so he agreed to confess. He provided the names of the city leaders and let something slip which chilled my heart: the envoy, I forget his name, protested how their actions had the backing of the palace.

  ‘Which palace?’ I asked.

  ‘Why, this palace,’ the man spat out, his lips covered in blood. Eventually I was convinced that he had told me all he could. I ordered the guard to execute him and toss his head from the walls.

  I stormed out of the House of Chai
ns and up to the women’s quarters. Ankhesenamun and her fellow demon Amedeta were in the inner chamber, sitting on a double stool. They’d heard about the uprising and the ensuing chaos, yet they were examining one another’s fingernails as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  ‘Why, Uncle Mahu.’ Ankhesenamun raised her head. ‘You look troubled. Are you worried? I did tell you we should leave here.’ I could have slapped her face. Amedeta sat cross-legged next to her, cat eyes smiling.

  ‘My documents?’

  ‘Uncle Mahu, what are you talking about?’

  ‘You know what I am talking about.’

  I raised my hand and stood back, shouting for my guards. They burst into the chamber, swords drawn. The two minxes sprang to their feet. Ankhesenamun protested at such an intrusion.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I soothed. ‘You are safe.’

  I told the mercenaries to search the chamber. Ankhesenamun and her fellow bitch screamed abuse. The outburst brought a servant running; at the sight of my guards’ drawn swords, he hastily withdrew. I told the guard to search everywhere. Ankhesenamun and Amedeta sat back on the stool, resigned to what was happening. From outside rose shouts and cries as the rebels renewed their attack. I watched my mercenaries, robbers and plunderers to a man, strip the chamber and beyond. At first I thought Ankhesenamun had been too cunning; in the end she proved to be stupid. I found the documents I was looking for in the false bottom of a large wooden chest: letters from her grandfather containing information and news about what was happening in Thebes, and what she had to do here.