Testament, p.29
Testament, page 29
His words became true an instant later as the line of fighting men crumpled. Some crashed down to the ground. Others spun away. The rest regrouped into a knot of fighting men, spears and swords at the ready, facing outwards towards the people surging around them like a racing stream around a boulder.
Piay shouted at the soldiers, ‘Withdraw! Withdraw!’
It was still not too late to make an orderly retreat. But his words went unheard amid the noise of battle. The soldiers were filled with a poisonous blend of fury, terror and the raw, burning desire to strike back and shed blood. Their fellow citizens were enemies now. And enemies were there to be killed.
With a roar of their own, the soldiers went back on the attack, spears piercing undefended flesh, sparks of light flashing off slashing swords. The people at the front of the crowd, unable to resist the pressure of the protesters at the rear, were pushed directly towards the soldiers. They begged for mercy. They turned and pleaded with the other protesters to stop. And then, one by one, row by row, their shouts turned to screams as the soldiers mowed them down. Still the crowd kept moving, trampling over the bodies of their own dead, offering up more sacrifices to the blades of the fighting men
‘We’ve got to do something!’ Piay shouted, but Hannu caught his arm again and yanked him back.
‘There’s no point,’ the veteran told him. ‘You’ll just get yourself killed.’
Piay knew Hannu was right, but how could he stand by and do nothing in the face of such slaughter?
Hannu continued to pull at his arm and eventually Piay relented, allowing himself to be led away from the battle. But as they eased into a deserted side street, past rows of clerks’ offices, Piay glanced back. All he could see was blood washing across the road as if the tide was coming in.
‘W
hat’s happening, Hannu?’ Piay asked, collapsing against a wall in dismay. ‘The Hyksos have been driven out. The war is over. This should be a time of peace and plenty.’
‘When the battle is over, the vultures descend, you know that.’ Hannu kicked at the sand with his sandal. His head was bowed, his stare fixed. ‘When one power leaves, there’s always chaos until another takes over. That’s just the way of the world.’
‘This is the world Seth wants,’ Piay said. ‘His world is all chaos and disorder, and if that means mankind living in war and starvation, so much the better for him and his followers.’
‘Aye,’ Hannu said. ‘If Akkan could see all this, he’d just love it.’
‘It’s everything Taita feared – and Imhotep must have known it was coming. This is what our quest is all about. To beat Akkan to the prize and make sure we live in a peaceful world, Khonsu’s world, not the hell that Seth has in mind. The future of Egypt, its soul, depends on us . . . I just hope we’re not found wanting.’
‘Taita chose you for a reason, lad. Never forget that.’
Piay nodded. He said nothing for a moment, then he pushed away from the wall and strode off down the street.
‘Where are we going?’ Hannu called out after him.
Piay did not break stride or even turn his head as he replied, ‘To someone who can tell us what’s really going on in this city.’
T
he broad-shouldered man still leaned beside Asil’s door, his eyes restless. When he saw Piay approaching, he nodded and this time allowed him entrance without question. Hannu glared up at the guard as he passed, as if studying a competing species; he barely came up to the other man’s shoulders.
Beaming, Asil flung his arms wide as Piay stepped in.
‘Young man!’
Piay found himself strangely happy to see his father again. He had been a thief, true, but his life had been hard. It was not Piay’s place to judge. That was a matter for the gods.
‘This is Hannu – he works for me.’ Piay saw Hannu’s face tighten and then, with a smile, added, ‘With me.’
‘I am happy to welcome you to my meagre home, Hannu,’ Asil said.
‘Hannu, this is . . .’ Piay almost said ‘My father,’ but he was not yet ready to use that description, so settled for ‘Asil.’
Hannu nodded, reserving judgement as he always did.
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance.’
‘Sit, sit.’
Asil ushered them both to cushions next to the hearth. The old man fetched two cups of beer and handed them over.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘about your woman. Did you bring her home?’
Piay shook his head. ‘Your advice to join with my enemy’s enemy was very wise. And it would have succeeded if, ah . . . How can I put this? If the situation had not changed unexpectedly, in ways I cannot explain.’
‘Hmm . . . intriguing. Tell me all, my dear, and maybe we will find an explanation together.’
Piay took a sip of his beer and began the story of joining the Shrikes, his capture during the fight at Akkan’s camp – though he omitted the presence of the Sons of Apis – and the revelation that Myssa had been transformed into someone he did not recognise.
Asil leaned his forehead against the tips of his fingers.
‘I’ve heard of such things before, yes. You are right to think that this must be the result of some potion conjured up by the sorcerer. Of course, there are ways of undoing such changes—’
‘What? Tell me?’ Piay insisted.
‘First, I need to speak with someone who understands this stuff.’ He smiled knowingly at Piay. ‘Let’s just say, after all these years in Memphis, I can find people who know the kinds of things that rich folk who live in palaces will never understand.’
‘Time is short,’ Piay stressed.
‘I won’t let you down.’
‘That man outside the door . . .’ Hannu interjected.
‘The son of a friend, protecting an old man.’
‘He has three scars along his cheekbone.’
Asil nodded, still smiling.
‘I’ve heard that’s the mark of the Guild of Thieves,’ Hannu continued. ‘People say it’s a brotherhood that’s existed here in the Lower Kingdom for years, well before the Hyksos took over.’
Asil shrugged. ‘My friend is a good man, but I don’t know much about his son. Perhaps you should ask him yourself.’
Asil continued to smile. Hannu showed no reaction, but just like Asil, he knew many things that were beyond Piay’s experience.
‘I’m asking you,’ Hannu said.
Asil smiled, but there was no humour in it. ‘I’m just an old man. The Guild, if such a thing existed, would have no interest in me.’
‘There was trouble of a kind I have never seen before,’ Piay said, wanting to get back to the reason he had come here, before the growing tension between Asil and Hannu brought the visit to a close.
Asil listened to Piay’s description of the riot, then said, ‘Now you know why I stay at home with a guard at the door. Things have been getting worse here since the siege began. This morning, one of the kitchens producing bread burned down, and so did the grain store next to it. There’s not been enough to go around in recent times, and now there’s even less. And yet the governor’s slaves went from bakery to bakery buying up much of what was available, for a feast perhaps, or simply to keep the larders full in the palace.’
‘Taita would never have stood for that,’ Piay said.
‘But Taita’s not here, is he?’ Asil noted. ‘And you can’t rely on his guidance forever.’
Piay stared into the pot bubbling in the hearth. He had never considered a point when his master would not be around to help him.
‘Your father is here now,’ Asil said, as if he could read Piay’s thoughts, ‘and you have no more need to worry.’
He reached out and rested a wrinkled hand on the back of Piay’s.
‘Your father?’ Hannu asked.
P
iay and Hannu hurried through the small dusty streets lined with silent workshops and deserted warehouses. Piay had begun to explain how he had rediscovered the father he had not seen since he was five, but the conversation had quickly petered out as they encountered the aftermath of the riot. The streets were strewn with the dead and wounded. Here and there, women crouched in tears beside their dead or dying husbands. A little girl stood by her slaughtered parents crying, ‘Mummy, Daddy, get up!’ A thief rummaged through the pouches of the dead – he ran at the sight of Hannu drawing his sword.
As for the rest of the population, it was as if they had disappeared. The city was calm now, quieter than Piay had ever known it. But it was an oppressive calm, as if a great weight was pressing down on all Memphis.
Finally they reached the palace. The gates were closed, and the guards refused to allow them permission to enter until Piay persuaded them to send a messenger to the captain of the Blue Crocodile Guards to confirm their identity.
When they slipped through the gates, Piay felt as if they had been transported to another place entirely. The perfumed garden was still an oasis of tranquillity, and as he neared the palace he breathed in the scents of cinnamon, cumin and other expensive spices that were being used in the kitchens.
Inside, slaves bustled back and forth with arms filled with bolts of linen and flowers cut from the palace gardens. Piay followed them to the feasting hall, where gauzy curtains were being suspended from the ceiling. The fabric shimmered in the gentle breeze from the windows, obscuring then revealing the sinuous dancers who practised behind it.
Musicians plucked at their lyres and a flautist blew a sweet, gentle melody. Candles floated in bowls of water, the light flickering across the white walls. Slaves were strewing flowers across the floor around a low table where many places had been set. Herbs had been tossed on a brazier in one corner, filling the air with sweet aromas.
Piay looked around. How could anyone even consider such indulgence when the city was on the brink of total revolt? Surely Zahur and Harrar must understand what a provocation this feast would be if the masses ever heard of it. At a time like this, restraint was a necessity, as a matter of self-preservation.
Piay grabbed a slave.
‘Where is your master?’ he demanded.
Before the slave could answer, Piay heard the booming voices of Zuhar and Harrar approaching. The two men wandered into the chamber, laughing as if they had been friends since childhood.
When Harrar saw Piay, he held out his hands.
‘Ah, Piay. How’s your work going on those monuments? They still sinking in the sand?’
The two men laughed together.
Piay swept a hand towards the busy slaves and said in an incredulous tone, ‘What’s the meaning of this?’
‘Why, we have reached an agreement,’ Zahur said, his jowls shaking with mirth. ‘One that will return Memphis to the glory of old.’
‘The talks were arduous,’ Harrar said, ‘but it was important that no stone was left unturned. It has been decided how much gold Pharaoh must send to ensure the city can be rebuilt. I have agreed not to return to Thebes, but to stay here to oversee the work that will need to be done. And Zahur will remain as governor. We need someone who commands the respect of the people. It may take longer than the common folk think to make good the damage to the city.’
‘Don’t you know what’s happening out there? The streets are running red with blood. Your own men are killing Egyptians – their own people – as if they were Hyksos.’
Zahur wafted a hand. ‘The people are always complaining. No leader could ever satisfy their demands.’
‘They’re not complaining – they’re starving.’
‘There is more than enough food in Memphis, and more coming by the day.’ Harrar’s face darkened in annoyance. ‘And in answer to your impertinent question, of course news of the disturbance has reached me. That is why I have increased the guard at the palace.’
‘It’s just troublemakers,’ Zahur said. ‘We know all about them, spreading lies and rumours to stir up trouble. Believe me, we’re not letting them get away with it!’
Harrar scowled. ‘We have identified a man who was making wild allegations by the site of the bakery that burned down. He’s been arrested and will be executed at dawn, as an example to anyone else who so much as thinks of making trouble. His body will be hung from the wall until it has been pecked clean. People will see that we are in control of the situation, and that will be an end to it.’
Piay choked back what he wanted to say. He could not believe that these two men could be so deluded. How could they not see the terrible mistake they were making?
He tried a calmer approach, in the hope that he might be able to persuade them.
‘My lord, may I suggest there may be another way to solve this undoubtedly worrying problem—’
‘Who are you to suggest anything?’ Harrar snapped. ‘You are Taita’s lackey, and that is all you will ever be. Waste your time completing the ludicrous task he has set for you, then return to Thebes where you can fawn over him.’
Piay eyed Hannu. Like all soldiers, he had long since learned to hold his tongue while his superiors made stupid decisions. His gaze was fixed on the far wall, and whatever opinions he had, he was keeping them firmly to himself, but Piay knew that Hannu could see the trouble that Harrar and Zahur were storing up.
Still, there was nothing further that could be achieved here.
‘Very well,’ Piay said. ‘I will say no more on that matter.’
‘Good,’ Harrar said. ‘Now hurry on your way. Soon the members of the court, the aristocracy of Memphis, will be arriving to hear our plans.’
Piay stepped forward, raising a finger. ‘One more thing, my lord. The work I must carry out at the monuments will pass more quickly and easily if I can speak with the wisest, the most learned of your scribes. Someone who can guide me in my task. Someone who knows the work of the great Imhotep.’
‘Zahur,’ Harrar said, ‘give this boy a name so that we can be left in peace. We’ve got a lot to do here before our guests arrive.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Zahur said, clapping his hands. ‘The man you need to speak to is as old as the desert and as wizened as a fig left out in the sun. If he does not have the knowledge you require, then no one else will. His name is Ankhu.’
T
here was a house that stood by itself in the corner of the palace compound. On the second floor, a large window gave a magnificent view of the moon, set against a glittering blanket of stars. Windows were set into the other walls, too, so there was a perfect view of the whole of the night sky for anyone who wished to study the constellations. Parchments were piled high everywhere except on a low table on which a fat candle guttered. As the shadows swirled, Piay felt an odd sensation of movement around him.
Here and there, strange symbols had been etched on the white walls in black ink. Piay had never seen the like before, but when he stared at them he felt his skin prickle. On one side there was a small alabaster statue of Osiris, some bowls containing dried leaves, a bronze mask with an ankh engraved on the forehead, and a scarab that gleamed in the flickering light as if it were made of gold, with eyes that appeared to be sapphires. Some riches, then, though why they would be in the hands of a mere scribe, Piay did not know.
Hannu flopped down on a sumptuous cushion and bounced twice, appreciating its stuffing.
‘Better than I thought,’ he grunted.
The faint aroma of incense floated in the air as if someone had been in the room only moments before.
‘Ankhu will be with you soon,’ they had been told.
Piay looked out of the window and felt the moon stare back at him. Khonsu was there with them that night, he was certain of it. He let his eyes drift down. Beyond the white walls, the night had settled like a sable cloak across the fertile valley and the desert to the west.
Music drifted up from the city – a woman’s lilting song to her child, a man’s yearning nostalgia for the days of his youth. The scent of the evening hearth-fires hung in the air.
Piay shivered. The night was peaceful, but the air in the room crackled with the tension that came before a storm.
From what Piay had been told by the guard who had directed him to Ankhu’s residence, the man they had come to see had been a part of Memphis life for longer than anyone could remember. Zahur had inherited him from the previous governor, who had received the scribe from the one who came before. Everyone knew him, yet he seemed like a ghost drifting on the fringes of their memories, someone they were certain must have been at this or that event, although they could never quite remember for sure.
People told strange tales of how Ankhu roamed through the necropolis at Saqqara, sometimes staying out of the city all night, or how he had been found one dawn, sitting cross-legged in front of the Sphinx as if he and the ancient monument had been having a conversation.
However, his eccentricities were tolerated, because Ankhu knew everything. The names of long-forgotten kings. The names of the stars and the pattern of their movements across the sky. When the moon would rise and fall. When the Nile flood would come each spring. He could speak foreign tongues and read their writing. He knew the practices of the physicians, their potions and spells, and even had access to knowledge that was hidden from other men.
‘Do you think he can help?’ Hannu said, lounging back with his hands behind his head.
‘Let’s hope. We need to work out what this Disc of Ra is all about, and we don’t have Taita or . . .’
Piay fell silent, so Hannu said it. ‘Myssa. Then we’d better hope that this man can help us.’
‘And that we can trust him.’
‘There’s no one in the city I trust, not completely. But what other choice do we have?’
The sound of soft shoes rustled on the steps up to their lofty perch. Piay turned in anticipation.
Despite his great age, Ankhu did not appear frail. His movements were strong, precise, potent. When he reached the top of the steps, he paused to study his guests. He was as wizened as Zahur had said. His small, round face was as coppery as the desert rocks and covered with so many wrinkles and grooves that it resembled a piece of papyrus that had been used and reused many times. Around his head was wrapped a scarf the blue-mauve colour of an iris, the colour of wisdom, and he wore a plain white robe that flowed around his gaunt frame.
