River God: A Novel of Ancient Egypt (Novels of Ancient Egypt)

by Wilbur Smith

  Around the throne was gathered a small group of the highest dignitaries, their heads at the level of Pharaoh’s feet. Of course one of these was the high priest of Osiris. During the past year the old abbot had left this transitory world of ours and set off on his journey through the underworld to the western fields of the eternal paradise. This new abbot was a younger, firmer man. I knew that he would not be so easily manipulated by Lord Intef. In fact, he had collaborated with me in certain unusual arrangements for today’s ceremony that I had put in hand while supervising the erection of the Taita stands.

  However, the most impressive figure in the group, rivalling Pharaoh himself, was the grand vizier. Lord Intef drew all eyes. He was tall and stately in bearing, handsome as a legend. With the heavy chains of the Gold of Praise lying weightily upon his chest and shoulders, he was like a figure from the myth of the pantheon. Close behind him loomed the hideous shape of Rasfer.

  Lord Intef opened the ceremony in the traditional manner by stepping into the clear space before the throne and beginning the address of welcome to the king from the twin cities of Thebes. As he spoke, I glanced sideways at my mistress, and even though I shared her loathing, I was shocked by the expression of anger and hatred that she made no attempt to conceal, and that she directed openly at her own father. I wanted to warn her to make it less obvious to all about her, but I knew that in doing so, I might merely draw further attention to her burning antagonism.

  The grand vizier spoke at length, listing his own accomplishments and the loyal service he had rendered Pharaoh in the year past. The crowd murmured and rustled with boredom and discomfort. The heat was rising from so many bodies, and the rays of the sun beating down into the crowded courts were trapped within the temple walls. I saw more than one woman in the press swoon and collapse.

  When at last Lord Intef finished speaking, the high priest stepped into his place. While the sun made its noon overhead, he reported to the king on the ecclesiastical affairs of Thebes. As he spoke, the heat and the stench increased; perfume and fragrant oils could no longer disguise the odour of hot, unwashed bodies and running sweat. There was no escape from the crowd to attend urgent bodily functions. Men and women simply squatted where they stood. The temple began to stink like a sty or a public latrine. I handed my mistress a silk kerchief drenched in perfume which she dabbed to her nose.

  There was a sigh of relief when at last the high priest ended his address with a blessing on the king in the name of the god Osiris, and, with a deep bow, retreated to his place behind the grand vizier. For the first time since it had begun to assemble before dawn that morning, the crowd fell completely silent. The boredom and discomfort was forgotten, and they craned forward eagerly to hear Pharaoh speak.

  The king rose to his feet. I wondered at the old man’s fortitude, for he had sat all this time like a statue. He spread his arms in benediction, and at that moment the hallowed chalice of custom and tradition was shattered by an event that plunged the entire congregation—priests, nobles and commoners—into consternation. I was one of the few in the crowd who was not surprised by what followed, for I had done more than my share to arrange it all.

  The great burnished copper doors to the sanctuary swung open. There seemed to be no human agency to the movement, it was as though the doors opened of their own accord.

  A gasp, a sigh of expelled breath passed like a wind through temple courts, and rustled the densely packed ranks as though they were the leaves of a tamarind tree. Then suddenly a woman screamed, and immediately a groan of superstitious horror shook them all. Some fell to their knees, some lifted their hands above their heads in terror, others covered their faces with their shawls so that they should not be struck blind by looking on sights that were not for mortal eyes.

  A god strode out through the sanctuary doors, a tall and terrifying god, whose cloak swirled about his shoulders as he moved. His helmet was crowned with a plume of egret’s feathers, and his features were grotesque and metallic, half-eagle and half-man, with a hooked beak and dark slits for eyes.

  ‘Akh-Horus!’ screamed a woman, and she collapsed in a dead faint upon the stone flags.

  ‘Akh-Horus!’ the cry was taken up. ‘It is the god!’ Row after row, they fell upon their knees in the attitude of reverence. Those on the high tiers of stands knelt and many of them made the sign to avert misfortune. Even the group of nobles around the throne went down. In all the temple only two persons remained on their feet. Pharaoh posed on the steps of his throne like a painted statue; and the grand vizier of Thebes stood tall and arrogant.

  Akh-Horus stopped in front of the king and looked up at him through those slitted eyes in the bronze mask, and even then Pharaoh never flinched. The king’s cheeks were painted dead white, so I could not tell whether he blanched, but there was a glitter in his eyes that may have been either religious ecstasy, or terror.

  ‘Who are you?’ Pharaoh challenged. ‘Are you ghost or man? Why do you disturb our solemn proceedings?’ His voice was strong and clear. I could detect no tremor in it, and my admiration for him was enhanced. Weak and aging and gullible perhaps, but still the old man had his full share of courage. He could face up to man or god and stand his ground like a warrior.

  Akh-Horus answered him in a voice that had commanded regiments in the desperate din of battle, a voice that echoed amongst the stone pillars. ‘Great Pharaoh, I am a man, not a ghost. I am your man. I come before you in response to your command. I come before you to account to you for the duty that you laid upon me in this place on this very day of Osiris two years ago.’

  He lifted the helmet from his head, and the fiery curls tumbled down. The congregation recognized him instantly. A shout went up that seemed to rock the foundations of the temple.

  ‘Lord Tanus! Tanus! Tanus!’

  It seemed to me that my mistress screamed the loudest of them all, fairly deafening me, who sat so close beside her.

  ‘Tanus! Akh-Horus! Akh-Horus!’ The two names mingled and crashed against the temple walls like storm-driven surf.

  ‘He has risen from his tomb! He has become a god amongst us!’

  It did not abate until suddenly Tanus drew the sword from his scabbard and held it aloft in an unmistakable command for silence. This was obeyed, and in the silence he spoke again.

  ‘Great Egypt, do I have your permission to speak?’

  I think by now the king could no longer rely on his powers of speech, for he made a gesture with crook and flail, and then his legs seemed to give way beneath him and he dropped back on his throne.

  Tanus addressed him in ringing tones that carried to the outer court. ‘Two years ago you charged me with the destruction of those viperous nests of murderers and robbers who were threatening the life of the state. You placed in my trust the royal hawk seal.’

  From under his cloak, Tanus drew out the blue statuette and placed it on the steps of the throne. Then he stepped back and spoke again.

  ‘In order better to carry out the king’s orders, I pretended my own death and caused the mummy of a stranger to be sealed in my tomb.’

  ‘Bak-Her!’ shouted a single voice, and they took up the cry until Tanus once more commanded silence.

  ‘I led a thousand brave men of the Blues into the deserts and the wild places and sought out the Shrikes in their secret fortresses. There we slew them in their hundreds and piled their severed heads at the roadside.’

  ‘Bak-Her!’ they screamed. ‘It is true. Akh-Horus has done all these things.’ Once again Tanus silenced them.

  ‘I broke the power of the barons. I slaughtered their followers without mercy. In all this very Egypt of ours there remains only one who still calls himself a Shrike.’

  Now at last they were silent, gobbling up every word he said, fascinated and intent. Even Pharaoh could not hold his impatience in check. ‘Speak, Lord Tanus, whom men now know as Akh-Horus. Name this man. Give me his name so that he may come to know the wrath of Pharaoh.’

  ‘He hides behind the na
me of Akh-Seth,’ Tanus roared. ‘His deeds of infamy rank with those of his brother, the dark god.’

  ‘Give me his true name,’ Pharaoh commanded, rising once more to his feet in his agitation. ‘Name this last of all the Shrikes!’

  Tanus drew out the moment. He looked around the temple slowly and deliberately. When our eyes met, I nodded so slightly that only he saw the movement, but his gaze passed on without a pause and he looked towards the open doors of the sanctuary.

  The attention of all the congregation was so fixed upon Lord Tanus that they did not at first see the file of armed men that issued swiftly and silently from the sanctuary. Although they wore full armour and carried their war shields, I recognized most of them under the helmets. There were Remrem and Astes and fifty other warriors of the Blues. Swiftly, they formed up around the throne like a royal bodyguard, but, without making it obvious, Remrem and Astes moved up behind Lord Intef. As soon as they were in position, Tanus spoke again.

  ‘I will name this Akh-Seth for you, Divine Pharaoh. He stands unashamedly in the shadow of your throne.’ Tanus pointed with his sword. ‘There he is, wearing the Gold of Praise about his traitor’s throat. There he stands, Pharaoh’s sole companion who has turned your kingdom into a playground for murderers and bandits. That is Akh-Seth, governor of the nome of Thebes, grand vizier of the Upper Kingdom.’

  An awful hush fell upon the temple. There must have been ten thousand or more in the congregation who had suffered grievously at Lord Intef’s hands and who had every reason to hate him, but not a voice spoke out in jubilation or in triumph against him. All knew just how terrible was his wrath, and just how certain his retribution. I could smell the stink of their fear in the air, thick as the incense smoke. Every one of them understood that even Tanus’ reputation and his mighty deeds were not sufficient for his unproven accusation to prevail against such a person as Lord Intef. To show joy or open agreement at this stage would be mortal folly.

  In that hush Lord Intef laughed. It was a sound full of disdain, and with a dismissive gesture he turned his back upon Tanus and spoke directly to the king. ‘The desert sun has burned his brain. The poor lad has gone mad. There is not a single word of truth in all his ravings. I should be angry, but instead I am saddened that a warrior of reputation has fallen so low.’ He held out both hands to Pharaoh, a dignified and loyal gesture. ‘All my life I have served Pharaoh and my people. My honour is so invulnerable that I see no need to defend myself against these wild rantings. Without fear I place my trust in the wisdom and justice of the divine king. I let my deeds and my love of Pharaoh speak, in place of my tongue.’

  I saw the confusion and indecision on the king’s painted face. His lips trembled and his brow was furrowed, for he was not blessed with a swift and incisive mind. After a moment he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter any fateful or irredeemable judgement, Tanus lifted his sword again and pointed beyond the throne to the open doors of the sanctuary.

  Through the doors came another procession of men so unusual that Pharaoh gaped at them with his mouth still open. Kratas led, with his visor raised and a sword in his right hand. Those who followed him wore only loin-cloths, and their heads and feet were bare. Their arms were bound behind their backs, and they shuffled like slaves on their way to the auction block.

  I was watching Lord Intef’s face, and I saw the shock assail him and force him to flinch, as though he had received a blow in the face. He had recognized the captives, but he had obviously believed that they were long dead, and their skulls grinning at the roadside. He darted a sideways glance at the small sacristy door in the wall that was almost hidden by the hanging linen bunting. It was his only escape from the crowded inner court, but Remrem moved one pace to his right and blocked his path to the doorway. Lord Intef looked back at the throne and lifted his chin in a confident and defiant gesture.

  The six bound captives lined up before the throne and then, at a quiet order from Kratas, dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

  ‘Who are these creatures?’ Pharaoh demanded, and Tanus stood over the first of them, seized his bound wrists and hauled him to his feet. The captive’s skin was studded with the old healed scars of the smallpox and his blind eye reflected the light like a silver coin.

  ‘The divine Pharaoh asks who you are,’ Tanus said softly. ‘Reply to the question.’

  ‘Great Egypt, I am Shufti,’ he said. ‘I was once a baron of the Shrikes before Akh-Horus scattered and slew my clan at the city of Gallala.’

  ‘Tell the king who was your overlord,’ Tanus insisted.

  ‘Akh-Seth was my overlord,’ Shufti replied. ‘I swore a blood-oath of allegiance to Akh-Seth, and I paid a bounty of one-quarter of all my plunder to him. In return Akh-Seth gave me immunity from the forces of law, and provided me with information on my intended victims.’

  ‘Point out to the king the man you know as Akh-Seth,’ Tanus ordered, and Shufti shuffled forward until he faced Lord Intef. He filled his mouth with spittle and spat it on to the grand vizier’s gorgeous uniform. ‘This is Akh-Seth,’ he cried. ‘And may the worms feast on his guts!’

  Kratas dragged Shufti to one side and Tanus lifted the next captive to his feet. ‘Tell the king who you are,’ he ordered.

  ‘I am Akheku, and I was a baron of the Shrikes, but all my men are killed.’

  ‘Who was your overlord? To whom did you pay your bounty?’ Tanus demanded.

  ‘Lord Intef was my overlord. I paid my bounty into the coffers of the grand vizier.’

  Lord Intef stood proud and aloof, showing no emotion as these accusations were hurled at him. He offered no defence as, one after the other, the barons were dragged before him and each made the same declaration.

  ‘Lord Intef was my overlord. Lord Intef is Akh-Seth.’

  The silence of the multitudes in the temple was as oppressive as the heat. They watched in horror, or in silent hatred, or in confusion and disbelief. However, not one of them dared yet to speak out against Lord Intef, or to show emotion until Pharaoh had first spoken.

  The last of the barons was brought forward to confront the grand vizier. He was a tall, lean man with stringy muscles and sun-blasted skin. There was Bedouin blood in his veins, for his eyes were black and his nose beaked. His beard was thick and curling, and his expression arrogant.

  ‘My name is Basti.’ He spoke more clearly than any of the others. ‘Men call me Basti the Cruel, though I know not the reason why.’ He grinned with a raffish hangman’s humour. ‘I was a baron of the Shrikes until Akh-Horus destroyed my clan. Lord Intef was my overlord.’

  This time he was not dragged away as the others had been. Tanus spoke to him again. ‘Tell the king. Did you know Pianki, Lord Harrab, who in former times was a nobleman of Thebes?’

  ‘I knew him well. I had dealings with him.’

  ‘What were these dealings?’ Tanus asked, with death in his voice.

  ‘I plundered his caravans. I burned his crops in the fields. I raided his mines at Sestra, and I slew the miners in such amusing fashion that no others ever came to work the copper there. I burned his villas. I sent my men into the cities to speak evil of him, so that his honesty and his loyalty to the state were tarnished. I helped others to destroy him so that in the end he drank the poisonous Datura seed from his own cup.’

  I saw the hand of Pharaoh that held the royal flail shake as he listened, and one of his eyelids twitched in a manner that I had noticed before when he was sore distressed.

  ‘Who was it that ordered these things?’

  ‘Lord Intef commanded these things and rewarded me with a takh of pure gold.’

  ‘What did Lord Intef hope to gain from this persecution of Lord Harrab?’

  Basti grinned and shrugged. ‘Lord Intef is grand vizier, while Pianki, Lord Harrab is dead. It seems to me Lord Intef achieved his purpose.’

  ‘You acknowledge that I have offered you no clemency in return for this confession? Do you understand that death awaits you?
’

  ‘Death?’ Basti laughed. ‘I have never been afraid of that. It is the flour of the loaf I bake. I have fed it to countless others, so now why should I be afraid to feast on it myself?’ Was he fool or brave man, I wondered, as I listened to the boast. Either way, I could find neither pity nor admiration for him in my heart. I remembered that Pianki, Lord Harrab had been a man like his son, and that is where my pity and my admiration lay.

  I saw the merciless expression in the eyes of Tanus. I knew that he shared my feelings, and his grip upon the hilt of his sword tightened until his fingers turned as white as those of a drowned man.

  ‘Take him away!’ he grated. ‘Let him await the king’s pleasure.’ I saw him compose himself with an effort, then he turned back to face the king. He went down on one knee before him.

  ‘I have done all that you asked of me, Divine Mamose, god and ruler of Kemit. I wait for you to command me further.’ His dignity and his grace closed up my throat so that I could not swallow. It took an effort to compose myself.

  The silence in the temple persisted. I could hear my mistress’s laboured breathing beside me and then I felt her take my hand and squeeze it with a strength that threatened to crack my finger-bones.

  At last Pharaoh spoke, but with dismay I heard the doubt in his voice, and I sensed intuitively that he did not want any of this to be true. He had trusted Lord Intef so deeply for so long that it shook the foundations of his faith.

  ‘Lord Intef, you have heard the accusations against you. How say you to them?’

  ‘Divine Pharaoh, are these indeed accusations? I thought them merely the fantasies of a young man driven insane with envy and jealousy. He is the son of a convicted criminal and a traitor. Lord Tanus’ motives are plain to see. He has convinced himself that the traitor Pianki might have become grand vizier in my place. In some perverse fashion, he holds me responsible for his father’s downfall.’

  With a wave of his hand he dismissed Tanus. It was so skilfully done that I saw the king waver. His doubts were growing stronger. For a lifetime he had implicitly trusted Lord Intef, and it was difficult for him to adjust his thinking. He wanted to believe in his innocence.