Saved by Her Enemy Warrior

by Greta Gilbert

  In no time, she could have Intef and his three co-conspirators standing beneath executioners’ spears.

  Pharaoh would be avenged and Aya redeemed.

  And Intef would be dead.

  Finally, the tears began to fall. She could not do it. He had lied to her, he had betrayed her body and soul, yet she could not bear the thought of his death. She hated him and she never wished to see him again, but she did not wish to live in a world without him.

  * * *

  It was like watching a pack of hyenas eviscerating a fresh carcase. Intef stood at the entrance to the first unfinished chamber watching his fellow tomb raiders begin their pillaging in earnest. They prowled about the room in a kind of frenzy, seizing upon the treasures and tossing them into piles.

  ‘Look at this slingshot!’ Huni remarked, gazing in wonder at the solid gold weapon. ‘It looks as though it should be adorning some rich woman’s hair!’

  ‘Give me that,’ said Den, grabbing the object and shoving it beneath his kilt. ‘I do far more hunting than you do.’

  ‘Let us not forget our purpose, Brothers,’ Intef uttered, though for the moment even he could not remember quite what that was.

  Intef saw Ranofer admiring himself in a shining copper shield. ‘It is so clear,’ Ranofer said.

  Intef gazed into the polished copper and drew a breath. The image of himself was the clearest he had ever seen, yet had somehow never been murkier.

  What had happened to the handsome youth with the luminous eyes and hopeful grin? He was gone—replaced by this mirthless wrinkled man, whose lips stretched into a soulless frown.

  Intef adjusted the angle of the shield, hoping to catch the sparkle in his eyes, but they remained dull and crooked, for they were the eyes of a thief and a liar. A man who betrayed the ones he cared about the most.

  He handed the shield back to Ranofer. ‘It will be worth dozens of deben melted down,’ he said.

  ‘Melted down? I plan to keep it,’ Ranofer remarked.

  Intef sat on the floor of the unfinished chamber, glad that Aya was nowhere near. When he had left her inside the false chamber, he feared he might never see her again. He had also prayed for it.

  His stomach felt hollow, as if a hole had opened up inside it.

  ‘A golden hilt, by the gods!’ Den shouted.

  Intef imagined Aya scrambling up the tunnel and out into the daylight. Which way would she run? Would she disappear into the hills, or would she run directly to the guards and tell them that they had been tricked?

  ‘Look at this saddle,’ remarked Huni. ‘It is as red as the desert.’

  If the latter, then the guards would soon be upon them and Intef and his fellow tomb raiders would have nothing to do but to await their own deaths.

  ‘Ha!’ Intef laughed and Den shot him a look.

  ‘What is so funny?’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘It is true, then,’ mused Den. ‘Nine days inside the tomb has driven you mad.’

  ‘Five days, Den! Only five!’ shouted Intef madly.

  Den and Huni exchanged a look.

  Intef laughed. Perhaps he was mad. He certainly could no longer count properly, nor did it seem was he in control of his fate. That was in Aya’s hands and he prayed that she would have mercy. Still, he would accept whatever punishment she delivered, for she had been right about him from the beginning: he was a dirty, miserable thief.

  The hole was growing larger. He needed to find something to fill it. ‘I will return shortly,’ he told his fellow thieves, grabbing his torch.

  He headed for the main chamber and turned into the first storage room, searching for an amphora of beer. He lunged towards the shelves, stumbling on one of the chests.

  His leg hit hard against the wood and he slammed down on to the ground. Pain ripped through him and he laughed bitterly.

  Good. He wanted it to hurt. He touched the wound on his leg to discover it wet with blood. Even better. He wanted to bleed until all that was left of him was a heap of drained flesh.

  He reached out and grabbed the closest amphora he could find. He ripped off the seal and took a long draught, only to discover he had opened the sacred wine. He closed his eyes. His betrayal of her could not be any worse. He could not be any more loathsome.

  Yes, he could.

  He tilted the amphora to his lips and drank until he could drink no more. He could feel the liquid spilling down his cheeks. Wine was much more potent than beer and thank the gods for that, for his mood was already improving.

  Still, he could not seem to get her last words out of his mind. ‘I am not yours and I never will be.’

  Well, what had he expected? He had not only betrayed her, he had done so to her face.

  He took another long gulp of wine. If he had only kept better track of the days, he could have got her out of the tomb before the men had arrived.

  Perhaps he had not wanted time to pass. Maybe he had wanted more hours with her and simply wished them into existence. Whatever the reason, he had been a fool. Now not only would they be parted, but she would loathe him for ever.

  ‘I am not yours and I never will be.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Aya heard the men’s voices close. They were dragging a horde of weapons into the false chamber atop one of Pharaoh’s larger bed sheets. The cache was so heavy that they had to pause several times to rest as they dragged it to the base of the ramp.

  ‘What is the matter, Sobek?’ asked Den. ‘Did you not expect you would have to share?’

  Aya wiped her tears. ‘Not at all.’

  Ranofer gave Aya a gentle pat on the head. ‘You will not come away with everything you wished for, but we are not unreasonable men. If you carry your load, you will have your share. Come, see if you can lift this pile of daggers.’

  Aya did not respond. It was one thing to witness the robbery of Pharaoh’s tomb, it was another to aid in its plunder.

  ‘I suppose you are right,’ said Ranofer, chuckling. ‘If we can hardly drag it down the hall, how could you possibly do it?’

  The men departed, returning with another sheet filled with goods. Where was Intef? Aya dared not ask. Soon all the most valuable contents of both unfinished chambers lay on sheets at the base of the ramp.

  ‘We are going to need to fashion a litter for all this,’ Huni observed.

  ‘I think I saw a bed we can use for the rails,’ said Den.

  ‘Come, Sobek,’ Ranofer said, motioning to her. ‘Let us find a load that might be suitable for you.’

  Arriving in the main chamber, the men began opening Pharaoh’s garment chests one by one. ‘Well, look here!’ Ranofer exclaimed, holding up Tausret’s finest beaded net dress. ‘Is this not golden thread?’

  He handed the garment to Aya and she remembered the last time Pharaoh had worn the dress. It had been at the last Festival of Min. Tausret had entered the open courtyard at nighttime and the torches made the delicate threads of the net sparkle as she walked, like sun glinting off a spider’s golden web.

  Aya clutched the dress to her chest, as if the memory itself depended on her preserving the garment.

  ‘And look at this belt!’ Ranofer exclaimed, holding up a carnelian-studded belt of the finest white leather. He draped it over Aya’s hands.

  He continued in that manner until all of Pharaoh’s most expensive garments were hanging over Aya’s arms. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

  ‘Come, I know the royal jewellery is somewhere near.’ They crossed to another storage room and soon Ranofer and the others were rifling through several nested boxes. Aya looked away as the men lifted the golden beaded pectorals and elaborate rings and armbands from Pharaoh’s most sacred stores. She felt the urge to vomit.

  ‘What is wrong, Sobek?’ asked Ranofer.

  ‘I find myself in need of a drink,�
�� replied Aya.

  ‘As do I,’ Den seconded.

  The men packed up their newfound jewels and the four crossed to the sustenance room, nearly stumbling upon Intef, who lay against one of the crates. His eyes were closed, his legs splayed, and there was a large amphora settled on his stomach.

  ‘Intef!’ Aya shouted. He startled awake.

  ‘Brothers! What are you doing here?’ he slurred.

  ‘You are drunk,’ said Ranofer. ‘Where is the wine?’

  ‘There is no wine inside this tomb.’

  Ranofer snatched the amphora from Intef’s hands and pushed it up to his nose. ‘This is wine!’

  Intef’s laugh was thin and metallic. ‘You have discovered me, Brothers! It is just there on the bottom shelf.’

  Aya watched in horror as the men unsealed the three separate containers of sacred wine and began to drink.

  Intef looked away from her. It was as if he did not even know her, as if all that they had shared had been a fatuous vision that had disappeared with the daylight. Was this the true Intef, at last?

  Of course it was and shame on Aya for ever believing otherwise. What she had not anticipated was the degree of his depravity. To think that all along he had known about the terrible plundering that was going to take place. Such elaborate lies he had told her! His bereft mother and dying brothers, his newfound admiration for Tausret, his promise to help her find the heir to the throne—all of it nonsense!

  No wonder he was drinking.

  ‘Drink up, men,’ said Ranofer, ‘for the most difficult task lies before us.’ And so it was that four of Pharaoh’s six irreplaceable amphorae of wine were unceremoniously drunk right before her eyes.

  Yet the stolen wine and pilfered jewellery were small indiscretions compared to what happened next. Had Aya known the task to which Ranofer had been referring, she might have seized her bow and arrows right then and killed them all. As it was, she only watched with suspicion as the men finished their bread and wine and stepped back into the main chamber.

  ‘Intef, bring your chisel,’ Ranofer called and Intef staggered to his feet and appeared with the other men standing around Pharaoh’s sacred shrine.

  Aya caught Ranofer’s gaze. ‘You do not intend to open the shrine?’

  ‘Does a clam-digger not open the clam?’ returned Ranofer.

  ‘But—’ Aya took a breath. ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘You are not much of a tomb raider, are you, Sobek?’ Ranofer remarked. ‘Watch now and learn.’ Ranofer wedged the chisel in the seam of the shrine and landed a blow.

  Soon the four men were peeling back the walls of the shrine, revealing the inner shrine. ‘And so it goes,’ said Ranofer. He chiselled through the second gilded box, then the third, until finally they were staring at Pharaoh Tausret’s giant pink granite sarcophagus.

  Aya might have screamed her rage to the heavens, but she found she could not speak. She could hardly even breathe.

  ‘Do you see now why there are four of us, Sobek?’ asked Ranofer, as if he were a teacher giving a lesson in letters. The men took their places around the lid of the sarcophagus. ‘All together now,’ said Ranofer. ‘One, two, three.’

  * * *

  Intef and the other three men heaved. As they lifted the massive granite lid off of Tausret’s sarcophagus, Intef braved a glance at Aya. She was standing near the entrance to the main chamber, as if any moment she might make her escape. A part of him hoped she would.

  She seemed to be frozen in place, however. She was gazing at the granite lid that had been propped against the sarcophagus as if to better apprehend its features. They were roughly those of a woman’s face.

  Huni gazed down at the first of the nested coffins and Den clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Do not look so worried, Brother. Remember that she was just a woman.’

  ‘And what of her ba—her winged personality?’ asked Huni.

  ‘It flew out of this tomb the moment it smelled your stinking breath!’

  The men laughed and gathered around the lid of the second coffin and Ranofer began the count. ‘One, two—’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Aya interrupted.

  Do not speak, thought Intef, willing her to stay silent.

  ‘What does it look like we are doing?’ Ranofer replied.

  Intef could see that she had composed her expression carefully, but she was barely concealing the quiver in her lip. ‘What value is there in exposing the mummy?’ she asked.

  The three men exchanged glances, as if sharing a private jest. ‘Let us see if you can guess,’ said Ranofer, ‘as part of your education.’

  The men lifted the gilded wooden lid and placed it on the ground, then lifted another lid of solid gold.

  Ranofer held up his torch and the three men peered down into the coffin that contained Tausret’s mummy. Huni gasped. Den shook his head. ‘It is lovelier than I imagined.’

  Ranofer gestured to Aya. ‘Come, Sobek, you must see this.’

  Aya stood frozen in the doorway to the chamber. Intef could not tell if she was on the verge of tears or murder.

  ‘You will never see anything more magnificent in all your life,’ goaded Ranofer.

  ‘Leave her be, Ranofer,’ said Intef. ‘Can you not see she fears Tausret’s ka?’

  The men stared down at the solid gold death mask staring back at them with jewel-encrusted eyes.

  ‘I do not understand,’ said Huni. ‘I thought Sobek would be delighted to behold such a treasure. Do women not love such things?’

  ‘You have hit upon the very problem,’ mused Den. ‘She is a woman and thus as inconstant as a cloud.’

  ‘That she is a woman has nothing to do with it,’ snapped Intef. He hardly recognised his own voice.

  The men set the death mask on the floor and returned their attention to Tausret’s unmasked mummy.

  There she was. The Powerful One. Her cheeks were brown and sunken, her linen-wrapped limbs barely thicker than bones. Still, somehow, Intef could see her greatness.

  Ranofer began probing beneath her wraps with his thick fingers. ‘What are you doing?’ asked Intef.

  ‘Looking for amulets, of course,’ he said. ‘They can be quite valuable.’

  Intef was feeling a powerful urge to consume more wine.

  ‘Surely we have enough treasure now with all the jewellery,’ he said, but Ranofer turned to Den and Huni.

  ‘Will you not help me search, Brothers?’ Soon Den and Huni had joined him. Intef gazed at the deceased woman, searching for some excuse to stop them from desecrating her completely.

  It was then he spotted the scroll. It was lying inside Tausret’s desiccated hand, as if she had been embalmed with it in her grip. Intef gently lifted it and began to read.

  I, Tausret, Daughter of Merneptah and Takhat, Granddaughter of Rameses the Great Ancestor, do hereby swear before Thoth that my daughter, Aya, born of my flesh, is the last of the Rameses bloodline.

  She bears the sacred mark upon her neck, drawn there by the High Priestess of Isis in her third year, and the records of her birth can be found in the Isis Temple at Pi-Rameses.

  Let it be known that the blood of Rameses flows on.

  At the bottom of the scroll was Tausret’s royal cartouche in the form of a wax stamp along with a familiar symbol: a triangle inside a circle.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Den. He was gazing over Intef’s shoulder. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘It is...a curse,’ Intef lied. ‘It is addressed to anyone who might open the coffin and harm the deceased.’

  ‘Read it,’ said Huni.

  ‘Do not read it!’ cried Den.

  Intef rolled the scroll and placed it beneath his belt. ‘Den is right,’ he said. ‘We should not read it.’

  ‘We should destroy it!’ cried Den.

  ‘And risk unleashing the spi
rit of the curse?’ Intef shook his head. ‘I will take it to a temple and have it neutralised by a priest. Now let us finish gathering our haul. We leave tonight.’

  * * *

  By the time the men had finished ransacking the main chamber, all of their bags were filled and they spent the rest of the afternoon in the false chamber constructing their litter.

  As soon as they were settled in their work, Aya padded quietly back down the corridor. When she arrived at the threshold to the main chamber and saw Intef sitting beside the shrine, her heart skipped. A part of her wanted to rush into his arms.

  The foolish part of her.

  Without acknowledging him, she stepped before the open sarcophagus and gazed down at her beloved Pharaoh.

  ‘I must move the lids back into place. I must return her to her rest.’ She was trying her best to maintain her composure, though the sight of Tausret’s unmasked face filled her with a despair so sharp she nearly choked.

  ‘I know. I will help you do it.’

  ‘I do not want any more of your help.’ Still, she knew he would not leave until the burial was restored. He was obviously desperate to make himself feel better about what he had done.

  She would not let him.

  ‘You did not just betray me. You betrayed her!’ He moved to stand, but she motioned him away. ‘Stay away from her!’

  He sank back down beside the sarcophagus. Here they were, alone together in the main chamber, just as they had been when they first met. Still enemies.

  ‘Why, Intef?’

  ‘General Setnakht requested the death mask. The men were merely following orders.’

  ‘You know that is not what I mean.’

  ‘Everything I do is for the good of Egypt,’ he said.

  She laughed bitterly and looked around the chamber. Several of the chests lay broken on the floor. Clothes were strewn about, along with several emptied amphorae and the splinters of the bed frame the men had violently disassembled.

  ‘How can this be for the good of Egypt?’ She really wanted to know. She prayed he could convince her, for just then she felt as though not only had Tausret’s afterlife been destroyed, but that all her Pharaoh’s efforts in this life had been, too.