Tutankhamun: The Book of Shadows

by Nick Drake

  ‘When men speak of moral purity, what they mean is, they have hidden their moral impurities beneath an illusion of virtue,’ I said.

  Simut glanced at me.

  ‘You speak well for a Medjay officer.’

  ‘I know whereof I speak,’ I replied. ‘Men are not capable of absolute moral purity. And that is a good thing, in my view, because if they were they would not be human.’

  Simut grunted, and continued to stare at the great ship in the harbour.

  ‘He also said something about the royal family which I have never forgotten. He said their priority was the perpetuation of their dynasty as the representatives of the Gods on earth. And naturally when that priority coincided with the interests of the Two Lands, then all was well. But he said when there was disruption or dissent, or when the royal family failed in its divine duties, the Two Lands should identify its own needs and values as paramount. Not those of the royal family. And therefore only the army, which desired neither power nor wealth for itself, but only the assertion of our order throughout the world, would have a sacred obligation to enforce its rule, for the sake of the Two Lands’ survival.’

  ‘And what do you think he meant by “disruption or dissent”?’ I asked.

  ‘He was implying the dangers inherent in the inheritance of the Crowns by a King too young to rule in any meaningful sense, under the aegis of a Regent whose interests were obscure. But I think he really meant something else.’

  He lowered his voice.

  ‘I think he meant the private continuity of the Aten faith in the family. The father’s banished God. That dangerous religion had already caused terrible chaos once in living memory, and it could not be allowed to rise again. He implied the army would not tolerate any sign of its return to public life.’

  ‘I think you are right. And that, too, remains Ankhesenamun’s flaw. For like her husband, it is difficult for her to disassociate herself not just from the failings of her father, but from the root of the problem: the banished religion.’

  Ankhesenamun was with her ladies of the chamber, who were preparing her for the formal reception. The rich scents of perfumes and oils drifted in the quiet air. Little gold pots and blue and yellow glass containers were opened before her. She held a fish in her hands made of blue and yellow glass, and was pouring some intensely scented essence from its pursed lips.

  ‘Horemheb has requested an audience. At noon today,’ she said.

  ‘As we expected.’

  She glanced at me, and then returned to a careful consideration of her appearance in the polished copper mirror. She wore a beautiful braided wig of short, tightly curled hair, and a pleated robe of finest linen, fringed with gold, which was tied beneath her right breast, enhancing her figure. On her arms she wore bracelets and gold winding cobras. From her neck, on gold thread so fine it was almost invisible, hung several pendants and an elaborate gold pectoral showing Nekhbet the Vulture Goddess, holding the symbols of eternity and with her blue wings spread out protectively. Then her assistants placed a remarkable garment around her shoulders, a shawl made of many small gold discs. She turned about, and glittered dazzlingly in the candlelight. Next, her assistants slipped on her sandals–thongs of delicate gold, straps decorated with small gold flowers. And finally the tall crown was placed on her head, and held there by a gold band decorated with protective cobras. When I had last seen her dressed in the royal robes, she had looked anxious. Today she looked supremely regal.

  She turned to face me.

  ‘How do I look?’

  ‘You look like the Queen of the Two Lands.’

  She smiled, pleased. She looked down at the pectoral.

  ‘This belonged to my mother. I hope some of her great spirit will protect me now.’

  Then, sensing my sombre mood, she looked at me once more.

  ‘Something has happened, hasn’t it?’ she asked suddenly.

  I nodded. She understood, and dismissed her ladies. When we were alone, I told her the news of the death of Mutnodjmet. She sat very still, tears running down her cheeks, marring the kohl and malachite make-up that had been so carefully applied. She shook her head, over and over.

  ‘I failed her. How could this happen in the palace, while I was here, sleeping?’

  ‘Sobek is very clever.’

  ‘But Ay and Horemheb killed her as much as this evil, repulsive man. They trapped her, and maddened her. And she was the last of my family. Now I am alone. Look at me.’

  She glanced at her royal outfit.

  ‘I am nothing but a statue for these garments.’

  ‘No, you are far more. You are the hope of the Two Lands. You are our only hope. Without you, the future is dark. Remember that.’

  When the Queen entered, a thousand people bowed low and fell silent. The palace reception hall had been luxuriously prepared for Horemheb’s visit. Incense burned in copper bowls. Vast, elaborate bouquets of flowers were set in vases. The Palace Guard lined the way to the throne. I noticed Ay was not present. The Queen ascended the dais, faced her officials, and sat down. And then we all waited in a silence that had to be endured for longer than anyone expected. The general was late. The dripping of the water clock measured the passing of time and the increasing humiliation of his absence. I glanced up at the Queen. She knew this game, and maintained her composure. And then finally we heard his military fanfare, and suddenly he was striding down the chamber, followed by his lieutenants. He stopped before the throne, stared arrogantly at the Queen, and then bowed his head. She remained seated. The dais still gave her the advantage of height over the general.

  ‘Look up,’ she said quietly.

  He did so. She waited for him to speak.

  ‘Life, prosperity and health. My loyalty is known throughout the Two Lands. I place it, and my life, at your royal feet.’

  His words echoed around the chamber. A thousand pairs of courtly ears listened for every nuance.

  ‘We have long trusted your loyalty. It is more than gold to us.’

  ‘It is loyalty that encourages me today,’ he replied ominously.

  ‘Then speak your mind, general.’

  He glanced at her, turned back to the chamber, and spoke to the entire gathering.

  ‘What I wish to speak of is for the Queen’s ears alone, and would benefit from a more private setting.’

  She inclined her head.

  ‘Our ministers are as one with us. What matter could there be which would not be for their ears also?’

  He smiled.

  ‘Such matters as belong not to the state but to the individual.’

  She considered him carefully. Then she rose, and invited him to accompany her to an antechamber. He followed her, and so did I. He turned to me, furious, but she spoke firmly.

  ‘Rahotep is my personal guard. He goes everywhere with me. I can vouch absolutely for his integrity and his silence.’

  He had no choice but to accept.

  I stood by the door, like a security guard. They sat opposite each other on couches. He looked curiously inappropriate in this more domestic setting, as if walls and cushions were strange to him. Wine was poured, and then the servants vanished. She played the game of silence, and waited for him to make the first move.

  ‘I know the King is dead. I offer you my sincere condolences.’

  He observed her reaction closely.

  ‘We accept your condolences. As we accept your loyalty. And we offer you our own condolences on the dreadful and premature death of your wife, my aunt.’

  Instead of surprise or sorrow at this news, he merely nodded.

  ‘This news brings me grief. But may her name live for ever,’ he said, according to the formula, and with more than a touch of irony. Ankhesenamun turned away in disgust at his vanity and viciousness.

  ‘Was there anything else the general wished to say?’

  He smiled slightly.

  ‘I have a simple proposal to make, and given the sensitivities concerned, I believed it was correct to ex
press myself in a private setting. I decided it was more sympathetic. You are, after all, the grieving widow of a great King.’

  ‘His death has deprived us all of a great man,’ she replied.

  ‘Nevertheless, our private grief must necessarily take its rightful place among more urgent considerations.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘There is now much at stake, my lady. Of that I am certain you are fully aware.’

  His eyes glinted. I saw how he was enjoying himself, like a stealthy hunter with his bow, stalking his unsuspecting quarry.

  ‘I am fully aware of the intricate perils of this changing moment in the life of the Two Lands.’

  He smiled, and spread out his hands in an open gesture.

  ‘Then we may speak freely. I am sure we both have the best interests of the Two Lands at heart. And that is why I am here: to make a proposal. Or perhaps I mean a suggestion for your consideration.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘An offer of an alliance. A marriage.’

  She pretended to be astounded.

  ‘A marriage? My mourning has barely begun, your own wife is barely dead, and already you speak of marriage? How can you be so insensible of the manners and rights of grief?’

  ‘My grief is my business. It is as well to discuss these issues now, so that you have time to make a full consideration. And time to come to the correct decision in due course.’

  ‘You speak as if there is only one possible answer.’

  ‘I speak with the passion I feel, but I wholeheartedly believe it to be so,’ he said, and did not smile.

  She looked at him.

  ‘I would also ask you to consider a proposal of mine.’

  He looked askance.

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘In difficult moments like this, there is great temptation to make alliances, for political reasons. Many of these are very attractive. But I am the daughter of kings who have fashioned this kingdom into the greatest power the world has ever seen. My grandfather envisioned this palace, and built many of the monuments of this great city. My great ancestor Tutmosis III transformed the army of the Two Lands into the finest force ever known. A force that you now lead in magnificent triumphs. How therefore should I best represent the responsibility of power that I have inherited, in my blood and in my heart? How else but by ruling in his name, believing I can count upon the support of my faithful officers?’

  He listened without emotion, and then he rose.

  ‘A name is very well. A dynasty is very well. But the kingdom is not a toy. It is not only pageantry and palaces. It is a rough beast, dirty and powerful, that must be brought by force of will under the sway of authority that is not afraid, when necessary, to exercise its full strength and power, no matter what the cost. And that is man’s work.’

  ‘I am a woman but my heart is as strong with anger and authority as any man’s. Believe me.’

  ‘Perhaps indeed you are your mother’s daughter. Perhaps you have the will and guts to smite your enemies courageously.’

  She considered him.

  ‘Do not mistake me. I am a woman, but I have trained myself in the world of men. You may be sure your proposal will receive our most meticulous and judicious consideration.’

  ‘We must discuss your considerations, and the opportunities I propose, in more detail. I will be available to you at any moment. I have no intention of departing this city until the situation is resolved–to our mutual satisfaction. I am here as a private man, but I am here too as the General of the Armies of the Two Lands. I have my own duties, and I will perform them, with all the rigour of my calling.’

  And he bowed, turned, and departed.

  43

  I walked as fast as I could through the noise and chaos of the crowded streets of the city towards Nakht’s house. The air dazzled with light. Every cry and shout of the street vendors, or the mule-men, or the scatterings of excited children, seemed to anger me. Everyone trespassed in the way of my progress. In my mind I felt as if I were attacking flies with a knife. It seemed as if everything that had happened since I was last here were a strange, hollow dream from which I still had not awoken. Sobek was somewhere, and yet I was unable to track him down. How could I do so? I needed to return to the place where I had first encountered him, and to the man who had introduced us.

  I knocked on the door. Nakht’s servant Minmose opened it cautiously. I was gratified to see two Medjay guards standing behind him, their weapons prepared.

  ‘Ah, it is you, sir. I was hoping it might be.’

  Inside, I quickly showed the guards my authorities, and Minmose informed me his master was on the roof terrace. I ascended the wide wooden steps, until I came out once more on to the elegant open space. My old friend was reclining under the embroidered awning, taking advantage of the light northern breeze, and pondering a papyrus scroll with a luxury of leisure I had forgotten existed in my world of politics and power struggles and mutilations.

  He got up, delighted to see me.

  ‘So you are back! The days were passing swiftly, and I thought, surely he is back by now, but there was no news—’

  He saw the expression on my face, and his greeting stuttered to a halt.

  ‘What on earth has happened?’ he cried, in alarm.

  We sat in the shade, in the dappled light, and I told him all that had passed. He could not sit still, but paced around me, his hands behind his back. When I recounted the King’s accident and subsequent death, he stopped as if turned to stone.

  ‘With this death, the whole order, the great dynasty, is thrown into peril. We have had centuries of affluence and stability, and now all is suddenly in doubt. This leaves the way open for others to make a challenge for power, Horemheb, of course…’

  I told him then about the general’s arrival at the palace.

  He sat down again, shaking his head, looking as uncertain and afraid as I had ever seen him.

  ‘Unless some sort of truce is agreed, there will be civil war in the Two Lands,’ he murmured.

  ‘It looks disastrous indeed. But it is possible that Ankhesenamun could use her status and prestige to exactly the end you describe.’

  ‘Yes, both Ay and Horemheb would benefit from a new alliance with her,’ he mused.

  ‘But my friend, momentous as the problem remains, that is not the main reason I am here,’ I said.

  ‘Oh dear! What could be yet worse?’ he asked, anxiously.

  ‘Firstly, how is the boy?’

  ‘He is making a fair recovery.’

  ‘And can he speak yet?’ I asked.

  ‘I must tell you, my friend, it is still early in his recovery, but he has responded well, and has been able to say a few words. He has asked about his family, and his eyes. He wants to know what happened to his eyes. He also said a good spirit spoke to him in the darkness of his suffering. A man with a kind voice.’

  I nodded, trying not to reveal how gratified I felt by this last comment.

  ‘Well, that is a piece of good news.’

  ‘But you have still not told me why you are here. And that is making me quite anxious,’ he said.

  ‘I believe I have discovered the name of the man who has been leaving the objects in the Malkata Palace. The man behind the threats to the life and the soul of the King.’

  He sat forward, delighted.

  ‘I knew you could do it.’

  ‘I also believe the same man committed his cruelties on the boy, and on the dead girl, and on the other dead boy.’

  Now Nakht looked dismayed.

  ‘The same man?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And who is this devious monster?’ he said.

  ‘Before I tell you that, let me speak to the boy.’

  When the boy heard two pairs of sandals he cried out, alarmed.

  ‘Don’t be afraid. I have with me a gentleman, who is one of my oldest friends, to visit you,’ said Nakht gently.

  The boy relaxed. I sat down next t
o him. He lay on a low bed, in a cool, comfortable room. Much of his body was still bandaged with linens, and another bandage was wound around his head, to hide the disfigured eye-sockets. Where the girl’s face had been sewn on to his, the little holes had healed, leaving a pattern of tiny white scars, like stars. I could have wept at the pity of it.

  ‘My name is Rahotep. Do you remember me?’

  He tilted his head in my direction, listening to the character of my voice like a bright bird with a distant comprehension of human speech. And slowly, a small, gratifying smile spread across his face.

  I glanced at Nakht, who nodded, encouragingly.

  ‘I am glad you are well. I would like to ask you some questions. I need to ask you about what happened. Would that be all right?’

  The smile vanished. But eventually he gave the slightest of nods. This gave me an idea.

  ‘What I will do is ask a question, and you can reply either yes, by nodding your head, or no, by shaking it. Can you do that for me?’

  Slowly he nodded once.

  ‘The man who hurt you; did he have short, grey hair?’

  The boy nodded.

  ‘Was he an older man?’

  Again he nodded.

  ‘Did he give you something to drink?’

  The boy hesitated, and then nodded.

  And then, my heart beating faster, I asked:

  ‘Were his eyes a kind of grey-blue? Like stones in a stream?’

  A chill ran through the boy. He nodded, once, then twice, and then on and on, nodding and failing to get his breath as if he were suddenly maddened in fear at the memory of those cold eyes.

  Nakht rushed to the boy’s side, and tried to calm him, soothing his brow with a cool, wet cloth. Eventually the panic subsided. I wished I had not had to cause him such distress.

  ‘I am sorry, my friend, to ask you to remember such things. But you have helped me very greatly. I will not forget you. I know you cannot see me, but I am here as your friend. That is a promise. No one will hurt you again. Will you accept my word?’ I asked.