Saved by Her Enemy Warrior

by Greta Gilbert

  ‘For citizen, captive, freedman or slave.’

  ‘Libyan, Asiatic, Nubian or Egyptian! Say it!’

  ‘Libyan, Asiatic, Nubian or Egyptian,’ he repeated.

  ‘This is Egypt and we are civilised,’ said Aya. ‘Now repeat after me: Long live Pharaoh Tausret, the Powerful One, Strong Bull, Beloved of Mut!’

  Rameses’s mouth twisted into a scowl. ‘Say it!’ cried Aya. She fixed her gaze on to his heart.

  ‘Long live Pharaoh Tausret...’ Rameses began repeating. By the time he was finished, Aya was gone.

  * * *

  Once again, Intef had become confused about the passage of time. They said that the nuptial festivities lasted four days, followed by seven days of feasting to celebrate the coronation of Pharaoh Setnakht. But it seemed to Intef that many more days had passed as he lay on the steps of the Temple of Isis, awaiting the next distribution of beer.

  ‘Wake up!’ shouted a familiar voice one morning before dawn. Intef felt a sandalled foot poke his back.

  ‘Just one more hour, I beg you!’ Intef said, thinking the man was one of the temple guards.

  ‘In one more hour the hyenas will be coming for you,’ said the voice. ‘When you see the yellow of their eyes, you must not panic.’

  Intef lifted his head. ‘Hepu?’ He rolled over to discover the old priest standing above him, the leopard skin of rank adorning his shoulders. He extended his hand to Intef, along with a generous grin.

  ‘Hepu, is that a smile on your wrinkled old face?’ asked Intef.

  ‘Not at all,’ said the priest. ‘I am merely stretching my mouth.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Finding the Hero of Thebes. It appears that I have accomplished my first mission as High Priest of the Temple of Nekhbet.’

  Intef glanced at the hollow-eyed leopard skull resting on the priest’s left shoulder. ‘Your kitty looks rather bored with that title already,’ said Intef, stretching his arms.

  ‘I see you have not changed,’ said Hepu. ‘And yet I am glad to see you. Come, Pharaoh Setnakht summons you.’

  * * *

  It was not long before Intef found himself in the audience chamber of the royal palace alongside his fellow tomb raiders, gazing up at their newly crowned Pharaoh.

  ‘The four of you look worse than when you came out of that godforsaken tomb,’ Pharaoh remarked, laughing. ‘What is that stain on your chest, Ranofer?’

  ‘Blood, my lor—I mean, Your Majesty,’ said Ranofer. ‘The stain is from the blood of the sacred bull you so generously granted for sacrifice. I helped to butcher him myself. His testicles were particularly delicious.’ Ranofer paused, seeming to remember himself. ‘May Horus bless you, mighty Pharaoh! Life, prosperity, health!’

  Pharaoh Setnakht smiled and shook his grey head. ‘And you, Beetle! I have never seen a kilt so filthy! You look as though you could use a good soak in the river.’

  ‘A good soak would be most welcome, Your Majesty,’ said Intef with a bow.

  A good long soak without the chance for air.

  ‘But enough idle talk,’ said Setnakht. ‘Today is the first official day of my reign and I mean to begin it with honour.’ He motioned to a scribe, who stepped forward and handed each of the men a rolled scroll stamped in wax.

  ‘If it had not been for your deeds, thousands of Egyptian lives would have been lost. It is also likely that I would not be sitting on this fine throne.’ Intef recognised the throne immediately. It was the very throne that had anchored Aya’s rope inside Tausret’s tomb. ‘The scrolls you hold grant you the right to carve your own tomb wheresoever you may choose in this great Egypt of ours,’ he said.

  Pharaoh gestured to two servants carrying large, heavy sacks. They placed a single sack in front of each of the men.

  ‘Each of those sacks contains four hundred deben—enough wealth to pay for the carving, adornment and provisioning of those tombs.’

  Intef heard Den gasp. ‘Pharaoh, this is most generous,’ he remarked.

  ‘I am humbled, Majesty,’ said Huni.

  ‘My own tomb...’ mused Ranofer.

  The old General’s generosity was matched only by his cunning. Not only had he just ensured the four soldiers’ afterlives, he had ensured their loyalty and discretion until their dying days.

  Intef found himself speechless. He gazed down at the bag of gold in wonder. He had not expected such a boon. For the first time in many days, he felt his heart beat.

  ‘Soldiers,’ Pharaoh continued, ‘there is no end to my gratitude for what you have done. Your labours have brought an end to the civil war that has plagued us these many years. North and South are finally united and beneath my rule. But tell me now: Is there anything more you want? Any other wish I could possibly grant?’

  The men glanced at each other in confusion.

  ‘Come, do not be shy. I vowed to reward you and this Pharaoh keeps his word.’

  Slowly, Ranofer stepped forward. ‘I would like a field, Your Majesty, to cultivate for bread and profit.’

  ‘As would I,’ said Den.

  ‘Granted,’ proclaimed Setnakht with a sweep of his hand. ‘You each may choose a plot from the royal holdings.’

  Huni stepped forward. ‘I would request a herd of cattle to graze upon Den’s weeds.’ He cast Den a mischievous grin.

  ‘You will have your herd.’

  Pharaoh Setnakht turned to Intef. ‘Beetle, what do you wish for?’

  Intef’s heart was pounding now. He felt newly alive with the idea blooming inside it. ‘There is only one thing I wish for, Majesty,’ said Intef, ‘but it is quite a lot to ask.’

  ‘Well, ask it, soldier, and let us see if we can restore the ma’at between us.’

  ‘I wish for Pharaoh Tausret’s death mask.’

  Intef heard Ranofer gasp. Pharaoh Setnakht narrowed his eyes. ‘That is a rather lot to ask. For what purpose?’

  ‘It will be my greatest trophy,’ replied Intef. At least that was partially true.

  ‘It is an audacious request,’ Setnakht remarked. He paused, then opened his arms and grinned. ‘For an audacious act.’ Setnakht whispered something to a servant and in moments the sacred object was being wheeled in on a cart.

  ‘Keep it well,’ Setnakht said.

  Intef gave a deep bow. ‘I am humbled,’ he said, though he felt his spirit growing larger by the minute.

  ‘Horus knows there will be plenty of gold when the rest of the tomb is cleared,’ Setnakht commented.

  ‘You will pillage the rest of the tomb?’ asked Intef.

  ‘Eventually,’ said Setnakht. ‘Rameses has suggested that the tomb belong to me.’

  It was as Intef had feared. Tausret would be erased and right before Aya’s eyes. Then in a small miracle Rameses himself swept into the chamber, followed by Aya.

  ‘Ah! Speaking of Rameses,’ said Setnakht, brightening. Rameses and Aya stepped up the dais and Aya stood behind him as he bent to kiss his father.

  Intef studied her backside out of the corner of his eye, admiring how her lovely curves were accentuated by her fine linen gown. It appeared she had gained some weight after so many days of festivities and her skin seemed a bit darker, as if she had spent much time beneath the sun. Was it possible that her hair had grown that much?

  ‘Apologies for our tardiness, Father,’ said Rameses. ‘We are so happy to be here to honour our four most intrepid soldiers.’ Rameses turned to regard the soldiers and Aya turned with him.

  Except that the woman was not Aya.

  Had Intef finally gone mad? He glanced at the other men. They were staring at the woman with a subtle consternation of their own.

  Rameses, however, was acting as though nothing was wrong. He descended the dais and stepped before Intef. ‘Thank you, Hero of Thebes!’ Rameses exclaimed. He kissed Intef on both chee
ks, then moved on to Ranofer.

  The woman who was not Aya stepped before Intef next. She looked very little like Aya with the exception of her eyes, which were as blue as the sky. ‘When I was trapped in that tomb, I was helpless,’ she said. ‘You rescued me from my death.’ Her words were unusually firm, as if she were not simply making an observation, but giving a command. Intef understood at once what it meant.

  They were making a pact. This was the new Aya and it was important that the four tomb raiders agreed, for they were among a very few who knew otherwise.

  She moved to seal the pact with a kiss on Intef’s cheek.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Intef whispered in the woman’s ear. ‘Aya? Is she alive?’

  The new Aya moved to kiss his other cheek. ‘Yes,’ she whispered in his ear, then stepped back. ‘I thank you for all your good deeds, Hero of Thebes.’

  For the first time in many years, Intef let hope fill his heart. ‘You are most welcome... Princess.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Two years later

  —west of Amarna, central Egypt

  Intef peered down at the crumbling temple, searching for its caretaker. She was usually praying this time of day, but he had not yet seen her cross the temple’s small courtyard to the inner sanctum where she went each morning to make her offerings.

  He focused his attention on the small hut just down the valley. A column of smoke twisted up through an opening in the roof. That was where she was—still inside her hut, cooking.

  The day before, he had watched her kill a gazelle from a position high in the cliffs. The beast had been bounding across the valley below at great speed, but her skill with the arrow was too sharp. The gazelle never even had a chance.

  He hoped that he would not soon be sharing a similar fate.

  He waited patiently, admiring how the sun god stretched his rays across the hilly landscape—giving here, withholding there. Some plants would wait until noon to receive his blessings.

  For eighteen months, he had searched for her—first in Thebes, then north to the Delta, then through the Western Desert and everything in between. He had asked traders on their routes and priests in their holy sanctuaries. He had probed bustling markets and lingered at busy docks. A woman with eyes the colour of the sea? No one like that here.

  The last place he would have guessed was Amarna—the abandoned city of the heretic King. But of course she would have come here. It was the one place in all of Egypt where religious lines could be crossed. Here, the sun god Aten was still worshipped in secret, far away from the Amun priests. It was a place of old gods and forgotten kings and quiet tolerance—the one place in Egypt where she could worship her Pharaoh in peace.

  A woman with eyes the colour of the sea? Yes, there is one who lives in the hills outside of the village. We call her the Mad Woman of Amarna.

  Soon Aya emerged from her hut, a vision in flowing white linen. She always dressed well when she went to the temple, though the rest of the time she donned a tunic so brown and ragged that it might have been spun from Seth’s own loom.

  She had bathed herself, as usual, and her black hair shone like the fertile earth against the rugged brown landscape she traversed. In her arms she carried a platter of the freshly cooked gazelle and over her shoulder she had slung her bow. As she walked up the hill to the temple, she kept vigilant watch, as if she expected a challenge.

  Intef’s heart squeezed. In the four months he had been watching her, she had not been visited by a single soul. There was no one to challenge her or even to befriend her in these empty hills. Not even wandering dogs or curious cats from the village ventured this deep into the desert. Aya was utterly alone.

  At last she arrived at the old temple of Aten, the ancient sun god that Akhenaten had lifted above all others. She stepped up to the gate between two crumbling pylons and bowed, then walked into the courtyard—though with only two walls standing he would not have even called it that.

  She kept her pace slow and even, her bearing stiff and formal. She was acting as if she were in a real temple, as if she imagined brightly painted walls and reliefs of the gods all around her.

  She stepped between the second set of pylons and into a roofless hall studded with pillars in various stages of decay. Over the months he had watched her clear the rubble from the floor of the space, though there were some pieces of collapsed roof that even she could not manage to move.

  She walked around them gracefully now, then disappeared into the sanctuary, where she would remain for about an hour. Then she would return to her tiny hut and go about her midday chores, returning to the temple again at sunset. He hoped, however, that on this day she would not be returning to the temple at all.

  He tightened the straps of his sandals and started off down the hill. His heart was beating wildly. He had been labouring for months to prepare his apology and had no idea if she would even be willing to hear it. Part of him feared for his life. There was nobody in the world he had wronged more than Aya. He only hoped that if she was going to kill him, she would first allow him to show her what was in his heart.

  * * *

  By the time he arrived outside the temple, she was already on her way out. He could hear the gravel crunching beneath her feet as she crossed the open courtyard and he pressed himself against the pylon gate, not wanting to startle her. He let out a friendly whistle.

  The crunching stopped. He continued to whistle, hoping the crunching would resume. It was a tune that he had whistled before—surely she recognised it. The crunching resumed, but instead of moving towards the source of the noise, it sounded as if it was moving away from it.

  She was running back into the temple. Intef rushed to the gate and gazed across the courtyard. He caught sight of her white tunic disappearing behind a giant column inside the pillared hall. ‘Aya!’ he called.

  He ran to the entrance to the pillared hall. ‘Aya!’

  ‘Identify yourself!’ she called from behind a pillar.

  ‘I am Intef, son of Sharek.’

  There was a long silence. He saw her bow emerge from behind a pillar.

  ‘Where are they?’ she asked, glancing about the hall.

  ‘Where are who?’

  ‘The other soldiers?’

  ‘There are no other soldiers.’

  ‘I do not believe you.’ She stepped out slowly from behind the pillar and his stomach flipped over on itself. It had been so long since he had seen her, yet she looked as beautiful and familiar as the sun itself—and just as dangerous. She stretched back her arrow.

  ‘I am telling the truth. I swear it before the gods,’ he said.

  ‘You have come to capture me and take me back to Rameses.’

  ‘That is my fault.’

  ‘What do you mean? What is your fault?’

  ‘That you do not trust me.’

  He could see the emotions at war inside her: pain, joy, fear, anger, happiness. And it was happiness. He could see it in the way she held her brows high above her eyes, in how her lips seemed to be fighting back a grin.

  I see you, he wished to tell her. I love...

  She set her jaw into a tight line. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I have come to ask for your forgiveness.’

  She cocked her head. ‘Fine, you are forgiven. Now go away.’ She turned and began walking back into the sanctuary.

  ‘Wait!’ cried Intef. He started after her, but she threatened him once again with her arrow.

  ‘I told you to go away,’ she said. Sunlight filtered in from above, lighting up her eyes and illuminating the shape of her body beneath the linen. He wanted so badly to embrace her.

  ‘I wish to show you something important,’ he said. ‘A tomb. It will take us only an hour to reach it.’

  ‘I do not wish to enter any more tombs with you.’

  ‘Please, Aya. I
t is my own tomb that I wish for you to see.’ It was not really a lie.

  ‘You have a tomb?’

  ‘In a sense, yes.’ She appeared confused, but at least he had captured her attention. ‘Please?’ he asked. ‘I beg you.’

  * * *

  She had never thought this day would come. Now that it had, she did not trust it. She could not trust it. It was simply too good to be true.

  He had come back to her. The only man she had ever loved.

  He said he wanted forgiveness. Well, he had it. She had forgiven him the moment he had pressed the arrowhead into her palm and told her to get herself free.

  Still, she feared his intentions. It was possible that he had bound himself even more tightly to General Setnakht. Now that he had found the true heir to the Rameses line, he would simply pick her up and take her back to Rameses’s harem where she belonged.

  She could not decide what to do. She only knew that she wanted to hear his voice a little while longer.

  She looked around at the hills surrounding the temple. It was near to midday and not a single creature moved. To the east, lazy plumes of smoke marked the cooking fires of the village. Soon it would be too warm to work and all the residents of Amarna would lie down for their midday rest. Even the birds would cease to fly and the wind would whisper through the abandoned temples and empty buildings like the voices of those long gone.

  ‘Live your life, Aya.’

  She slung her bow around her shoulder. ‘Go ahead, then,’ she told him. ‘Lead the way.’

  She followed behind him a good twenty paces, for she did not trust that he travelled alone. She scanned the desert continuously, aware that at any moment a whole gang of soldiers could emerge from the hills and drag her away.

  She would not go down without a fight. She had her bow and a whole quiver of arrows, and she knew the hills better than anyone. If Intef had come to take her back to Rameses, he would be woefully disappointed.

  She would never again fall for his trickery.

  Though it seemed that she had quite instantly fallen for his whistle. The moment she had heard it her treacherous heart had leapt with joy. Against her own will, she had smiled—had nearly laughed—and wished for nothing more than to leap into his arms. She was not sure who had betrayed her worse—Intef or her own heart.