by Nick Drake
Ankhesenamun nodded; four servants picked up the throne with little effort, and carried him away, out of the Hall, and into the private apartments beyond. I knew I would never see him again. And I could not help thinking the world would be better off without him, no matter what came next.
I wondered why I had been invited to witness this grotesque spectacle. I glanced at Nakht, who seemed to be unaffected by what had passed, and merely waited for the doors to close behind Ay. Then he bowed his head to the Queen, and waited. She seemed to have something she wished to say to me. She began to pace the great Audience Hall, moving through the elegant pillars, keeping away from the strong light from the clerestory windows, and within the deep shadows that lay across the beautiful painted floor. She gazed at the walls inlaid with coloured tiles depicting the victories of Egypt over her captive enemies–rows of Syrians with their arms behind their backs, Libyans kneeling, and curly-haired Nubians prostrating themselves.
‘Do you remember, Rahotep; we sat together, some years ago, out in that courtyard, and I confided in you what my mother once told me?’
Her voice was quiet in the great space of the hall.
‘She said if you were ever in any real danger, you should call for me. And you did,’ I answered.
She came closer to me. I saw fear in her eyes.
‘I was right to do so. I trusted you. My mother trusted you.’
I was suddenly unnerved. I had no idea where this was leading.
‘It was an honour to serve you,’ I said.
She considered me, then turned and sat on her gilded throne and once more assumed the posture of Queen. The brief intimacy of her manner was gone. This was business.
‘What I am about to tell you is absolutely secret. It must remain so, on pain of death. If you fail my trust, I cannot and will not spare you. Is that clear?’
My doubts must have showed on my face, for she glanced at Nakht, who took up the thread.
‘The Queen is calling on your duty. This is not a question of volition. Attend the Queen more closely,’ he ordered, and we both approached her. I bowed my head. Even if there were spies listening through secret apertures in the walls, they could not hear us now.
‘Rahotep, I have asked the noble Nakht to bring you here because I need you once more. I would not have done so unless it was absolutely necessary. I have not asked you here for myself. It is as Queen of Egypt I must once more command your loyalty,’ she said, quietly, confidentially.
I nodded as loyally as I could.
‘Since Ay and I have ruled the empire together, I have learned a great deal about power, and what men will do to possess it. Of course, he will not live long now. For the sake of the empire, and for the continuation of the civilized values I hold dear, and for the continuation of my dynasty, I will rule alone as Queen after his death. The noble Nakht and I have laid plans for a stable succession. I am a woman, but I have supporters. Many high-ranking men–and women–have made their loyalty known to me. But I must also recognize the honest advice others have given me: there are those whose political and financial interests would be better served by the ascension of another ruler. I am sure you know of whom I speak. General Horemheb has made his ambitions very clear for a long time. I know there are many in the ministries, and in the priesthood, who will go to his side, if they believe he can offer them, and the Two Lands, something better than I can–or more likely if they feel sufficiently afraid. I must recognize the truth of the situation. The nobles and priests wish to protect their powers and possessions. Horemheb has the army under his command, and it is a great force. Without the support of the great battalions of the Egyptian army, it will be simply impossible for me to rule Egypt.’
She paused to look at me.
‘I know perfectly well the great flaw in my situation. I am a woman without heirs. There must be a succession. I must produce heirs. I must continue my family line. I must continue my dynasty. But I will choose the father of my child. Of course, with Ay there was never any possibility of that. The general might consider the political advantages of offering me the solution of marriage. But I will never accept him as a husband. I know his merciless ambition and heartless cruelty too well. I remember his treatment of my aunt after he married her. Even if I could find it in myself to have him join me on the throne, I know I would not live long … some accident, or a clever, invisible poison, would surely kill me…’
She shivered at the thought.
‘Were I a king, I would simply take a noble wife. But I am a woman, and I am alone. I have already lost one husband, and suffered another old enough to be my own grandfather. And who is left for me to marry? How can I save my great dynasty? I think, and think, and all I hear are the voices of my parents, and my grandfather, telling me “You are the last, you must save our dynasty from oblivion”, for Horemheb would surely annihilate all signs of our rule. Our royal names would be hacked from the stones, and the great monuments of our reigns would be obliterated. Our glories would be annihilated, and our royal names would never be spoken again. The Gods would not know us. It would be as if we had never even existed. But–I must think not only of my family, but also of what we represent: we are Egypt. We have created its greatness. We have brought pride, stability, affluence and peace to this empire. And what will Horemheb do with this inheritance, with this legacy of glory? We all know he will dash it to the ground, for the sake of his own glory. His rule would be cruel and tyrannical…’
She stopped speaking, and stood up from the throne, as if overwhelmed by the vision of such a catastrophe. She began once more to pace the great shadows of the Audience Hall, and Nakht and I followed her respectfully. Nakht took up the story.
‘But there is great opposition to Horemheb. He has no royal blood. The Gods have not yet chosen him. The oracles have not yet spoken in his favour. Many in the priesthood would never willingly accept him as King. Many are loyal,’ he added. He bowed his head, I thought rather ostentatiously.
She turned quickly, speaking urgently again.
‘Why do you flatter me with gentle words, noble Nakht? You know, as well as I do, that his power is great, and if he decides to enter Thebes to conquer it and take power from me, many will simply acclaim it as the will of the Gods,’ she replied. ‘Some oracle or other will be deemed to have foretold his rule and given it divine sanction. I mean no sacrilege when I say oracles are easily bought…’
There was no answer to this self-evident truth. And there seemed nowhere else to go in this strange conversation. But then she turned to me again. This living god, the Queen of Egypt, was so close I could smell the delicate scented oil she wore on her gleaming shoulders, and on her elegant throat. And with the old spirit in her voice, she suddenly brightened, and whispered into my ear: ‘But I have a plan. I have ordered Nakht to explain everything to you, and to outline the duties I require of you. I trust him absolutely, and his word carries my authority.’
Nakht knelt, and I followed suit.
‘I need you once more, Rahotep. I know you will not fail me,’ she said.
Our audience seemed over, but she stayed where she was, hesitating.
‘It was good to see you again. Nakht could have communicated my orders to you, but I confess I wanted to see you in person. I have missed you.’
‘And I you, Your Majesty,’ I replied.
She smiled, for the first time.
‘How is your family? Your three girls? They must be beautiful young women now. And your baby son? I suppose he is no longer a baby.’
‘They are all well, thanks be to the Gods,’ I replied. ‘My oldest is studying medicine. She dreams of becoming a doctor.’
‘Oh, that is marvellous! Egypt has been dominated by men for too long. I of all people should know this. Women have been underestimated. We need strong, educated women to help us build a better world. If all goes well with us, she will have a bright future under my reign. I will see to it personally.’
‘May it be so,’ I said quietly.
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‘I hope to witness her success. Tell her she can count on my personal support.’
‘I will,’ I replied.
She gazed at me. Such small talk seemed to give her an intense pleasure, as if for once she could share in the things of ordinary life.
‘Be kind to yourself, Rahotep,’ she said, and then, to my surprise, she pressed a small bag of gold into my palm, and quickly turned away before I could stammer out my thanks.
7
As Nakht and I sailed back from the palace to the Thebes docks, the afternoon light had changed; the sun was setting behind us, to the west, beyond the stony hills, in a panorama of gold and red and blue. We sat in the cabin, alone. I felt like a dog waiting on its master to be fed; I watched him finish with his documents, perfect the way his linen gown sat upon him, and take a refreshing sip of his drink. Finally, he was ready to speak, and by this time I was almost ready to strangle him, I was so tense with anticipation.
‘Before I begin, I must ask you to keep silent until I have finished. We are old friends. But, believe me, I will not allow friendship to come between us in regard to what I am about to tell you. This is very serious. It is a matter of high state. Is that understood?’
‘Of course it is,’ I said.
He waited, then finally whispered: ‘The Queen has written and sent a formal, secret letter to the King of the Hittites. In this letter, she has requested him to send her one of his sons, to be her husband, and to rule on the throne of Egypt beside her.’
I thought he was joking.
‘You’re not serious.’
‘I am not inclined to make jokes about the fate of the Two Lands,’ he replied.
I stood up, deeply shocked, trying to absorb the ramifications of this revelation.
‘But that is impossible. No one in Egypt will accept a foreigner of any kind on the throne of the Two Lands–least of all a son of our arch-enemy…’
‘Keep quiet. And sit down!’ he hissed. He was furious with me now. He stood right in front of me, whispering urgently.
‘I asked you to listen to me without comment. The proposal is radical, but it has many advantages.’
‘Such as?’ I demanded.
He was no longer comfortable in the little cabin, unable to be sure we were not overheard. And so we paced along the deck, in the evening light, arguing.
‘Firstly, it’ll completely wrong-foot Horemheb. He could never anticipate this move. Next, it will solve the vexed question of the succession. There is quite simply no one else in the kingdom for the Queen to marry. This way she will have a husband we can control, and she will beget sons,’ he insisted.
‘But they will be the half-sons of our enemies!’ I said.
‘And that is the stroke of genius! With this marriage, the war between Egypt and the Hittites will be brought to a spectacular end, in a peace that is entirely to our advantage. It has gone on far too long. It is pointless, unnecessary and extremely expensive. It is domestically unpopular, and it no longer brings us any appreciable international gains. In short, we are wasting time and resources on an outdated conflict that should now swiftly be brought to a conclusion. A negotiated settlement is in both sides’ interest. Indeed, the war is only benefiting the enemies of international stability—’ he argued, his eyes bright with determination, his finger raised in affirmation.
‘Such as who?’ I interrupted.
He shook his head, apparently frustrated at my stupidity.
‘I don’t have time to explain all this to you, you just have to do as you are commanded,’ he said.
‘If you are commanding me to be part of something, you owe it to me to explain the full reasons for risking my life.’
He stared at me.
‘Very well. But listen, and think. The kingdoms and the city-states of the Levant, with their warlords, their petty tyrants and their disastrous polities, are a cause of great international instability. This, as the pre-eminent empire of the world, we cannot and will not tolerate. Peaceful relations with the Hittites are not only economically advantageous to both sides, but also–and this is the consequence I trust you will particularly appreciate–will mean the army no longer has a defined enemy.’
I gazed back at him.
‘So you think Horemheb could not continue to claim the army’s vast powers and financial necessities if there was no conflict to justify them?’ I said.
‘Yes! At last you begin to understand. It will remove his main purpose, and therefore deeply undermine his personal power and authority. Conflict defines nations. Enemies justify armies. Wars glorify generals. Without his great enemy to give him purpose and meaning, he will be significantly diminished. He will have to come to terms with us. He will not be able to oppose the Queen.’
Nakht stood there, in the late sunlight, his face like a clever schoolboy’s, his smooth features a picture of delight at the audacity of the plan. I had to admit, it was extraordinary. It also seemed to me incredibly risky. But somehow Nakht had taken an idea that sounded preposterous, and turned it into what looked like brilliant politics. He gazed at me expectantly.
‘If this was a round of senet, I’d say you were going to get knocked off the board very soon, and into the jaws of a crocodile,’ I said quietly.
He scowled, irritated and disappointed.
‘Your gaming metaphor is crude. But if you insist on using it, yes, we are gambling everything on a last throw of the sticks. And to be frank: what other option do we have?’
‘You could fight an open battle for the succession against Horemheb here, in Egypt. In Thebes,’ I suggested.
‘It will not work. Horemheb commands the two corps of Upper and Lower Egypt: that is, the Ta, Ra, Seth and Amun divisions, each of five thousand troops. The division leaders of the first three are loyal to him. Let’s speculate: Horemheb is from the delta, the Seth division are from his home, owe him the most loyalty, and would have the most to gain from supporting him. Say he ordered them back from the war in the north. One division alone would probably be sufficient to take control of Thebes. Memphis he already controls. And if he were able to command one or two divisions more to attack Thebes, what would become of us all?’
I shook my head, and walked away, up towards the prow of the boat, trying to absorb what I was hearing. I saw we were close to the city.
‘If you think things are bad now, under Horemheb’s rule there would be summary executions, curfews and the wholesale massacre of the palace hierarchy and the priesthood! The Queen and her supporters would be executed. He would simply commandeer everyone’s riches for himself, and if the priesthood opposed him they would be decimated. Blood would run in the gutters. It would be the end of everything,’ he said, as if to persuade me further.
‘Now you sound like Hor,’ I said.
‘Hor was right.’
We confronted each other in silence. We were both angry and alarmed.
‘Even if your plan works, even if the Hittite King agrees to this proposal, and to a peace plan, and even if Horemheb does not launch a coup, I still have a question–why are you telling me all of this? Why am I being invited into the great secret?’ I said.
Nakht looked quickly around, to confirm no one could hear us, took me by the arm, and spoke into my ear.
‘I have been honoured with the supreme responsibility of leading the diplomatic mission to the Hittite capital to negotiate the marriage agreement. It will be a secret mission. We will travel incognito. It is essential Horemheb has no intelligence about us, or our whereabouts. We will travel as merchants on the Way of Horus, as quickly as possible. We will charter a commercial ship from Ugarit to the southern coast of the Hittite lands. Once we arrive in the Hittite capital of Hattusa, I will negotiate the terms of the peace treaty, and of the marriage. If we are successful, we will then bear the responsibility of bringing the Hittite Prince safely back to Egypt. We will be accompanied by Simut, and a retinue of elite palace guards, who have all been carefully vetted for loyalty.’
‘And still I do not know what this has to do with me,’ I said.
‘The Queen orders you to join this mission as my personal bodyguard. Simut and his guards will ensure the safety of the royal letters and the gifts of gold we will carry to the Hittite King, and they will manage the security of the mission in general. But you will be responsible for my personal safety. Let’s be clear: if necessary you will be required to give your life for mine. I should add this is not my idea. The Queen insists. And perhaps she is right, for only I can undertake the negotiations. In addition, however, the personal safety of the Hittite Prince will also be your responsibility on the return journey.’
My heart pounded. I couldn’t think how to respond.
‘You have put me in a position where I cannot say no,’ I said.
Nakht’s face hardened.
‘Not I, but the Queen. But I know you very well, my friend. I can see in your eyes that you are excited. I see something of the sparkle, the gleam of adventure, which has been missing for too long. Do not deny it. You relish excitement. You need mystery. You thrive on it. It is your meat and drink. And if I may be so personal,’ he paused, ‘you might also value the very substantial reward that will be yours, in addition to the gold she has already given you, if we are successful.’
I gazed out at the Great River’s panorama without seeing anything. He was right. I was excited. After these years of frustration and humiliation, and of domestic tedium, the prospect of such a journey, of such high responsibility, and of adventure in other lands, was like cool, clear water to a man lost in the desert.
‘I cannot simply leave my family. You know that. What would happen to them if…?’ I said.
‘If we do not return? I have considered that. If we succeed, I have been authorized to offer you the role of Chief of the Thebes Medjay.’
