House of Two Pharaohs, page 17
Piay was pleased that Hannu was back. He had always valued him, but he had not quite realised how much he depended upon him until his assistant had gone.
‘You have news, I imagine.’
‘Yes, and none of it good.’ Hannu paused. ‘Where is Taita?’
‘He’s in his chamber.’
‘Send for him and I will tell you the whole story over bread, olives and beer. Not a morsel has passed my lips for two days.’
• • •
H
annu ate like a starved hyena, relating everything that had happened to him since he departed Memphis – from his sightings of the strange groups of armed men along the river, to his arrival in Avaris – between mouthfuls of bread and intermittent bursts of belching.
When he described his experience in the suffocating chamber beneath the Temple of Baal, Piay leaned back thoughtfully. ‘So, Anubis is a man after all. A man who wears the god’s mask, like a priest. Perhaps the Shuyet is just that – a priest.’
Taita stared at Hannu inscrutably. ‘The Shuyet did not show his face?’
Hannu shook his head. ‘To everyone there, he was Anubis.’
‘But what use would a robber baron have for an army?’ Piay mused.
‘The Shuyet is no robber baron.’ Hannu popped an olive between his lips and rolled it around his mouth. ‘He has far greater ambition than that.’
Taita leaned back. ‘He is coming for Memphis,’ he said, thoughtfully.
Hannu nodded. ‘He plans to seize power in the Lower Kingdom, and to take the throne in Memphis, following in the footsteps of the Red Pretender.’ Hannu spat out the olive stone. ‘The Shuyet’s force is already well organised. The soldiers at the Temple of Baal and on the ship out of Avaris were well armed, well fed and well trained. They have at least one Hyksos galley, and I heard mention of more. And there seems to be no shortage of new conscripts in the Lower Kingdom, all ready to take up arms to serve the man they regard as a god.’
‘You have no idea where the Shuyet’s camp is?’ Piay asked.
‘No. It’s not in Avaris, that much I can say. Somewhere downriver, further into the delta.’
Taita rose to his feet. ‘I must return to Thebes immediately. We will need an army as quickly as Pharaoh can give us one.’
‘No,’ Piay said.
Hannu popped another olive into his mouth, watching as Piay stood to challenge the wisdom of his master.
‘The Shuyet, whoever he is, wants you. It is one of the few things we know for sure. A courier can take your message to Pharaoh.’
‘Very well,’ Taita replied after a pause.
‘Be sure your messenger travels swiftly,’ Hannu interjected, ‘or we may not be here to welcome any army Pharaoh sends.’
Taita smiled down at him. ‘Rest easy, Hannu. I will send the Breath of Horus, so there can be no doubt. The ship itself, in returning to Thebes without me, will be the message.’
• • •
T
he river flowed like a stream of quicksilver between the dark fields, while beyond it the desert wavered like beaten copper in the heat haze as the vultures soared on the air currents high above.
The land was a priceless treasure forged in the workshop of the gods, but it was the life-giving river that was truly Egypt. That was how it had always been and how it would always be, Taita thought, as he looked out from the prow of the nomarch’s galley, listening to the reed beds rustle their peaceful song in the warm breeze.
As the steersman guided the craft into the deep central channel, slowing it against the current, Taita glanced back along the galley to the sailors preparing to drop the anchor stone into the river. The rest of the crew hunched over their oars on the benches, grateful for the respite from their labours.
Taita looked out towards the bank. In the shallows beside the swaying reeds, seven skiffs waited. At a glance, this seemed a strange test of the abilities of the remaining contestants: a simple race from one bank to the other and back again. When he had heard about it, Piay had rubbed his brow with exasperation. Anyone could guide an oarsman in a boat, he had grumbled.
Taita smiled to himself. He had designed this part of the contest to be rather more challenging than Piay imagined, with the aim of teasing out the Shuyet’s candidate. Hannu had suggested that the Shuyet’s lair was likely far in the north, in the delta, where every family owned a skiff, and children learned to sail almost as soon as they could walk. ‘Let us then see who shows such native-born skill.’
After receiving Hannu’s report, it would have been easy for them to abandon the contest and turn the minds of every man, woman and child in Memphis to the coming war. Taita and Piay had debated the matter long into the night, but in the end Taita had insisted that they should continue with the competition as if nothing had changed. If they altered their plans, then not only would the Shuyet know that he had been discovered, but their chance to identify and interrogate his spy would be lost.
Taita had chosen this part of the river carefully, for here the currents were deceptively dangerous. Only the most capable of the contestants would be able to navigate the zigzag course Taita had set without losing control of their vessels.
Piay came and stood beside Taita. He was frowning. ‘It irks me not to be planning our defence, while our adversary prepares his attack.’
‘Our plans are unfolding apace,’ Taita replied evenly, ‘and they will not progress any faster if we abandon the contest. Besides, if you were not present, questions would be asked.’ He smiled as he looked across at the seven skiffs. ‘I think we are ready to begin.’
The contestants had taken their places in the bows, ahead of their assigned oarsmen, their brows furrowed in readiness.
Turning back to his galley, Taita raised a hand and the two trumpeters who stood atop the stern tower blasted out a fanfare.
‘Let the second stage of the contest begin!’ Taita announced.
As the last word was whisked away by the breeze, the seven skiffs were heaved away as one, with each of the contestants barking orders at their oarsmen.
Taita watched as the distance from the bank increased, the contestants fighting the currents to stay on course. Already four were beginning to pull away, including the three candidates Taita had kept his eye upon since the first day – Asim, Gyasi and Sadiki. The fourth was a Kushite called Shubba. He stared at the water with the intensity of a fisherman with his spear raised high for the kill, occasionally calling back to advise slight adjustments to his oarsman’s strokes, so that they could use the current to their advantage.
The skiffs were swept slowly across the river until, nearing the far bank, they turned in a broad arc to begin the return journey. Taita shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare to study their progress. They would soon be passing through the area of greatest turbulence.
‘The ones bringing up the rear are growing increasingly desperate,’ Piay said.
‘You cannot force the river to do your bidding,’ Taita replied.
In the churning water, one of the skiffs lost its line and swirled around, before being swept downstream. The contestant, a man named Kyro, spat curses at his oarsman for failing to heed his instructions. As Piay watched, his eyes narrowed. ‘Those who blame others for failure will never make good leaders.’
Taita nodded, and together they watched as Kyro switched positions with the oarsman, then threw himself into action, battling against the pull of the current to get the skiff back on course. He was a strong man, and his rage seemed only to increase his strength. Slowly, he began to catch the skiffs ahead of him.
‘That Gyasi is quite impressive,’ Piay said, pointing at the woman, whose skiff was in the lead.
‘She has no shortage of confidence in her abilities, that much has been evident,’ Taita said pointedly, ‘but she is showing her true worth here.’
Behind Gyasi came Asim, his pale face etched in concentration. Taita was impressed. ‘Asim could still pull ahead . . .’ he mused as he leaned over the side, watching intently.
‘Wait . . . Look!’ Piay said, and Taita followed his gaze. Kyro was thrashing the water furiously in his increasingly desperate attempt to catch up. He had done valiantly, the prow of his skiff nosing the sterns of the two rearmost contestants – but he wanted more.
‘Kyro is being reckless,’ Piay warned.
The words had barely escaped Piay’s lips before Kyro’s skiff crunched into one of the two vessels, and then veered back to smash the other. Both skiffs were upended and the four men aboard were thrown into the swirling river.
Taita narrowed his eyes. Though it was hard to be sure at that distance, Kyro seemed to be grinning.
‘He struck those vessels on purpose,’ Piay said with mounting anger.
‘A man without honour is a liability to his friends and a boon to his enemies,’ Taita replied.
The four men clawed at the hulls of their overturned skiffs, gasping and flailing as they desperately tried to save themselves, but before they could right their boats, a tremendous commotion erupted amid the swaying papyrus as honking geese and squawking herons thrashed up into the sky.
Taita watched as the river boiled and frothed, and his lips pursed as an enormous hippopotamus surged from the murky water with a furious roar, opening wide its huge jaws.
The hippopotamus was a bull in its prime, a full two skiffs in length, its leathery hide laced with pink scars. The musky reek of the great creature washed across the galley, redolent of rotting food and fresh dung.
The beast must have been cooling itself deep underwater, lulled by the soothing currents. Now, it was outraged. It was the familiar of Hapi, goddess of the river, and any who disturbed it ran the risk of her wrath. When Taita had chosen this part of the river, he had hoped that such a creature might appear, and that through it, Hapi herself might provide her own, even sterner test for the contestants.
The hippopotamus blasted a cloud of steamy vapour from its nostrils and roared again. In the great maw of its jaws, Taita saw the huge ivory teeth that would crush bones as if snapping twigs.
Cries of dread and panic twisted the faces of the men in the water. The two oarsmen turned desperately and tried to swim away. But the river bull lunged after them, the grey water pluming as the beast churned through it.
Piay bellowed an oath. Spinning on his heel, he roared to the gaping sailors: ‘Raise the anchor! Take us in close and ready your spears!’
As one of the oarsmen disappeared from view, pulled under by the hippo, Taita saw that the other competitors had turned their skiffs around and were also moving in to help. It was a brave gesture that warmed his heart. They had no weapons, and their lightweight vessels could easily be overturned, and yet, undeterred, they came to the aid of their fellows. These were the sort of Egyptians that the unified kingdom would need.
Pulling her dress over her head in one swift motion, revealing for a moment a lean, well-muscled form, Gyasi dived from the prow of her skiff and swam powerfully through the seething water. Taita could not help but marvel at her courage, and when he glanced over at Piay, he saw something else on the nomarch’s face – he was captivated.
Gyasi grabbed the tunic of the remaining oarsman and, kicking strongly, hauled him away to safety. That left the greybeard Meryamen and Minmose, a citizen of Memphis, a baker by trade. Both men were still clinging to the hulls of their skiffs, but as the hippopotamus surged back towards them, Minmose threw up his arms in capitulation, and slipped into the river. It was clear that he didn’t know how to swim, but he had made his choice, trusting that the gods would see fit to save him. Meryamen, meanwhile, was either too terrified to move or he had simply decided that his end was upon him. The beast’s mighty jaws snapped shut, and Meryamen and his skiff vanished into the thick red cloud of churning water.
‘We are close enough,’ Taita said. ‘Have your men put their spears to use.’
Piay offered his own prayer of forgiveness to Hapi, then roared to the men who had lined the railing of the galley: ‘Now! Take it down!’
The sailors hurled their spears at the hippopotamus, but the beast was still just out of range. It thundered with fury, and Taita thought for a moment that it might attempt to charge the ship, but as the nomarch’s galley drew ever closer, it submerged instead, disappearing back into the depths.
‘Keep your eyes on the water,’ Piay ordered. ‘He will surface again.’
Looking upriver, Taita caught sight of Minmose, being dragged out into deeper water by the current. The man cried out – once, and then a second time – but then his head disappeared beneath the water.
Suddenly, the bull burst from the river not thirty paces from the bow of the nomarch’s galley. He came out gleaming in the sunshine, monstrous and awful.
‘Now!’ shouted Piay.
This time the spears found their target, one after the other. The bull bellowed as they buried themselves in his broad back. He tried in vain to dive again, but the foaming blood that streaked across his glistening back told Taita that his lungs had been pierced – death was imminent.
The bull reared, swinging his head from side to side, then stiffened, crashing back into the river with all four legs extended rigidly.
A cheer went up aboard the nomarch’s galley as the sailors saw that the beast was dead.
‘I cannot help but grieve for the men who met their deaths in the jaws of the beast,’ Piay muttered as the corpse of the great bull began to slip beneath the surface of the water. ‘Meryamen was amongst the most respected participants in the competition.’
‘A challenge of this magnitude should not be without mortal risk,’ Taita replied, watching the remaining competitors leap from their skiffs on to the muddy bank. ‘Death is a part of life. They have simply gone on the journey that each of us must one day take, and passed through the gate to the afterlife ahead of us.’
• • •
D
escending the gangplank to the muddy shore, Taita stood in front of the exhausted competitors and allowed his eyes to fall on them one by one. When he came to Kyro, the man looked at his feet, in the hope he would escape judgment for what he had done. Taita sensed neither shame nor remorse.
Stepping in front of the man, Taita remained there until Kyro raised his eyes. ‘Your race is run, Kyro,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You are dismissed.’
‘It was not my fault,’ Kyro protested. ‘The race moved too close to the reed banks. How could I know –’
‘Hold your tongue,’ Piay commanded from Taita’s side. ‘The Lord High Chancellor has given you his verdict, and in so doing, he has shown you more mercy than I would have done. More than you deserve. Leave Memphis before Ra’s orb completes its journey today, and do not ever let me see your face in the city again.’
Mortified, Kyro gave a quick bow. ‘Yes, my lord,’ he said, turning away to hurry up the bank, the deep mud sucking at his feet as he went. The four remaining competitors did not bother to dignify his departure with as much as a glance.
Taita’s gaze shifted to Gyasi, who was hugging her arms around her sodden dress, which clung tightly to her body. Drenched as she was, her eyes remained bright, and she was rendered more captivating than ever as glistening droplets of water fell from her limbs.
‘You demonstrated great valour today,’ Taita said.
‘I did what anyone would have done,’ Gyasi replied.
Taita shook his head. ‘You showed courage, when others might have been consumed by the instinct to save themselves. Whether you prove the ultimate victor in this competition or not, you have already distinguished yourself.’
Gyasi lowered her eyes and flushed.
The Kushite, Shubba, then stepped forward. ‘Forgive me, my lords, but I, too, must take my leave of the competition,’ he announced.
‘Why, Shubba?’ Piay asked. ‘You have done no wrong.’
‘I have done my best,’ Shubba replied, ‘but I have reached the limits of my courage. I wish only the best for my fellow competitors. May the gods choose the best amongst them.’ He bowed deeply to Gyasi, Asim and Sadiki.
‘Very well,’ Taita said. ‘A man who knows his own limits possesses both wisdom and humility. Go, with my blessing, Shubba. I wish you well.’
Shubba bowed again, and Piay escorted the Kushite up the gangplank to the galley, leaving Taita with the remaining competitors.
‘Now that only three remain, the contest will move into its final stage. The next challenge will test you far beyond anything you have experienced to this point, so I would suggest you rest and prepare yourselves. You will suffer no judgement should you choose to withdraw gracefully, as Shubba has done.’
‘What is the next challenge?’ Sadiki, the blond-haired man from Memphis, asked.
‘I cannot tell you at this moment,’ Taita replied. ‘It would create an unfair advantage. But I think you should prepare as if you are going to war.’
‘War?’ Asim asked.
‘Yes,’ Taita said. ‘War.’
• • •
A
s they approached Peru-nefer, the oarsmen straining against the current, Piay and Taita saw a commotion on the quay – merchants and their apprentices, sailors and dock workers, all of them jabbering and pointing.
Taita saw that his beloved Breath of Horus was drifting listlessly in the Nile current, turning slowly broadside as it was swept on past the port. The majestic sail flapped in the swirling wind, and there was neither steersman nor captain to guide the ship to its destination – no one was visible on deck.
Taita felt icy fingers clutch his heart.
‘Where are your men?’ Piay asked, alarmed.
‘Bring us alongside.’ Taita ordered, his voice grim. ‘Then we shall see what malevolent work has been done here.’
Piay turned to his captain. ‘Can we catch her as she passes?’
‘Aye, we can . . . But better to turn and run with her and the current. Then we can bring her in gently.’
‘As soon as we are alongside, take some of your men and board her, Captain,’ Taita said. ‘When I come aboard, we will search every inch.’
The captain bowed and gave an order to his second in command.
