Ahhotep consulted the two officers, and it was decided to send a message by carrier-pigeon, to find out how things stood in Asyut. The message was entrusted to a bird called Rascal, the fastest and toughest of the flock. The mission was dangerous and, besides, if Rascal did not return Ahhotep would have lost one of her best soldiers. The white and brown pigeon seemed to listen attentively when Ahhotep warned it of the danger: its head was erect and its eyes sparkled as if confident of success.
Two days went by, while the queen searched the sky in vain. Then, at dusk on the second day, she made out her messenger in the distance. The bird was flying more slowly and awkwardly than usual, but it was definitely Rascal. When he alighted on Ahhotep’s shoulder she saw why: his right flank was drenched in blood.
He proudly presented his right leg, to which a small, sealed papyrus was attached. The queen praised him and stroked him gently, then removed the message and entrusted the brave messenger to Teti the Small.
‘He must have been wounded by an arrow,’ she said. ‘Take good care of him.’
‘It’s only a superficial wound,’ said Teti, examining it closely. ‘Rascal will be fit and well again in a few days.’
Much relieved, Ahhotep unrolled the papyrus and read the brief message. It said that Asyut had been almost completely destroyed, with the exception of the ancient tombs. It now housed only a small Hyksos garrison, which received supplies from the oases at Khargeh and Dakhla.
‘We must leave at once,’ decided Ahhotep. ‘Have a boat prepared for the voyage. And we’ll take my dog, Laughter, and my late husband’s donkey, Way-Finder, because they both have a keen instinct for danger.’
Sailing at night was dangerous—there was a risk of running aground on a sandbank or disturbing a herd of hippopotamus, whose anger could be terrifyingly destructive. But in daylight the Nile was even less safe, because here and there the Hyksos were always on the prowl.
It was nearly dawn when the boat reached its destination. The moon, Ahhotep’s ally, lit up the countryside and the town. Once a thriving, bustling port, Asyut was now virtually abandoned. Old boats and a leaking barge were rotting at their moorings. The town was sheltered by a cliff-face, in which tombs had been excavated. One of them, that of a High Priest of Wepwawet, contained the adze needed to give life back to Seqen’s mummy.
Laughter and Way-Finder sniffed the air, and could detect no danger, so they led the little party off the boat. Besides the huge dog and the donkey, Ahhotep’s guards were the Afghan, Moustache and ten young archers, all on the alert for the slightest sign of trouble.
The Afghan looked around warily. ‘If I were the Hyksos commander,’ he said, ‘the burial-ground cliff is where I’d post my sentries. It’s an ideal lookout point.’
“Then we’d better check,’ said Moustache. ‘If you’re right, it’ll mean one or two fewer Hyksos.’
The two men climbed the cliff with the speed and ease of seasoned fighters. Less than half an hour later, they returned.
‘Four sentries, all fast asleep,’ said Moustache. ‘The way is clear.’
Ahhotep had undergone the same training as her soldiers, so she had no difficulty in scaling the cliff. Several tombs had been defiled, and unfortunately they included the High Priest of Wepwawet’s, which the Hyksos were using to store weapons and food. With fury in her heart, the queen explored the ravaged tomb by the light of a torch.
Eventually she reached the small chamber near the back of the tomb where the ritualists generally placed the most precious objects. On the ground lay fragments of storagechests and statues. She searched through the chaotic jumble and at last, underneath the wreck of a basket containing mummified food, she found the adze of sky-metal that was used in resurrection rituals.
The door of Seqen’s tomb was closed once more, and Kames, aided by Qaris, placed the funerary seal upon it. Now that Ahhotep had opened the mummy’s eyes, mouth and ears, Pharaoh’s soul was no longer chained to the earth.
‘Majesty,’ ventured Qaris as they walked away, ‘we must discuss the military situation.’
‘Later,’
‘You must stop the attack at once.’
‘Governor Emheb will hold the front. All I want is to share my husband’s death,’
‘Majesty, I hardly dare believe—’
‘I must enter the House of the Acacia, and no one shall stop me.’
There were only three of them left: three old priestesses who made up the reclusive community of the House of the Acacia. They would have starved to death if Queen Ahhotep had not granted them accommodation and provisions so that they might pass on their knowledge.
Ahhotep sat with them at the foot of an acacia-tree armed with fearsome thorns.
‘Life and death are contained within it,’ said the oldest priestess. ‘Osiris gives it its green foliage, and inside the mound of Osiris the sarcophagus becomes a ship capable of sailing across the universe. If the acacia dies, life leaves the living, until the father is reborn in his sons. Isis creates a new pharaoh, healed of the wounds inflicted by Set, and the acacia is once again bedecked in leaves.’
The prophesy was clear: Kames was to become king.
But Ahhotep needed more. ‘I wish my spirit to remain eternally linked with Seqen’s, beyond death.’
‘Since death is born,’ replied the priestess, ‘it will itself die. But what existed before creation does not undergo death. In the celestial paradise, neither fear nor violence exists. The righteous and the ancestors commune with the gods.’
‘How can I enter into contact with Seqen?’
‘Send him a message from your heart.’
‘But what if he doesn’t reply?’
‘May the god of destiny watch over the Queen of Egypt.’
Ahhotep’s most valuable possession was a pillar-shaped wooden box, elaborately gilded and encrusted with semiprecious stones. It bore an inscription, ‘The queen is beloved of Thoth, master of the divine words’, and in it she kept her writing-brushes and inks. She needed it now.
On a pristine sheet of papyrus, she wrote a love-letter to Seqen in beautiful hieroglyphs, begging him to drive away evil spirits and to help Egypt regain its freedom. She implored him to give her an answer, to prove that he had indeed been reborn.
Ahhotep attached the message to an acacia branch. Then she made a clay statuette of Osiris lying upon his deathbed and laid it at the foot of the tree. Finally, she sang and played the harp, so that the harmonious chords would ensure Seqen a serene journey to the afterlife.
But would she receive an answer from the husband she loved so much?
4
Although Jannas was still fighting the pirates in the Mycenaean islands and trying to put down the Theban rebellion, the customary ceremony of paying tributes was taking place in Avaris. Apophis enjoyed this moment, when envoys from every province of the empire grovelled before him and gave him impressive amounts of money and valuables. Unlike former pharaohs, he kept the greater part for himself, instead of putting it back into the cycle of trade.
Khamudi, the emperor’s ruthless right-hand man, always made ample use of it, with the blessing of his master, whose safety he ensured. He took for himself a proportion of all sizeable trading operations, and had gained control of papyrus cultivation in the Delta. He was a corpulent man, with jet-black hair plastered to his round head, slightly protuberant eyes, and plump hands and feet—he had grown fatter and fatter since his appointment as High Treasurer. His nickname among his slaves was ‘His Royal Self-Importance’.
His interest outside his work was indulging in depraved sexual practices together with his voluptuous blonde wife, Yima, who came originally from Canaan. Here, too, Apophis, who liked to think of himself as austere and moralistic, turned a blind eye. He would keep it turned as long as Khamudi remained in his proper place - in other words, second in rank to himself.
As they did every year, the storehouses of Avaris were filling with gold, precious stones, bronze, copper, rare kinds of valuable t
imber, fabrics, jars of oil and wine, ointments and countless other riches which ensured the imperial capital’s unequalled prosperity.
When the Minoan envoy approached the emperor, dressed in a tunic patterned with red diamonds, Khamudi touched the hilt of his dagger and gestured to his archers. At the slightest suspicious sign from the diplomat, they had orders to kill him. But the Minoan bowed as low as the others, before launching into a long speech in which he praised the greatness and power of the Hyksos emperor, whose faithful vassal he was. (During this boring eulogy, Apophis’s sister, Windswept, a magnificent woman, took the opportunity to caress her lover Minos, the Minoan painter who was adorning the palace. The young man blushed but did not resist.) The envoys’s servants laid swords, silver vases and intricate items of furniture at the emperor’s feet. Minoa was proving equal to its reputation.
‘Jannas is cleansing the Mycenaean islands,’ declared the emperor in his harsh voice, which made the listening throng shiver, ‘and the campaign is costing me dear. As Minoa is close to the battle zone, she shall pay me an additional tribute.’
The envoy bit his lip and bowed again.
Apophis was very pleased with the Minoan decoration of his fortified palace and the furniture he had gathered there. It included a royal bed stolen from Memphis, incense-burners and silver basins placed on alabaster tables in his bathchamber, which had a red limestone floor, and in particular some splendid lamps comprising a limestone base and a sycamore-wood stem topped with a bronze dish. After washing, the emperor donned a fringed brown tunic and went to the apartments occupied by his wife, Tany. He had refused to grant her the title of Empress, so as not to concede even the smallest crumb of power.
‘Aren’t you ready yet?’ he demanded.
Short, fat Tany was probably the ugliest woman in Avaris. She was forever trying new ointments and lotions in the hope of improving her looks, but the results were disastrous. She made up for it by taking daily revenge on the once-wealthy Egyptian women who had been forced into slavery and now served her, who had herself once been a servant. The emperor was indifferent to his wife’s ugliness, but he thoroughly approved of her hatred of Egypt, which had inspired him to some excellent ideas.
Tany held out a necklace whose beads looked like pearls but were made of a strange material. ‘Look at this, Apophis. Isn’t it strange?’
‘What is it?’
‘According to my new slave, who comes from Memphis, it’s called glass. It’s made by melting quartz with natron or ashes, and you can make it whatever colour you want.’
‘Pearls made of glass? These are a bit opaque, but I’m sure we’ll be able to improve the process. But come on. I’m in a hurry to see our two plans take shape—yours and mine.’
‘I’m just finishing my make-up.’
Tany plastered her forehead and cheeks with a thick layer of kohl, and squeezed herself into a brown and white striped dress. Head held high, she followed her husband out of the palace, always one pace behind him.
Khamudi and the imperial guard were waiting for them. ‘All is ready, Majesty.’
The procession made its way to the last Egyptian burialground in Avaris, where the ancestors who had lived there before the invasion were buried. Hundreds of Egyptian slaves had been herded together there, on the orders of the guards. All of them feared a mass execution.
‘All traces of the vile past must disappear,’ decreed Apophis. ‘This old burial-ground takes up too much space, so we’re going to build houses here for army officers.’
An old woman managed to push her way out of the crowd and knelt before him, imploringly. ‘No, my lord, do not attack our ancestors. Let them sleep in peace, I beg of you.’
With one violent blow of his hand, Khamudi broke the insolent woman’s neck. ‘Get rid of that,’ he ordered the guards, ‘and kill anyone else who dares interrupt the emperor.’ He turned back to the crowd. ‘Henceforth, you will bury your dead in front of your houses or even inside them. They must not take up space in my city. There will be no more offerings or prayers for the dead. The dead no longer exist, there is no “Beautiful West”, or “Eternal East”, or “Light of Resurrection”. Anyone caught performing the duties of a funerary priest will be executed immediately.’
Lady Tany was delighted: with his usual genius, Apophis had not only made use of her idea but had even improved upon it.
Nothing could have plunged the Egyptians more effectively into despair. To be deprived of all contact with their ancestors would at last make them recognize that a new world had been born.
To reach the small island on which the Temple of Set had been built, the imperial retinue took the royal barge. The brick-built shrine, now the main temple in Avaris, was also dedicated to the Syrian storm-god, Hadad. A rectangular altar stood in front of the entrance, surrounded by oak trees and by ditches filled with the bleached bones of sacrificed animals, mainly donkeys.
The priests bowed very low before the emperor, who had come to consecrate a shrine to his own glory. It was entirely decorated in gold leaf and bore witness to the empire’s wealth and its master’s divine status. The ceremony ought to have been the signal for rejoicing, but many people were casting anxious eyes at the sky. Threatening clouds were gathering right over Avaris.
Looking perfectly serene, Apophis entered his shrine and pronounced the craftsmen’s work satisfactory. All the provinces of the empire would be informed that he was the son and equal of Set.
When he emerged from the temple, lightning was zigzagging across the clouds. Large raindrops began to fall on to the altar, where a Hyksos priest had just killed a fine white donkey, its hooves tightly bound together.
‘Majesty, the anger of Set is warning us of a great danger! We must—‘
The priest’s words died in his throat as Apophis slit it with his dagger.
‘Do you not understand, imbecile? The Lord of Storms hails me as master of the empire, and has rendered me invincible.’
5
High Treasurer Khamudi had established a gigantic taxation centre at the heart of Avaris, guarded by the army. From this base, he kept tight control of the taxes received from the various provinces of the empire. As the years went by they kept on growing, demanding an equal growth in the number of officials.
Apophis wielded absolute power, and himself commanded the army, but he delegated management of the empire’s wealth to his High Treasurer, who would pay with his life if he concealed anything from him. Khamudi was too enamoured of his position to play that game. So he told the emperor about everything he appropriated for himself in order to increase his personal fortune.
The Egyptians and vassals were bled white, but Khamudi kept dreaming up new taxes, or lowered one tax the better to raise another. Convinced there were no limits to the extent to which the empire’s subjects could be exploited, he was determined to improve his results. As for the senior officials, who had themselves accumulated considerable wealth since the start of Apophis’s reign, they had come to an arrangement with Khamudi.
The High Treasurer’s secretary burst into his office, a look of terror on his face. ‘My lord, it’s the emperor—he’s here!’
An unexpected visit from Apophis? Khamudi had a sudden need to scratch his left leg. Problems set off a skin-rash which even the strongest salves had difficulty in soothing. Thousands of figures ran through his head. What mistake had he made?
‘Majesty, what a great honour to welcome you.’
His shoulders stooped, the emperor threw him a chilling sidelong glance. ‘You have made yourself very comfortable here, haven’t you? The luxury is rather ostentatious, with this modern furniture, this army of scribes, these vast archives and your bustling papyrus factory. Still, you have one invaluable quality: efficiency untainted by conscience. Thanks to you, the empire grows richer by the day.’
Khamudi felt somewhat relieved.
The emperor flung his heavy frame into an armchair decorated with wild bulls. ‘The Egyptians are mere cattle,’ he s
aid in a tired voice, ‘but most of our soldiers have gone soft and must be constantly harassed to prevent them resting on past glories. Our generals’ incompetence is infuriating.’
‘Do you wish them to be … cleansed?’
‘Their replacements would be no better. We have lost ground in the South of Egypt, and that is something I will not tolerate.’
‘And neither will I, Majesty. But this is only a temporary situation. The rebels have been halted at Qis, and they won’t get any further. As soon as Commander Jannas returns from the Mycenaean islands he will smash their front.’
‘Yes, but that affair is much more serious than I thought,’ grumbled Apophis. ‘Jannas isn’t dealing with simple pirates; he’s facing a well-organized enemy war-fleet.’
Our troops will be back from Asia—the rebels there have been virtually crushed.’
‘No, they must stay there a while longer, to ensure that the flame has been properly extinguished.’
‘In that case, Majesty, let us send our garrisons from the Delta.’
‘Absolutely not, my friend. While we are waiting for Jannas, we shall make use of another weapon at our disposal: false information. You are to have two series of scarabs engraved. The first will be for our vassals, announcing that the Hyksos empire continues to grow. The other will be for the Egyptians who have taken up arms against us. I shall dictate the message to you; take great care in transcribing it into hieroglyphics.’
‘Take cover!’ roared Governor Emheb. ‘They’re using their catapults!’
The soldiers of the army of liberation threw themselves belly-down on the ground, or sheltered behind the reed huts that had been built on the front line. The volleys of missiles continued for some minutes, but were not followed by an attack. When they were able to move again, the soldiers investigated, and were surprised to discover hundreds of limestone scarabs, all bearing the same inscription.
They brought them to Emheb.
As he deciphered the text, the governor realized the danger. ‘Destroy every one of them,’ he ordered.
War of the Crowns Page 2
