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Authors: Paul Doherty

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I grew nervous: would the enemy overrun our depleted force? The battle continued by torchlight, men screaming and fighting, every muscle in my body aching. I became aware of the cool breeze from the river, the stench of rotting vegetation, the slap of water. Our rearguard now reached the quayside and broke up, men taking refuge behind carts and bundles. Every so often, a standard-bearer would shout and the next group of men would detach themselves and run down to leap on to the barges. A few missed their footing and tumbled into the water. The cries of the wounded and dying agitated a nearby crocodile pool. Shouts of warning rang from the barges, and oil was thrown into the water and fired with arrows. The screams from the river were heart-rending. Abruptly our attackers retreated.
‘What’s happening?’ I shouted to an officer.
A roar from the river made me whirl round. Our barges were long dark shapes in the water, lit by the occasional torch. To my astonishment, other boats had appeared, clearly war barges, their decorated standards glittering in the light. They displayed the personal banners of the Lord Ay, the Golden Horus, the Falcon of Egypt. The rebels retreated. These new barges landed troops of mercenaries, archers, heavy infantry, who immediately advanced into the city as another force closed in from the eastern cliffs.
‘Are you well, Lord Mahu?’ I glanced round. Nakhtimin, dressed in the full regalia of a general, collars of bravery around his neck, took off his leather helmet. ‘You look rather distraught, Lord Mahu. You must come with me! The Lord Ay requires it.’
I climbed into the waiting punt. We reached the side of a war barge. I went up a rope ladder; oil lamps glowed on deck. I glimpsed the Prince and Ankhesenamun resting on cushions under a blood-red awning, sucking on pieces of fruit as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Tutankhamun leapt to his feet, and would have run across to show me the sword Ay had given him, but a figure stepped out of the shadows. I recognised the smiling painted face of the Lord Maya, the treasurer.
‘You look as comfortable and prosperous as ever,’ I commented.
Huy joined him. Both gazed sadly at me, as they used to when we were Children of the Kap, as if I had done something wrong and was about to be punished.
Nakhtimin pushed me gently on my shoulder. A guard opened the door to the cabin in the centre of the barge and I stepped into the warm, perfumed light. Lord Ay was sitting on a small divan, cushions piled high around him. The small ivory table laid before him was covered in documents and inkpots. Two scribes from the House of Writing squatted either side of the table, carefully taking down Ay’s proclamations. The cobra in human flesh ignored me. He picked up a goblet of wine – I remember it was a turquoise colour – and sipped rather than drank before continuing the proclamation he was dictating.
‘Anyone found bearing arms will be killed. Anyone found guilty of rape, violence or plunder will be executed. Anyone found resisting authority will suffer the same penalty.’ He waved a hand. ‘You know the rest. You may go.’
He dismissed the scribes and turned to me, eyes as cunning as ever in that lean face. The robe he wore was of the purest white linen; a chain of office hung around his neck. Rings dazzled on his fingers, and he kept playing with these as he hid part of his face behind his hand.
‘My lord Mahu, it’s good to see you.’ He tossed a few cushions on the floor before him. ‘You may sit.’
‘I will stand.’ I stretched quickly and picked up his goblet. ‘I would like to return the compliment, Lord Ay, and say how pleasant it is to meet you.’ I sipped the wine. ‘From the black soil of Canaan, the Vineyard of Lebanon?’ I asked.
‘A little further south.’ Ay smiled. ‘Come, relax. You have blood on your arms and face!’
‘I might have more,’ I replied, ‘if your brother standing behind me does not stop treating me as a prisoner and take his hand from his sword.’ I turned my head. ‘In fact, I prefer him to go.’ I wished I hadn’t drunk the wine; it made me feel sick. My arms and legs felt heavy. I wanted so much to sit, kneel or squat. Ay gestured with his head, and the cabin door closed behind me. I sat down on the cushions, still clutching the cup.
‘What has been happening here?’ Ay murmured.
‘Oh don’t play cat and mouse with me,’ I snapped. ‘The rebellion in the city was the work of your agents, or rather your granddaughter. She was under orders to find those secret documents I took from the usurper’s camp. She’s destroyed them, hasn’t she?’
Ay shrugged. ‘You would never have used them.’
‘The uprising,’ I demanded. ‘You knew they would not hurt the Prince or Ankhesenamun. You arranged it so as to appear as the saviour who won a victory as great as that of General Horemheb. Does he know about this expedition?’
‘He will be told about you running around the eastern desert; your lack of care for the young Prince; your refusal to obey the instructions of the Royal Circle.’ Ay paused. ‘What did you go into the desert to see, Mahu?’
‘What you were looking for, Lord Ay, when you massacred Lord Tutu and the rest. I found the caves; I studied the paintings. I also found Lord Tutu, or what was left of him, as well as certain documents which, I assure you, I keep in a secret place.’
‘The paintings?’ Ay’s face was bright with excitement.
‘I suspect you know.’
Ay chewed the corner of his lip.
‘Why did you massacre them?’
‘They were rebels and traitors,’ he replied.
‘Did you do it on the orders of the Royal Circle?’
‘Some day, Mahu,’ Lord Ay smiled, ‘someone will tell me what you found out there.’
‘No, my lord, one day I will tell General Horemheb what I discovered.’
Ay beat a tattoo on the edge of the table as he studied some documents. He lifted his head. ‘It’s back to Thebes, Mahu. The City of the Aten is finished; not one stone will be left upon another. Now you must sleep, the dream is over.’
We returned to Thebes seven days later. Ay depicted himself as a victorious general, home from the wars. We advanced in glory around the city, along the Avenues of the Rams and Sphinxes, trumpets blowing, standards raised. Young girls threw rose petals, priests offered prayers amidst clouds of incense, whilst temple choirs sang hymns of triumph.
How glorious are you, Horus in the South!
You have bared your arm and scattered your foe
,
You have smashed the might of Egypt’s enemy
,
You have restored honour to the Kingdom of the
Two Lands
.
Tutankhamun, along with Ankhesenamun, was borne in an open-sided litter, to be greeted with roars of salutations, though the people were singing the hymn to Lord Ay rather than anyone else. I realised how hard Ay and the others had worked. The temples were open, the pylons repainted, new pinewood flagpoles placed on top from which red and blue streamers fluttered in the wind. Temple gates and doors had been rehung and refurbished with copper and bronze. The markets were busy; trade had returned to Thebes. The gold-capped obelisks dazzled in the sunlight. Akenhaten was forgotten, his dream of One God and a new city no more than dust in the wind.
ger re
(Ancient Egyptian for ‘silent mouth’)
Chapter 18
For his crowning, Tutankhamun was placed on the Great Gold Throne. Sixteen porters carried it on their shoulders, squads of infantry on every side. The musicians proclaimed their strident sounds: the blast of trumpets, the ominous beat of the long drums, the rattling of the sistra. In front of the throne, the ram-headed Priests of Amun, clad in panther skins, walked backwards, raising silver censers towards the face of their little sovereign, who’d been carefully prepared and instructed on what to do.
We had been in Thebes only a few days when the Royal Circle gathered and the decision was made that Tutankhamun was to be crowned Pharaoh of Egypt. He would hold the flail and rod; his name would go forth from beyond the Third Cataract to the Delta. I had been ignored, invited to meetings of the Royal Circle more as an observer than a participant. People avoided me. I recognised the signs. I was out of favour. Now the day had come. Tutankhamun would wear the Double Crown of Egypt; he would be taken to the Temple of Amun, and invested with the Great Office. I was invited, even given a place of honour, but the silence of the others was ominous. I was a marked man.
Tutankhamun was excited. I participated in, as well as supervised, the gorgeous ceremony. For the first time in almost twenty years a Royal Coronation would take place. The Royal Circle had also decreed that, after his crowning, Ankhesenamun and Tutankhamun would be solemnly married. A day to remember as the Prince was carried up the wide avenue. All around him wafting fans exuded expensive perfume, whilst clouds of incense threatened to hide him. The procession went along the Avenue of the Sphinxes, past the circled walls of the temple and the shimmering waters of the sacred lakes. The heat grew intense. The crowds swelled, a thick hedge of cheering, applauding people. We approached the gigantic soaring pylons of the Temple of Karnak. This was not only the day when Tutankhamun would be crowned; it was also an occasion to show the people of Egypt that the power of the Amun had returned; Egypt’s Gods were to be honoured, the days of the Aten, the One God were over. All around Tutankhamun swarmed priests and prophets, the masters of the ceremony, the courtiers. Of course, pride of place had been given to the Royal Circle, especially Lord Ay in his glorious robes of office.
I, and the rest, followed the Prince through the secret doors of the temple into the icy darkness. We approached the Great Room where the God Amun had his sanctuary. The chapel priest appeared, sprinkling holy water and praying the sacred words: ‘I purify you with this. It will give you life, health and strength.’ Here the Prince was stripped of his garments and garbed in the traditional vestments of High Priest and Pharaoh: a loose mantle over his shoulders and a short kilt with a jackal’s tail hanging from the belt at the bottom. The divine instruments were placed in his hands: the crook, the whip and the sceptre. A false beard of gold was fastened to his little chin. Once he was ready, we entered the vast hall for the Feast of the Royal Diadem, where the coronation ceremony took place. Priests wearing the grim masks of hawks and greyhounds personifying Horus, the God of Lower Egypt, and Seth, the God of Upper Egypt, placed crowns upon the young Pharaoh’s head: first the White Crown of Upper Egypt, followed by the Red Crown of Lower, around the crowns the golden band displaying the cobra head of the Uraeus, the defender of Pharaoh and the Protector of Egypt.
‘I establish my dignity as King of the North. I establish my dignity as King of the South …’ Once that vow was taken, Tutankhamun, to establish not only his authority but that of Amun, went deeper into the sanctuary to lie prostrate before the Naos, the Sacred Cupboard. He then broke its sacred seals and opened the doors. I was there to help him, an exception to the rule. Inside stood a small statue of gilded wood encrusted with gems, the God sitting on his throne, wearing a head-dress surmounted by two ostrich feathers. I shall always remember those enamel eyes, slightly revolting in the stupid, horrible mask.
Once the coronation ceremony was over, we left the temple, proceeding in triumph through Thebes so Pharaoh could show his face to his people. It was a glorious scene: marching troops, rattling chariotry, the air thick with incense and perfume.
By late afternoon, the Ceremony of Procession was over and the great feasting began in the Malkata Palace. I was looking for my own place on the royal dais when I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. General Nakhtimin stood, smiling slyly, ringed by a group of officers.
‘My lord Mahu,’ he intoned, ‘you are under arrest.’
I let them escort me from the hall, down the steps and back to my own quarters, and that, I suppose, was the end of my days as the Prince’s guardian. The following morning I was summoned to a meeting of the Royal Circle. I was made to stand as if I was a prisoner of war while Lord Ay, acting as Pharaoh’s First Minister, listed the charges against me: my dereliction of duty in the City of the Aten; my endangering the Prince; my foolish escapade (as he put it) in going out into the eastern desert; the uprising; my failure to protect the Princess Ankhesenamun.
The charges were a list of vague, empty words. I looked around for support. Horemheb and Rameses avoided my glance. Huy and Maya squatted on their cushions, heads down. In the end my sentence was house arrest in a stately mansion on a road outside Thebes. Pentju, also included in the charges, was declared officially disgraced. The house three miles north of Thebes, was very similar to the one in which I am now detained, with outhouses and gardens, its high circumference wall closely guarded by Nakhtimin’s troops. Pentju accepted his fate with resignation, joking how we would settle down like an old married couple. I was given a few servants and allowed to pick ten of my mercenaries to join me. I asked for volunteers and the lovely lads responded. We were taken to the mansion and given instructions not to leave under sentence of death or banishment.
BOOK: The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries)
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