Egypt (19 page)

‘It's quite a sight, eh?' said Paser, once more taking my arm, and leading me down into the chaos of the market. Thousands of stalls were set up under shades, and customers, browsers, merchants, and mules and porters carrying goods, all struggled together, shouting insults, imprecations, advice and unbeatable offers. We passed stalls selling beer, and others selling oils, grapes and figs, and then magnificent silverwork.

‘Ashkelon silver. Very fine work,' said Paser, pointing. ‘You should buy something to take home for your wife!'

Instantly the silver merchant came forward, bowing and smiling, greeting Paser, and engaging him in conversation. But I shook my head, not having the funds or the heart for such a transaction. With a casual wave of his imperious hand, Paser passed on, and the merchant sank back into the shadows, his smile immediately vanishing at the lost sale.

‘Here is the precious stones market. Lapis lazuli, gold, amethyst, jasper, turquoise? Yours for the taking, and much cheaper here than at home in Egypt. Finger-rings, earrings, bracelets wrought by the finest Minoan craftsmen, for your daughters, perhaps? Over there, to the left, is the olive oil and wine–see, they are unloading a fresh consignment from Crete. They have the most beautiful vessels! Over there, the perfumes, and beyond the wools and linens, mostly from Egypt, of course, highly expensive, and very much in demand among the new class of affluent families…'

I shaded my eyes. Further away, closer to the waterfront, I noticed long, low depots teeming with men and carts.

‘And those?'

‘Those are storage for the consignments of raw materials–tin, copper, cedar, lead and bronze. Those merchants have standing orders from all across the world, from royal and noble families. The caravans have long been contracted, and they will soon begin their long journeys to their far destinations.'

He gazed with worldly satisfaction at the panorama of the emporium before us, then nodded ahead, as we approached a corral of horses, steaming in the heat of the sun. Merchants in long woollen cloaks were carefully scrutinizing the fine, dignified, nervous animals.

Paser leaned into me and said, ‘Those are Hittite merchants. They buy all the best horses for their infantry.'

‘Do Hittite and Egyptian merchants trade together? Despite the wars?' I asked.

‘My dear friend, the world is really one vast marketplace. No one cares where a man is from as long as he has gold in his pocket, or something you want. And the remarkable thing is this: the wars have only encouraged demand, trade has actually
boomed
in these difficult years. The ships are full, everyone is happy. War and politics are irrelevant, unless the great flow of trade is disturbed.'

‘And what are the ships full of?' I asked.

‘Everything this world has to offer. Silver and copper, glass and bronze, lapis lazuli and gold, oils, perfumes, animal skins, live animals, potions, dyes, cedar, slaves, women, children…' he said, listing them casually.

‘And opium?'

‘Why do you ask?' he said cautiously.

‘Curiosity,' I replied.

But Paser was not satisfied with this answer. He pulled me suddenly aside.

‘I like you, Rahotep, so I will be open with you. Nakht has already told me about your private loss. I was sorry to hear of it.'

‘I appreciate your words. I lost a great friend. His name was Khety. He was a fine Medjay officer investigating a new opium gang. Until he was brutally murdered,' I said. Even saying those few words stirred the blackness in my blood again.

Paser nodded sympathetically.

‘We live in a dark time. But I must tell you Nakht has instructed me not, under any circumstances, to discuss any matters connected to this with you.'

I took out the papyrus with the black star from my leather satchel, and showed it to Paser.

‘Does this mean anything?' I asked.

He gazed at it in astonishment.

‘Where did you get it?' he asked.

‘From inside the mouth of my murdered friend,' I replied. ‘It was left as a sign by his executioner after he cut off his head. I see you recognize it.'

Paser nodded slowly.

‘It is the sign of the Army of Chaos,' he replied.

At last. Paser had confirmed what I had suspected. There
was
a connection between the Theban gang and the merciless brutes of the Army of Chaos.

‘How could the Army of Chaos have any connection with a high-level opium gang in Thebes?' I asked, my mouth dry.

Paser patted his now-sweating brow with an embroidered cloth.

‘I see what sort of man you are, Rahotep. You are honourable. That is a rare virtue in this corrupt and terrible world of ours. But it is also a risky one. You must be very careful.'

‘All I know is I will not stand by and let the things I love be destroyed. There has to be justice,' I replied. ‘If there is no justice, then what will become of us all?'

Paser nodded and patted my hand.

‘Justice! That is a word one does not hear much these days.'

He seemed breathless. I was determined to keep him talking.

‘Shall we continue?' I suggested. He nodded.

‘I asked you about opium because I believe there is a black market trading in it, which is connected to the new kind of gang in Thebes,' I said. ‘You have confirmed the black star is the sign of the Army of Chaos. Now I need to know how they transport the opium, where they get it, and how it is sold into Egypt.'

Paser stopped dead in his tracks.

‘Let me warn you, Rahotep, friend to friend. Opium is the worst of trades, and the most violent. No one who enters it lives long.'

‘As my friend Khety discovered to his cost. Do you know how they butchered him?' I asked. My hands were suddenly sweaty and shaking. I wiped them against my robe.

‘I do not, nor do I wish to hear it,' he replied.

We arrived at the sea wall itself and climbed the hewn steps, smoothed by innumerable feet over the ages, in silence, until we stood, shading our eyes, admiring the beauty of the coastline, green with trees and fields, grey where it was rocky, and beyond it the great spectacle of the open, ever-changing sea.

‘I will not seek revenge for Khety's death while on this journey. I know I have my job to do. But I have to
know
. If I don't know, I can't live with myself,' I said.

Paser glanced at me and sighed.

‘I will tell you something, but it must remain absolutely between ourselves. Is that understood?'

‘Absolutely,' I promised.

‘Everything is upside down in these strange days. Everything is in flux, and that is good for those who would do evil, and make their fortunes from chaos. These long wars have had strange consequences: they have created unreliable borders; they have allowed local conflicts to develop into shifting and unreliable allegiances that in turn have adversely affected the great empires. The balance of power is no longer certain. Chieftains are able to play off kings for their allegiance. No matter what they promise and swear about loyalty and long-established political alliances and so on, every one of them is motivated by selfish imperatives; and in the case of the small kingdoms that means not only taking every advantage of the usual markets of international trade, but also of the opportunities of the black market. Do you understand?' he said.

I nodded. ‘The wars have opened up the black markets to the gangs, and now they have power, while Egypt is losing control…' I said.

‘Quite so. And in addition, Egypt has become arrogant. It has assumed its absolute superiority without doing the necessary political work to ensure its respect in the world. It has committed injustices against the peoples of this region. It has too often ignored its vassals and its allies, and where it has not ignored them it has treated them with contempt. I say this as a loyal Egyptian, but I see the negative consequences everywhere here, on the ground.'

Paser leaned in closer to me.

‘Of course, no one wants to hear this. Not even Nakht. But I fear Egypt sowing the seeds of its own disaster. This war has produced the best possible conditions for the success of a different kind of crime: one that extends beyond these newly permeable borders. The black market is now bigger and more powerful than it has ever been. In its scale and its scope it could one day even challenge the financial might of Egypt herself. So you see, your question goes to the heart of the matter.'

I thought about this.

‘And opium has become one of the most lucrative of all the black market commodities?'

He looked around and waited until a group of strolling sightseers had passed, so that no one might overhear us.

‘It is
the
most lucrative. And therefore the most dangerous.'

‘Is it for sale, here?'

‘Of course it is. But I trust you are not so naive as to think you can single-handedly trace it to its source, and destroy it. It is a many-headed serpent. Certainly, you might find it here, being offered to you by a child on the street. That boy is only the lowest-level seller. You would most likely not find the man behind the deal, but if you did you would certainly not find the man behind that man, and so on, and so on. These men are not merchants. These are not domestic, petty criminals. We Egyptians are a people who admire order. We worship the Goddess Maat, Keeper of Justice and Harmony–in the seasons, the stars, and the relations between the Gods and mortals! But she is not the only God of power. There is Seth, God of Chaos and Confusion, patron of deserts and wild places, abhorred creature, part-dog, part-donkey, with his forked tail, he who confronts and blinds Horus, he who murdered Osiris himself, he who would be ruler of the Earth!'

He wiped his brow, and laughed a little.

‘I thought we were talking of men, not Gods,' I said.

‘Indeed. But I will tell you something. I have my ear to the ground, and there are those who are saying Seth is here again, walking unseen among the living. They say his time has come again. They say there is a man come forth in our day who will be Seth the Destroyer.'

He shrugged.

‘It does not take a seer to imagine who might be the first candidate for such a role. I imagine Aziru, from what you said last night, would relish it,' I said. ‘Does this mysterious man have a name?'

‘If he does, I do not know it,' replied Paser, carefully.

‘Have you heard the name Obsidian at any point?'

Paser glanced at me.

‘No, I have not. Why do you ask?'

‘Because I have heard this name spoken in connection with the opium trade in Thebes.'

The shouts and noise of the marketplace below us suddenly seemed far away.

‘My friend Khety was killed by a mysterious new cartel in Thebes. Now you have confirmed that the papyrus left in his mouth is the sign of the Army of Chaos. And they probably have a connection with Aziru, who is, most likely, allied with the Hittites. Does there not seem to you to be a chain of connections between my beheaded friend in Thebes and where we are standing now?'

Paser blew out his cheeks, as if he was about to say something, but chose to remain silent. We gazed out in silence at the incongruously glorious vision of glittering water, of beautiful, busy ships, and the great panorama of the trade of the world. I turned around to gaze at the vast city. The mountains in the far distance were capped with dazzling snow. I tried another tack.

‘Let's assume the supply chain runs along the course of the Great River, and along the trade routes, via Bubastis and the other eastern delta towns. Let's suppose local officials, motivated by greed or fear, each take their place in the process, to maximize efficiency and minimize risk. Let's imagine the chain ranges from low-level street dealers, through the gangs, and the middlemen, up to the top level: gangsters whose corrupt influence reaches into the heart of the empire's power. But it all starts with the crop. Where does it come from? Where is it grown? And how could such quantities be smuggled all the way to Egypt's cities, even if corruption were able to control everything?'

Paser nodded at the forbidding range of mountains in the distance.

‘Beyond those mountains, to the south-east, are remote, high valleys–wild, barbaric, extremely dangerous places. Hidden away inaccessibly, the highest, most remote valley is secret, and closely guarded. No one who goes there ever returns. They say it is long and narrow, green and lush in the south, drier and harsher in the north. The summers are long and dry. And they say it is a perfect paradise, for any seed you drop on the earth will grow…' he said.

‘So that is where your glorious wine comes from?' I said. Paser nodded. But then I realized the other connection. ‘And it is also the perfect land for the cultivation of opium.'

‘I did not say so,' he replied. ‘And you must not let the royal envoy know we have talked about anything but wine. Wine is safe, at least.'

‘Our conversation is private. But if it is so dangerous there, how do you acquire that glorious wine?' I asked.

‘Almost all of the wine I acquire and sell comes from this side of the mountains. But very occasionally a consignment from that valley comes on to the market, privately. I know how to acquire it, of course for a very high price, for my most discerning customers.'

‘And have you been there yourself?'

He laughed briefly.

‘Of course not! Do you think I do not value my life?'

‘But if I wanted to go there, do you have contacts who could guide me?' I asked.

His hands flew up in frustration. I had pushed him too far.

‘Have you listened to a single word I have said? You must swear to me to put aside all such thoughts! You could never survive there. It is a place of terrible poverty and extreme tribal violence.' He was sweating hard now. ‘I will tell you a story. They say the reason the wine is so perfect, so dark and complex, is because the vines are fed with human
blood
. The gang that runs this garden paradise is the Army of Chaos. That valley is their homeland.'