The Sleeper in the Sands (46 page)

Akh-en-Aten breathed in deeply. He did not reply.

Enraptured and appalled, Tyi still gazed into his eyes. She thought of the tomb below her. It would have been so easy, she thought in a sudden fury of regret, to unplaster the stonework, and to dismember the body of the still-living King -- laid out as it had been upon the floor of the tomb, while the corpse of another had been placed within the shrine. Neither Ay nor the priests had ever discovered the subterfuge, and those servants who had accomplished it she had then ordered slain -- so as to be certain that the body would still be easy to retrieve. And as with Smenkh-ka-Re, so also with Tut-ankh-Amen: it would be a simple matter for both bodies to be seized and born secretly away.

Desperately, Tyi broke from the gleam of her son’s eyes. She gazed about her again, searching for any sign of torches, for any hint that her men might not all have fled. But darkness was everywhere; and once again Tyi felt a surge of frustration and rage. To be so near, she thought, to the long-awaited prize, to be so near -- and now for her son, of all men, to have arrived . . .

She glanced once again very briefly at her feet. ‘It may be,’ she said slowly, ‘that there is still magic flesh to be found beneath the rocks.’

‘No,’ whispered Akh-en-Aten, as gently as before. ‘All, O my Mother, all, all is gone, and of the magic line of Osiris -- only you remain.’

‘Yet it may be we should look.’ She gazed at him eagerly. ‘Yes - you and I.’

He did not answer for a long while, but Tyi saw that his eyes blazed as brightly as before, and at last he shook his head. ‘Why’ he asked her, ‘have you forgotten the All-High, the God of your father -- the God of your son?’

‘Has He not forgotten me?’

‘He forgets nothing.’

‘Then look upon me!’

‘I do.’ Akh-en-Aten nodded, parting his lips. ‘I do.’

Both stood in silence a moment; then Akh-en-Aten smiled, so sadly and yet with such a radiance of love that it seemed to Tyi, gazing upon him, that the marks of the curse upon his face were no more, and that she was gazing again upon the small boy she remembered - her beloved son, her beauteous child. He held out his arms as he had done before, and this time, enraptured, she stepped forward to meet them. She felt him hold her; felt the softest touch of his lips upon her brow; and then suddenly she gasped, for she felt his fingers on her throat.

‘What will you do?’ she whispered, briefly attempting to escape from his hold; and then she could speak no more, for her neck seemed muffled by a warm tide of moistness, and she felt all her strength draining softly away. She sought to twist and observe her son’s face, but in vain, for it was buried deep within the wound which he had gashed across her neck. Her head lolled back; for the briefest moment, in the sky she saw the blaze of the stars; and then they faded, and their light was utterly extinguished. ‘Can this be death?’ Tyi wondered in astonishment; and she moaned, both with fear and exultation. She thought briefly of the tomb and its contents below her, and she wanted to speak, to warn her son of the secret. But already the darkness she had glimpsed within the sky was rolling down upon her, and as it had extinguished the stars so it bore across her thoughts. She barely felt the touch of the sand upon her back as gently, very gently, she was laid on the ground; and she barely felt her son’s final parting kiss upon her brow. Yet she knew what he had done; and her last thought, her last feeling, was remembrance of her son.

Yet Akh-en-Aten knew nothing of that; and when at last he was certain that his mother was dead, and that the curse of her immortality had indeed been banished by his thirst, he could not endure to gaze upon her face again. He dug a trench, very rough and ready, and buried the corpse as rapidly as he could; then he rose, and departed, and left the Valley behind. And where he went, and what he became, there is no man who can say; and that is the Tale of Pharaoh and the Temple of Amen, and as I have told you it, so it truly occurred.

And when Leila had concluded her tale, she fell silent and smiled to behold my astonishment and wonder. ‘By the holy name of Allah,’ I exclaimed, my eyes as wide as the fullest moon, ‘this Tale of Pharaoh and the Temple of Amen which you have related to me is indeed a remarkable and a terrible one! Much which was dark now stands illumined, and much which was secret now stands revealed. Yet I could almost wish, O Mighty Jinni, that I had never listened to your tale, for I dread now to learn what it is you wish to grant me.’

But Leila smiled and reached out to stroke my cheek. ‘How can you doubt that, O my Beloved?’ she whispered. ‘For did you not, as Akh-en-Aten did, overthrow my sacred statue? And did you not, as Akh-en-Aten did, keep me as your wife? And did you not, as Akh-en-Aten did, break your solemn vow, and yet seek me out again once I had melted from your embrace, as I had promised I would do? You know what I gave him, and the price which he paid. Dare you, O my Husband’ - she smiled -- ‘pay the same?’

‘May Allah have mercy upon me, I cannot!’ And even as I said this, O Prince, I was thinking of Haidee, my daughter, and imagining what it might mean never to be with her again, never to watch her grow into womanhood, lest I be drawn to slay her and feed upon her flesh. For in all this wide world, with its many riches and beauties and wonders, still there is nothing more precious to me than my child -- my only, sweetest, beloved child. As Allah is great, I thought to myself, never shall I throw such a peerless joy away! But then suddenly, O Caliph, I remembered your threat, how Haidee’s life would be forfeit should I fail to meet with your command, and return without the mastery of the powers of life and death. And all at once I imagined that I saw before me, as though conjured up by the sorcery of the shrine, a vision of my daughter slain upon your word. So vivid she appeared that I cried out in sorrow and rose up from my seat, for I longed to take and cradle her in my arms. But the vision at once began to melt and change before me, and I imagined that, where before my daughter had been, I saw an image of the sleeper released from his tomb, that man who once, I knew, had been a Pharaoh of Egypt and had borne the name of Smenkh-ka-Re, but was now the monstrous father of an army of the
udar.
I saw him raise his bloodied mace in triumph; and all at once I saw the vision start to change, and there stretched before me a view of Cairo, Mother of the World, fairest of fair cities and jewel amongst jewels. Everywhere, though, appeared silent and still; and then I marked how in the streets, and the markets and the mosques, bodies lay piled to be the food of flies and dogs, and corpses were bobbing upon the waters of the Nile. And then I understood, O Caliph, that all the world might be in peril, for the danger unleashed from the tomb would surely spread, unless something were done, some marvel achieved; and then I thought to myself how Allah alone can see all things for the best. I rubbed my eyes and the visions faded, and I turned back to Leila, and she took me by the hands. And although I said nothing, I felt her presence in my thoughts; and I did not break away when her lips touched my own. And at once, like a sweet and wondrous sleep, I felt a darkness; and the darkness filled me, and I saw nothing more.

When I awoke I found I was alone save for Isis, my dog, who lay sleeping by my feet; and I imagined, for a moment, that I had passed through nothing but a dream. But then I arose; and I realised that I was changed, and I saw all about me the marks of Leila’s power. The temple, it was true, was as ruined as before, its bare abandoned pillars half-sunk beneath the sands; but all about them, piled against the giant blocks of stone, were the bodies of the
udar,
the ghools bred from the tomb, and of all that vast number, the army I had seen, massed before the wall which I had built across the temple, not one remained alive. In wonder I passed through the ruins of the temple, and beyond their shadow, gathered by the Nile I saw the villagers bowed low in praise of the All-High. Then, as I approached them, they all turned and rose to greet me, proclaiming me a magician of unparalleled power; but even as they thanked me, I saw that their wonder seemed touched by something almost like fear, and I wondered if the mark of my transformation were very plain.

But no one spoke of it to me, and I in turn revealed nothing to them. Only to the Headman, as I walked with him alone through the valley of the tombs, did I repeat the story which I had learned the night before; and I ordered him to remember and guard the secret well. Then, when all had been told, I showed him, painted upon the walls of the opened tombs, the figure of Osiris, the god who could not die. ‘Wherever his image is discovered,’ I commanded, ‘let an image of the sun be laid at his feet, in memory of that man who had sought to purge the valley of its evil. And let no further tombs be searched for or disturbed, not now nor in any of the ages yet to come, for one still remains here where the evil is preserved.’

But I told him nothing of the evil which flowed within my blood; and although I knew myself an afrit now, and could feel my hellish hunger, I fought hard against it all the while I spent at Thebes. And when I left and continued on my way, still I had not surrendered to it; and my only companion was Isis, my dog.

Then at length, as I followed the Nile down-river, I came to a plain encircled by cliffs, where there seemed nothing to be found save for dust-piled mounds; and yet I wondered, all the same, what more there might be hidden. Approaching a band of nomads encamped upon the plain, I asked them to guide me to any pagan tombs. They led me at once to a wild and steep ravine where a tomb, half-built yet very extensive, could be entered, and upon the darkest wall of its darkest chamber there was a painting of a Queen -- and I knew her at once, for it seemed to be my wife. I could be certain then that her story had been true, and in my horror I painted an image of King Akh-en-Aten’s sun upon her wall. I was filled, as I did so, with a strong sense of wonder, to think that all which had befallen me had befallen him as well, and so I determined to visit the quarries in the desert, to discover the place where he had met, like me, his wife, and been granted the same deathly gift which she had granted me. The nomads led me there and I discovered the place -- and as I had done before, I carved an image of the sun. And when I told the nomads that the place had been cursed, they bowed their heads and nodded, as though they had always sensed as much.

But I told them nothing of the evil which flowed within my blood; and although I knew myself an afrit, and could feel my hellish hunger, I fought hard against it all the while I spent with them. And when I left and continued on my way, still I had not surrendered to it; and my only companion was Isis, my dog.

I returned to the plain and passed across the river, and found there a village, very straggling and mean. I thought to myself in wonder, gazing at the wasteland on the opposite bank where once a mighty city had been raised up to the stars, how there is nothing which endures save Allah’s love alone. And so I told the villagers - who had seen my look of wonder, and were filled with consternation at the thought of what I might be - something of the story which I had heard from the jinni; and then I continued on my way towards Cairo, and this mosque. And so it was, O Prince, that I arrived here at last.

And before I sat down in this chamber with you, I had told no one of the evil which flows within my blood; and although I know myself an afrit, and can feel my hellish hunger, I have fought hard against it all the while I have been here. And still I have not surrendered to it; and my only companion has been Isis, my dog.

And all has been, O mighty Prince, as I have related it to you; and that is the tale of what I saw and heard, and how I grew to be this thing which you see before you now.

And when Haroun had finished his tale, the Caliph gazed at him in astonishment, but also in fear, and he shrank back at once and leapt to his feet. ‘In Allah’s name,’ he exclaimed, ‘this tale of yours, O Haroun, is a very wonder of wonders, and yet I dread the meaning of your words and the look of hunger in your eye!’

But Haroun only smiled. ‘Have no fear,’ he replied, ‘for I swore long ago to your father, O mighty Prince, that I would never raise my hand against you. Yet I would have you remember an oath of your own, that Haidee, my daughter, in turn shall not die.’

‘Do you have the power, then,’ the Caliph asked, his composure restored, ‘to heal my sister, the Princess Sitt al-Mulq?’

Haroun bowed his head. ‘I have the power to release her from the threat of death.’

‘Then your daughter will be spared.’

‘You must grant her a palace, and servants, and wealth; for I, as you know, may no longer protect her.’

‘All,’ the Caliph nodded, ‘shall be done as you request.’

‘Then let it be achieved by tomorrow evening, and I shall return you your sister, the Princess Sitt al-Mulq, upraised from her sleep. Do you agree to my terms, then, O Commander of the Faithful?’

‘I hear, and I agree.’

‘Then may Allah be praised.’ Haroun bowed once again, and kissed the Caliph’s hand. ‘Let us meet upon the road across the Mukattam Hills -- for it were best, since we will be invoking dark and wondrous powers, that we do it far from mortal eye. Until tomorrow, then, O Prince.’ And so saying, even as the Caliph gazed upon him, he seemed to melt like mist upon the morning air; and the Caliph was left alone in the chamber of the tower.

He descended the stairs in a mood of great consternation and excitement, and straightaway ordered that everything be done as he had promised. And so it was that Haidee was dressed in beauteous robes, and escorted by a train of a hundred servants, and taken to a palace rich with marble and gold, where a cup of fruit stood upon every table, and a plate piled with jewels upon every stool. And then, when all had been done and the hour of the evening prayers had arrived, the Caliph summoned his servant, Masoud, and the two of them left for the Mukattam Hills.

As they neared the plateau which led on to Hulwan, the Caliph paused and turned back to gaze at Cairo, and beyond. Bright were the hearth-flames which twinkled across his city, and purple gleamed the deserts where the sun had lately set, yet these were as nothing compared with the light of the stars, for they blazed all above him, a myriad points of silver, and the Caliph thought, as he gazed at them, of the Kingdom of the Jinn. And then he felt rise up within him, as though it were the stars which had served to torch it, a furnace of impatience such as he had never felt before; and he gazed all about him, and then he cried out Haroun’s name.