by Wilbur Smith
Apepi rounded on him, scowling. “Do not press me too hard, old man. Do not insult my father, the divine god Salitis.” After an interval long enough to express his disapproval, Apepi spoke again. “How long will it take you to arrange a parley with this so-called Regent of the Upper Kingdom, this Naja?”
“If you give me safe-conduct through your lines, and a fast galley to carry me, I can be in Thebes in three days. The return with the current will be even swifter.”
“I will send Trok with you to see you safely through. Tell Naja I will meet him at the temple of Hathor on the west bank at Perra beyond Abnub. Do you know it?”
“I know it well, my lord,” Taita said.
“We can talk there,” Apepi said. “But tell him not to expect too many concessions from me. I am the victor, and he the vanquished. You can go now.”
Taita stood his ground.
“You may go, Warlock.” Apepi dismissed him a second time.
“Pharaoh Nefer Seti is almost of an age with your daughter, Mintaka,” Taita said stubbornly. “You might wish to bring her with you to Perra.”
“To what purpose?” Apepi stared at him suspiciously.
“An alliance between your dynasty and that of the Tamosian pharaohs might seal a lasting peace in the two kingdoms.”
Apepi stroked the ribbons in his beard to hide his smile. “By Seueth, you intrigue as cunningly as you mix a potion, Warlock. Now, get you gone before you irk me past forbearance.”
The temple of Hathor had been excavated out of the rocky hillside above the river in the reign of Pharaoh Sehertawy hundreds of years previously, but had been added to by every pharaoh since then. The priestesses were a rich, influential sisterhood who had contrived somehow to survive during the long civil wars between the kingdoms and even to prosper in difficult times.
Dressed in their yellow robes, they were gathered in the courtyard of the temple, between the two massive statues of the goddess. One of these depicted Hathor as the piebald cow with golden horns, and the other was her human manifestation, the tall, beautiful lady wearing the crown of horns and the golden sun disc on her head.
The priestesses chanted and rattled the sistrum as the suite of Pharaoh Nefer Seti filed into the courtyard from the eastern wing, while King Apepi’s courtiers entered through the western colonnade. The order of arrival at the conference had been a matter of such heated debate that the negotiations had almost broken down before they had begun. The first arrival would have the prestige of the incumbent in the position of power, while the second arrival would appear as the supplicant begging for peace. Neither side had been willing to forgo the advantage.
It was Taita who had suggested the expedient of a simultaneous arrival. He had also tactfully settled the equally vexing question of the regalia to be worn by the two protagonists. Both would eschew the double crown. Apepi would wear the red deshret crown of Lower Egypt, while Nefer Seti would confine himself to the white hedjet crown of Upper Egypt.
The entourages of both rulers packed the spacious courtyard, their ranks facing each other unsmiling and grim. Only a few paces separated them physically, but the bitterness and hatred of sixty years’ strife formed a mighty barrier between them.
The hostile silence was shattered by a rolling fanfare of rams’ horns, and the thunder of bronze gongs. This was the signal for the royal parties to emerge from the opposite wings of the temple.
Lord Naja and Pharaoh Nefer Seti paced out solemnly and took their places on the high-backed thrones, while the two princesses, Heseret and Merykara, followed them meekly and took their seats at the foot of Naja’s throne, for they were his betrothed. Both girls were so heavily made-up that their faces were as expressionless as that of the statue of Hathor in whose shadow they sat.
At the same time the Hyksosian royal family emerged from the opposing wing of the temple. Apepi led them, an impressive, warlike figure in full battle armor. He glared across the courtyard at the boy Pharaoh. Eight of his sons followed him; only Khyan, the youngest, had not recovered sufficiently from the plague to make the journey upriver. Like their father they were armed and armored, and strutted and posed with the same bravado.
A formidable coterie of bloodthirsty ruffians, Taita thought, as he surveyed them from where he stood close to Nefer’s throne.
Apepi had brought only one of his many daughters with him. Like a desert rose in a thicket of spiny cactus, the contrast to her brothers made Mintaka’s beauty shine out. She picked out Taita’s tall lank figure and silver hair in the crowd opposite and her face lit in a smile so radiant that it seemed for a moment that the sun had burst through the awnings stretched over the courtyard. None of the Egyptians had ever laid eyes on her before, and there was a subdued rustle and murmur through their ranks. They had been unprepared for her. The myth was that all Hyksosian women were as heavily built as their menfolk and twice as ugly.
Pharaoh Nefer Seti leaned forward slightly and despite the solemnity of the occasion tugged at his earlobe under the bottle-shaped white crown. It was a habit Taita had tried to break, and Nefer only did it when he was intensely interested in something, or when he was distracted. Taita had not seen Nefer for over two months—Naja had kept them separated since his return from Apepi’s headquarters at Bubastis—yet he was so familiar with the boy, so attuned to his mind, that he could still read his thoughts with ease. He sensed that Nefer was in a ferment of elation and excitement, as intense as if he had just spotted a gazelle moving within arrow range, or was about to mount an unbroken colt, or had launched a hawk at a heron and was watching it begin its stoop.
Taita had never known him to react like this to the presence of a member of the opposite sex. Nefer had always looked upon all females, including his sisters, with a regal disdain. However, it was less than a year since he had been launched onto the troubled waters of puberty, and most of that time he had been sequestered with Taita in the wilderness of Gebel Nagara, where there had been nothing to rivet his attention in the way that Mintaka was now doing.
Taita felt smug at what he had achieved with so little effort. It would have complicated all his plans and enhanced the danger in which they found themselves if Nefer had taken a violent dislike to the Hyksosian girl. If the two married, Nefer would be the son-in-law of Apepi and come under his protection. Even Naja must pause before giving offense to someone so powerful and dangerous. Mintaka might unwittingly save Nefer from the Regent’s machinations and ambitions. That at least was Taita’s intention in fostering the union.
During the short time they had nursed and cared for her brother Taita and Mintaka had formed a firm friendship. Now Taita nodded almost imperceptibly and returned her smile. Then Mintaka’s gaze moved past him. She looked with interest at the noble Egyptian women opposite her. She had heard much about them, but these were the first she had seen. Swiftly she singled out Heseret. With sure feminine instinct she recognized someone as attractive as herself, and a possible future rival. Heseret reacted to her in exactly the same way, and they exchanged a brief but haughty and mutually hostile glance. Then Mintaka raised her eyes to the impressive figure of Lord Naja and stared at him with fascination.
He was such a splendid sight, so different from her own father and brothers. He shone with gold and precious stones, and his linen was dazzling in its purity. She could smell his perfume across the distance that separated them, like a field of wild flowers. His face was a mask of makeup, his skin almost luminous and his eyes outlined and enhanced with kohl. Yet she thought that his was the fatal beauty of a snake or a poisonous insect. She shivered and turned her eyes to the figure on the throne beside the Regent.
Pharaoh Nefer Seti was staring at her with such intensity that she caught her breath. His eyes were so green—that was the first thing that struck her and she wanted to look away but found she could not. Instead she started to blush.
Pharaoh Nefer Seti looked so dignified and divine under the white crown and with the false goatee beard on his chin that she felt flus
tered. Then, suddenly, Pharaoh gave her a warm and conspiratorial smile. Instantly his face was boyish and appealing, and unaccountably her breath came faster and she blushed deeper. With an effort she tore away her eyes, and studied the cow statue of the goddess Hathor with great attention.
It took her some time to bring herself under control, and by that time Lord Naja, the Regent of Upper Egypt, was speaking. In measured tones he greeted Apepi, diplomatically referring to him as King of the Hyksos but avoiding any reference to his claims to Egyptian territory. Mintaka watched his lips intently, but she was aware of Nefer’s eyes on her, and determined not to look at him.
Lord Naja’s voice was sonorous and boring, and at last she could hold out no longer. She sneaked a quick sideways glance at Nefer, intending to look away again immediately, but his eyes were still fastened on her. They glinted with silent laughter and fascinated her. Hers was not a timid nature, but this time her smile was shy and hesitant, and she felt her color rise again. She dropped her eyes and looked at her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers together until she realized that she was fidgeting and stopped herself. She kept her hands still, but now she was irritated with Nefer for having ruffled her calm. He is only a precious Egyptian fop. Any one of my brothers is more of a man and twice as handsome. He is only trying to make me look a fool by staring at me in that boorish way. I will not look at him again. I will ignore him completely, she decided, and her resolve lasted until Lord Naja stopped speaking, and her father rose to answer him.
She shot Nefer another quick look from under her thick dark lashes. He was gazing at her father, but the moment her glance touched his face his eyes swiveled to her. She tried to make her expression severe and forbidding, but as soon as he smiled her lips twitched in sympathy. He really is as handsome as some of my brothers, she conceded, then took another quick peek. Or perhaps as any of them. She looked back at her lap and thought about it. Then she took another peep just to make certain. Perhaps even more handsome than any of them, even Ruga. Immediately she felt that she had betrayed her eldest brother and qualified her opinion: But in a different kind of way, of course.
She glanced sideways at Ruga: with his beribboned beard and dark brow, he was all warrior. Ruga is a fine-looking man, she thought loyally.
In the ranks opposite, Taita did not seem to be watching her, but he missed not a single nuance of the surreptitious exchanges between Nefer and Mintaka. He saw more than that. Lord Trok, Naja’s cousin, was standing close behind Apepi’s throne, almost within arm’s reach of Mintaka. His arms were folded over his chest, and he wore embossed wristlets of solid gold. Over one shoulder was slung a heavy recurved bow, over the other an arrow quiver covered with gold leaf. Around his neck were the gold chains of valor and praise. The Hyksos had adopted Egyptian military honors and decorations as well as their beliefs and customs. Trok was watching the Hyksosian princess with an unfathomable expression.
There was another brief exchange of glances between Mintaka and Nefer, which Trok followed with his dark, brooding gaze. Taita could sense his anger and jealousy. It was as though the hot and oppressive cloud of the khamsin, the terrible Saharan sandstorm, was building up on the desert horizon. I had not foreseen this. Is Trok’s interest in Mintaka romantic or political? he wondered. Does he lust for her, or see her merely as a staircase to power? In either case it is dangerous, and something else we must take into account.
The speeches of greeting were coming to an end and nothing of significance had been said: negotiation of the truce would begin in secret session the next day. Both sides were rising from their thrones and exchanging bows and salutations, and the gongs began to beat and the rams’ horns to sound again as they withdrew.
Taita took one last look at the Hyksosian ranks. Apepi and his sons disappeared through a gateway guarded by tall granite pillars, topped with the twin cow heads of the goddess. With a final backward look Mintaka followed her father and brothers. Lord Trok followed her closely, and also shot a last glance at Pharaoh Nefer Seti over his shoulder. Then he, too, strode out between the pillars. As he did so the arrows in his quiver rattled softly, and their colored fletchings caught Taita’s eye. Unlike the workaday leather war quiver with its stopper to prevent the arrows spilling out, this ceremonial one was covered in gold leaf, and the barrel end was open so that the fletched tips of the arrows protruded above his shoulder. The feathers were red and green, and something evil stirred in Taita’s memory. Trok marched away through the gateway, leaving Taita gazing after him.
Taita returned to the stone cell in the temple annex that had been allocated to him for the duration of the peace conference. He drank a little sherbet, for it had been hot in the courtyard, then went to the window in the thick stone wall. A flock of bright-colored weavers and tits hopped and twittered on the sill, and on the flagged terrace below. While he fed them with crushed dhurra millet, and they sat on his shoulders or pecked from his cupped hands, Taita thought about the events of the morning and began to piece together all the disparate perceptions he had garnered during the opening ceremony.
His amusement and pleasure at what had transpired between Mintaka and Nefer were forgotten as he went on to think of Trok. He considered the man’s relationship to the Hyksosian princess, and the complications that might ensue when he tried to force through his plans for the young couple.
His train of thought was interrupted as he noticed a stealthy shadow creeping along the edge of the terrace outside the window. It was one of the temple cats, gaunt, scarred and flayed in patches with mange. He was stalking the birds that hopped on the flags outside the window, picking up the spilled grains of dhurra millet.
Taita’s pale eyes slitted as he concentrated on the cat. The old tom stopped and peered around suspiciously. Suddenly his back arched and every hair on his body stood erect as he stared at an empty spot on the stone flags in front of him. He uttered a spitting shriek, spun round and raced away down the terrace until he came to a palm tree. He flew up the tall trunk until he reached the crowning top fronds, where he clung pathetically. Taita threw another handful of grain to the birds and picked up his thoughts.
Even during their long ride together, Trok had kept his war quiver firmly stoppered and it had not occurred to Taita to compare one of the arrows it contained to those he had found at the site of Pharaoh’s murder. How many other Hyksosian officers had red and green fletchings he could only guess, but it was probably a great number, though each would have his unique signet. There was only one way to connect Trok to the death of Pharaoh Tamose, and through him to implicate his cousin Naja. That was to study one of his arrows. How to do this without arousing his suspicions, he wondered.
Once again he was distracted from his thoughts. There were voices in the passage outside the door of his cell. One was young and clear, and he recognized it at once. The others were gruff, pleading and protesting.
“Lord Asmor has given specific orders—”
“Am I not Pharaoh? Are you not bound to obey me? I wish to visit the Magus, and you dare not prevent me. Stand aside, both of you.” Nefer’s voice was strong and commanding. The uncertain timbre of puberty was gone, and he spoke with the tones of a man.
The young falcon is spreading his wings and showing his talons, Taita thought, and turned from the window, dusting the millet powder from his hands, to greet his king.
Nefer jerked aside the curtain that covered the doorway, and stepped through. Two armed bodyguards followed him helplessly, crowding into the doorway behind him. Nefer ignored them and faced Taita with his hands on his hips.
“Taita, I am much displeased with you,” Nefer said.
“I am distraught.” Taita made a deep obeisance. “In what way have I given you offense?”
“You have been avoiding me. Whenever I send for you they tell me that you are gone on a secret mission to the Hyksos, or that you have returned to the desert or some other such moonlit tale.” Nefer scowled to mask his delight at being with the old man again. “Then sud
denly you pop up from nowhere, as though you had never left, but still you ignore me. You did not even look in my direction during the ceremony. Where have you been?”
“Majesty, there are long ears about.” Taita glanced at the hovering guards.
Immediately Nefer turned upon them wrathfully. “I have ordered you more than once to be gone. If you do not go this instant I will have you both strangled.”
They withdrew unhappily, but not too far. Taita could still hear their murmurs and the clink of their weapons as they waited in the passage beyond the curtain. He jerked his head at the window and whispered, “I have a skiff at the jetty. Would Your Majesty like to go fishing?” Without waiting for his reply, Taita hitched up the skirts of his chiton and hopped onto the window-sill. He glanced over his shoulder. Nefer had forgotten his anger and was grinning delightedly as he ran across the cell to join him. Taita jumped down onto the terrace outside and Nefer followed him nimbly. Like truants from the classroom, they sneaked across the terrace and down through the date palms to the river.
There were guards at the jetty, but they had received no orders to restrain their young Pharaoh. They saluted and stood aside respectfully as the pair scrambled into the small fishing skiff. Each took up a paddle and shoved off. Taita steered into one of the narrow passages in the banks of waving papyrus, and within minutes they were alone on the swamp waters, hidden from the banks in the maze of secret waterways.
“Where have you been, Taita?” Nefer dropped the regal air. “I have missed you so.”
“I will tell you everything,” Taita assured him, “but first you should tell me all that has happened to you.”
They found a quiet mooring in a tiny papyrus-enclosed lagoon, and Nefer related everything that had happened to him since they had last been able to talk in private. He had been held on Naja’s orders in a gilded prison, without being able to see any of his old friends, not even Meren or his own sisters. His only distractions had been his studies of the scrolls from the palace library, his chariot drills and arms practice under the coaching of the old warrior, Hilto.
