The Assassins of Isis (19 page)

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Authors: P. C. Doherty

BOOK: The Assassins of Isis
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On the first occasion Djed had been so terrified he thought he would faint with the biting-cold wind, the hideous roar of the night prowlers and the heart-stopping fear of being caught by the guards. Nevertheless they had been successful. The guards had looked the other way and Djed couldn't believe his eyes as their guide had led them to what looked like an impassable rock face before disappearing into the cunningly contrived entrance. Once inside that ancient Pharaoh's tomb, Djed's fears had grown. There were traps to be avoided, hidden pits with stakes, false doors which led nowhere, trip ropes which would bring down a fall of rocks and, finally, a chamber swarming with asps and snakes. A place of concealed terrors, its darkness broken only by the pinprick light of torches which brought the pictures on the wall to flickering life. Five of his companions had been killed that night, but the Khetra had brought their corpses out; they'd all been promised that, alive or dead, they would be well looked after.
Djed had soon forgotten his terrors when he reached the treasure tombs and the ransacking began. Chairs and tables inlaid with gold; ivory and silver precious caskets full of jewels; jars brimming with exquisite trinkets. They had filled their sacks and left the way they had come. The Khetra had organised everything: the bribing of guards and officials, the transporting of goods from this house of pleasure to that, leaving the booty where the merchants and buyers could collect it and move it on. Djed had played his part. Sometimes he had been tempted to keep an earring or a jewelled bracelet, but he knew how dangerous that was. On his second robbery two of the Sebaus had done just that, filling their pockets with small debens of silver. Both men had been captured by the Khetra and stripped, their bodies lashed before being staked out in the desert for the night prowlers to feast on.
The robberies had become commonplace. Djed felt he knew some of those he worked with, old comrades from
the regiment, but he could never discuss this secret life in the beer shops or wine booths. Nevertheless he was certain that some of those who drank with him were the same shadowy figures who clambered up the sides of the Valley of the Kings to pillage the Houses of Eternity. A few had betrayed their new-found prosperity — perhaps that was where the mistake had been made — and Amerotke, that interfering judge from the Hall of Two Truths, had brought their depredations to an abrupt halt, picking at a loose thread and beginning to pull away at the entire fabric. The great conspiracy had been revealed. Merchants, officials and soldiers had been arrested at the dead of night, or just before dawn, their households swept up and taken to the imperial barracks or the House of Chains beneath the Temple of Ma'at. Courtesans and prostitutes, temple musicians, money-changers from the marketplace: there wasn't a profession in Thebes who had not dabbled in the buying and selling of stolen goods. Yet none of the Sebaus had been arrested. Of course, Djed smiled, how could they describe someone they didn't know? How could you arrest someone always cowled in black?
Djed had watched and listened as the fear swept through Thebes. Of course the robberies had stopped. He had been summoned back to the ruined Temple of Khnum, and the Khetra had come and issued orders he could not refuse. He had achieved some success; the attack on Amerotke had been fruitless, yet he had arranged the killing of that bitch Sithia and visited his cousin the temple guard. That had worked out well, though it was a pity about his cousin. He should have taken the silver and joined the Sebaus. However, he had told Djed he would do no more, so Djed had received fresh orders, to strike, and strike hard. He recalled the events of that morning: how he had led the attack on the executioners at the Place of Slaughter, the death of his cousin, and the rescue of their anonymous dead comrade. They had taken the corpse to the Temple of Khnum, but
before he had left, he'd pulled back the sheet and seen a face he recognised: a veteran he had glimpsed in the beer shops, near the barber's tree in the silversmiths' square.
Djed drank from his beaker. The garden had fallen strangely silent; even the faint strains of music from the house had faded away. Hadn't his wife said she wished to practise the harp? He half rose to his feet. He was sure he heard his saluki hound whimper. He put the beaker down, his hand going to the knife on the table as the door was flung open and Amerotke, Chief Judge of the Hall of Two Truths, came up the steps and into the pavilion.
Djed's mouth went dry with fear, so shocked, so surprised he stayed at a half-crouch. Surely he was dreaming? The judge was staring down at him, one hand slightly extended, the other tapping his leather breastplate.
‘What?' Djed slumped back in the chair as the judge picked up the dagger from the table and threw it from hand to hand, studying Djed's face closely as if he wished to memorise every detail.
‘You have the eyes of a killer.' The judge's voice was soft. ‘And the mouth of a man with no mercy.' He sat down on a bench and pointed the dagger at Djed. ‘Have we met before? Surely we have. Did you come into my chamber in the Temple of Ma'at? Were you there when Sithia was poisoned?'
Djed felt as if he was in a nightmare. He tried to pick up the beaker but it slid from his fingers and crashed to the floor.
Amerotke half smiled, and pushed open the door further so that Djed could see the Syrian bowman standing outside. ‘He has an arrow to his bow,' Amerotke confided, ‘and there are others around this pavilion. They are under strict orders to take you alive. No, don't be nervous.' He smiled again. ‘Your wife, child and servants are safe. They are under guard in the house. It's a pity about your dog, but I know the type, a killer, just like its owner. Please,' he held up
a hand, ‘don't lie to me. Don't start protesting, or quoting the law about trespass. I know all about you. How you are a former soldier who seems to have grown rather wealthy. I know about your friends and relations including your dear, dead cousin who was a member of my temple guard.' Amerotke sniffed. ‘Earlier this evening I visited his betrothed; poor girl, she hasn't stopped crying. She told me all about your visit. It was shortly before I was attacked and Sithia was poisoned in prison. After your second visit, a certain prisoner was found dead in the House of Chains. You bribed your cousin, didn't you? You told him what to do, but he wasn't a killer like you. He became nervous and agitated.'
Amerotke dropped the dagger so that it fell to the floor, making Djed jump.
‘Your cousin muttered about how he resented your visits and never wanted to see you again. It was only a matter of time,' he played with the sash around his waist, ‘before he would talk to someone. You know it was a mistake, don't you?' He narrowed his eyes. ‘Or perhaps you haven't reached that conclusion yet?'
Amerotke leaned forward, lecturing Djed as a teacher would some dim-witted scholar.
‘It was obvious your cousin was bribed; he was the only guard outside the cell — apart from the Captain Asural, and I would trust him with my life. Now your cousin is dead. It was only a matter of time before I began to ask questions. Who had he been speaking to? Who had visited him?'
Djed sat impassive, so tense he could feel the cramp in the back of his legs. He quietly cursed his own stupidity. He had made a mistake, the Khetra had made a mistake, but what could he do? He fought for breath. Of course, no Sebaus ever showed his face, and if he did, it was a rare occasion. The Khetra must have been desperate. Or was he? Had the Khetra marked him for death but not moved fast enough? Was that the real mistake?
‘I'm sure,' the judge picked up the knife, balancing it in his hand, ‘I'm sure, Djed, that if I hadn't visited you tonight, others would have done. You showed your face, your true identity to your cousin. All would have been well if he'd co-operated fully. You told the Khetra, who ordered his death!' Amerotke smiled. ‘As he has ordered yours. The Sebaus would have come. They would have killed you, your wife, your child, your servants, as well as your dog. Who knows,' he gestured to the knife, ‘perhaps the assassins already know we are here. So, which way are you going to jump?'
Amerotke paused as Shufoy came up the steps into the pavilion. He listened to his whispers, then spoke again.
‘We've discovered nothing, Djed,' he sighed, ‘apart from small items from the days when you fought for the Divine One rather than against her. So, tell me, where do you hide your wealth? And the scarabs you carry? You must have a little hiding hole. Where do you think, Shufoy?'
Djed stared at the hideously disfigured dwarf, who stared unblinkingly back.
‘I think we should kill him, master. He tried to kill you. Perhaps we should torture him, take him out to the Red Lands, bury him for a while beneath the hot sand, see how he likes to be cooked.'
Djed tried to swallow but he couldn't. Shufoy was tapping a sandalled foot on the wooden floor. He stared down at his feet and gave a crooked smile.
‘Master, why does he come here?' Shufoy pointed at the wooden boards. ‘I think what we seek lies just beneath us.'
KHENRIT: ancient Egyptian, ‘prison'
The Leopard Chamber at the heart of the imperial palace was a room of breathtaking beauty. Its walls, floor and ceiling were of a glowing ivory marble, adorned with leopards of various colours, red with black spots, gold with green spots, deep yellow with black spots, which crouched, slept, sprang, or prowled in a variety of poses; magnificent beasts painted by the best artists in Egypt. Amerotke always believed that if he half shut his eyes these great cats would surely come to life. The chamber had a great window at the far end overlooking the flowerbeds of the palace. The fragrance of the shrubs wafted through the chamber, mixing with that of the perfumes in the small pots placed in countless niches within the wall. The chamber had little furniture, but all the pieces were of highly polished acacia and sycamore, the edges, legs and arms inlaid with the purest ivory and silver. On either side of the door wild flowers, planted in pots of cobalt blue, sprouted from their beds of rich Canaan soil.
The doors to the great chamber were locked and barred so that Hatusu, Pharaoh of Egypt, King and Queen of the Two Lands, could swim in the rectangular Pool of Purity. Its water was the clearest blue, and on its surface floated the finest white lotus blossoms. The Queen turned fast as any dolphin, swimming just beneath the water, the languorous strokes belying her speed and skill. Amerotke took a deep
breath and tried not to sigh in exasperation. At the far end of the pool, squatting on a cushion, Senenmut, Hatusu's lover and First Minister, watched his Queen's every movement. Again the Queen turned, kicking away from the wall at the edge of the pool, streaking fast through the water, her black hair floating out behind her. She reached the far end, grasped the gold-rimmed edge and pulled herself up. Wiping away the water with one hand, she pressed against the side of the pool and stared up at her Chief Judge.
‘You look tired, my lord.' Hatusu's eyes did not share the smile on her lips. ‘You have brought me news? I will be able to impale all those robbers on the cliffs above the Valley of the Kings?'
‘I have brought you nothing but information, Divine One.'
Hatusu grasped the gold flail lying on the edge of the pool and made a cutting movement at Amerotke's ankles. The judge didn't flinch.
‘My lady, if you do that again …'
Hatusu stared at him angrily, then, laughing softly, hoisted herself out of the pool and slipped her feet into gold-thonged sandals. As she walked round to where Senenmut was waiting with linen cloths to dry her, Amerotke turned his back and paced over to the window. He could tell by the stars, the coldness of the night, that it must be well past midnight. The Divine One was correct, he was tired. He had visited his wife and sons in their quarters but had been interrupted by Senenmut, who had said that the Divine One would see him immediately.
‘You know it's discourteous to turn your back on the Divine One?'
Amerotke sighed and turned. Hatusu, clothed in diaphanous linen robes, was sitting cross-legged on a stool sharing a dish of sugared dates with Senenmut, who knelt at her feet busy filling three goblets. Hatusu beckoned with her fingers and threw a cushion on the floor beside
her. Amerotke sat down, and a goblet was thrust into his hands.
‘Are you not pleased to see me?' Hatusu, her hair still wet, leaned closer, shaking herself so that some of the water splattered Amerotke.
‘My heart is glad and my soul sings,' Amerotke intoned the usual protocol of court, ‘at the sight of your face.' He kept his voice flat and monotonous. ‘Your radiance, Divine One, strengthens my limbs whilst the power of your smile—'
‘Thank you,' Hatusu interrupted harshly. ‘I understand what you are saying, Amerotke. You are tired, frustrated, frightened and you want to sleep. So tell me again, what happened?'
Amerotke described the murders at the Temple of Ma'at. How the guard who had killed the imprisoned Sebaus must have been bribed or threatened, a conclusion which was strengthened when that guard was murdered as well.
‘So you've captured this Djed?' Hatusu declared. ‘And is he dead?'
‘No, he and his entire family have been taken to my house. Captain Asural is under strict orders. The woman and child are to be confined but protected. The prisoner is to be locked in my cellars and closely guarded, two in the cell with him and two outside. Asural is never to leave the house.'
Hatusu put down her wine cup.
‘And he is definitely one of the Sebaus?'
‘Oh yes,' Amerotke agreed. ‘We dug beneath his garden pavilion and discovered a leather sack. It contained everything an assassin would need: the black garb, a dagger, and a pouch of scarabs displaying a kneeling man holding a bow.'
‘And?' Senenmut asked.
‘Two items provoked my curiosity.' Amerotke toasted the First Minister with his goblet. ‘One was a pass allowing Djed into the Temple of Isis, a clay tablet bearing the seal of Paser.'
‘He's one of the principal priests, Lord Impuki's assistant.'
‘Djed claimed his father had been sent to the House of Twilight and that he had often visited him there; that was why he had been given the pass.'
‘Do you believe him?'
‘His father bore the same name as him, so he can be easily traced. Apparently he was a soldier and a mason, and therefore worked for the Divine House—'
‘Of course,' Hatusu interrupted. ‘And any member of an imperial regiment can present himself to the Temple of Isis and ask for healing free of cost.'
‘Why did Djed keep the pass hidden?' Senenmut asked.
‘Apparently his father died three seasons ago. What I suspect is that Djed used the pass to visit certain friends there, perhaps Mafdet.'
‘What else did you find?'
‘A map of the Temple of Isis. You can buy them in the temple squares, it shows you the main chapels and sanctuaries, but this one has been embellished. Again Djed refused to answer my questions, saying he used the map when he visited his father. He claims to know nothing about Lord Impuki or Paser and has never met Captain Mafdet.'
‘Djed was a soldier?'
‘Yes, he served with General Omendap, as did his cousin, and if we check the records, so did Captain Mafdet.'
‘But the general is the Commander-in-Chief of Egypt's forces.'
‘Djed said that the general always looked after old comrades. I asked if he also knew General Suten. He shook his head. He had once approached General Suten for help but Chief Scribe Menna had driven him away.'
‘And the Khetra?' Senenmut asked.
‘Oh yes, our Watchman by the gates.' Amerotke smiled. ‘When I mentioned the name Djed looked terrified. He
shook his head and refused to say any more. Shufoy threatened to torture his wife but the prisoner mumbled that he didn't care; if he didn't speak she would be tortured, and if he did she would certainly be killed.'
‘And your conclusions?' Hatusu asked. Amerotke could tell by the way she moved her head that the Pharaoh Queen was not pleased at what was happening.
‘Divine One, I don't know. Certain matters are becoming clearer. According to all the evidence, General Suten may have introduced that bag of horned vipers on to the roof terrace himself, a foolish attempt to confront his own fears. In his memoirs he virtually admits that he was considering such an act. Tomorrow morning the court reconvenes. Chief Scribe Menna will act as Heby's advocate and the case will be dismissed.'
‘I don't think so.' Hatusu's voice was sharp. ‘Only yesterday afternoon Lord Valu visited me. He brought me a new white lotus which he claimed would blossom during the night, though I've yet to see that. Now you know Lord Valu, a man who keeps his secrets as close as his shadow; all he would say was that he had interesting questions to ask. I was busy.' Hatusu shook her head. ‘Perhaps I should have questioned him more closely.'
Amerotke hid his own disquiet. Lord Valu was the sharpest of prosecutors. Had he discovered new evidence, or was Amerotke simply betraying his own unspoken reservations about General Suten's death? He felt something was amiss yet couldn't explain it, he'd become so distracted about the events at the Temple of Ma'at.
‘And Lord Impuki and the Temple of Isis?' Senenmut asked. ‘There is no trace of those four hesets? Or why Captain Mafdet should be so barbarously murdered and his house burnt down?'
Amerotke, ignoring Hatusu's hiss of disapproval, shook his head. ‘All I have discovered at the Temple of Isis,' he conceded, ‘is that Lady Nethba's father died of natural
causes and was treated most honourably. There is some connection between Mafdet and the Sebaus but I don't know what. The same is true of his death. He may have been killed for a private grievance, or the Sebaus, thinking he was about to betray them, took the law into their own hands.'
‘And the tomb robbers?' Hatusu insisted.
‘Pearls on a string, my lady. I admit I made a mistake.' Amerotke held Hatusu's gaze. ‘We pulled up the plant but not the root. Those whom we prosecuted were simply the people who bought and sold, but the actual thefts were carried out by the Sebaus. I was wrong about these, they are not a gang from the slums. They are controlled by this individual who calls himself the Khetra. Djed told me little, but what I have learnt, what I guess at, is that most of these Sebaus are former soldiers. They leave the imperial ranks and fall on hard times. They are resourceful, vigorous men, used to danger as well as carrying out orders. I suspect they don't know each other but are told to gather at a certain place, at a certain hour and given instructions. They are well looked after and rewarded. They receive a lavish price for their work and are managed with a ruthless ferocity.'
‘Where do they gather?'
Amerotke shook his head. ‘I don't know, I don't think we ever will. This Khetra issues the orders. We must capture him, or her. Once the Khetra is dead, the robberies will cease.' He put his cup down. ‘The principles on which the Sebaus work are simple and clear. Once you have been involved in a robbery, or the murder of some official, be it a temple guard or a judge, you are part of the group, there is no escape. And why should you want to leave? After years of hardship you are suddenly offered a life of riches and ease.'
‘But who could have approached these soldiers?' Hatusu asked. ‘A general like Omendap or Suten?'
‘Possibly,' Amerotke conceded. ‘Or a high priest like Lord
Impuki. Many former soldiers visit the Temple of Isis; Captain Mafdet had served in the imperial regiments. But why stop there?' Amerotke picked up his cup. ‘Lord Valu is the Chief Prosecutor of Thebes; like me or Lord Senenmut, he can demand to see the army muster roles, discover where former soldiers live.'
‘And there's the royal tombs,' Hatusu reminded them.
‘Yes,' Amerotke sighed. ‘The royal tombs. Most of their entrances are hidden. Very few people know their approaches or what traps or treasures lie inside. Such records can be found in the House of Books, either here—'
‘Or in the Temple of Isis.' Senenmut finished his sentence. ‘Priests attend royal funerals, they are often engaged in the preparation of tombs and funeral gifts. They accompany the corpse to its last resting place. I'm sure there are priests and librarians in many of our temples who know the secrets of the Houses of a Million Years.'
‘And the seals?' Hatusu asked, biting her lip to control her anger. ‘The imperial seal used to send these treasures beyond our borders under the very noses of our customs guards and patrols?'
Amerotke shrugged. ‘I hold such a seal, as do Lord Impuki, General Omendap, Lord Valu, Lord Senenmut—'
Hatusu, unable to control her anger, sprang to her feet, snapping her fingers for Senenmut to follow. She turned at the door, whispered to him, then came striding back, her face flushed with fury. She leant down and grasped Amerotke by the front of his robe.
‘I am Pharaoh Queen,' she whispered, her breath hot on his face. ‘My first task is to defend the tombs of those who went before me. To make the People of the Nine Bows shift like dust under my sandal. How can I do that, judge, if the goods of my father's and grandfather's tombs are being sold by pedlars in a marketplace in Canaan or given to a Hittite prince as a gift?' She pressed her nails against Amerotke's chest.
The judge
removed her hand and squeezed it tightly.

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