House of Two Pharaohs, page 25
Taita had told himself that it was only here that he would be able to think deeply on how to counter the Shuyet’s next strike – only in a sanctum constructed by a mind as great as his own, the mind that called to him across the ages. In the presence of the spells that, when deciphered, would propel Egypt into a future even greater than its past, Taita would be able to confirm his suspicions about his adversary, or perhaps achieve a new insight.
But he had been deceiving himself. He had not told Piay that he would be visiting this place. He had wanted to be able to indulge himself without censure. Now he saw how wrong he had been, how far astray the promise of the spells had led him. Taita prayed that he had the strength of will to stop himself before he gave up this life for the next one.
Walking to the great pyramid, Taita sank to his knees, his back against the cool stone, and closed his eyes. Gradually, his thoughts stilled and he felt his will reassert itself.
He let his mind drift, his heartbeat slowing and his breathing becoming like the swell of the Great Green. Gradually the edges of the world around him sank beneath those waves.
Taita could not be sure how much time had passed since he had closed his eyes, but when he looked around, he found himself standing at the foot of a sweeping dune, looking out over the moonlit necropolis.
‘Come to my aid, I beseech you,’ Taita called, his voice rising above the whine of the wind across the sands. ‘Guide me.’
Taita listened to the beat of his heart as he looked out over the City of the Dead. Nothing stirred. Then, finally, a shadow began to coalesce at the heart of the necropolis, a figure moving purposefully towards him.
As it closed on him, Taita recognised the green ibis head of Thoth. God of writing, of wisdom, of magic. He had not spoken the name of the deity he wished to invoke, but the gods knew.
Seeming to grow in stature with each step he took, Thoth approached, towering ever higher over Taita, until he came to a halt a spear’s throw from him. His headdress shone – the lunar disc poised on top of a crescent moon – and in his left hand he held the ankh, the symbol of eternal life.
For a while Taita could not speak – this close to the god, supernatural power rushed through his veins, forcing his heart to beat twice as fast, his breath to catch in his throat. But when Thoth levelled his arm and pointed the ankh, Taita felt his lips begin to move.
‘Great Thoth, I seek guidance,’ Taita began. ‘You, who are the receptacle of all wisdom, understand the struggle that consumes me. I feel this world slipping away from me. I see the afterlife and all the mysteries it contains, so near I could close my fingers upon it. But I also understand that there is still work for me to do in this world. I must protect Egypt. And yet the urge to leave this world behind blinds me. Is my adversary truly as I have come to suspect?’
The howl of the wind echoed across the desolate landscape and Taita feared that the god was not going to respond. But then, he raised his hands to his face. It was a mask, Taita saw, as Thoth peeled it away. Underneath were the eyes, the nose, the mouth he knew so well. Lostris was left standing before him in a silk dress, radiant in the moonlight that shone down on the necropolis. Lostris in her prime – tall, stately and beautiful. Queen Lostris.
Taita blinked in confusion. ‘My queen,’ he whispered in awe.
‘My Taita,’ she answered, in a voice that chimed like a bell. ‘You know in your heart the answer to your question. You know this truth is why I have appeared to you, to remind you of things forgotten, of what can, and should be.’
Taita felt himself overwhelmed at seeing his beloved again.
‘It is not yet time,’ Lostris said, as if she could read his thoughts. ‘You have a purpose here, Taita. You are Egypt and Egypt is you, and for now, one cannot exist without the other.’
‘Have I not earned the promise of the afterlife?’ Taita asked.
‘I am filled with joy at the thought of spending eternity with you, and I know that you desire to be at my side. But there is a warp and a weft to the affairs of mortals, a pattern designed by the gods. No man must attempt to alter it, not even you, Taita.’
Taita bowed his head, accepting Lostris’ words.
‘Yes,’ his queen whispered gently. ‘Egypt still needs you, Taita. Do not allow yourself to be led astray by what the incantations on the walls of the tomb may promise. These spells have been revealed to you, so that in deciphering them and calling forth their power, you may fulfil your purpose. Not so that you may forsake it.’ Lostris smiled. ‘Remember, my Tata, that I am always with you.’
A deep sadness swelled in Taita’s heart when he heard the nickname that Lostris had given him as a child. You must be patient, he told himself. Egypt had to be united. A great reward would be waiting – she would be there to greet him.
• • •
W
hen the feast was over, Piay made his way to the barracks. He could hear the raucous laughter of the soldiers within – the celebrations would continue long into the night. Beside the main entrance, stairs led down to the cells. Tonight, they were unguarded, and Piay stepped down into the cool, dank air.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Piay stopped and listened, wincing at the smell of human waste. Silence. The men held captive here lived out their days sleeping on urine-soaked straw, growing pale and half-blind like fish swimming in the depths of an underwater cave.
When he reached his father’s cell, he called into the dark abyss inside: ‘Asil.’
‘What do you want?’ his father demanded.
‘Forgiveness,’ Piay said.
Asil snorted, then laughed, a dry, sandpaper cackle. ‘You’ve come to temper your guilt for having placed your father in this pit. Well, I won’t give you any reprieve. You have made your choice – thrown in your lot with men and women you do not know over the father who begot you. There are few in this world who could betray their own kin as coldly as you, Piay of Thebes.’ Asil formed the last three words as if he was rolling a pebble around his mouth. ‘But the fact that you can sleep peacefully, having done what you have done, tells me the kind of man you are.’
‘If you can show forgiveness, then I can show it, too.’
Piay’s words hung in the air and the silence behind the door deepened.
‘Forgiveness? What are you talking about?’
‘I am not a cruel man. You are old, and soon the rigours of imprisonment will begin to stifle the flame that still flickers inside you.’
‘You sound like Taita,’ Asil snapped. ‘Why don’t you say what you mean?’
‘Very well. I’ve come to offer you a chance to escape from this place.’
There was silence. ‘How?’ Asil said, eventually, his voice flat.
‘Renounce your claim to the leadership of the Guild of Thieves. Admit your crimes before the people in the market square –’
‘Never!’ Asil interjected, his voice swelling with indignation.
‘Do this and I will agree to banish you.’
‘Why should I do anything?’ Asil hissed. ‘You promised me a window, light and fresh air, when you visited before. I helped you, and yet I’m still rotting here, in this stinking hole.’ The old man must have leaned forward, for Piay was caught in a blast of foul breath. ‘Banishment is not freedom,’ Asil hissed. ‘You said it yourself, I am an old man. I will not survive it.’
‘It is a mercy.’
‘Well, then it is a thin mercy.’
Piay had spent a long time considering his offer to Asil. Hannu would have called him a fool. Taita would have disapproved. ‘A nomarch must be like a stone resisting the desert winds,’ he would have said. And yet here he was.
Asil laughed, a cold and hollow sound. ‘No, I see it now. This is how you finally defeat me.’
‘I do not seek victory –’
‘You do. In this way you can feel like a good man, a righteous man, a man who showed mercy to his black-hearted father. You’ll be able to hold your head high and bask in the approval of the one you’ve chosen over me. And I’ll crawl away, whipped and broken, with nothing to show for the life I’ve lived. Defeated, and seen by all to have lost.’
‘Take my offer,’ Piay pressed. ‘Live.’
‘I will not give you the satisfaction. I am Asil, the leader of the Guild of Thieves. You will not take that away from me. You will not defeat me, just as you will not defeat the Shuyet.’
• • •
T
aita could not rest. He had been awoken by the end of his dream. Pacing the length of his chamber, he eventually came to a halt at the window, looking out across the moon-dappled rooftops. Only the torches at the temples burned, as they did all night, for the light of the gods – their eternal flame – could never be extinguished.
The air was filled with the scent of cooling stone and the musty smell of the river drifting in from Peru-nefer on the breeze. A bowl of flatbread and honey-soaked figs sat untouched on the windowsill. Taita had not felt hungry since they had arrived back in Memphis.
He had laid his plans well, like a spider spinning its web, as one of the less charitable members of Pharaoh’s court had once described him. But he was wise enough to know that even the best-laid plans could go awry. It was the gods, in the end, who decided what would be.
Turning away from the window, Taita moved to the low table where his medicine chest stood, its lid open. From a hidden compartment he retrieved a small drawstring bag, fashioned from the softest leather. He weighed it in his hand, then opened it and removed the Periapt of Lostris – a long golden chain on which hung a five-pointed star of exquisite workmanship. Slipping the chain over his head, Taita lifted the star and touched it to his lips. Inside was a lock of hair that Taita had snipped from Lostris’ head as she lay on the embalmer’s table.
Reaching back into the drawstring bag, Taita withdrew six lengths of pink ribbon and tied five of them carefully, one by one, around his wrist. Finally, he let the last one spiral gently to the floor of his chamber, where it would be clearly visible to anyone entering the room.
His work complete, Taita lost himself in his nightly ritual of smearing perfumed oils from his medicine chest into his skin. Then, dimly, he heard the whisper of approaching feet.
Taita turned to face the door. A moment later Gyasi appeared – her eyes glittering, her face flushed and her breathing ragged. With one hand tucked behind her back, she leaned against the stone doorpost to catch her breath, the lamplight catching the fine stubble that now covered her skull.
‘My Lord Taita,’ Gyasi said, bowing deeply. ‘Is my arrival a surprise to you?’
‘On the contrary, I have been waiting for you.’
Gyasi smiled. ‘I had suspected that you would anticipate my coming.’
She slipped into the chamber, looking around to make sure they were alone.
‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked.
‘I know full well,’ he replied. ‘You are the Shuyet’s emissary.’
Gyasi smiled again – a coy, flattering smile – and nodded as she began to circle him. ‘If you’ve known all this time, why then did you not have me arrested and interrogated?’
‘As your presence in this room attests, you serve a grander purpose,’ Taita replied calmly.
Gyasi narrowed her eyes. ‘I can’t help but be curious, my lord. When did you realise that I was a spy?’
‘When I first beheld you. There were others I considered, but with each challenge I became more certain. And then you confirmed it with your decision to lead the boarding party. You knew that you were in little danger – that you would be captured and kept safe, and, ultimately, rescued. And you were correct.’
‘The great Taita. Too clever even for the Shuyet’s schemes,’ Gyasi mocked.
Taita tried not to show the least hint of self-satisfaction, but he felt pleased that things were unfolding just as he had envisioned. He knew that the Shuyet would not have been able to resist sending someone to compete in his competition, someone who could get close to him.
‘What now, Gyasi?’ Taita asked.
‘Now?’ A smile curled back across Gyasi’s lips. ‘Now I have a surprise for you.’
As if she was unveiling a gift, Gyasi withdrew the hand that had remained hidden behind her back. She was clutching a knife, the bronze blade stained and dripping. Looking down at the limestone flags, Taita could now see the blood that had followed her into the chamber.
While he knew that someone as young and vital as Gyasi could wound him, Taita doubted that she could take his life. He was not afraid. Instead, he stared at the bloody knife in dismay. This was something he had not calculated.
‘What have you done, Gyasi?’ he asked.
She grinned, and her eyes gleamed darkly. ‘I have done as my master did with the scribe in the vault. I have left the name of Anubis in blood, so that in your absence, fear will grip this city.’
‘Whom have you killed?’
Gyasi smiled. ‘Men are so easily deceived.’
Taita glared at her. ‘You will be punished for this crime,’ he said coldly.
‘But that’s not what you want.’ Gyasi giggled, toying with him. ‘Your great mind yearns to meet the Shuyet, and I am the only one who can take you to Hardai. So, you will remain quiet, until we are well clear of the city walls.’
As Gyasi tied his hands behind his back, Taita felt a twist of unease. Now was the moment of greatest risk, and even he could not see how things would play out. His survival would be in the hands of the gods.
‘The slightest sound from your lips and I will bring a swift end to the legend of Taita the mage,’ Gyasi said. ‘Do you understand me?’
‘I will not cry out, have no fear of that,’ Taita replied. ‘I will go with you without a struggle.’
Gyasi laughed. ‘You are wise, but I wonder if you will be so certain of yourself when you are face to face with the Shuyet?’ she said.
• • •
I
n the depths of his nightmare, Piay saw his father: the old man was standing on the edge of the necropolis, and the skin on his face was so taut that all Piay could see was his skull, the hollows of the eye sockets filled with shadow, the thin lips pulled back from yellowing teeth.
The vision vanished as Piay felt himself catapulted into consciousness. Rough hands were shaking him. Through his daze, he realised the sheet covering his body was sodden with sweat.
Pushing himself up, Piay looked into the face of one of the palace guards. In the light of the lamp, his face was a mask of horror.
‘What is it?’ Piay demanded. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘You must come with us, Nomarch . . .’ the guard babbled.
‘Murder,’ the man behind him muttered.
Piay jumped from his bed and pulled on his kilt. ‘Who has been murdered?’
‘Two men,’ the first guard replied.
The guards hurried out of the room, holding the lamp in front of them, Piay chasing after the circle of light.
He smelled the metallic tang of blood drifting through the deserted corridors long before he saw it. As the two guards led him into the silent throne room, the lamp revealed two bodies sprawled on the flagstones in front of the throne, a lake of gleaming blood around them.
Piay stepped into the chamber. Though the two bodies were face down, he recognised both of them instantly – Asim and Sadiki, the two defeated contestants. His thoughts raced in time with the pounding of his heart. Why were they in the throne room at this time of night? The only explanation was that the killer had lured them there.
But who would want to murder these two men? They had made no enemies in Memphis, that he knew of, and had done nothing that could have brought about this fate.
Dismayed, Piay barked urgent orders to the guards: ‘Fetch Taita. And find Gyasi.’
As soon as the men had raced away, Piay took a lamp and prowled around the bloody scene. These poor souls had not been cut down by the swords of warriors. Their bodies had been opened up by a small blade, the weapon of a cut-throat.
As Taita had taught him, Piay imagined the scene as if the events that had led to it had transpired in front of him. The first of the contestants – Asim, perhaps, from the way his blood was already congealing – had ventured into the throne room. The murderer had taken him by surprise and slashed his throat.
The killer had then lured Sadiki into the chamber. The moment his eyes had settled on Asim’s body, the murderer had despatched him in the same manner.
As Piay considered that bloody deed, a notion gripped him and he swung the light back towards the door into the chamber.
There, on the limestone flags was a trail to follow: a line of ruby droplets.
But Piay glimpsed something more, too. His heart skipped a beat as he lurched forward to examine the wall beside the doorway.
Kneeling, he moved the lamp closer. There, traced on the creamy limestone, was the bloody outline of the symbol for Anubis, just as it had appeared at the scene of Djau-Aa’s murder inside the vault.
Piay jumped up at the sound of running feet. Breathless, the two guards careened into the chamber.
‘We cannot find Taita,’ one of them gasped. ‘And Gyasi’s chamber is empty.’
‘We discovered this in Taita’s chamber,’ the second guard added. ‘It was lying on the floor near the door, as if it had been dropped deliberately.’ He held up a long pink ribbon.
Piay studied the ribbon, his thoughts racing. So, Gyasi was the Shuyet’s spy. Taita had been certain after she had volunteered to board the enemy’s flagship during the river battle, but this confirmed it – for only she would have known Asim and Sadiki well enough to lure them to their deaths. She had killed them both to leave a clear message from her master.
Piay’s stomach knotted. Gyasi had made her move. Now, it was up to him to execute the second part of Taita’s plan – to follow the clues his master had left and discover the Shuyet’s stronghold.
• • •
U
nder the light of the full moon, the cart trundled out through the gate and along the dusty road towards the river. The woman who walked beside it, her woollen cloak pulled close around her, the hood covering her head, lazily flicked a switch at the rump of the donkey hauling the wagon.
