Saved by Her Enemy Warrior

by Greta Gilbert

  He kissed the tattoo, for it was the last time he was going to ever think about it again. She was the heir to the Horus throne, but nobody would ever know, for he would tell no one.

  He had finally decided: he would not give her up. He would complete his mission for General Setnakht and hope it would be enough to prevent war. But Aya’s life was her own, just as her own mother said it was, and she deserved to live it. He had no right to stop her.

  Carefully, he disentangled himself from her and padded into the smaller unfinished chamber to use the latrine. He had grown so accustomed to the dark over the course of their entombment that it no longer felt like the dark at all to him, but instead a kind of alternate world.

  It was the place of fragrant lavender and bittersweet beer and Aya’s soft voice in the air. It was the strange abode in which he had chiselled through walls and touched invisible limbs and discovered the deepest pleasure he had ever known.

  The darkness was beautiful, but it was not without its dangers. He had lost himself so thoroughly in it the night before that he had somehow left Aya behind. It was a regret he feared would haunt him the rest of his life.

  There was no more time for thinking about such things, however. Intef’s fellow tomb raiders could arrive as soon as that night and Intef needed to get Aya out of the tomb before they did.

  As soon as the sun set he would escort her to Tausret’s mortuary temple and then return to the tomb to meet his brothers and complete the mission. He could not allow her to witness the devastation that was about to ensue.

  * * *

  He was standing beside his fellow tomb raiders inside General Setnakht’s war tent. It was the eve of Intef’s entombment and the four had come to receive their final orders.

  The General was distracted, however. He paced about the tent, lecturing his officers and shouting curses at the flies. At the corner of the tent, his son Rameses was puzzling over a large papyrus.

  ‘I believe the High Priest will assemble his army here where the land is flat,’ Rameses said, pointing at the papyrus. ‘Thus he will be able to utilise his advantage of numbers.’

  General Setnakht cringed. ‘We will have no chance against him—not without mercenaries.’ The General stepped before Intef. ‘We need Tausret’s gold, you understand, Beetle?’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ said Intef, keeping his eyes on the floor.

  General Setnakht turned to Intef’s erstwhile partner at arms—the ill-mannered Theban called Ranofer. ‘You are certainly well made,’ observed Setnakht. ‘With those arms, you should be able to extract at least four bags of gold.’

  ‘When I am done with that tomb, my lord will be able to purchase the entire army of Kush!’ shouted Ranofer.

  Setnakht regarded the other two tomb raiders, a pair of lovers named Den and Huni. ‘You two men are also quite well fed,’ he observed, then turned to his son. ‘Rameses, remind me why we selected such brutes?’

  ‘The nested coffins, Father,’ replied Rameses, still studying the map.

  ‘Nested coffins?’

  ‘Inside the sarcophagus. The men must be able to lift the lids to reach the golden mask.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the death mask,’ said Setnakht. He began pacing the room once again. ‘I want you to take that cursed mask and everything else of value that you can, do you hear me, soldiers?’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ the men said in unison.

  ‘Every precious jewel and golden dagger, every silver goblet and electrum-encrusted plate. The more you take, the greater your rewards.’

  Abandoning his map, Rameses crossed the tent and stood before them. ‘You will bring back fantastic riches, we will win this war and my father will be Pharaoh.’ And I will be Pharaoh after him, he seemed to say.

  ‘And we shall erase the name Tausret wherever it appears,’ added Setnakht. ‘On every King’s list and on every temple wall. Even inside her splendid tomb!’

  * * *

  Intef stepped from the unfinished chamber back into the corridor. Enough light was reaching the entryway for Intef to discern the colourful paintings adorning the walls and he caught sight of Tausret’s humble cartouche.

  It was not surprising that General Setnakht planned to erase Tausret’s name. Egypt’s Pharaohs had been erasing one another’s names and images for thousands of years. What surprised Intef was the anger that sparked inside him at the thought.

  She does not deserve it.

  When you erased a person’s name, you erased part of their spirit and, without all its parts, the spirit could not go on.

  He no longer believed Pharaoh Tausret deserved such a fate. How thoroughly he had misjudged the woman who had sacrificed herself for the good of Egypt. It scared him to think of how credulous he had been of the news he had received all these years. Erroneous news, as it turned out. Lies. He had given over his life to the southern rebellion and now wondered how much of it was based on things that simply were not true.

  He realised all at once that this would be his last mission. He could not go on fighting for any more causes if he could not trust that the reasons for them were true. The only thing he seemed to have any faith in any more was Aya herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He crossed the chamber and saw that Aya was still asleep, so he climbed up the ramp and stepped up the footrests inside the tunnel to get a view of the world into which they would soon be escaping.

  The Great and Majestic Necropolis of the Millions of Years of the Pharaoh: that was what they called the small cleft between hills on which he gazed. The name was larger than the valley itself! And yet scores of kings were buried here, along with enough gold to fill a hundred ships.

  Intef turned around to admire the natural backdrop for the sacred valley: a tall peak in the poetical shape of a pyramid. It ensconced the unmarked tombs in its mystical shelter, concealing them from would-be thieves. The area was further safeguarded by a small army of guards—the legendary Medjay—two of whom were currently running down the valley towards a column of smoke.

  Intef craned his neck to get a better view. There appeared to be a fire some way down the valley. He turned to discover two more guards only a few cubits away from where he stood. They, too, were making their way towards the blaze.

  He ducked back into the tunnel, his heart beating. The guards had not seen him, but only because of the boulders all around the site of the hole. It was an incredible stroke of fortune that they had dug the tunnel where they did. Just a few cubits to either side, and it would have been exposed. They would have surely been discovered by now.

  Thank the gods that Aya had insisted on digging the tunnel where they had.

  He returned to the false chamber and Aya was finally stirring beneath the bed sheet. ‘Good morning, Sister,’ he said, following the customary greeting for a lover.

  ‘Good morning, Brother.’ She pulled down the sheet and flashed him a sleepy grin.

  All at once he understood why men wrote poetry and built monuments. All those elaborate toilings on papyrus and stone were simply an effort to honour moments like these, when beauty appeared unbidden, making the world seem wondrous and alive and utterly worth living.

  And soon he was going to have to say goodbye to it all. He was going to have to say goodbye to her.

  ‘There is a fire down the valley.’

  She sat up in alarm.

  ‘It is quite far away—nothing to worry about. It may even help us. Perhaps there will be fewer guards when we leave at sunset.’

  ‘Must we wait until sunset?’

  An innocent question, but it needled his heart. Was she so eager to sever their bond? The answer was, yes, of course she was. She had always been.

  ‘I doubt we will be ready before then,’ he said. ‘Besides, the cover of darkness will help protect us from detection.’

  It was in that moment that the quality of the light i
nside the chamber shifted. It became darker, as if a cloud had just passed over the sun. He could no longer read her expression.

  ‘What is it, Aya? What is the matter?’

  ‘Intef, there is a man behind you.’ She rose. ‘A very large man.’

  ‘It appears your help has arrived,’ said a familiar voice. Intef turned to discover Ranofer, who was gazing at Aya and shaking his head.

  ‘You naughty rogue, Intef! Where on earth did you find her?’ Ranofer peered around the chamber, as if he might find his answer somewhere among the murals. He turned and called up the ramp, ‘Come quickly, Brothers. You are not going to believe this!’

  Another large man with a short, goat-like beard stumbled into the false chamber. ‘What is this?’ he said. ‘Has our beetle found a bird?’ He took a step towards Aya.

  ‘Stay away from her, Den!’ shouted Intef.

  ‘All right, all right, Brother, calm yourself,’ said Ranofer. He opened out his arms. ‘By the gods, are you not happy to see us?’

  The fourth member of their party came stumbling down the ramp, carrying a load of sacks. He noticed Aya, his eyes growing as big as plates.

  ‘Say nothing, Huni,’ warned Intef. ‘There will be no more comments from any of you.’

  Intef glanced behind him at Aya. She had gathered the bed sheet tightly around her nudity. Her face was as still as a stone.

  ‘You were not supposed to arrive until the ninth day,’ said Intef. ‘At night.’

  ‘Today is the ninth day,’ remarked Den, stroking his beard. ‘We are right on time.’

  Intef shook his head. Where had the days gone? ‘We made a little fire down the valley.’ Ranofer displayed his ash-stained hands. ‘A little distraction for the guards.’

  Intef nodded. He should have guessed the reason for the smoke. Why had he not guessed?

  ‘We bring news from above,’ said Huni, setting down his sacks. ‘The High Priest has amassed an army in the desert south of here. General Setnakht’s army is gathering to face him. The winner of the battle will take the double crown.’

  Intef felt a pang of hope. ‘Does the General no longer require our services, then?’

  The three men laughed. ‘The mercenaries merely await their payment,’ said Huni.

  ‘How much payment?’ asked Intef.

  ‘There are hundreds of mercenaries,’ said Ranofer. ‘We must take as much treasure as we can carry. We must give them a reason to fight.’

  Intef heard Aya gasp. She was stumbling backwards. She bumped against the wall of the false shrine. She looked as if she had just been hit by an arrow.

  He rushed to her side and helped ease her down to the floor. She made no resistance, apparently too stunned to even push him away.

  ‘Where in Great Egypt did you find her, Intef?’ asked Ranofer.

  ‘Do kings buried in these hills still keep their own harems?’ jested Huni.

  Intef tried to meet Aya’s gaze, but she would not look at him. She was gazing somewhere beyond all the men, her expression lifeless.

  ‘Well, Intef, who is she?’ Ranofer asked.

  Intef willed himself to speak. ‘She is... Sobek. Daughter of Ankhu,’ he lied. ‘She stumbled into the tunnel yesterday, lost and starving.’

  Aya kept her gaze on the distant wall as Ranofer squatted to study her face. ‘Where did you come from, my sweet?’ he muttered. ‘And how did you end up here?’

  ‘She came from Aswan,’ Intef said. ‘She has a dying mother and four starving brothers there. Robbing a tomb is her last hope to save them.’

  Intef felt vaguely ill. It was the very lie he had told Aya the day they had met.

  ‘There is Libyan in her,’ said Ranofer. ‘Are we sure she has not been sent by an enemy tribe?’

  ‘Her father was Libyan,’ Intef answered. ‘Her mother was Egyptian.’

  ‘Why not let her speak for herself!’ snapped Ranofer. He placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘Tell me about your owner, pretty Sobek,’ he cooed.

  Her lips were trembling. ‘Deceased,’ she whispered.

  ‘Your family is starving, eh? But you look rather hale to me. Perhaps that is what you say to all your fellow tomb raiders?’ He nudged Aya in the ribs.

  ‘Do not touch her,’ growled Intef. ‘She is mine.’

  The words seemed to shock Aya into waking and she turned to meet Intef’s gaze. ‘How could you?’

  Ranofer returned to standing. ‘Did you not tell her we were coming, Brother?’

  She jumped to her feet and stepped away from the two men. There were tears in her eyes. ‘I belong to no man! I am not yours and I never will be.’

  ‘A spirited little heifer,’ remarked Den. He glanced at her bare arms. ‘She can certainly help us with the haul.’

  Ranofer nodded thoughtfully. ‘What do you think, Sobek? Will you help us bear the riches from this tomb? In return, you may have a share of them.’ Ranofer held out his hand.

  Take it, thought Intef. Play the part.

  If Ranofer even suspected that Aya was a servant of the late Pharaoh, he would consider her a threat. At the very least, she would be bound and silenced.

  ‘How much?’ she asked. Intef exhaled.

  ‘Enough to save that poor, ailing family you claim to have,’ Ranofer said. ‘If you do not wish to help us, however, you may leave now and hope the guards do not catch you.’

  Aya accepted Ranofer’s hand and shook it.

  ‘A reasonable woman!’ remarked Ranofer. He squatted to strike flint, then lit a torch. ‘Come now, Intef,’ he said. ‘Lead us to the riches.’

  * * *

  Aya collapsed to the floor as Intef and the three men disappeared down the corridor. She lay upon the cool tiles, waiting for the tears to come. When none did, she sat up and looked around the chamber, blinking.

  Everything around her seemed changed. The magnificent images of the gods that adorned the columns seemed smaller somehow, their colours less vivid. The splendid murals seemed to lack lustre in the hazy daylight.

  She gazed up at the starry ceiling. Days ago, when Intef had first flashed his torchlight upon it, the stars had seemed otherworldly, as if they had been plucked from the very sky.

  Now they appeared clumsy and false, as if they had been painted on haphazardly by a careless workman.

  She smiled desolately, remembering the moment Intef had told her about his bereft family. The lie had been there all along, as obvious as the bumps of a crocodile, yet Aya had allowed his sparkling eyes and gallant grin to divert her attention from it.

  It had been more than just his handsome face, however. There had also been his gentle nature and funny wit. There had been the compromises he had made for her and the way he had listened to her ideas and let them change his mind. In the small space of the tomb, he held much more power than she, yet he had given much of that power away. He had treated her as an equal.

  It had surprised her how much she wanted him. It had surprised her even more that he had wanted her.

  It was not simply the hunger they shared for one another. It was not the gentle way they pleased each other, or the music that seemed to play when their bodies intertwined. It was something else—something otherworldly, as if their union had been fated by the gods.

  But it had all been a ruse.

  She sat patiently, waiting for the tears to come. Nothing. The situation was too incredible to believe. How could a man who had worked so hard to help her have betrayed her so completely?

  More importantly, how could she have allowed it to happen?

  It was as if he had placed her beneath a kind of spell. He had impressed her with his good deeds and placed the smoke of lust beneath her nose and soon had her begging for his attentions.

  She had been so thoroughly swept up in his magic that she had even convinced herself of his goodness.
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br />   Such an honourable man he is! she had told herself. To risk so much to save his family!

  The Goodly Thief she had even named her bow. The Goodly Thief!

  Ah, what a fool she had been.

  There had been clues all along, after all. If he had really been such a respected archer in Tausret’s army, she would have heard of him. The Sons of Ra—what kind of company was that? His self-proclaimed status as the kingdom’s best archer did not mix with his savage criticism of its ruler.

  And then there had been his keen interest in the identity of the heir. Of course he would be interested. General Setnakht would want the heir dead even more than the High Priest did.

  She untangled herself from the bed sheet, but could not gather the energy to fetch her clothes. She gazed down at her naked body and laughed bitterly.

  As if any man could ever want her—a hardened woman long past her prime, a cold Libyan crone with a strange face and soulless stare. She had wanted what she could not have instead of being satisfied with what she had always possessed: Pharaoh’s love.

  It was the only true thing in her life and it was enough. It was more than enough. It was more real than any sunrise and richer than any tomb. In her pursuit of life, she had forgotten her life’s purpose. She would never err like that again.

  She heard clanging somewhere near and quickly donned her sheath. The men were in the weapons room, carrying out their wicked work. Soon they would have all the golden daggers gathered. They would pile up the spears and pluck the jewels from the chariots’ reins. There was no way that Aya would be able to replace it all.

  How could she stop them? She could not defeat the four large men on her own. Even armed with her bow, she would not be able to pin them to any surface. If she tried to injure them, she felt certain they would simply slit her throat.

  There was one way to stop them. She gazed up at the shaft of light shining down from above. She could sneak away. Right then, she could escape out the tunnel and run down the valley to where the guards had gathered around the fire. ‘Come with me!’ she could tell them. ‘You have been tricked!’