Nefertiti rr-1

by Nick Drake

  ‘Mutnodjmet. She has a palace role as lady-in-waiting, but she has always been kept away from the court. Something happened when she was a child, they say, and she has suffered from black depressions, hysterias.’

  ‘And he married her?’

  Nakht nodded. ‘He must be very hungry for something. I can’t imagine it was a match made from the necessities of the heart.’

  ‘And he will be coming here?’

  ‘I believe in the next day or so. And also Ay.’

  ‘Who is Ay?’

  ‘He is a courtier who rarely appears in public. As far as I know, his titles do not extend beyond Master of the Horse. But he is the King’s uncle, and it seems the King listens to him.’

  ‘So, the jackals are gathering.’

  20

  The early sunlight under the still curtain, and the sound of people stirring and talking beyond it, did little to contradict a feeling of deep unease as I woke, as if after a bad dream. I needed to move, to challenge it with activity, so I dressed hurriedly, splashing my face and hands with water to bring the reality of the new day a little closer. I smoothed my hair into some appearance of order. My mouth was as sour as tainted milk. I rinsed it out. I was hungry. And I needed to piss.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ asked Nakht, who was waiting for me along with Khety.

  ‘Fine. Apart from some strange dreams.’

  ‘What dream isn’t strange? That’s the point of them. Should we consult a Compendium of Shadows and interpret them?’

  I shook my head. He smiled.

  ‘What are your plans now?’ he asked.

  ‘Given the level of my unpopularity in the city at this point, the likelihood that the story of my apparent death will only protect me for a short while longer, and the cruel fact that the days are passing fast, I’ve decided to request an audience with Akhenaten. I think it’s time to bring him up to date. Besides, I can’t do my job if I have to run around the city in disguise.’

  Nakht shook his head, thinking. ‘There is to be a public ceremony honouring Meryra today. He is to be named High Priest of the Aten. Akhenaten may be too busy to see you.’

  ‘High Priest? I thought Akhenaten was the High and indeed the only Priest of the Aten? I thought that was the whole point?’

  ‘Yes, it’s interesting he has felt it necessary just now to elect a deputy. Meryra is totally obedient. And totally ruthless. Plus, he is the chief opponent of Ramose, who has been encouraging a more conservative approach to the government of the Great Estate for some time now. Meryra will support Akhenaten against Ramose. All religion now is about politics.’

  Khety had been listening with a look of profound anxiety. ‘But even if you get in, what are you going to say to Akhenaten? We’re no closer to solving the mystery.’

  ‘I’m going to tell him the truth.’

  ‘Yes, but you can’t just go in there and say, “Oh, and by the way, your loyal chief of police Mahu, who wields almost as much power as you do, wants my skin for a donkey’s nosebag.” Besides, if Mahu finds out you’ve made accusations he’ll be after me. He’d kill me.’

  ‘Well, he tried that already.’

  ‘No, sir, he tried to kill you. He’d kill me, and then he’d kill my family. And we don’t even know for sure it was him.’

  He had a point. ‘Khety, I’m not so stupid as to turn up in Akhenaten’s court with no evidence making wild accusations with no ascertainable connection to the mystery, which will only alert the very people we want to keep out of this. What we need to do is give him some kind of progress report to make him feel like we’re getting somewhere, even if we aren’t. Then, having bought some time and some renewal of my authority, we need his permission to interview the Queen Mother and the princesses.’

  ‘Tiy? What do you want to see her for?’

  ‘Because I need to get to the heart of this strange family. I want to find out what she knows.’

  ‘She’s said to be vile. They say she has gold teeth and her breath rots fruit.’

  ‘Nevertheless, she is the mother-in-law to the missing woman, and as such she has a, let’s say, particular point of view on all this. And we can hold our breath for as long as required.’

  Nakht grinned. ‘Your friend is right, she’s an evil bitch. Give her my fondest regards.’

  The ways were busy with officials going to work. Carts and kiosks sold honey-cakes, bread in a variety of shapes, and beer. Most people ate and drank as they walked, already too busy, like us now, to spare the time for a proper breakfast. Khety bought some honey-bread with figs, which was wonderful, and beer, and we consumed it all like hungry dogs round the back of a building, along a side street where only labourers passed. No-one took any notice of us, preoccupied as they were with the appalling prospect of another long day of hard labour under the all-powerful sun.

  Food always cheers me. It is a weakness. I wish I were the kind of man who can survive for days and nights without a single mouthful, thinking of nothing but truth and beauty. But I am not. I like to eat, as well and as often as possible. Even after a funeral, I look forward to the feast. Tanefert’s cooking is adequate, but mine, I have to say, is superior. I go about it like a mystery, tracking down unusual condiments and assessing the mysterious complexities of flavour for the constituent, and sometimes surprising, elements. I take pride in knowing where in the market and among the maze of shops to buy the richest meats, the freshest herbs, the best honey. My favourite dish is leg of gazelle marinaded in red wine, with figs. I wish I could prepare it now. My old life, in which I cook gazelle while the girls prepare the beans, Tanefert talks to my mother over wine, and my father dozes or plays with the girls, seems like a lost world.

  As we ate, the pain of absence flashed through my bones. To take my mind off it, I asked Khety how and where we could find Akhenaten.

  ‘It depends,’ he replied. ‘Some mornings he undertakes a progress with the sun from the North Palace along the Royal Road, before the people. He worships at the Aten Temple, usually the Small. Then he receives officials and makes decisions of policy, and conducts audiences and hears petitions-’

  ‘With what sort of people?’

  ‘All kinds. Civil servants, provincial governors, representatives from the councils of judges, army commanders…everyone, right up to the northern and southern viziers.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘And then he might distribute Collars of Honour at the Window of Appearances. In fact not many people know this, but there are two windows: the main one on the bridge, which he uses for the bigger audiences, and a smaller, less well-known one within the Great Palace, where he meets dignitaries, foreign ambassadors and envoys.’

  ‘Extraordinary. And if he doesn’t undertake the progress?’

  ‘Well, he usually does, but if he doesn’t then no-one knows where he stays. There are palaces and residences throughout the city, and as far as anyone knows he moves among them for security. But probably the North Palace by the river; it’s surrounded by the highest walls, and almost no-one from the administration ever goes there. They say it has a great artificial lake for fish and birds, and a sanctuary park for all the animals of the kingdom. They say he spends his free time there, among the living creatures, at the centre of the world.’

  Khety cast me a quick glance to see what I thought of that.

  ‘The things people say,’ I said, and smiled in a general kind of way. We still could not trust each other with regard to heresy.

  We hurried through the crowds to a point where a side passage opened out on to the Royal Road, and chose a good vantage spot to observe whatever happened next.

  ‘At what hour does he usually proceed?’

  ‘Always the same time, unless it’s a Festival day. He chooses to greet the sun in private, and then proceeds when it has risen to the height of the ninth hour. So the light is exactly right. And after his audiences, at the twelfth hour, Ra will be directly overhead, and he proceeds to the court of the Great House. The ceremony for
Meryra will probably take place between those hours.’

  ‘So if we wait here, and he feels like it, he will pass?’

  Khety nodded. ‘Of course, it will be unusual for the Queen to be absent. She drives her own chariot. Sometimes the princesses accompany them in their own small chariots. People seem to love it. The family. Perhaps today he will not come.’

  So we waited. Ra rose in his blinding chariot at his own speed, far too slow for me, higher into the ever-blue sky. I passed the frustrating time observing the people going about their apparently vital business, and dreaming casually about food. Then, finally, up along the Royal Road, we heard a rumbling, a commotion of activity. Anyone walking on the road was quickly pushed aside as an advance guard, blasting loudly on their trumpets, cleared a path-although in fact almost no-one was standing anywhere near. Rather, as if by a conjuring hand, crowds of people appeared from the side streets, jostling and pushing to take up positions as close as possible, calling, crying out enthusiastically, extending their hands imploringly towards the chariot which now came into view, protected before and after by running footsoldiers. As Akhenaten himself passed in pure white, crowned, on the high dais of his carriage, motionless and unresponsive among the roar and music of the occasion, the cries rose to a pitch of frenzy and the reaching hands became more urgent. He did indeed look like the King of the World. Yet I remembered the man I had met in private, wincing with pain.

  The level of security prominently displayed by this parade of power was high. Nubian, Syrian and Libyan archers held longbows, their arrows pointed at the rooflines or down into the adoring crowds. Bare-chested soldiers wore military kilts and carried ox-hide shields and axes, all polished and dazzling. At the turn into the Great Palace, phalanxes of guards created an impenetrable fence between Akhenaten and the people. The retinue turned quickly under the pylons and vanished into the court, and the armed guards fell in swiftly to protect the entrance. It was an impressive, carefully drilled, perfectly executed display of might-no motley, casual recruits here. And as soon as the King had passed, the gates were shut tight, and silence returned. But what Khety had said was true: people noticed the Queen’s absence. Meaningful glances, comments whispered into companions’ ears, responded to with questioning looks or nods of agreement.

  At least we had found him. I made my way through the throng, and Khety followed, trying to keep up. We walked along the perimeter wall of the palace. There seemed to be no other entrances, but finally, around the back, we found one: a small doorway, a trade and staff entry and exit, with a little window set into the wall beside it. A porter was barely contained within, as in a box outgrown by its bulging contents.

  ‘Let us pass.’

  The porter slowly turned his head, as solid, battered and implacable as a rock, to consider me.

  ‘It’s important. Here are my authorities.’

  I pressed the papyri to the bars on the window. He motioned me to pass them through, which I did, and he read them slowly, breathing heavily, his finger leading his frustratingly slow progress.

  ‘You have full authorities. And yet you want to enter the palace through my door.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He considered me. ‘No.’

  Khety pushed his way to the window. ‘He’s chief detective with the Medjay. I’m assistant to Mahu, chief of police. Stop asking stupid questions and let us in.’

  The porter slowly lowered his massive eyebrows again and, breathing more heavily now, pushed the authorities back through the grate. I pulled the papers from his sweaty grasp and hurried through the door he had opened.

  We walked up some wide steps and found ourselves in a large kitchen yard. Ducks huddled in the dust, and mounds of vegetables lay in corners. We moved through the kitchen offices, past men chopping fast at tables or watching over great pans boiling on open fires, into a servery, and then a high-ceilinged and silent state dining room set with tables and stands. Carrying on with a confidence we had to show but did not feel, we passed through double doors and found ourselves in a vast, high, central-pillared hall. Massive slabs of burnished sunlight lay across the highly polished floors. Doors gave off this hall to many smaller rooms. The silence seemed rich with power. From ducks in a yard to the polished halls of authority in a few moments: such was the strange adjacency of things in this place.

  Then through a closed door I heard Akhenaten’s voice raised in anger, and a second voice, powerful but quiet, as if calming a child, but with an undertow of menace. I knew the voice, but could not place it. We edged closer to try to overhear the conversation. Akhenaten’s voice came again, insistent, demanding, uncompromising; the other sounded like he was asking for something impossible, or something, at least, that Akhenaten could or would not assent to. I just about made out ‘challenging my authority…public humiliation’, then a word I could not catch-‘weakness’ perhaps? Then ‘intelligence reports indicate…opportunity we need to shut down now,’ and then a tense silence, as if the conversation was now being whispered. Finally, a door slammed shut.

  Khety looked at me. He had heard these fragments too. After a moment or so of total silence the door slammed open again and the magisterial figure of Ramose in fine, impressive clothes swept out. He walked away fast, obviously furious.

  Suddenly we were surrounded. Guards appeared from between the columns and threw us down on the ground with excessive force, shouting for us not to move. I heard the footsteps stop, turn and approach me. Ramose’s feet halted at my face, which was pressed to the cold stone of the floor. His long feet were blue-veined and gnarled in their gold and leather sandals.

  ‘What are you doing here? How did you get past security? Let him stand.’

  The guards backed off at once. I stood and brushed myself down.

  ‘It wasn’t difficult. I mentioned before that the security here seems inadequate.’

  His expression turned thunderous. Something about this man made me want to rile him, even though I knew it was a foolish impulse.

  ‘That is fine advice from a man who disappeared on a duck shoot.’

  Then another voice spoke. Light and clear. ‘Please look into the ease with which he managed to find his way in here. What are things coming to in this land? Come,’ Akhenaten said to me, dismissing all others, including Ramose, who still looked furious, with a light wave.

  We walked into a private room, and the doors closed softly behind us. But he quickly turned on me.

  ‘Such was the silence and lack of progress I assumed you were indeed dead. Which you might as well be. Speak.’

  ‘It does seem someone else here would prefer me to be dead.’

  He stared at me. Then he beckoned me to follow him quickly out through an archway into a walled garden. We walked a little way down the path until we were some distance from the building.

  ‘The palace was built to guard me, but it is also a listening device. One notices the slightest thread of cool air from time to time, seeming to come from nowhere-and that tells me there is a tiny gap in the wall so slight as to be invisible yet so powerful that words and information pour away into the world. Words are very powerful, but also very dangerous.’

  We sat opposite each other on two wooden chairs, our knees almost touching. The heat was shocking. Sweat burst out of me. He looked as comfortable as a lizard.

  I informed him of the identity of the dead girl. I pointed out that this identification was a major discovery with several important implications, not least that it suggested the Queen was not dead. To this he gave little reaction other than a quick sideways nod of the head. I described the horror of Tjenry’s murder, then the hunt and the attempt on my life, but held back from naming Mahu directly. I left him to deduce that information. But I made it clear there were forces within his city that were hunting me down. He was suddenly, mercurially, annoyed.

  ‘The days are passing like water through your hands, and you sit here telling me nothing. All you have achieved so far is to make enemies. And you have told me not
hing certain about the whereabouts or fate of the Queen, or who has taken her.’

  I let him simmer for a moment, then I said, ‘I am closer to solving the mystery than before. But I need further permissions and, with them, certain protections.’

  ‘Such as?’ he snapped.

  ‘I would like to interview the Queen Mother. And your daughters.’

  ‘Why? Do you think my own mother has kidnapped my wife?’

  I pushed my argument. It was all I could do. ‘I need to speak to everyone who may know something, or may have noticed something which they did not think to be important. I am trying to trace the tracks of our mystery in the dust of the past. All clues are vital.’

  He pondered this for a moment, then made up his mind decisively. ‘I will grant this. But remember my promise to you. Fail, and you and your family will suffer accordingly. For the last time I say to you: your time is running out.’

  I was saved from having to reply by a light tap-tap-tap, the sound of someone approaching with a stick. Up the path came a young boy. He was the striking image of Akhenaten, from the charismatic, angled face and thin body to the exquisite crutch tucked under his arm. His gaze passed slowly over me. I experienced a slight shiver. He looked like an old soul in a child’s twisted body.

  Akhenaten nodded coolly at the boy, who gazed at us both then swung himself away with a practised confidence and elegance that implied a small lifetime of infirmity. I could hear the crutch counting out his steps as he moved away into the echoey chamber beyond. Akhenaten made no comment on this strange appearance.

  ‘I will give you your permissions,’ he reiterated. ‘You may meet the Queen Mother and my girls this evening. And I will make one suggestion.’ I waited. ‘I have created many alliances and many friendships, but inevitably I also have many enemies. You can imagine who they are. Disaffected Priests from the redundant cults. The old Karnak families. Theban nobles whose corrupt fortunes are diverted now towards this city’s meaningful vision. And if I have these enemies, imagine how much more they must hate the Queen. A powerful man in command of the world is one thing; a powerful woman is quite another. And now I must move on. I would like you to attend the presentation of Meryra in the Great Temple. To see how far we have come in the direction of truth. He is a most trusted servant and the only Priest besides ourselves who is granted the honour of interceding between the world and the god. All will see him honoured.’