Grim 01 storm warrior, p.3
House of Two Pharaohs, page 3
Even now, so long after her death, Lostris was still alive in his mind. When he closed his eyes, he found himself back with her, on the day of the hippopotamus hunt, when her singing had entranced every single soul aboard Tanus’ ship as it sped along the edge of the reed beds. Fifty years had passed since that day. She had been just fourteen and her name was newly given – her baby name recently discarded, for her red woman’s moon had flowered with the arrival of that year’s flood. Taita could still see the dark green of her eyes and the coil of her hair falling across one breast. He could see Tanus, too, his one-time pupil who had overcome his father’s disgrace, whom Lostris loved, and who had returned that love in a way Taita wished he himself could. But his two young charges were never to realise the boundless happiness Taita had envisaged for them. Lostris would be betrothed to Pharaoh Mamose. And even after Mamose had been killed in battle, by a Hyksos arrow, their love would have to be hidden and their children declared as having sprung from the dead king’s seed. Tanus would become Egypt’s greatest general, leading the flight into the land of Kush, beyond the sixth cataract, to Qebui, the meeting point of the two rivers that co-mingled to form the black Nile. But he would make the journey to the afterlife after his duel with the warlord Arkoun. And then Lostris would also be taken from Taita, by a sickness he could not cure – a sickness that she had hidden from him.
One day, perhaps, the gods would allow Taita to see his beloved mistress again, in the afterlife, where all the struggles and miseries of this mortal realm were forgotten. But for now, Taita knew, they had different plans for him.
As the galley drifted towards the limestone wall of the wharf, sailors leapt to dry land and pulled the vessel into its berth with ropes.
Once the Breath of Horus had been moored, Taita strode down the gangplank, towards those who gawked in awe at the God-Pharaoh’s Lord High Chancellor, the ageless mage, hero of the wars against the hated Hyksos. Piay stood waiting to greet him, beside a wizened advisor. The nomarch forced a thin smile and bowed stiffly.
‘Welcome to Memphis, my lord.’
When Piay raised his head, Taita saw his face properly for the first time. He had aged noticeably since Taita had last seen him. Deep lines had been carved into his once boyish features, his skin was grey and a dullness clouded his eyes.
Before he could express his concern, the older man stepped forward with alacrity. ‘We are honoured and encouraged by your illustrious presence at this uncertain time, Lord High Chancellor.’
Taita could see that despite his appearance, the advisor was not frail. His movements were strong, vigorous. ‘And you are?’
‘Ankhu is a long-serving advisor to the governors of Memphis,’ Piay explained.
Taita heard the weariness in Piay’s tone, but he chose to brush it aside, lest it sour their reunion. When he had first accepted Piay as a young student, Taita had recognised something in him – a strength and courage – and he had instantly known that this questing boy would accomplish feats equalling the greatest of Egypt’s heroes. He furrowed his brow, mulling the worrisome transformation that grief had wrought on a man who had once acted as if there was nothing in this world that could defeat him.
Pushing aside his concerns, Taita held out a hand and Piay kissed the gold ring of office. ‘Where is Hannu? I don’t think I have seen you separated from your shadow since the day you took him into your employ.’
‘Hannu is gone. On a scouting mission.’
‘And Myssa?’ Taita said carefully. ‘Where have you lain her?’
‘Myssa is here,’ Piay said without emotion.
Again, Taita frowned. Myssa had not been born in Egypt, but it was nevertheless unconventional for her body to be interred anywhere but the necropolis.
‘May I see her resting place?’
‘That is not why I sent word to you,’ Piay said sharply.
‘No. But she was dear to me, as she was to you.’
Piay snorted derisively, and Taita felt his own anger flare at the petulance of his embittered charge.
‘I did not love her as you did, Piay, but I still mourn her loss. I would like to pay my respects.’
Piay eyed him inscrutably. ‘Very well.’
Leading Taita to the waiting palanquin, Piay allowed his master to settle himself before he took his place and the eight muscular slaves heaved the litter to their shoulders. Ankhu trailed behind on foot as they made their way from the port to the city and the fabled Gate of a Thousand Stars.
• • •
A
s the litter bobbed and swayed, Taita leaned back and watched the roofs of the temples and palaces of the ancient capital appear above the city walls. He could see men on the scaffolding that clad the nomarch’s many restoration projects, but glancing at the man himself, sitting opposite him, he realised that Piay had no interest in their work.
As the litter plunged along the main thoroughfare, curious citizens stepped out of their homes to watch it pass. Taita could read the unease on their faces, apprehension no doubt prompted by the rumours of the bizarre occurrence in the city’s new vault.
As the slaves bore them through the palace gate and into the expansive garden beyond it, Taita looked around the calm oasis. Avenues of lofty sycamore trees offered shady respite from the sun’s fierce heat, and red roses and yellow chrysanthemum bloomed alongside a lake where egrets waded in the shallows. The air was filled with the rich scent of flowering jasmine.
When the litter was set down, Piay did not offer a hand to help his master stand. Instead, without looking back he made his way to what looked like a monument. Taita rose to his feet and followed him.
As he approached the structure, Taita noticed that it was newly constructed, built over the entrance to a small tomb, and adorned with a glorious spread of narcissus, the mass of yellow petals mirroring the sun overhead.
‘So, this is where you have placed her,’ Taita said softly, a wave of sadness washing over him. ‘But you know that she belongs with her people, Piay.’
‘She belongs with me,’ Piay snapped.
For so long Piay had pursued the women of Pharaoh’s court, one after the other. But then Myssa had entered his life and Piay had found his heart suddenly full. When Taita had watched them together, he had foreseen a long union full of happiness and joy. For a time, he had believed that their connection would be something on which they could both build a better future. But it was not to be.
‘I was filled with sorrow when I heard the news.’ Taita was tempted to ask Piay for a full account of the events which had led to Myssa’s death, but he restrained himself. It was not the time or place.
‘She is gone,’ Piay said, ignoring Taita’s words. ‘We have other matters to discuss – matters that affect the here and now.’
‘The mystery of the murdered scribe.’
Piay nodded. ‘I know you like your puzzles. I have seen my fair share, but I have encountered few as baffling as this.’
Taita was eager to find out more, but he held himself back.
‘Your message also said that you had started the next task that I set for you. The Great Monuments are being restored?’
‘Work has already begun on the Pyramid of Khufu and the Sphinx. They will shortly recover their eminent position as symbols of the glory of Egypt.’
Taita leaned in so none of the slaves waiting by the litter could overhear. ‘And the other matter?’
‘The spells hidden by the Great Architect are yours to decipher.’ Piay looked back at Myssa’s tomb. ‘She gave her life for them. I hope they prove profound.’
‘Myssa was like a daughter to me,’ Taita said, ‘just as you are like a son –’
‘The Sons of Apis maintain their guard,’ Piay said, interrupting his master. ‘When you are ready, I will take you there.’
Taita studied his pupil. ‘Grief is the price we pay for love, Piay. We must accept it, but never let it consume us. Myssa would not want that.’
‘The finest chamber in the palace has been prepared for you,’ Piay said, as if he had not heard a word Taita had said. ‘Every comfort shall be yours.’
Piay’s eyes alighted on Ankhu, strolling through the gate and into the palace garden. He beckoned the old man to join them.
‘Yes, my lord?’ Ankhu said.
‘I need you to look after the affairs of the city, preside over the Council of Elders in my stead for a time,’ Piay commanded.
‘It would be my honour. Where are you going?’
‘We will be here. I simply need you to attend to my responsibilities while I am indisposed. Our distinguished guest has come to investigate the matter of the murder in the vault. For as long as he is here, I expect he will demand much of my time.’
‘Only until the architect of this great mystery is revealed, and brought to justice,’ Taita said. ‘Then you can have him back.’
Ankhu smiled and bowed. ‘As my nomarch commands.’
• • •
A
s Taita and Piay walked the broad street from the palace gates, the noise of the city filled their ears: the mallets in the workshops pounded a steady beat; the gulls shrieked as they dived and feasted on the middens; the voices of the apprentices rang out as they heaved and hauled, measured and weighed.
Taita was never more alive than when his mind was tested. With so many years rolling out behind him, there were times when he thought that he had seen all that life had to offer. Boredom was the great curse. And so he was grateful when the gods presented him with a fresh challenge.
He eyed his charge, hoping that a similar distraction would help him, too.
‘Tell me about the scribe,’ Taita commanded.
‘He was a solitary man, lost in the chambers of his head, as most scribes are.’ Piay’s eyes flicked towards his master. ‘No wife, no family, few friends.’
At the gates to the Temple of Ptah, Taita and Piay passed two old men who were waiting for the priests to allow them entry to make an offering. A young woman swayed past them, carrying water in a clay pot balanced on her head.
‘Then there seems no compelling reason why anyone would want to take his life,’ Taita said, more to himself than Piay. ‘Perhaps Djau-Aa’s death has no meaning.’
‘Why then would he paint a message in his own blood? Why –?’
Taita raised a hand to silence Piay. ‘We must gather the facts of this matter one by one, so we can examine them. Otherwise, we risk missing a vital detail.’
Piay blinked at his master in bafflement. ‘A man murdered, his throat slit, in a sealed chamber where no other mortal hand could reach him. Those are the details. You see now why so many believe that Djau-Aa could only have been killed by supernatural forces.’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘I have seen enough in my life to believe that many things are possible. But I do not believe this is the work of a god.’
‘Then I have taught you well.’
‘But neither can I see how this murder could have been committed by a human hand.’
Taita sensed that they were approaching the vault when he caught the scent of freshly cut stone. He folded his hands behind his back as he examined the heaps of discarded masonry. Leaning down, he traced a fingertip across the smooth surface of one of the blocks. ‘This is fine work,’ he murmured.
Taita turned his attention to the vault itself – vast, low, solid, with walls that could not be breached. Unlike the other grand structures of Memphis, there were no carvings, none of the artistic flourishes that revealed the skills of Egyptian masons. It served one purpose: to protect the treasures that were stored inside.
A small antechamber had been built in front of the great vault doors. It had a narrow entrance, so that it would be easily defendable by the guards who had been assigned that duty. Now, though, the four guards leaned on their spears outside this vestibule. Taita noted their downturned faces and nervous eyes. They were still frightened, and did not want to be anywhere near the site of the scribe’s bloody demise. But their eyes lit up with wonder when they saw the great mage approaching with the nomarch.
‘Show me where the body was found,’ Taita requested.
The guards, awestruck, did not move from their spot.
‘Open the door,’ Piay commanded the guards.
As the slabs swung open, Taita’s face remained stern but his eyes were alive with curiosity. It had been a long time since he had been presented with a problem as perplexing as this one promised to be.
He peered into the inky blackness. A smouldering brazier stood just inside the portico, and Piay took one of the brands standing beside it and lit it. He stepped to the threshold and raised the torch.
A blackened crust of blood spread across the flagstones just beyond the doors, where Djau-Aa’s body had lain.
‘See, here,’ Piay said, pointing.
Taita leaned in. He could imagine how the scribe had sprawled after he had fallen, and he saw where trembling fingers had attempted to trace a message. As it had dried, the mark had become harder to decipher, but the outline of the jackal-head was still clear enough.
‘That is indeed the sign for Anubis,’ Taita said.
‘Why would he have wasted his final moments on it?’
Taita peered into the darkness, thinking. But his mind was also on his charge. Piay was a man who preferred action to thought, and now Taita sensed his frustration growing as he struggled to understand.
‘Is Djau-Aa telling us that Anubis killed him? Why would the Lord of the Sacred Land step forth from his domain to hunt down a mere scribe?’
‘We are walking into the dark and must proceed one step at a time,’ Taita cautioned. ‘Speaking of dark . . . Light the vault.’
Piay ordered the guards to take torches into the vault and light the oil lamps placed in alcoves around the walls. The men grumbled, but would not disobey an order from the nomarch. Finally, they edged inside, holding the blazing brands ahead of them as if some beast might bound out of the darkness and swallow them in an instant.
Soon the vault was flooded with the light of a hundred lamps, the light reflecting back from the piles of gold plate, chests and statues, necklaces and bracelets. Wealth that would have made even Pharaoh gasp.
‘We searched the vault when the body was discovered,’ Piay said. ‘No one could have hidden themselves in here. And the guards were outside the door, so whoever murdered the scribe could not have crept away unseen. The door could only be opened from without.’
‘You trust your guards?’ Taita asked.
‘They would not be here if I did not,’ Piay said firmly.
‘There are few men who could not be corrupted by the treasure in this vault. Particularly men who have endured the privations the people of Memphis were subjected to under your predecessor.’
Piay shook his head. ‘Not these men. I know them. They are loyal.’
‘I trust you,’ Taita said with an encouraging smile. ‘All four guards would have had to be in agreement to release the murderer from the vault and then seal the door behind him,’ he continued, ‘and that is most unlikely. One guard open to bribes, yes. Four such stalwarts prepared to turn their backs on their duty, no.’
Taita looked around the shimmering vault. In his mind’s eye, he saw Djau-Aa under attack: a man unaccustomed to physical exertion, his knees and hips aching from sitting for hours in the same position, his tired heart pounding. Despite his age, the scribe had almost managed to reach the door before his throat had been cut. He had collapsed, knowing he was dying, but still he had wanted to warn those who found his body. Or perhaps, Taita considered, the killer made the mark himself. But why?
He turned to his charge. ‘You have Djau-Aa’s records?’
‘Yes. His scrolls are stored in the palace archives.’
‘Good. Summon another scribe to bring them here. Use them to find out if anything is missing.’
‘From the vault?’ Piay looked across the heaps of gold dubiously. ‘How could the killer have escaped with anything? The vault was sealed.’
‘And yet he did escape,’ Taita said, looking straight into Piay’s eyes.
Piay nodded. ‘I will do so immediately.’
‘And while this work is conducted, I will bathe, anoint myself and break my fast. And then I will be ready for the tasks that will follow.’
• • •
A
fter the heat of the day, the chamber Taita had been given felt as cool as a river at twilight. Stretching, he allowed the slaves to strip him and prepare him for his bath. There were four of them, all female, and they attended to him with practised care, and in deferential silence, while the sweet scent of incense filled the air.
First, they worked an unguent of cedar, animal fat and juniper oil into his skin, then they began to shave him with circular bronze razors. So skilled and gentle were they that Taita felt no embarrassment over the ugly scar of his castration.
Only when they were certain that not a hair was left on his body, and had used a pumice stone to work the last of it from his scalp, did they lead him to the bathroom. Decorated with paintings of river birds – ducks and geese, ibis and purple herons, egrets, spoonbills and openbills – this room, with three high windows, was lit up by the sun, with views out across the city. The women, now dressed only in skirts made of crisp linen, massaged soap made of soda ash and olive oil into Taita’s skin, before sluicing water from tall pitchers over his naked body. After they had dried him, they finished their ritual by applying a mixture of moringa and almond oil, turning the great mage the colour of burnished gold.
Soothed by the attention of the slaves, Taita’s thoughts turned to the riddle Piay had presented him with. But as he went through the facts, he could not help but feel the inexorable tug of the greater mystery that had brought him to Memphis, the real source of his delight at Piay’s decision to finally call him to the city – Imhotep’s tomb, and the spells that it contained. Now that Piay had uncovered its location, Taita felt an almost unbearable need to commune with the Great Architect in his final resting place – a place of peace, free from all the worries of the mortal world. There he could study the wisdom that Imhotep had left behind.
