by Wilbur Smith
She shot Nefer another quick look from under her thick dark lashes. He was gazing at her father, but the moment her glance touched his face his eyes swivelled to her. She tried to make her expression severe and forbidding, but as soon as he smiled her lips twitched in sympathy. He really is as handsome as some of my brothers, she conceded, then took another quick peek. Or perhaps as any of them. She looked back at her lap and thought about it. Then she took another peep just to make certain. Perhaps even more handsome than any of them, even Ruga. Immediately she felt that she had betrayed her eldest brother and qualified her opinion: But in a different kind of way, of course.
She glanced sideways at Ruga: with his beribboned beard and dark brow, he was all warrior. Ruga is a fine-looking man, she thought loyally.
In the ranks opposite, Taita did not seem to be watching her but he missed not a single nuance of the surreptitious exchanges between Nefer and Mintaka. He saw more than that. Lord Trok, Naja's cousin, was standing close behind Apepi's throne, almost within arm's reach of Mintaka. His arms were folded over his chest, and he wore embossed wristlets of solid gold. Over one shoulder was slung a heavy recurved bow, over the other an arrow quiver covered with gold leaf. Around his neck were the gold chains of valour and praise. The Hyksos had adopted Egyptian military honours and decorations as well as their beliefs and customs. Trok was watching the Hyksosian princess with an unfathomable expression.
There was another brief exchange of glances between Mintaka and Nefer, which Trok followed with his dark, brooding gaze. Taita could sense his anger and jealousy. It was as though the hot and oppressive cloud of the khamsin, the terrible Saharan sandstorm, was building up on the desert horizon. I had not foreseen this. Is Trok's interest in Mintaka romantic or political? he wondered. Does he lust for her, or see her merely as a staircase to power? In either case it is dangerous, and something else we must take into account.
The speeches of greeting were coming to an end and nothing of significance had been said: negotiation of the truce would begin in secret session the next day. Both sides were rising from their thrones and exchanging bows and salutations, and the gongs began to beat and the ram's horns to sound again as they withdrew.
Taita took one last look at the Hyksosian ranks. Apepi and his sons disappeared through a gateway guarded by tall granite pillars, topped with the twin cow heads of the goddess. With a final backward look Mintaka followed her father and brothers. Lord Trok followed her closely, and also shot a last glance at Pharaoh Nefer Seti over his shoulder. Then he, too, strode out between the pillars. As he did so the arrows in his quiver rattled softly, and their coloured fletchings caught Taita's eye. Unlike the workaday leather war quiver with its stopper to prevent the arrows spilling out, this ceremonial one was covered in gold leaf, and the barrel end was open so that the fletched tips of the arrows protruded above his shoulder. The feathers were red and green, and something evil stirred in Taita's memory. Trok marched away through the gateway, leaving Taita gazing after him.
--
Taita returned to the stone cell in the temple annex that had been allocated to him for the duration of the peace conference. He drank a little sherbet, for it had been hot in the courtyard, then went to the window in the thick stone wall. A flock of bright-coloured weavers and tits hopped and twittered on the sill, and on the flagged terrace below. While he fed them with crushed dhurra millet, and they sat on his shoulders or pecked from his cupped hands, Taita thought about the events of the morning and began to piece together all the disparate perceptions he had garnered during the opening ceremony.
His amusement and pleasure at what had transpired between Mintaka and Nefer were forgotten as he went on to think of Trok. He considered the man's relationship to the Hyksosian princess, and the complications that might ensue when he tried to force through his plans for the young couple.
His train of thought was interrupted as he noticed a stealthy shadow creeping along the edge of the terrace outside the window. It was one of the temple cats, gaunt, scarred and flayed in patches with mange. It was stalking the birds that hopped on the flags outside the window, picking up the spilled grains of dhurra millet.
Taita's pale eyes slitted as he concentrated on the cat. The old torn stopped and peered around suspiciously. Suddenly its back arched and every hair on its body stood erect as it stared at an empty spot on the stone flags in front of it. It uttered a spitting shriek, spun round and raced away down the terrace until it came to a palm tree. It flew up the tall trunk until it reached the crowning top fronds where it clung pathetically. Taita threw another handful of grain to the birds and picked up his thoughts.
Even during their long ride together, Trok had kept his war quiver firmly stoppered and it had not occurred to Taita to compare one of the arrows it contained to those he had found at the site of Pharaoh's murder. How many other Hyksosian officers had red and green fletchings he could only guess, but it was probably a great number, though each would have his unique signet. There was only one way to connect Trok to the death of Pharaoh Tamose, and through him to implicate his cousin Naja. That was to study one of his arrows. How to do this without arousing his suspicions, he wondered.
Once again he was distracted from his thoughts. There were voices in the passage outside the door of his cell. One was young and clear, and he recognized it at once. The others were gruff, pleading and protesting.
'Lord Asmor has given specific orders-'
'Am I not Pharaoh? Are you not bound to obey me? I wish to visit the Magus, and you dare not prevent me. Stand aside, both of you.' Nefer's voice was strong and commanding. The uncertain timbre of puberty was gone, and he spoke with the tones of a man.
The young falcon is spreading his wings and showing his talons, Taita thought, and turned from the window, dusting the millet powder from his hands, to greet his king.
Nefer jerked aside the curtain that covered the doorway, and stepped through. Two armed bodyguards followed him helplessly, crowding into the doorway behind him. Nefer ignored them and faced Taita with his hands on his hips.
Taita, I am much displeased with you.' Nefer said.
'I am distraught.' Taita made a deep obeisance. 'In what way have I given you offence?'
'You have been avoiding me. Whenever I send for you they tell me that you are gone on a secret mission to the Hyksos, or that you have returned to the desert, or some other such moonlit tale.' Nefer scowled to mask his delight at being with the old man again. 'Then suddenly you pop up from nowhere, as though you had never left, but still you ignore me. You did not even look in my direction during the ceremony. Where have you been?'
'Majesty, there are long ears about.' Taita glanced at the hovering guards.
Immediately Nefer turned upon them wrathfully. 'I have ordered you more than once to be gone. If you do not go this instant I will have you both strangled.'
They withdrew unhappily, but not too far. Taita could still hear their murmurs and the clink of their weapons as they waited in the passage beyond the curtain. He jerked his head at the window and whispered, 'I have a skiff at the jetty. Would Your Majesty like to go fishing?' Without waiting for his reply, Taita hitched up the skirts of his chiton and hopped on to the window-sill. He glanced over his shoulder. Nefer had forgotten his anger and was grinning delightedly as he ran across the cell to join him. Taita jumped down on to the terrace outside and Nefer followed him nimbly. Like truants from the classroom, they sneaked across the terrace and down through the date palms to the river.
There were guards at the jetty, but they had received no orders to restrain their young Pharaoh. They saluted and stood aside respectfully as the pair scrambled into the small fishing skiff. Each took up a paddle and shoved off. Taita steered into one of the narrow passages in the banks of waving papyrus, and within minutes they were alone on the swamp waters, hidden from the banks in the maze of secret waterways. 'Where have you been, Taita?' Nefer dropped the regal air. 'I have missed you so.'
'I will tell you
everything,' Taita assured you, 'but first you should tell me all that has happened to you.'
They found a quiet mooring in a tiny papyrus-enclosed lagoon, and Nefer related everything that had happened to him since they had last been able to talk in private. He had been held on Naja's orders in a gilded prison, without being able to see any of his old friends, not even Meren or his own sisters. His only distractions had been his studies of the scrolls from the palace library, his chariot drills and arms practice under the coaching of the old warrior, Hilto.
'Naja will not even let me go out hawking or fishing without Asmor to wet-nurse me,' he complained bitterly.
He had not known that Taita was to be at the welcoming ceremony in the temple courtyard until he had seen him there. He had believed him to be at Gebel Nagara. At his first opportunity, when Naja and Asmor were locked in the truce conclave with Apepi, Trok and the other Hyksosian warlords, he had browbeaten his guards and blustered his way out of the quarters to which he had been confined to come to Taita.
'Life is so dull without you, Taita. I think I might die of boredom. Naja must let us be together again. You should cast a spell on him.'
'It is something we can consider,' Taita avoided the suggestion adroitly, 'but now we have little time. Naja will send the whole army out to search for us once he finds that we are missing from the temple. I must tell you my own news.' Rapidly, in simple outline, he told Nefer what had happened to him since their last meeting. He explained the relationship between Naja and Trok, and described how he had visited the scene of Pharaoh Tamose's death and the discovery he had made there.
Nefer listened without interruption, but when Taita spoke of the death of his father his eyes filled with tears. He looked away, coughed and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.
'Now you can appreciate the danger you are in,' Taita told him. 'I am certain that Naja had much to do with Pharaoh's murder, and the closer we come to the proof of it, the greater that danger becomes.'
'One day I will avenge my father.' Nefer vowed, and his voice was cold and hard.
'And I will help you do it,' Taita promised, 'but now we must protect you from Naja's malice.'
'How do you plan to do that, Taita? Can we escape from Egypt as we planned before?'
'No.' Taita shook his head. 'Naturally I have considered that course, but Naja has us too securely imprisoned here. If we tried to run for the frontier again we would have a thousand chariots hot behind us.'
'What can we do, then? You are in danger also.'
'No. I have convinced Naja that he cannot succeed without my help.' He described the false divination ceremony at the temple of Osiris, and how Naja believed that Taita could share with him the secret of eternal life.
Nefer grinned at the Magus' cunning. 'So what do you plan?'
'We must wait until the right time either to escape or rid the world of Naja's evil presence. In the meantime I will protect you as best I can.'
'How will you do that?'
'Naja sent me to Apepi to arrange this peace conference.'
'Yes, I know that you went to Avaris. They told me that when I demanded to see you.'
'Not to Avaris, but to Apepi's battle headquarters at Bubasti. Once Apepi had agreed to the meeting with Naja, I was able to convince him that they should seal the treaty by a marriage between you and Apepi's daughter. Once you are under the protection of the Hyksosian king, Naja's knife will be blunted. He could not risk plunging the land back into civil war by voiding the treaty.'
'Apepi is going to give me his daughter as a wife?' Nefer stared at him in wonder. 'The one in the red dress whom I saw at the ceremony this morning?'
'Yes.' Taita agreed. 'Mintaka is her name.'
'I know her name,' Nefer assured him vehemently. 'She is named after the tiny star in the belt of the Hunter constellation.'
'Yes, that's her.' Taita nodded. 'Mintaka, the ugly one with the big nose and funny mouth.'
'She is not ugly!' Nefer flared at him, springing to his feet so that he almost overturned the skiff and dumped them in the mud of the lagoon. 'She is the most beautiful ...' When he saw the expression on Taita's face, he subsided. 'I mean, she is quite pleasing to look at.' He grinned ruefully. 'You always catch me out. But you must admit to me that she's beautiful, Taita.'
'If you like big noses, and funny mouths.'
Nefer picked up a dead fish from the bilges and threw it at his head. Taita ducked. 'When can I speak to her?' he asked, trying to sound as though it was a request of no real importance to him. 'She does Speak Egyptian, doesn't she?'
'She speaks it as well as you do,' Taita assured him. Then when can I meet her? You can arrange it for me.' Taita had anticipated this request. 'You could invite the princess and her suite to a hunt here in the swamps, and perhaps a picnic afterwards.'
'I will send Asmor to invite her this very afternoon,' Nefer decided, but Taita shook his head.
'He would go to the Regent first, and Naja would immediately see the danger. He would never allow it, and once he was alerted he would do everything in his power to prevent you coming together.'
'What shall we do, then?' Nefer looked agitated. 'I will go to her myself,' Taita promised, and at that moment there were faint shouts from different directions in the papyrus swamps around them, and the splash of paddles. 'Asmor has found out that you are missing, and has sent his hounds to bring you in,' Taita said. 'It proves how difficult it will be to elude him. Now, listen carefully for we have little time before we will be separated again.'
They spoke quickly, making arrangements to exchange messages in any emergency and to put other plans into place, but all the time the shouting and splashing was growing louder, drawing nearer. Within minutes a light fighting galley packed with armed men burst through the screen of papyrus, thrust onward by twenty oars. A shout went up from the command deck: 'There is Pharaoh! Steer for the skiff!'
--
The Hyksos had set up a practice field on the alluvial plain abutting the papyrus swamp of the river. When Taita came down from the temple, two battalions of Apepi's guards were exercising at arms under a cloudless sky from which the morning sun blazed down. Two hundred fully armed men were running relay races through the swamp, toiling waist deep through the mud, while squadrons of chariots performed complicated evolutions out on the plain, from columns of four forming a single line ahead, then fanning out into line abreast. Dust swirled out behind the racing wheels, the lance tips shot beams of sunlight and the brightly coloured pennants danced in the wind.
Taita stopped by the butts to watch for a while as the line of fifty archers shot at a hundred cubits, each man loosing five rapid arrows. Then they raced forward to the straw man-shaped targets, retrieved their arrows and shot again at the next line of targets two hundred cubits further on. The flail of the instructor fell heavily on the back of any man who was slow to cross the open ground or who missed the mark when he shot. The bronze studs on the leather thongs left spots of bright blood where they bit through the linen tunics.
Taita walked on unchallenged. As he passed, the matched pairs of lancers who were practising the standard thrusts and blocks with warlike shouts, broke off their bouts and fell silent. They followed him with a respectful gaze. His was a fearsome reputation. Only after he had passed did they engage each other again.
At the far end of the field, on the short green grass beside the swamp, a single chariot was speeding through a course of markers and targets. It was one of the scout chariots, with spoked wheels and bodywork of woven bamboo, very fast, and light enough for two men to lift and carry over an obstacle.
It was drawn by a pair of magnificent bay mares from the personal string of King Apepi. Their hoofs threw up lumps of turf as they spun round the markers at the end of the course and came back at full gallop with the light chariot bouncing and swerving behind them.
Lord Trok was driving, leaning forward with the reins wrapped around his wrists. His beard fluttered in the wind, his moustaches and
the coloured ribbons were blown back over his shoulders as he urged the horses on with wild shouts. Taita had to acknowledge his skill: even at such speed he had the pair under perfect control, running a tight line between the markers, giving the archer on the footplate beside him the best chance at the targets as they sped past.
Taita leaned on his staff as he watched the chariot come on at full gallop. There was no mistaking the slim straight figure and royal bearing. Mintaka was dressed in a pleated crimson skirt that left her knees bare. The cross-straps of her sandals were wound high around her shapely calves. She wore a leather guard on her left wrist, and a hard leather cuirass moulded to the shape of her small round breasts. The leather would protect her tender nipples from the whip of the bowstring as she loosed her arrows at the targets as they sped by.
Mintaka recognized Taita, called a greeting and waved her bow over her head. Her dark hair was covered by a fine-woven net and it bounced on her shoulders at each jolt of the chariot. She wore no makeup but the wind and exertion had rouged her cheeks and put a sparkle in her eyes. Taita could not imagine Heseret riding as lance-bearer in a war chariot, but Hyksosian attitudes towards women were different.
'Hathor smile upon you, Magus!' She laughed as Trok brought the chariot to a broadsiding halt in front of him. He knew that Mintaka had adopted the gentle goddess as her patron, rather than one of the monstrous Hyksosian deities.
'May Horus love you for ever, Princess Mintaka.' Taita returned her blessing. It was a mark of his affection that he accorded her the royal title when he would not acknowledge her father as king.
She jumped down in the dust cloud and ran to embrace him, reaching up to throw her arms around his neck so that the hard edge of her cuirass dug into his ribs. She felt him wince and stepped back. 'I have just shot five heads straight,' she boasted.