Nefertiti rr-1

by Nick Drake

  We drove away from the now silent village. Eventually I broke the silence.

  ‘At least we have an answer, Khety. Something we know we know.’

  ‘The dead girl’s connection with the Harem Palace.’

  ‘Exactly. Take me there right now. I’ll need to interview everyone.’

  ‘We have our authorities, but we’ll have to inform the Office of the Harem first.’

  I sighed. Was nothing simple?

  ‘There’s no time to waste. Come on, let’s go.’

  Khety squirmed like a child caught lying.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten? The invitation?’

  And then it struck me. From Mahu. To a hunt. This afternoon. I cursed my stupidity in accepting.

  ‘Here I am, with the first decent lead we’ve had in days, and you think I am going to waste time on a hunt? With Mahu, of all people?’

  Khety shrugged.

  ‘Stop shrugging! We’re going directly to the Harem Palace.’

  Khety looked uncomfortable, but did as I ordered and drove back into the city.

  We were just entering the outer precincts when suddenly from a side street, out of nowhere, Mahu appeared driving his own chariot. His ugly dog, as obvious a symbol of a man’s soul as ever I saw, stood with its paws up on the sill beside him.

  I turned to Khety, furious. ‘Did you tell him where we were going?’

  ‘No! I don’t tell him anything.’

  ‘Well, you work for him, and here he is, just as we’re on the trail of something at last. It seems like a strange sort of coincidence, doesn’t it?’

  Khety was about to bite back when Mahu yelled over at me, ‘Just in time for the hunt. I’m sure you hadn’t forgotten.’ He jerked his reins viciously, and charged ahead.

  17

  The hunting party gathered at the main jetty of the river-a long, narrow construction of newly laid timber boards on supporting piles of stone and wood built out perhaps fifty cubits from the land, and perhaps five hundred cubits in length. A few cargo barges carrying stone blocks were being unloaded, and a squat, crowded ferry was setting sail across the river with its cargo of men, children, animals and coffins, between the east and west banks. But otherwise at this hour of the afternoon there were just pleasure-boats-one particularly elegant, with a double-storey cabin, which I had not seen before-with their masts down and resting on their stands. Among these drifted a number of skiffs with small linen sails dyed vivid blues and reds. The chimes and peals of cultivated conversation and laughter tinkled and lilted on the travelling waters.

  The sounds coming from the hunting group were different. The voices were assertive, masculine, testing themselves against a kind of underlying silence, a palpable tension. A typical group of young men from elite families, together with a handful of Medjay officers. All swagger and machismo, all standing on their hind legs, the mood hyped up and belligerent.

  Khety tried to insist again that he had had nothing to do with Mahu’s intervention. I could not credit it. ‘I had begun to trust you,’ I said, and walked off towards the group of men. My feet felt as heavy as river mud. I was trapped by protocol, just when I needed to follow the new lead.

  Mahu introduced me. ‘Glad you could join us,’ he added, with heavy sarcasm. Here was a man who made everything he said sound like a threat.

  ‘Thank you for the invitation,’ I said with as little enthusiasm as possible.

  He ignored me. ‘I hear you’ve been scratching around in the workers’ village. You’ve a missing woman and a dead officer on your hands. Time is ticking.’

  I wasn’t going to give him anything. ‘It’s surprising how things apparently unrelated to each other are in fact deeply connected.’

  ‘Is it? Perhaps you can deeply connect your aim with a flying duck, if nothing else.’

  A condescending ripple of amusement rang out from the other men. I looked around their gathered faces. They all wore imitations, more or less successful, of Mahu’s lion grin. All dressed up in pristine hunting outfits, they looked like they were going to a fancy dress party. Their muscles had the appearance of vanity, not work. Hunting for them was a pastime, an amusement. Necessity, that simple and true god, had never visited them. The angle of the sun exaggerated the shadows of their haughty faces. Here were heads of offices, scions of Great Families, all members of the power elite.

  Although I have made clear my hostile opinions about the Great Changes, even I must admit that one of the consequences is the way they have opened up new possibilities of advancement to a wider social spectrum. People such as myself. I am from a so-called ‘ordinary’ family. Yet how inadequate that word seems to the truth it contains: people caring for each other, improvising ways to get by, to enjoy their pleasures, to live well. These elite families, son after father, father after grandfather, have held on to the offices of earthly power and the locked stores of riches of our land for as long as time has trickled through the water clock. They have held on to it as if it could protect them from everything. And in truth it does-from poverty, from most kinds of fear, from want, from the diminished or destroyed horizons of a life’s possibilities; from powerlessness, from humiliation, from hunger. Yet not from the suffering and vulnerability to misfortune that affect us all as a necessary part of being human.

  Mahu interrupted my thoughts, as if reading them. ‘Well, time flies. Let us take to the boats. Good hunting.’

  We walked over to a group of papyrus-reed boats. Servants stood ready to attend us on the hunt, their own skiffs already prepared. I had grown up sailing these lovely craft-so simple and so elegant. We partnered up. Khety appeared at my side looking anxious, but just as he was about to step onto the boat beside me, one of the men from the group stopped him with a rudeness that amazed us both. But I had no wish, in any case, to waste the next hour with Khety whining in my ear. The stranger introduced himself as Hor. He had with him his cat on a leather lead. It leaped at once to the front of the boat, and sat down, washing its front right paw, glancing at me expectantly, critically.

  Hor, who seemed uninterested in conversation, produced a superb bow from a linen carrying cloth. He tested the tension of the bowstring with the thumb-ring. The fine threads-probably around sixty for a weapon of this quality-were neatly joined at each end to loops of tightly twisted sinew-a marvellous way to avoid fraying. I found, in a wooden box, a carved throwing stick I could use myself, as of course I possessed none to bring with me. There was also a weighted net and a spear in the box, in case we caught anything bigger. All pretty basic, and nowhere near as powerful as the costly sophistication of the bow.

  As Mahu gave the signal and we moved in silence out onto the wide river, as smooth and rippling as a banner in a light breeze, towards a reed marsh further north along the river from the city, I was already desperate for the hunt to be over. The cat remained poised and keen on the prow, mesmerized by the far songs and hidden calls of the marsh. Soon the city disappeared behind the wide, tree-lined curve of the river. The eastern cliffs, where the tombs were being built, rose up on our right-hand side to form a high natural barrier to the river’s course, but to the west the river widened and flattened into water marshes and thick, dark papyrus forests. Birds pitched their warnings as they drifted, circling in the high light.

  The skiffs silently, one by one, entered the tall stands of the motionless green and silver reed marsh, and disappeared. As I punted along, I tried to keep track of the others; it was hard to keep one’s gaze steady among the flickering verticals of the reeds. The hunting cat was up on all fours, pacing about its little territory in the bow, its head rising up to scent the air. Hor stood up, preparing his bow and glancing alertly through the reeds, as if looking for something. I looked back and saw, briefly, Khety some considerable distance behind me. He was trying to track my progress. I slowed my pace. He raised a hand, trying to signal, but then he disappeared again behind the dense forest of the reeds. Hor said gruffly, ‘Don’t lose the pace.
We don’t want to miss the fun.’ I looked down to make sure the nets and throwing stick were near to hand.

  Suddenly we came into a clearing among the reeds, and there were all the other skiffs balanced on their own reflections which stretched and wavered then came to rest. I saw Mahu, standing in his boat, observing the reeds and the sky. All was silent. Everyone listened.

  Then he beat a pair of clappers together, shouted the hunting call, and the evening air filled with the sound of thousands of birds taking to the skies. Everyone hurled their sticks at once, tens of them whirring into the pandemonium of the suddenly risen flock, and those who possessed bows let their arrows hiss into the chaos. I took some kind of aim and threw my stick. The cat went crazy, dancing like a mad thing. There were shouts and cries, the skiffs separated to follow the hunt, and then the great air was filled with the flutter and thud of bodies tumbling down to splash into the water. The cat appeared from among the reeds with its catch, a bloodied duck, in its mouth. The iridescent colours of the feathers were marked with blood under the wings, but otherwise it seemed perfect in its moment of death.

  I ducked down to grasp a spear. We had entered another forest of reeds. Suddenly I could see nothing of the other boats.

  I looked up and found myself face to face with Hor. His bow was pointing directly at me. It was drawn back, and an arrow tipped with silver, and bearing the hieroglyphs of the Cobra and Seth, I now noticed, was poised in its tense embrace.

  ‘You missed me last time,’ I said.

  ‘I meant to.’

  ‘That’s what they all say.’

  He was not amused, and tightened the bow’s tension. He could not miss me now, and he smiled. I held my breath. I thought: you idiot, to walk into this trap. This would appear a sorry accident, as if I had been cut down by an unlucky hunting arrow as it fell back to earth.

  Then, suddenly, he fell sideways-from nowhere a throwing stick knocked him down. His arrow flew off with an almost comic twang into the reeds. I struggled to keep my balance, and almost fell into the water. Khety came into view, gesturing in fear. Hor stirred in the bottom of the boat, groaning and clutching his head. There was blood on the reed floor. I threw the weighted net over him, and as he tried to rise I pushed him over the edge and into the water where he thrashed and struggled, enmeshing himself ever deeper in the fine labyrinth of the net. I had no choice. I cast the spear deep into his chest, pushing him down under the surface. The spear met the tension of solid muscle, the resistance of bone. I stabbed and thrust again, and this time the blade passed right through into his body and out the other side. I drew it back and got ready to strike again, but it was not necessary. Even under the water he looked amazed, then disappointed. The water blurred, clouded red, then he slowly swung over onto his front.

  I turned the skiff around and began to sail for my life. I glanced back. The body bobbed just beneath the water. The reeds slapped into the prow and my face. Luckily I was lighter by one man so my pace was faster now. I saw Khety again, also alone on his boat, ahead of me. I gestured for him to keep going. Behind me I saw Mahu turn to look in my direction; then came shouts and calls. I disappeared again into the hissing reeds. The cat worried and danced away at the dead bird, guiltily snatching little mouthfuls of feathers. I was gaining distance, drawing closer to Khety. He gestured to me to be silent as from the river came the sound of more boats, and the louder sound of men calling. I had to assume that accomplices in this new assassination attempt were among these men, and indeed that Mahu himself had sanctioned it. No wonder he had been so insistent on my presence.

  We moved deeper into the marsh. I motioned to Khety to slow down. Among a thicket of reeds we came to a stop and waited, barely daring to breathe, listening. I could hear the boats coming towards each other, and then the calls of warning and recognition as they appeared through the reeds. Moments of discussion followed. They decided to split up and fan out to search the marsh. I glanced around me. It was growing dark and becoming impossible to be sure which way lay the shore, and whether we could save ourselves upon it.

  I wrestled the dead bird from the cat’s reluctant mouth, its damned claws scratching my wrists, and broke open the bird’s neck. Quickly I smeared the blood along the floor and the side of the skiff, and threw the body away. The cat glared at me with spite and anger at the waste, and began howling and sniffing the blood to see what could be saved. Then I motioned Khety towards me and climbed over onto his boat. As quietly as I could I pushed my skiff away into the reeds with my foot. It slowly disappeared into the rising mist, the cat on the prow staring balefully back at me.

  We poled the skiff as silently and as deeply as we could into the dark reed forest and sat waiting.

  ‘Good throw,’ I whispered.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Where did you learn that kind of accuracy?’

  ‘I’ve hunted all my life.’

  ‘Luckily for me.’

  Then we heard it: the reeds parting stiffly to allow a skiff to pass. It was no more than twenty cubits from us. We could see nothing. I tested the bow, prepared an arrow. The bow’s pure energy sang beneath my fingers. We waited, our breath held absolutely silent. Then came an urgent exchange: they had found the bloodied boat. We crouched down and waited for fate to take its course. Would they take the bait? We could hear them talking, as if they were in the next room. Then their voices gradually faded as they moved away, taking the other boat with them.

  We sat there for a long time, still as crocodiles. Gradually the voices and the night lamps of the boats faded into the darkness, and we were left alone with the noisy evening life of the marsh, the newly appearing stars and, luckily, an early-risen half-moon: there was enough light in the sky to help us home, and the lengthening shadows would be our disguise.

  ‘Thanks for saving my life,’ I said.

  I could tell Khety was smiling, pleased, in the dark.

  ‘It seems that someone dislikes me here, Khety.’

  ‘I didn’t tell Mahu anything. Believe me.’

  This time I decided I did.

  ‘But why would he take such an obvious risk? Surely if he wanted me out of the way he would have found a subtler way to do it than inviting me on a hunt.’

  ‘He’s not that bright,’ Khety said, with some kind of pleasure.

  ‘Let’s head back.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Pick up the trail. The Harem. A night visit.’

  18

  The city came into view, its pale new buildings gleaming in the moonlight, the desert around it dark but for the cliffs and boulders lit by the same light, as if giving back what the sun had granted by day.

  We jumped ashore into the shadows near the harbour. Khety led the way, keeping to the moonless side of the passages and thoroughfares. ‘There are three royal palaces,’ he said, ‘the Great, the North, and the Riverside. The Great contains the main women’s quarters.’

  ‘And where does Akhenaten sleep at night?’

  ‘No-one knows. He moves between the palaces, according to the Duties of the Day. He shows himself to the people as he progresses between temple worship, official business and receptions. I suppose he has sleeping quarters in each palace.’

  ‘It’s a hard life.’

  Khety grinned at me.

  We crossed the Royal Road and came to the Great Palace. It was enormous, a long structure that ran along the western side of the road. At the main gate stood two guards. ‘We’re in luck,’ said Khety quietly. ‘I know them.’

  ‘This is a bit late for you,’ said the younger one, clapping Khety on the shoulder. ‘Still working? And who’s this?’

  ‘We’ve business on the authority of Akhenaten.’

  There was a moment of uncertainty between the guards.

  ‘Your permissions?’ said the older one.

  I took them from my case without speaking.

  He glanced over the papyrus, and shook his head slowly as he puzzled over them. Eventually he nodded. ‘Go on
then.’ He looked me over, noting the bow. ‘You must leave that here. No unauthorized weapons in the palace.’

  I had no choice but to hand it over.

  ‘Take care of it. You realize its value, I hope?’

  ‘I’m sure it was very expensive, sir.’

  And with that we passed into the palace’s main court, contained by high mud-brick walls. The court itself reminded me of the columned halls of Thebes, except that this was open, with small groves of trees planted within. Khety knew where he was going, and we moved ahead through the shadows cast by the moonlight, trying to be as silent as the proverbial thieves.

  ‘This place is enormous!’ I whispered.

  ‘I know. In the centre are the Halls of the Festivals and the private shrines. The north side consists of offices, residences and storerooms. In truth, everyone complains about the accommodations. They say everything’s too small and it’s all falling apart already. The plaster’s cracking and crumbling, and the insects are everywhere. They say the wood is cheap, painted to look expensive, and it’s already a feast for the beetles.’

  Through hall after columned hall, we made our way onwards. Everything seemed deserted, silent. Sometimes we heard faint voices, and once we hid ourselves behind a stone column while a trio of men passed by, deep in earnest discussion. Many other rooms gave off the central halls, but all seemed uninhabited.

  ‘Where is everyone?’

  Khety shrugged. ‘The city is built for a great population. Not everyone is here yet. Many have yet to be born who will inhabit these halls and offices. And don’t forget, they’re anticipating a huge influx of people for the Festival.’

  We came to the edge of a lovely courtyard garden, rich with cool night scents. I looked down and saw that the floor had been painted with a matching scene depicting a pool surrounded by blue and silver marsh flowers and plants.