An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (38 page)

Read An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) Online

Authors: Paul Doherty

BOOK: An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
11.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘He has a destiny. Our Prince has a vision for Egypt better than what has gone before but he must remember he is not that vision, only its prophet.’
As our friendship grew Djarka became more scathing about Ay and Nefertiti. He was aware of my infatuation with the Princess but trusted me, not hesitating to dismiss them both as ‘thieves from the Underworld’. I’d argue back but I could never change his mind.
‘They are opportunists,’ he told me, ‘infatuated with power along with the whole Akhmin gang.’
‘You are prejudiced.’
‘And you are infatuated, Mahu – a dangerous thing for a Chief of Police. Little Khiya knows the truth,’ he added, ‘that’s why she stares so empty-headed. Why do you think they trust you? Because they know they control you; you are their property, body and soul.’
Such arguments would become intense, but in the end Djarka would just laugh.
‘When all is said and done,’ he’d conclude, ‘it will be Akhenaten who decides.’
On other occasions we’d discuss the growing tensions in Thebes, a dull ache which never went away. Djarka was always solemn about that. ‘I agree with Queen Tiye,’ he’d murmur. ‘Whatever we do, it will end in blood.’
Month had followed month, season had followed season, year had followed year, full of rumour and gossip. I had become accustomed to it. When the bloodletting finally came, it began so softly, indistinct, like the rains do when a mere cloud, the size of a man’s hand, appears in the brilliant blue sky. In the second month of Peret, in the Season of the Sowing, our cloud appeared. A message came from Sobeck to meet him out at the Oasis of Strangers in the Western Red Lands. He was waiting for me and Djarka, his scorpion men all about him, armed to the teeth, guarding the oasis, its palm trees dying as the well which once served it slowly dried up. Sobeck escorted me deeper into the oasis while Djarka unhitched the horses and led them into the shade. Sobeck’s scorpion men drifted across to chat as well as to admire our harness and carriage.
‘Listen to this, Mahu.’ Sobeck put an arm across my shoulder. ‘One of my acquaintances, a merchant, trades in animal skins with the Libyans. He brought me a strange rumour that one of their most powerful tribes is moving South.’
‘The Libyans are always doing that, probing for a weakness.’
Sobeck held up a hand. ‘These are buying up weapons, chariots and warhorses and they are not using animal skins to barter with, but this.’ He opened his left hand; the small six-sided ingot of gold winked in the sunlight. I plucked it up and weighed it in my hand.
‘Pure gold,’ Sobeck confirmed. ‘Freshly minted, unmarked. The Libyans are using that to buy arms from mercenaries along the coast of the Great Green.’
‘This comes from Egypt. Is it possible,’ I replied, ‘that only a few are being used?’
‘My merchant friend says the Libyans have plenty – and there is more.’ Sobeck gestured to the distant heat haze. ‘My friend became very curious, even more so, when this tribe or clan – well, at least its warriors, about five hundred in all – completely disappeared from their usual hunting grounds. Well now!’ He played with the ring in his earlobe. ‘My spies eventually learned from the womenfolk that, ten days ago, these warriors moved across into the Eastern Desert. They are still out there, a war-party with weapons and provisions.’
‘What about our scouts and patrols?’
‘How far do they go, Mahu – twenty, thirty miles at the most? The Libyans are further out.’
‘The Eastern Desert Lands are quiet.’
‘Precisely. You don’t expect to find a Libyan army across the Nile.’ Sobeck grinned. ‘Moreover, they’ve probably broken up into small cohorts. Oh well.’ He patted his flat stomach, brushing away the sweat. ‘I have also brought you a present – two, in fact.’
He called across the oasis. A scorpion man hurried over, placed two leather buckets at Sobeck’s feet and threw back the flaps. I flinched at the stench of corruption from the two severed heads; flies, whirling black dots, came buzzing out.
‘I think you have been introduced.’ Sobeck lifted the face of the old man, the Jackal’s assassin. I had told Sobeck the tale and ordered him to wipe out the entire clan.
‘Oh yes, he survived.’ Sobeck tapped one of the sunken yellowing teeth. ‘I caught up with him sheltering in a village to the south of Thebes. He’s the last so there will be no blood feud.’ He threw the head like a ball onto the sand and plucked out the second, a Libyan with long hair, swarthy skin, peaked nose and full lips, a calm composed face bereft of the horror which had masked that of the old assassin. ‘My merchant friend was so intrigued I became curious. I hired some of my Sand Wanderers to search well beyond the area patrolled by the chariot squadrons. They caught three scouts. Two were killed but this one,’ he threw the head after the other, ‘was brought in. I questioned him, with the help of a little fire.’
‘Won’t they be missed?’ I asked.
Sobeck shook his head. ‘Libyans are travelling across a terrain unknown to them; it’s quite common for scouts and guides to become lost. Anyway, he spoke before he died. His war-party had been bribed to cross with gold, silver, precious stones and whatever plunder they could take.’
‘By whom?’
‘I don’t know. It would have to be someone very powerful.’ Sobeck continued, ‘Think, Mahu, five hundred warriors crossing the Nile. They would need barges, someone to look the other way.’
‘And the prisoner told you?’
‘They crossed just above the First Cataract.’
‘A deserted place,’ I declared. ‘No black lands or greenery.’
‘That’s where the scouts were found, in an area where there are no mines and very few patrols – an arid, deserted place. Someone must have provided the barges, a deserted mooring place, as well as maps of the wells and springs. Anyway, now I was truly intrigued. I took my bodyguard down the Nile and found the barges still moored there.’
‘So the Libyans have a way back?’
‘Five hundred fighters, Mahu, warriors: very well-armed, bribed with gold, and furnished with barges and maps, hiding in a place no one would think of searching. What are they going to attack?’
‘It can’t be Thebes, it’s too powerful.’
‘The Malkata lies on the east bank,’ Sobeck whispered, ‘so does the Palace of the Aten.’
‘All are well-guarded.’
‘Against a sudden assault?’
A coldness pricked the nape of my neck, sending a shiver across my shoulders. I stared at the severed head, embedded in the sand. The vultures were already circling above us.
‘It’s not the Malkata,’ I replied. ‘It’s the Valley of the Shadows out in the Eastern Red Lands.’ I explained Akhenaten’s pilgrimages to what he termed his ‘sacred shrine’.
‘Ah well.’ Sobeck pulled his dagger in and out of its embroidered leather sheath. ‘Now we come to something else.’ He gestured across the oasis. ‘Do you trust Djarka?’
‘With my life.’
‘Why, what do you know of him?’
‘He’s a member of the Sheshnu,’ I declared. ‘One of their tribe. A good hunter, faithful and loyal to Great Queen Tiye.’
‘But you trust him with your life? Why?’
‘He reminds me of you, Sobeck.’
‘As I am?’
‘As you were.’
Sobeck glanced away. ‘Good, good,’ he muttered. ‘But don’t trust Snefru.’
‘No!’ I shouted and stepped back. ‘No, not Snefru?’
Djarka, talking to the scorpion men, turned in alarm, his hand going to the quiver at his feet. I gestured all was well.
‘Yes, Snefru.’ Sobeck was enjoying himself. ‘He has been with the shaven heads of Amun.’
I glanced at the severed head of the Jackal leader. I couldn’t make out his features, as the eyes and nose were buried in the sand but, for a moment, I thought its mouth was laughing.
‘What’s the matter, Mahu?’
I recalled stepping into the assassin’s punt.
‘I’d always wondered,’ I replied, ‘how they recognised me. Of course I was wearing Snefru’s cloak, garish, like that of a Desert Wanderer.’
‘Well, now you know.’ Sobeck lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. ‘You’ll remember me, Mahu.’
I stepped closer. ‘Why did you remember
me
, Sobeck? Why are you doing this?’
‘Because of what I was, because of what I am.’ He smiled thinly. ‘If you go into the dark, Mahu, then so do I. Peace, friend.’ He backed away. ‘I’ll watch with interest what happens.’
Djarka and I took Snefru that same day after darkness had fallen. Fighting hard to control my fury, I asked him to come for a walk, out of the palace grounds into the trees, not far from where Ay had poisoned the scribe Ineti. I chattered about what we were going to do on the morrow, certain items to be bought in Thebes. When the opportunity presented itself I stepped back and knocked him senseless with a blow from the club I’d hidden beneath my robes. Djarka soon had the unconscious man’s hands and feet lashed to pegs driven into the ground, a filthy rag thrust into his mouth. He squatted beside him while I returned to the palace and searched Snefru’s chamber. I found what I was looking for in a wall cavity hidden by the bed: a leather bag full of the same ingots Sobeck had showed me, as well as a pass allowing Snefru into the inner precincts of the Temple of Amun.
By the time I returned, Snefru had regained consciousness and Djarka had placed a small alabaster jar of oil next to his head. I felt a twinge of pity at those fear-filled eyes, that grotesque, scarred face twisted in pain. Djarka had already been busy cutting his cheeks, arms and legs with a razor-sharp dagger. The blood seeped out. I removed the gag.
‘You can scream, Snefru, but if you do, someone may hear and I’ll have to put the gag back. Shall I tell you where we are going? Out to the Red Lands, the hole has already been dug. I will bury you alive. You’re bleeding so the lions and hyenas will come and sniff you and …’
‘Master, Master,’ Snefru gabbled.
‘Don’t Master me,’ I replied, crouching next to him. ‘I’ve found both the pass and the gold. I know about the Libyans and your meetings with the shaven heads. All you have to decide, Snefru, is whether you are to die quickly and quietly here or out in the Red Lands. You’ll scream and yell as the hot sand fills your mouth and nostrils. The prowlers will sniff your blood and dig you out, like a warthog hiding in its den.’
‘I know nothing!’ Snefru screamed, body buckling against the thongs as Djarka, squatting on the other side, sliced his arm.
‘Why, Snefru?’ I asked. ‘I trusted you.’
‘You used to.’ Snefru glared at Djarka.
‘Oh, it’s more than that,’ I retorted.
‘The shaven pates.’ Snefru gave a sigh. ‘A quick death, Master?’
‘Very quick, no more than a heartbeat.’
‘Two months ago,’ Snefru confessed, ‘one of their acolytes approached me in the marketplace at Thebes. He took me into a beer-house and told me they knew everything about Imri and how he and the others had died. One day I would be punished, he swore; they’d crucify me on the walls of Thebes. They said the Grotesque, ’ Snefru coughed, ‘was a heretic, who would soon be sent into the Underworld to meet his just deserts. They offered me a farm, gold, the protection of Amun.’
‘What – just for information?’ I scoffed. ‘Snefru, you knew so little. Tell me about the Libyans,’ I persisted.
‘All I was told is that one day soon, Akhenaten would go into the Valley of the Shadows.’
‘And you’d go with him,’ I interrupted. ‘You and the rest would seal the valley entrance.’
‘The Libyans would attack,’ Snefru went on. ‘I was to wear a blue rag round my left arm and hide.’
‘And the Libyans would sweep in, kill your companions, murder the Prince and anyone with him.’
‘There was more.’ Snefru cleared his throat and Djarka withdrew the knife. ‘If possible, they were to attack this place.’
‘The Palace of the Aten?’
‘A night raid to kill and burn as much as they could before retreating downriver.’
I struck Snefru across the face.
‘Of course,’ I whispered. ‘And the chariot squadrons would search the Eastern Desert but the Libyans would be back across the Nile.’
‘If any chariot squadrons
were
sent out,’ Djarka added. ‘If our Prince were dead, and Ay and Nefertiti, not to mention ourselves, there would be a delay, caused by the confusion and chaos.’
‘Who’s behind this?’ I asked.
‘I met the same priest,’ Snefru yelped as Djarka cut his arm again. ‘He brought me messages, gold. They’ve chosen the day; it’s very soon.’
‘I know which day they’d choose,’ I snarled. ‘Our Prince is famous for deliberately ignoring the decrees of the Temple. On an inauspicious day when everyone stays at home, he insists on going out long before dawn to worship his god.’
Snefru nodded.
‘The rest?’ Djarka asked. ‘Your companions?’
‘They know nothing.’ He winced as Djarka cut again. ‘They are innocent.’ Then he began to cry, the tears coursing down his scarred cheeks.

Other books

Kiss Me While I sleep by Linda Howard
Bite Me by Christopher Moore
Dreams of Darkness Rising by Kitson, Ross M.
A Venetian Affair by Andrea Di Robilant
Johannes Cabal the Detective by Jonathan L. Howard
Made in Detroit by Marge Piercy
Push by Claire Wallis