An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (26 page)

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Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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Ay took me by the arm and we withdrew.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘To the birthplace of the Aten,’ he replied. ‘Tell Snefru to select ten of his best men. Have provisions ready to take down to the quayside.’
Two days later the Queen’s barge arrived: a splendid ship with jutting prow and stern, both carved in the shape of a snarling golden lioness. The rest of the imperial barge was a glittering blue, black and red with the wadjet eye on each side of the prow, and lunging, lifelike cobras beneath the stern. Elaborately painted kiosks stood on either end, with a doubled roofed deckhouse in the middle; this was painted a dark blue with a golden Horus head on each side. A huge blue and white mast stretched up to the sky, its great sail reefed.
Of course the arrival of the
Dazzling Aten
caused consternation amongst the officers of the Sacred Band who had not been warned of its coming. Horemheb and Rameses came hurrying up to the house, half-dressed in ceremonial armour, and demanded to see the Prince. Ay met them in the entrance portico and insisted on serving cool beer and slices of rich walnut cake. Horemheb and Rameses had no choice but to observe the courtesies. They squatted on the cushions, nibbled some of the cake and sipped at the beer.
‘Is the Prince on board?’ Rameses asked.
‘No,’ Ay replied.
‘Why is it here?’
‘We are going on a journey.’
Horemheb opened his mouth to ask at whose command but Rameses nudged him.
‘We are not prisoners,’ Ay continued evenly. ‘Our master is a Prince of the Blood. He may come and go where he wishes.’
‘Where are you going?’ Rameses demanded.
‘Why, Captain, a pleasure cruise along the river. The weather is beautiful. The Nile runs thick and fast. Flowers and trees bloom. We may do some hunting amongst the papyrus groves or even out in the Eastern or Western Desert.’
‘We have to accompany you.’
‘Why?’
‘Orders,’ Horemheb retorted. ‘The Prince, of course, is not a prisoner, but he is the beloved son of the Divine One.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Ay interrupted sarcastically.
‘Our commission,’ Rameses’ voice was strident, ‘our commission is to defend and protect the Prince! Where the
Dazzling Aten
goes we will follow.’
‘Then, my dear soldier, you had best go back into Thebes and talk to the Chief Scribe of the Marines. You have a war-barge, you’ll need provisions. We can’t possibly feed you.’
‘Our chariots?’ Rameses complained.
‘Your chariots are your concern,’ Ay shrugged. ‘They will have to be left here.’
‘There’s another matter.’ Rameses’ voice became more measured. ‘The scribe you reported missing, Ineti? We found some bones, the flesh picked clean, down near the shallows.’
‘Poor Ineti.’ Ay shook his head. ‘I told him not to go along the river. However, some people can’t be told, can they?’ He got to his feet and brushed the crumbs from his robe. ‘And now we are busy. We are leaving tomorrow evening.’
Horemheb and Rameses hurried off. For a while all was confusion in the small military camp which lay between ourselves and the quayside. However, by the time we left, Horemheb and Rameses were organised. A powerful, black-painted war-barge, with hollowed, broad hull, slipped in behind ours: it was manned by a small squadron of marines and joined by Horemheb and Rameses and several of their company. We left just before darkness, moving out into midriver, Ay himself leading the paean of praise as the oarsmen bent and pulled back. Our craft leaped forward in a burst of speed, a well-planned taunt for Horemheb and Rameses who hastily followed in pursuit.
Akhenaten and Nefertiti occupied the central cabin, Ay the kiosk on the stern. I stayed with the crew wrapped in warm blankets, close enough to the glowing braziers to receive some warmth as well as a little protection against the night flies. We made good progress, now and again calling into some small village to fill water jars or barter for supplies. Nefertiti and her Beloved acted like a royal couple. During the day the sides of the cabin were taken down and they would sit under the awning, fan-bearers about them, enjoying the gorgeous pageant of colours on either bank: the bright green maize, the softish yellow hue of oats, the blazing gold of corn. They’d comment on the fishing smacks and other craft plying the river: boats packed full with mercenaries moving down to the forts, barges of supplies – wine, beer, cedarwood, bronze and copper as well as livestock. As the day drew on, we would comment on the shifting colours of the sands and marshlands on either bank as they turned from red-gold to deep purple.
On the second night out Nefertiti graciously invited Horemheb and Rameses to a supper on the imperial barge. Horemheb brought his two new dwarves; they looked like identical twins with their bald heads, bushy beards and small thickset bodies. Rameses had a baby giraffe which had followed the hunters after they had killed its mother the previous evening; it was the only time I ever saw him show affection to anything or anyone except Horemheb. A pity he was so clumsy; the next day the giraffe fell overboard and drowned. Anyway, that was a beautiful evening, the river supplying its own entertainment. A barge taking pilgrims from the shrine of Hathor, Lady of Drunkenness, came alongside ours. The men and women on board were drunk, merry and loud, unable to discern whom they were shouting at or who the women flirted with by baring their breasts or lifting their skirts.
Horemheb and Rameses were not the ideal guests; they acted in a surly manner throughout and not even the pilgrims of Hathor could raise a smile. They glowered at me and seized this opportunity to take me aside and remonstrate about what had happened.
‘I am not your spy,’ I protested.
‘I just wish you hadn’t left so quickly,’ Rameses whined.
We were standing in the stern of the ship warming our hands over a small dish of glowing charcoal, carefully protected in its copper bucket. I noticed Rameses’ hand was shaking slightly and the truth dawned on me.
‘Of course.’ I leaned over and tapped him on the face like he used to do to me in the Kap. ‘You don’t like water, do you, Rameses?’
‘I become sick,’ he confessed, not lifting his head. ‘I asked that idle bastard Pentju if he could give me something.’
‘Never mind,’ I soothed. ‘I am sure the journey won’t be long!’
We passed cities and towns but no orders were issued to put in at Abydos, the holy city of Osiris, or even Akhmin, where Tiye and Ay had family and kin. It was as if they did not wish to converse or be tainted by anything. We moved majestically up the Nile, a journey of over two hundred miles: restful days, peaceful nights. No one ever mentioned where we were going or the reason for our journey. Akhenaten and Nefertiti were at peace. On one occasion, just after sunset, they organised some of the best voices amongst the marines to sing the most beautiful haunting hymn which stirred the heart and provoked bittersweet memories. A song about a lost time, a dazzling time, free from the taint of death or sickness. Akhenaten and Nefertiti sang together, hands clasped, voices ringing out across the water. Fishermen on their boats plying their nets before darkness fell, stopped to listen. The chorus was taken up by the deep-throated marines, a rhythmic chant. Even now, many years later, at dusk, as the sun sets, I close my eyes and recall that singing.
One afternoon about eight days after we’d left Thebes, Akhenaten fell strangely quiet, and flanked by Nefertiti and Ay, stood by the taffrail staring out at the eastern bank of the Nile. I stood behind him and watched as the lush vegetation and palm trees gave way to a stretch of desert land. Ay shouted an order. The sails were furled, the rowers were told to tread water. Slightly behind us the war-galley also slowed. Akhenaten and Nefertiti never moved. They stood, fascinated by a sunbaked cove of desert, about eight miles broad which stretched from the Nile to towering limestone cliffs dominated by two soaring crags with a half-moon-shaped cleft between. This was the Holy Ground! It was the first time I saw it: lonely, washed by the Nile and dominated by those brooding cliffs which changed in colour as they caught and reflected the setting sun. An empty place with its own aura: the more I stared, the more it seemed to drift across the water towards me, drawing me into its haunting empty loneliness.
Late in the afternoon we prepared to go ashore, our barge threading its way through the sandbanks where water melons grew. Ay had a quiet word with the Captain. Only he, Akhenaten, Nefertiti and myself were to disembark. Once we had, the Prince knelt and nosed the ground as if adoring the two distant peaks. Nefertiti and Ay followed suit whilst I stood staring around, trying to shake off my wariness. I wanted some sound to break the stillness. Akhenaten whispered a prayer, rose and walked across that sacred soil with the sun slipping behind us sending shadows racing along the cove and up those limestone cliffs. The evening breeze whipped our faces like some muffled voice trying to communicate a secret. My sandals crunched on the hard ground. I knelt down and sifted amongst the stones, picking up the sea shells like pieces of fine glass or alabaster. These lay strewn amongst the pebbles and glinted in the light of the setting sun.
‘Once,’ Akhenaten murmured, staring down at the shells I held in my hand, ‘the Great Green covered this land until my Father drove it back to its boundaries.’
I squinted up. Akhenaten was gazing hungrily at the cleft between the two crags.
‘Once my Father walked here in the cool of the evening, enjoying its lush greens, rejoicing in the company of the Sons of Men – that was his delight.’ He blinked and squatted down beside me, eyes bright with excitement. ‘That was in the Dazzling Time, Mahu, when the Sons of Men walked with God and all was harmony, before the Thief of the Underworld made his presence felt. Can’t you feel them, Mahu, the ghosts of the Dazzling Ones all about us? The breeze carries their faded words and hymns.’
He tapped the soil. ‘The roots still lie here, embedded deep. The desert will bloom and the jonquil flourish amongst the rocks. Once our vision is realised, my Father will, once again, walk amongst men.’
I stared disbelievingly at him, but he never noticed my mood.
I knew nothing about his strange theology. Even when I reflected on what Tiye had told me, what did it amount to? The worship of an Unseen God who manifested his power in the symbol of the Sun Disc? Akhenaten plucked up some sand, pebbles and shells, letting them fall through his fingers. He rose and, with Nefertiti beside him, walked further inland. The shouts from the war-barge carried ashore. Akhenaten abruptly turned and went striding back, his walking cane rapping on the ground, robes fluttering about him, long arms gesticulating.
‘Go back!’ he shouted. ‘Stay on board! Do not pollute this holy ground for my Father has blessed me. He has blessed me and will bless me again.’ He climbed onto a boulder, his body ungainly-looking against the darkening sky, face bathed in the light of the setting sun.
‘Go away,’ he repeated. ‘Do not trespass on holy ground.’
Ay went down to the riverside and repeated the orders not to land, his voice carrying like a herald across the water. The consternation on the war-barge was audible but Ay was insistent. Only a few servants from the
Dazzling Aten
came ashore. They erected pavilions and tents, gathered brushwood and lit a fire, bringing supplies of meat, wine and bread. The sun set and the plain darkened, broken only by the light from our campfire. Akhenaten sat, arms linked with Nefertiti, eyes half-closed as if drinking in the very smell, taste and sounds of this place. They retired early. Ay and myself shared a smaller pavilion. I lay listening to Akhenaten and Nefertiti singing, followed by the clink of cups and the sound of their lovemaking before I drifted into sleep.
Akhenaten woke us long before dawn. I felt cold. Outside the air was chilly. Only a faint burst of light beyond the mountain range showed day was imminent. Akhenaten acted like an excited child, pacing up and down as Ay and Nefertiti laid out blankets and cushions. At last Akhenaten knelt down, Ay and Nefertiti on his left and right. I crouched on my cushion. Nefertiti rose, returned to her pavilion and brought out three glowing bowls of incense. She placed one in front of Ay, Akhenaten and herself. The incense smelt bittersweet in the morning air. The glow in the East strengthened as if a ball of fire was about to surface behind the dark mass of the mountains. A bird flew overhead, its song piercing the freezing air. The land fell silent. Stars disappeared and the Sun Disc appeared directly between the two peaks at the centre of the cleft; rising with all the majesty of dawn, shattering the darkness, lighting the mountains, its rays spreading over the plain as if hungry to reach the river. Akhenaten moaned in ecstasy, head going backwards and forwards. He intoned:
‘How beautiful are you,
How visible your glory!
Visible power of the invisible!
Glory of the dawn!
More brilliant than the Morning Star!
Your hidden power sustains all creatures!
Above the earth, on the earth, below the earth.
All beings take life and power from you.
All creation waits to do your will.
Oh Father, bless your son as he blesses you.
Oh Father, make yourself known as I will make you
known
And honour your name and glorify your being in this
holy place.’
Akhenaten’s voice thrilled stronger and stronger like a trumpet blast shattering the silence, heard even by our companions on the barges.

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