House of Two Pharaohs, page 7
‘Who is responsible?’
Asil snorted. ‘Why should I tell you anything?’
‘You say this crime does not reflect well on me. It does not reflect well on the Guild of Thieves, either. It was committed under your noses, and yet you know nothing of it.’
‘If the vault was robbed, as you say, it can only have been by an outsider.’
‘But not just any outsider,’ Piay said. ‘Someone who could not only conceive of such a plan, but also find a way to strike fear into the heart of the master mason.’
Asil looked away, but he said nothing.
‘There was a sign left in the vault,’ Piay continued. ‘On the floor next to the murdered scribe.’
Asil’s eyes flashed yellow in the stifling dark of the cell. ‘The mark of Anubis,’ he said.
‘You know who this is?’ Piay pressed.
‘Aye.’ Asil’s voice wavered. ‘And you should leave this matter well alone if you want to cling on to your miserable life. Your high office and grand reputation will not protect you.’
Piay had always thought nothing could scare his father. He was as unyielding as obsidian and as relentless as the khamsin, but here was someone who clearly frightened him.
‘Who is it?’
‘I am in here, and you are out there,’ Asil replied.
‘I will not grant you freedom in return for information.’
Asil turned his back on his son. ‘Then, blood or not, I have nothing more to share with you.’
• • •
A
varis loomed out of the thick haze hanging over the steaming marshes of the delta, the scarred and broken walls appearing like the blackened bones of some long-dead beast. From the bow of the skiff that Hannu had taken from the kidnappers, the sprawling city seemed deathly quiet – only the mournful screeching of gulls broke the silence.
Above the walls, the soaring columns of the temple of the Hyksos god Baal were visible. Hannu’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he had sailed up to this city. Avaris had been a thriving capital then, an imposing metropolis built on the bounty from the network of trade routes that stretched far into the east; its vast harbour was filled with a forest of masts sprouting from ships from every corner of the known earth. They had been dangerous times, certainly, but happier ones, too. Piay had been at his side, flushed with his own self-importance, overestimating his abilities as always. They had made a good team back then, Hannu thought. Two righteous adventurers against the world.
That was before Piay had met Myssa. And before he knew the grief of losing her.
Hannu’s mood darkened. He had vowed that he would not give in to such thoughts. The past was past, and there was nothing that Hannu, or Piay, or anyone else could do about it.
He looked again at the city that stood before him – a crumbling monument to a broken empire. The Hyksos had fled, the trade routes had been strangled by warfare, and only a few galleys unloaded their wares in between the rotting hulks that remained half-submerged against the quayside. Soon, Hannu thought, this once great city would be nothing more than a grand cemetery where jackals roamed, a fitting memorial to the arrogance of the barbarians who had aspired to make themselves masters of a land belonging to the gods.
Water sluiced around Hannu’s feet and, with a muttered curse, he snatched up the leather flagon that the kidnappers had used to bail out their skiff. He had been battling to avoid sinking ever since he had set off down the river.
Once he had averted disaster, Hannu guided the skiff into the harbour and found a place where he could tie up. But as soon as he was on dry land, he thought better of it. With a shrug, he kicked the skiff back into the flow of the Nile. Wherever he went next, he would find another way of getting there.
Hannu limped onto the quayside, where slaves heaved goods into carts that would be hauled through the river gate and into the city. But unlike the Memphis docks, where merchants could be found haggling over bolts of pristine Syrian silk and sweet-smelling amphorae of olive oil from Crete, here Hannu could only see the most basic of goods – tattered baskets of emmer wheat, wilted onions and sun-darkened radishes. A pot-bellied tax collector wandered back and forth, waving his inky brush across a roll of parchment, but no one looked up to meet his eye. If the governor couldn’t even collect taxes effectively, there was little hope for Avaris, Hannu thought grimly. Who would repair the damaged walls and feed the soldiers in the garrison?
Hannu watched a ship’s captain walking along the quay, checking the moorings of his galley. Not for the first time, he wondered why he hadn’t simply set aside his exasperation with Piay and remained in the comfort of the nomarch’s palace. Grumbling under his breath, he edged around a row of empty urns and planted himself in front of the captain.
The man looked Egyptian, though his skin had been leathered by hard work and weather. He eyed Hannu with suspicion. ‘I have enough men. I don’t need any more.’
‘I seek my work on dry land.’
The captain looked Hannu up and down dubiously. ‘If you’ve come to Avaris to find employment, then may Horus spread his wings over you.’
‘I don’t need much. Some bread. A place to lay my head,’ Hannu begged.
The man gazed up the road that led towards the river gate, then spat into the dust at his feet. ‘Take my advice. Go to Memphis. The city is reborn under its new nomarch. There is work there, and money to be made.’
Hannu forced a tight smile. ‘That may well be. But for now, I’m here.’ He paused. ‘I’ve heard things have become lawless in this region. Raids on caravans, ships like yours threatened by pirates downriver. I’m an old soldier. Thought there might be some need for men with my experience.’
The captain nodded at Hannu, softening at the mention of his military service. ‘You may well be right. I’ve heard plenty of such talk between here and the coast.’
‘Who’s behind it? Shrikes?’
The captain shook his head.
‘The Hyksos? Some of them are still around, so they say.’
‘The Pharaoh’s men went back to Thebes once the Hyksos were defeated. They left a new nomarch in Memphis, and he sent boats to clear the waterways to the Great Green, but the people of the delta don’t like outsiders. There are men there, running things like it’s their own kingdom. And who’s here to stop them?’
Hannu knew the captain was right. Order had only been brought to the Lower Kingdom as far as Memphis. Beyond that, across the marshes of the delta, the land had not yet been brought under Pharaoh’s control.
‘Brigands and cut-throats . . .’ Hannu said with a note of contempt. ‘Nothing to be scared of. In my experience, men like that run at the first sign of trouble.’
‘Not these. But perhaps they would be interested in an old soldier looking for work?’
• • •
F
rom the windswept desert sands, the Great Pyramid soared up stark against the night sky. The full moon of Piay’s chosen god, Khonsu, hung above its golden capstone and Oceanus, the endless milky river of stars that flowed from horizon to horizon, drifted behind it, mirroring the course of the life-giving Nile.
From where he stood near the pyramid’s base, Taita looked up at the towering mountain of stone, humbled as he faced the edifice, a student in front of an all-knowing master.
And yet as he tore his gaze away, he realised that the landscape around him was not as it should be. No smaller pyramids squatted in the shadows, no necropolis spread out into the desert – the magnificent structure stood alone.
Even as the notion settled on him that something was not right, the stones of the monument seemed to crack open near the base and a golden light flooded out across the sands. Shielding his eyes against the glare, Taita glimpsed a shadow moving deep within the luminescence. A figure was emerging from the depths of the pyramid.
Taita watched as a man strode towards him. He was tall and slender, naked apart from a short kilt and a close-fitting golden skullcap which emitted a shimmering halo around his head. In his right hand he held a crook inscribed with the gods’ words.
Taita knew instantly that this man was no mortal – his eyes burned like a furnace and he seemed wrapped in a liquid skin of light.
‘Greetings, Taita.’ The figure moved his lips, but the words seemed to come from all around. ‘I am Imhotep.’
‘I am humbled that you know my name, Great Architect,’ Taita replied.
‘We are brothers, Taita. We have both dedicated ourselves to the glory of Egypt. Our minds burn hotter than most. Our vision is unmatched, for we see across the vast ocean of the ages – into the future and the past. We understand that sacrifices are necessary to ensure the survival of this holy land, where the gods once walked.’
In a different moment, Taita’s vanity would have been burnished by Imhotep’s words, but instead he felt the stirrings of an obsession that had begun when he had first entered Imhotep’s tomb.
‘You were once a man who dwelt in these mortal lands, but now you walk with the gods,’ Taita said in a voice that fluttered with anticipation.
Imhotep seemed to understand what lay behind Taita’s words. ‘This path will open to you, too, Taita, if that is what you desire.’
‘But you have not come here to offer this to me now?’
‘No.’ A gathering wind started to circle around them, throwing dust at their ankles, making their kilts dance. ‘The tomb has been opened for you, Taita. It is as I intended, but the spells which adorn the walls, the spells that I left for you, they will not remain forever. Now they have been looked upon by mortal eyes, they will begin to wither and recede.’
Taita felt a pit open in his stomach. ‘They must be preserved,’ he said.
‘They must.’ Imhotep nodded solemnly.
‘This is why you are appearing to me now,’ Taita realised, voicing his thoughts aloud. ‘What do I have to do to save them?’
‘Learn them, Taita. They were left for you.’ Imhotep’s eyes seemed to burn brighter as he issued his instructions. ‘Command them. Use them. Become the vessel that bears them. But know that as you learn them, they will fade and die.’
In that moment, the wind strengthened, and clouds of whirling sand began to fold around Imhotep.
Taita reached out an imploring hand towards the Great Architect as he receded into the depths of the dust storm. ‘Wait! Don’t leave!’
‘Eternal peace can never be achieved, Taita.’ Imhotep’s voice was fading. ‘There must always be one who keeps watch across the ages, who will ensure the survival of this land. Vigilance is constantly required. Egypt is never truly safe.’
As Taita paused to consider the meaning of the Great Architect’s words, the brilliant light flared again, filtering through the wall of sand.
• • •
T
aita stirred from the dream that he knew in his bones was not a dream, and pushed himself up in his bed. The wick in the lamp next to his bed had almost burned away and the flame flickered unevenly, causing the paintings that covered the walls of his chamber to shudder, as if they were struggling to come alive.
Taita looked down at the golden senet board that lay on the bed next to him, where it had slipped from his hands. He had been examining it before his dream of the Great Architect. Running his fingers over the symbols that covered its surface – the house of water, the house of second life, the house of Horus – he allowed his thoughts to settle in his mind.
There were different kinds of dreams, as every scholar knew. But dreams like this one, where the gods revealed vital information . . . Those were dreams that should never be ignored.
Taita picked up one of the senet stones that lay next to the board. Five white stones, carved from marble, their hounds’ heads inlaid with gold. The black stones – the jackals – were missing. Outside, he heard voices as the soldiers on the palace walls changed shifts. It was just before dawn – the longest hour of the night, when the soul was closest to the afterlife.
Calling for the slaves to bring him water, Taita clambered out of bed. Once he had washed and oiled his body and put on a fresh white robe, he would be able to marshal his thoughts more easily. But when a man appeared at Taita’s door, it was not with a pitcher of water, and the man was not a slave.
‘Lord High Chancellor, you must come at once!’ Ahmose, commander of the palace garrison, said in a panicked voice. ‘The nomarch demands your presence.’
• • •
T
orches burned brightly in the darkness, held aloft by a small unit of the Memphis Guard. Piay stood in the flickering light, staring down at the master mason’s prone body. Someone had slit the man’s throat from ear to ear, and blood had pooled around his body, soaking into the filth encrusting the ancient flagstones.
As he stepped into the cell, Taita was immediately drawn to a symbol on the wall next to the door. He traced the thick lines of congealed blood – Haman’s blood – with his finger. ‘The mark of Anubis,’ he confirmed.
Piay was vexed. ‘This is an impregnable cell. How could the killer gain access?’
Taita crouched beside the mason’s head and delicately plucked a piece of stone from the gore that lay before Haman’s still-open eyes.
‘Only one man could have carried out this crime.’ Asil’s voice echoed from down the dank hallway as Taita examined his find.
Taita glanced at Piay, who frowned at the sound of his father’s voice. Taking a torch from one of the guards, Taita walked along the row of cells.
‘You,’ Asil said accusingly when he saw Taita.
‘It has been a long time, Asil. You are much older now than the man I remember.’ As Piay joined him, Taita continued: ‘The man who begged me to take possession of his only son that morning at the hostel in Thebes.’
‘Whereas you haven’t aged a day.’ Asil peered at Taita disbelievingly.
‘Your sight has not been dulled,’ Taita replied with the ghost of a smile. ‘I am glad for it. Perhaps you can tell us who killed the master mason.’
‘I saw no one.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
Asil shrugged. ‘Believe what you will, Lord High Chancellor. There is not so much as a single lamp down here when the guards are not present.’
‘You said only one man could have committed the crime,’ Piay interjected. ‘Who is this man?’
Asil licked his lips before replying to his son. ‘Suppose I tell you. What’s in it for me?’
‘I won’t have you executed for withholding what you know,’ Piay retorted.
‘Sometimes I do still see myself in you, son.’ Asil cackled, then shook his head.
‘An alternate place of confinement is not beyond possibility,’ Taita offered. ‘But only if you share everything you know, and your information proves to be sound.’
The nomarch shot Taita a baleful glance, and the mage could tell that he was infuriated by his proposal. But now was not the time for stubbornness.
‘Who is this “one man”, Asil?’
‘I want a window,’ the leader of the Guild of Thieves replied. ‘I want to feel the sun, the breeze. I want to be able to see my city again, to look out over it and savour it.’
Taita looked at Piay. While he had made the initial offer, he would not risk further infringing on the office of the nomarch.
‘Very well,’ Piay consented with an exasperated sigh.
Asil paused and licked his lips again. ‘The Guild of Thieves has heard his name, spoken in whispers from the last days of the Hyksos. Many times, from many different mouths. Some say he is more than a man, for his mind is as sharp as a serpent’s fang –’
‘And his name?’ Taita prompted.
‘They call him “the Shuyet”. Though what he calls himself, I do not know.’
Piay narrowed his eyes. The shuyet was one of the nine parts of the human soul – a man’s shadow. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘No. Few have. He is represented by a scribe, a tall man who always wears a black robe with a white sash.’
‘The master mason spoke of this scribe,’ Taita said. ‘He was also frightened by him.’
Asil pursed his lips. ‘I am scared of no man, do you hear. No man. But others are afraid of the Shuyet.’
‘Those who work in the Guild of Thieves?’ Taita asked.
‘Some of them, aye. They say that the Shuyet is not mortal, that he is a demon who has crawled up from the Duat. Others claim that he is a powerful sorcerer who travelled to Egypt from distant lands beyond the Great Green.’
‘And what is the significance of the symbol of Anubis?’ Taita asked.
‘All agree that wherever he came from, and whether he is demon or sorcerer, Anubis is reborn within him. The Shuyet is the Lord of the Dead’s jackal-headed shadow, his servant here on earth.’
‘Reborn for what purpose?’ Piay asked.
‘Once the Shuyet takes his place as ruler of the Lower Kingdom, he will restore Anubis to his rightful place as Lord of the Underworld. Osiris will be cast aside. The Shuyet will be Pharaoh and Anubis the only god.’
• • •
P
iay and Taita left Asil and ascended to the tranquillity of the palace garden. The moon still hung in the sky above the palace walls, even as the sun rose and started to turn the leaves of the trees into living flames of gold.
As they walked up the path to the palace, Taita was silent.
‘What part of this strange affair troubles you the most?’ Piay asked.
‘Whoever the Shuyet truly is, and whether he is the shadow of a god or a mere mortal, he is a threat to the order that Pharaoh requires in the Lower Kingdom. Someone like that could prevent the unification of Egypt,’ Taita replied. ‘I suspect that such a man, bold enough to murder the master mason in the palace of the Nomarch of Memphis, under the noses of the palace garrison, would see opportunity here, in the chaos that has reigned since the Hyksos were routed, and he is probably plundering the rest of Lower Egypt with impunity.’
