Tutankhamun: The Book of Shadows rr-2

by Nick Drake

  ‘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 to 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.

  And I waited until slowly, untrustingly, he gave me the slightest nod.

  Outside, Nakht confronted me.

  ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Now I can tell you the name of the man who did all of these things. But prepare yourself. Because you know him,’ I replied.

  ‘I?’ said Nakht, with astonishment and some degree of anger.

  ‘His name is Sobek.’

  My old friend stood still as a statue. His mouth hung open foolishly.

  ‘Sobek?’ he repeated, incredulously. ‘Sobek…?’

  ‘He was Ay’s physician. Ay sacked him and replaced him. He gave him another, lesser job. Caring for the mad Mutnodjmet. But he cared for her in his own way. He made her an opium addict, and in the end she did anything he asked of her. And now she too is dead.’

  He sat down slowly on the nearest elegant bench, as if exhausted by too much information.

  ‘So have you apprehended him?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I have no idea where he is, or where he will strike next. And I need your help.’

  But Nakht continued to look horrified.

  ‘What is it?’ I snapped.

  ‘Well, he is a friend. It is a great shock.’

  ‘Certainly. And you introduced him to me here. That does not make you guilty or complicit in any way. But it does mean you can help me catch him.’

  He looked away.

  ‘My friend, why do I get the feeling there is something you are not telling me, once more? Is this another of your secrets?’

  He said nothing.

  ‘I need you to answer all my questions clearly and fully. If you refuse, I will have to take the necessary measures. This is too important, and time is too short, for games.’

  He was astonished by my tone. We stared at each other. He saw I meant what I said.

  ‘We are both members of a society.’

  ‘What sort of society?’

  With the utmost reluctance he continued: ‘We are dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake. I mean the research, investigation and study of secret knowledge. In our times, such esoteric knowledge has been driven underground. It has become unacceptable. Perhaps it was always something that could only be appreciated by an initiated elite who valued knowledge above all else. We preserve and continue the ancient traditions, the ancient wisdom.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We are initiates, we preserve the secret rites, the secret books…’ he stuttered.

  ‘Now we are getting somewhere. And what are these books about?’

  ‘Everything. Medicine. Stars. Numbers. But they all have one thing in common.’

  He hesitated.

  ‘And what is that?’ I asked.

  ‘Osiris. He is our God.’

  Osiris. The King who, in the ancient story, once ruled the Two Lands, but was betrayed and murdered, and then resurrected from the Otherworld by his wife, Isis, whose love and loyalty made this possible. Osiris, whom we depict as a man with black or green skin, to indicate his fertility and his gift of resurrection and eternal life, dressed in the white bandages of death, holding the crook and flail, and the white crown. Osiris, who we also call ‘the perpetually good being’. Osiris, who offers the hope of eternal life, provided his followers make the right preparations for death. Osiris, who it is said waits for all of us after death in the Hall of Judgement, the supreme judge, ready to hear our confession.

  I sat back and considered Nakht for a moment. I felt as if this man, who I counted as a close friend, had suddenly become almost a stranger to me. He stared at me as if he was feeling the same.

  ‘I am sorry for the way I spoke to you. Our friendship is very important to me, and I would not see it imperilled. But I had no choice. I had to make you tell me this. You are my only possible link to this man.’

  He nodded slowly, and gradually a touch of warmth returned to the feeling between us.

  ‘You said I could help you. What did you mean?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘I will explain. Tell me something first. Does this secret society have a symbol?’

  Once more he hesitated.

  ‘Our symbol is a black circle. It is the symbol of what we call the night sun.’

  At last I had found the answer to that enigma. I quoted back his own words to him: ‘The Sun at rest in Osiris, Osiris at rest in the Sun.’

  He looked askance.

  ‘My friend. I must ask you this. When I described the carving with the sun disc destroyed, and when I asked you about the eclipse, and we went to the astronomical archives, you must have recognized the connection. Is that not the truth?’

  He nodded, miserably.

  I let him dangle on the sharp hook of his own guilt for a little while.

  ‘What does it mean?’ I said, eventually.

  ‘In the simplest form, it means that in the darkest hour of the night, the soul of Ra is reunited with the body and soul of Osiris. This allows Osiris, and indeed all the dead of the Two Lands, to be reborn. It is the holiest, most profound moment in all creation. But it has never been witnessed by any mortal. It is the greatest of all the Mysteries.’

  He was silent for a moment, unwilling to meet my eye.

  ‘I asked you about this before. And you did not tell me this most crucial detail. I might have identified Sobek much more quickly. I might have saved lives.’

  He was frustrated again.

  ‘We are a secret society! The relevant word is “secret”! And at the time I did not see any truly compelling reason to betray the sacred oaths I took.’

  ‘And, as it turned out, you were wrong,’ I replied.

  To his credit, he nodded and looked appalled.

  ‘The consequences of our slightest deeds seem never to be in our power. I try to control my life, but I see now, life controls me. And at moments like this, I feel I have the blood of innocent people on my conscience.’

  ‘No, you don’t. But if you are feeling in need of moral redemption, then help me now. Please.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I suppose, logically, Sobek is working for either Ay or Horemheb, most likely the latter, for he b
enefits greatly from the King’s death.’

  ‘And if that is so, then catching him before he can wreak any more chaos is imperative. Horemheb’s ship of state is moored by the Malkata Palace. He has proposed to Ankhesenamun. She is considering his offer.’

  ‘May the Gods preserve us from that destiny. Tell me your plan,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I believe Sobek is obsessed with visions. I also believe he is fascinated by hallucinogenic mysteries and substances. He seems to be also fascinated by what happens in the moment between life and death. I think that is why he drugs his victims and watches closely as they die. He is searching for something in that moment. This might bear comparison with the interests of your secret society-the moment of darkness and renewal?’

  Nakht nodded.

  ‘Now, Pentu, the King’s physician, mentioned to me that there is said to be another, very rare, fungus reputed to give the power of immortal vision; he said all that was known of it is that it grows only in the far boreal regions of the world. Do you know anything about this?’

  Nakht nodded.

  ‘Certainly. It is mentioned in the secret books. I can give you a much more detailed account. It is said to be a red-capped fungus, which only thrives in remote forests of silver trees with golden leaves. Its existence is highly speculative. No one has ever held such a thing in his hand. Anyway, it is said to be a means by which its priests die to the world, experience a vision of the Gods themselves, and then return to life. They also say that, used incorrectly, it is a powerful poison, and results in madness. I always considered it a kind of esoteric fable of spiritual enlightenment rather than something that existed in the real world.’

  ‘What matters now is that it might exist, and that if one had such a fungus, it would be an object of obsessive fascination to such a man as Sobek. A vision is sometimes far more powerful than reality itself…’ I said.

  Nakht shook his head doubtfully.

  ‘Your plan depends upon something that does not exist.’

  ‘Sobek has used the power of the imagination against us himself. And so there’s a kind of poetic justice in using it against him, isn’t there?’

  ‘What a strange world this is,’ he replied, ‘Medjay detectives describing their work in terms of poetry and justice.’