by Nick Drake
The young men now gathered around Nakht and roared their approval directly into his face. It was astoundingly disrespectful. Nakht met this hostility with implacable diplomatic manners.
‘We hear the words of the Prince of the Hittites, and remember them well. We bring good wishes and gifts of gold from our great King. We bring respect for the glories of the Hittites. We bring the wisdom of honour to our discussions. We remember your father’s great work in creating the treaties that once bound us in amity, and may do so again, to our mutual advantage.’
The Crown Prince gazed back at Nakht, his lip curled in contempt. Then he turned to the Chief Steward.
‘Uncle, I would speak with you later, perhaps once you have concluded this–feast of cowards.’
His uncle nodded, and the Crown Prince, ignoring Nakht, walked swiftly out of the chamber, followed by his retinue of aggressive young nobles. The delicate atmosphere of the occasion had been shattered. Nakht did not resume his seat.
The Chief Steward spoke quickly, seeking to redress the harm that had been done.
‘On behalf of our King, may I express our honour at your presence. The Crown Prince seems not to have been informed of your arrival. He is therefore dismayed, and unprepared. Hence his speech…’
‘We are honoured by his royal presence. Nevertheless we note his words carefully,’ said Nakht precisely.
‘His words were hasty,’ offered the Chief Steward.
‘His words were extremely insulting to the King of Egypt,’ replied Nakht uncompromisingly.
I noticed the Chief of the Royal Guards looked at some of his colleagues at this moment, as if silently dissenting from this attempt at diplomatic reconciliation. It seemed clear now that any offer Nakht might make of a peaceful resolution to the wars would be met with huge internal political hostility. I wondered whether Hattusa and Nakht had anticipated this.
‘We will retire now. Tomorrow is an important day,’ said Nakht.
There was a flurry of activity, everyone stood up, and suddenly we were following Nakht out of the chamber. Simut’s guards fell into position. Weapons were poised; at any moment they might be used. I quickly surveyed the hostile crowd. And then I sensed something that made me look up: I glimpsed a man staring at Nakht, through the crowds, from the far side of the chamber. His face bore the features and the colouring of a Levantine. He wore a conical hat. I was struck by the intensity of his gaze. As I stared at him, he noticed me, too–but then a crowd of Hittite nobles walked between us, and we passed through the doors and into the passageway, and into the shadows of the palace, and he was gone.
I mentioned the man later to Nakht, as we prepared to take our first night of rest in the city.
‘Give me an exact description,’ demanded Nakht.
I did so. Nakht listened very carefully.
‘I’m sure he was not a Hittite,’ I added.
A little furrow of worry appeared on Nakht’s brow.
‘Did you also see him?’ he asked Simut, who shook his head.
‘I did not. But I saw a great deal I did not like or trust. The Crown Prince was open in his threats.’
‘We are in the heart of our enemy’s land. Many here will have fought against Egypt, or lost brothers and fathers in the wars. Many will hold a deeply entrenched hatred of us, their mortal enemy,’ said Nakht. ‘It is to be expected.’ But he suddenly seemed uncertain, as if the events of the evening had shaken his confidence. He turned to me quietly: ‘Keep an eye out for that man, and tell me if you notice him again. We can’t be too careful. Tomorrow is our only chance to persuade the King of our proposal, and I have no doubt if Aziru is here he will be working behind the scenes to destroy any chance of a peaceful settlement between the two empires. As we saw tonight, even within the Hittite royal family, there is great internal dissent…’
‘How many princes are there in the royal family?’ I asked, to restore us to the solid ground of facts.
‘Five. There is Arnuwanda, who we met tonight: he is heir to the throne. Then there is Telepinu, who has been instated by his father as Viceroy of Aleppo, and made Priest of Kizzuwanta, which is an extremely important position; and Piyassili, who is now Viceroy of Carchemish; then Zannanza, and finally Mursilis, who is still underage,’ he said.
‘So the Hittite King has been as lucky with his sons as the Queen has been unlucky in her own offspring,’ I said. ‘How strange that the destiny of empires comes down to the fruit of a woman’s womb.’
Nakht nodded.
‘Indeed. But there is another dimension to the Hittites’ own problems of succession: having loyally provided him with five sons, the Queen Henti has recently been banished by the King, and in her place he has married the daughter of the King of Babylon. Her name is Tawananna.’
‘So I assume she isn’t very popular with the sons…’ I suggested.
‘It makes for an additional complexity in the political situation between the father and the sons, and perhaps what we witnessed tonight is testimony to that tension–something which we must take advantage of. Families are so strange and unaccountable, one sometimes wonders why people actually have them…’ he added. I saw he was only half-joking.
‘All families are complicated. But royal families are surely the most complex of all–for they squabble over power and gold and revenge, not just over who has the last bowl of soup…’ I suggested.
‘No matter how poor a man may be, if he has family he is rich,’ Nakht quoted the old proverb back at me. ‘As you know.’
Then he lay down on his couch, and prepared himself to sleep, as if nothing were the matter, as if he were not carrying such a great weight of responsibility upon his narrow shoulders.
‘How can you just sleep like that, when you know tomorrow you hold the destiny of our land in your hands?’ I said, in amazement.
‘No great task was ever undertaken without a good night’s sleep. Wars are lost through weariness and won after a good night of rest. I have prepared as thoroughly as possible. Nothing has been left to chance. I know what I have to do. Lying here awake all night worrying, and waking up tomorrow, before dawn, with red eyes and nothing in my brain will hardly help our cause. So if you don’t mind, please would you provide me with the silence necessary to allow me to get some rest? Good night.’
And he closed his eyes firmly. Simut and I tiptoed around him, and went outside to check his guards were in position for the night watch. We could trust no one here but ourselves, and as the Crown Prince’s behaviour had confirmed, we were unwelcome guests for many of the Hittites. We knew at any moment we might be attacked. Outside the entrance to the building, Hittite guards had also been posted. They stared at us, and our own Egyptian guards, with antipathy.
I glanced up at the night sky, full of stars, and a new moon’s crescent, which had slipped into the corner of the vast heavens.
‘Well, here we are,’ I said to Simut.
He nodded. ‘And I’m already looking forward to going home. This place gives me the creeps.’
‘Me, too. For some reason I keep thinking of snakes.’
He laughed.
‘It’s a palace. All palaces are full of ambitious men, women and children who’d eat each other alive for advancement. They’re all supposed to be the elite, but they clamber over each other, and behave with a viciousness and cruelty that would shock a dumb animal. That Crown Prince is a nasty piece of work. He’s no friend of ours.’
‘He’d love to see our Egyptian heads impaled on the city walls,’ I replied. And I thought about the strange Levantine I had seen, and his twisted face.
Simut decided to stay up with his guards for some of the night watch, so I returned to our chamber. Nakht was already breathing lightly, like a child. I gazed at his elegant head resting on its sleeping stand, and at the fine, delicate features of his face. I couldn’t tell if he was truly asleep or not. This journey had made me realize I did not know this man, my old friend, as well as I thought. We had been close for so many years.
But even now, I never could be quite sure what was happening behind those hazel, hawk-like eyes, now closed in sleep. His face was a mask of calmness.
I sniffed the flask of water, to check it for poisons. It seemed fine and clear, so I drank a draught. It didn’t kill me at once, anyway. And I soon fell asleep, into a deep dream of high places, and drifting mists, and my family calling to me from very far away…
21
We were made to wait, and we were not alone. In the stifling antechamber a crowd of petitioners, bureaucrats, army officers, rich merchants, magnates and vassal rulers had come to pay their respects and to report on their territories. Every time a new person and his retinue appeared, everyone looked up to see whether they should rise, out of respect, or remain seated, out of pride. When we had entered, we had been assessed and then deliberately slighted. No one had stood up. The ambassador was embarrassed, but Nakht refused to allow the slight to offend him, nor the greater one of the long wait–even when the morning sun approached its zenith, and the air crackled with the day’s heat and the whir of crickets, and we had been waiting on the King for many hours, and had seen almost all others pass before us into his presence.
‘This is nothing,’ he said. ‘Sometimes envoys and ambassadors are made to wait for days, even weeks, for a royal audience. And as for messengers, most of them are lucky if they only have to wait a year for a reply to carry home.’
And he returned to his private contemplations. But suddenly, when I had begun to think we would indeed have to wait a year ourselves, the doors of the antechamber creaked open, and we were summoned.
The palace guards escorted us in a grim silence through several colonnaded courts, each larger and more impressive than the preceding one, and then up a wide flight of stairs to a higher floor, which opened into a vast terrace containing a spacious courtyard surrounded by a large, elegant colonnade. We were shown to bowls of clean water, and then our hands and feet were scrupulously washed by royal attendants. The pungent scent of branches of burning herbs haunted the air. Finally, we were led to magnificent doors, carved with the royal symbol of the lion and covered in gold leaf. There was absolute silence. Hattusa nodded to a royal herald, who knocked three times with his ceremonial mace on the door, and we were admitted.
We found ourselves in a beautiful shaded hall. Open arches along three sides gently admitted light and a warm breeze. Countless pillars, of great elegance, held up the high ceiling. At the far end of this hall, a group of men stood in the shade. The ambassador formally led us towards them; some I knew from last night, including the Crown Prince, who once again affected barely to acknowledge Nakht, and his uncle, the Chief Steward, who was politely respectful. Others were introduced: Hazannu, Mayor of the City; Zida, Chief Minister, and several other political advisers who formed the royal cabinet; but there was still no sign of the King. Simut’s guards carried our trunk of gold treasure, and laid it down before the royal throne.
We stood awaiting His Majesty in a line, in uncomfortable silence; until at last the royal herald grandly announced his imminent appearance, and suddenly, through a double doorway that must have led further into the private royal apartments, he appeared, as if in a great hurry, giving an impression of imperative, impatient energy. Everyone quickly got down on their knees, and bowed low.
When we were eventually permitted to rise, I found myself glancing cautiously at a man of no great height, but solidly built, scrupulously and unostentatiously dressed, with an air of barely subdued temper mixed with melancholy, and bluegrey eyes of penetrating, alarming astuteness. He sat down and gazed balefully and contemptuously at the company, drumming his ringed fingers on the arms of his throne. Suddenly, he barked something in his own language. One of the servants, quivering with fear, came forward and bowed before him. The King shouted a command, and then the servant bowed once more, turned, walked quickly to the far end of the chamber, and, without hesitating, threw himself off the edge into the void below.
‘I command every living creature in this world, and I command death. Remember that,’ said the Hittite King, in badly accented Egyptian, directly to Nakht.
Then he nodded brusquely to Hattusa, who began to deliver a speech in Hittite. I understood nothing, but I could see the King was affecting not to listen–or at least not to give away any response at all. Hattusa then invited Nakht to come forward. I confess that, for the first time, I am sure I saw my friend’s hands shaking with nerves. But when he spoke, his voice was calm and clear. And he spoke in Akkadian, the old, formal, otherwise unused language of all international diplomacy, as if it were his native tongue. Hattusa translated sentence by sentence into the Hittite tongue, and the King listened carefully, all the time refusing to respect or honour Nakht by looking at him. The other ministers and officials also listened, their eyes to the floor, each one carefully not giving away any response. Finally, Nakht bowed, and opened the trunk to reveal the gifts of gold. The Hittite King affected not even to glance at the contents. Instead, he sat forward impatiently, and spoke rapidly in Hittite. Hattusa in turn translated for Nakht, directly into Egyptian.
‘He commands us to speak in Egyptian and Hittite. He says it is better. Let brother speak to brother in his own true tongue.’
Nakht bowed. ‘We are graced by the King’s wisdom.’
Hattusa translated that, too, and the King waved away Nakht’s praise, and began a long, authoritative speech, starting assertively and ending by shouting. The ambassador took a deep breath, and translated the tirade formally, and evenly. This bellicose manner was for show, and underneath it something subtler was taking place.
‘The King, Son of the Sun, sends his best wishes back to his dear sister, the Queen of Egypt. He thanks her for her small gifts. He thanks her for her concern for his health, which, as you can see, is perfect. He wishes the same for her. Life, prosperity and health to the King and Queen of Egypt! He thanks the Queen for her surprising proposal. But he asks how she thinks it possible that a Hittite prince could possibly be spared to supply the desperate needs of the Egyptian throne. And why the King, the Son of the Sun, should send one of his own sons as a hostage to the court of Egypt? You will not make him King!’
The King and his courtiers watched carefully as Hattusa spoke, gauging Nakht’s response. Nakht nodded as if he expected this, and quickly replied, showing the King the tablet on which the Queen’s message had been inscribed, and daring to address the King more directly.
‘My lord, Son of the Sun, here are the private words the Queen of Egypt sends to you through me, her loyal and unworthy servant: “If we had a son of the great King Tutankhamun, we would not come to you asking for one of your princes. I will be solitary. I will be alone. I seek one of your princes to become King, and a husband. I have come to you, and to no other land.”’
Nakht offered the tablet, but the King refused to take it. Nakht continued, speaking directly: ‘We would honour our glorious alliance with guarantees of the Prince’s security. This, the Queen vows. She begs instead your indulgence to consider the advantages for both our great empires of a more brotherly and loving friendship.’
He paused, and the ambassador translated fluently. The Crown Prince quickly interrupted.
‘No, no, no, Royal Envoy of the Egyptians. We are not so foolish. My brothers are viceroys in Aleppo and Carchemish, we control those territories, and from there we will conquer all the lands of Egypt…’
But the King brusquely gestured to him to be silent. The Crown Prince scowled but retreated.
Nakht continued: ‘In the spirit of the brotherly respect that holds firm between great equals, let us consider the truth of things. The wars between us are no longer beneficial to either of our lands. The only beneficiaries of the conflict are the lesser states that lie between us. Can either of us trust their loyalty? Never. They lie and cheat like thieves in order to win their advantage, and to stir up enmity between each other, and between the great brothers. It costs both Egypt and Hatti many divisions to maintain order
among such chaos. But a treaty of peace would bring those territories under the feet of the Queen of Egypt, and the feet of the great King of the Hittites.’
Some of the ministers conferred among themselves briefly. But the Crown Prince was looking thunderous now.
He rose and shouted: ‘You speak words of peace, but Egypt has repeatedly launched unprovoked attacks against Hittite allies and subject cities. You attacked Qadesh! You did evil to the Hittites…’ he cried.
‘Yes, sire. And then Hatti violated the treaty and attacked us in turn. You besieged Carchemish! What is the purpose of this aggression? If this were the relationship between two brothers, would we not call it wasteful of love, and wasteful of trust?’ responded Nakht, with a new tone of authority.
The King was listening carefully now. Nakht pushed home his argument.
‘War between Hatti and Egypt is a costly and wasteful business. We are proud empires. And yet why must each of us commit so much to gain so little? Only peace reaps the profit of time. Why should there not be a glorious and respectful peace between our brotherly lands? Why should we not join forces, as brothers, to quell the foolish disturbances, and the anarchic forces of chaos, that trouble us both in the lands that lie between us? Let it be known before all here: I speak of Amurru, and its so-called King Aziru, and the band of vile malcontents he has allowed, with great contempt for both our empires, to ravage the lands that should offer up in tribute the best of their bounty–of grain, of timbers, of wines and oils–to us. Why are these things squandered amongst criminals, when we could share them together, in celebration?’
This radical speech caused a ripple of whispered discussion among the advisers, and even the King shifted on his throne. The Crown Prince approached Nakht. I thought he was going to strike him.
‘Aziru, who was once the subject of Egypt, is now a loyal ally of the Hittite King, and a loyal enemy of Egypt. You clearly do not know this,’ he said.
