Testament, p.33
Testament, page 33
Harrar narrowed his eyes. He could never believe that a man would act with honest intention; he was always looking for hidden motives, so Piay’s words had hooked him immediately.
‘What have you been keeping from us?’ the nobleman demanded.
‘My master, Taita, has studied at length the scrolls of the scribes and the tales the priests pass on to one another. Using these sources he has uncovered secrets lost for an age.’
The fear drained from the two leaders’ faces and a flicker of greed glimmered in their eyes. To these two, the only secrets worth uncovering were ones that led to the feel of cold, hard gold in their sweaty palms. Piay was not about to disappoint them.
‘You have heard me speak much about the Great Architect, Imhotep,’ Piay continued, now adopting his gravest tone. ‘His tomb has been lost for aeons, buried long ago beneath the shifting sands.’ He paused for a moment and then added, ‘Well, it is lost no more.’
Harrar’s eyes widened. ‘Taita has discovered where Imhotep is buried?’
Piay shrugged. ‘He has determined the general area in which the tomb can be found, but not its precise location. One thing he does know for sure, however – Imhotep’s tomb is filled with riches beyond imagining. More gold than even a pharaoh has ever seen.’
Harrar moistened his lips. Zahur closed his eyes as he no doubt envisaged Imhotep’s hidden fortune. For a moment there was silence, then, ‘Are you suggesting that Imhotep’s grave should be robbed?’ Zahur asked in an incredulous tone, obviously feeling obliged to put on a show of outrage.
‘Surely no one would dare defile a grave,’ Harrar said, sternly. ‘Anyone who risked the wrath of Imhotep would be cursed for all eternity.’
‘Quite so, my lord,’ Piay said. ‘That is why it is beholden upon us to find the tomb of the Great Architect and protect it from grave robbers, before the wicked and the damned can lay their hands on its contents.’
The governor nodded earnestly. ‘To find the tomb . . . To protect it, yes . . . We would be doing a great good. This would be honouring the Great Architect.’
Piay bowed. ‘My thoughts exactly. I knew you would want to do everything in your power to keep the contents of Imhotep’s grave from falling into the wrong hands. This would be good work.’ He reached out an imploring hand. ‘Forgive me for not telling you sooner, my lords. I wanted to carry out a survey of my own, to confirm Lord Taita’s hypotheses. I am now satisfied that he was correct, and so I come to you, in all humility, for fear that if this knowledge reaches the wrong people the tomb will have been desecrated before any work can be done to protect it.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Harrar asked.
‘Speed is of the essence here. Lord Taita had reason to believe that others, too, were searching for this treasure. Imagine what might happen if men sent from Avaris should ever seize it. The Hyksos could hire mercenaries from far and wide to replace the fighting men they have recently lost. They could march on Memphis once again. So, we must not let this opportunity slip through our fingers. My humble advice would be to bring together an army of diggers now, this very day, to set up camp on the north side of the Pyramid of Khufu where the tomb of Imhotep lies. They should begin work immediately.’
‘An army of diggers?’ Zahur said. ‘Where could we find such a thing?’
‘Beyond these walls there is a city full of able-bodied men,’ Piay said.
Zahur crumpled his face at the thought of interacting with the people he led.
‘But surely a man of your wisdom can turn this to his advantage,’ Piay said, encouragingly. ‘The people are angry because they are not being fed. But if you were to take the biggest, strongest men from the city – the very men who pose the greatest threat to its peace – and then give them work and food, you will be saving the greatest treasure in all Egypt from falling into the hands of our enemies . . . and you will be disarming the very men who are most dangerous to you. How could the gods not smile upon Memphis – and upon you both after that?’
Piay stifled a grin as he watched Harrar and Zahur bow their heads together in quiet conversation. He knew that they were united by their greed. They would not be able to resist the prospect of their coffers overflowing with gold. Perhaps they even believed they would be protecting it from the grave robbers, though Piay felt sure that this was the least of their concerns.
Finally, Harrar clapped his hands, beaming.
‘We will make arrangements immediately. There will be a call in the market for all those capable of setting aside their daily work.’
‘And a camp set up at the Pyramid of Khufu today?’ Piay asked.
‘Yes, you are right,’ Harrar said. ‘We cannot afford to waste time. There is too much at stake. Piay, I should be angry with you for keeping such a momentous matter secret from me, but when this tomb arises from the desert sands, you will be well rewarded.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
Piay bowed and left the room. But the moment he set foot in the garden he started wondering what he could possibly do to appease the two most powerful men in Memphis when the tomb was not found.
‘W
hat do you think of my plan?’ Piay asked, after he had told Hannu about his audience with Harrar and Zahur.
‘Not at all bad,’ Hannu replied, which was, by his standards, high praise. ‘An army of men digging in the shadow of the Pyramid of Khufu will certainly make it hard for Myssa to go hunting for clues inside.’
‘Much harder.’
‘And make it easier for us. And Harrar and Zahur will have to provide food to fill the bellies of the men labouring on their behalf.’
‘Many men. I’ll make sure of it.’
‘You should think about their families, too. Make sure the women and children are looked after.’
‘There’s just one problem,’ Piay said. ‘What are we going to do once it’s obvious that the diggers aren’t going to find anything?’
‘Hmm . . .’ Hannu considered the question, and then said, ‘That isn’t your biggest problem.’
‘It isn’t?’
‘No. The thing you really have to worry about is that you accidentally start digging in the right place. If you think Harrar and Zahur are bad now, just imagine what they’ll be like if they’re up to their ears in treasure.’
I
n the full heat of mid-morning, lines of women swayed through the streets, large jars balanced on their heads. Each vessel was filled with water collected from the canal. Once they reached their homes, the contents would be emptied into large ceramic pots that stood by doors or in courtyards, for drinking, washing and cooking.
Thoughts of Myssa still lay heavy on Piay’s mind, for her new-found hatred of him brought him much pain. Still, he took comfort in watching the water-carriers perform their daily ritual. Life went on as it always had, despite the conflicts that raged around them all.
Minutes later Piay was weaving through the swaying women, with Hannu close behind him, making his way towards the steady heartbeat of a drum and the intermittent blast of a trumpet sounding out from the market. Bast pattered at his heels.
The air reeked of rotting refuse. Hannu flapped his arms to frighten off two vultures scavenging among the animal bones, rotting vegetables, soot, broken pottery and old rags that had been thrown out of houses. The flapping of their wings sounded like sails in a strong breeze as they swept into the air.
The waste crunching underfoot was a problem for the governors of all cities, but here, under Zahur’s incompetent rule, it had piled up so high in the streets that it threatened to block the thoroughfares. Black rats scurried everywhere, feasting and breeding.
A crowd had gathered around the market. The throng of people bartering wooden chests for grain, or necklaces for pigs, had ebbed away. Now the citizens stood in silence, staring towards the block where the drummer thumped out his call.
The execution had not been forgotten, nor would it be soon, and the cold question of what new burdens would be heaped upon their shoulders with this day’s announcement could be read on every sullen face.
Easing into the shade by a wall, Piay tucked his head into his chest. In that simmering atmosphere, he had no desire to be recognised as an associate of the hated Zahur. Hannu folded his arms and watched, as sullen as those around him.
When the crowd had swelled, the drummer stepped back and for a while there was only the whisper of the wind in the square. Then a gaunt man hurried forward, shifting from foot to foot as if he was ready to sprint away at any moment. He was wearing a pristine kilt marked with the symbol of a lion. Piay recalled seeing him at the palace. Khanay was his name.
Zahur had sent one of his officials, rather than face the crowd himself.
‘Your pleas have not fallen on deaf ears,’ Khanay began, a faint tremor just detectable in his voice as it rang out across the market. Piay noted that Khanay’s eyes were fixed on a point somewhere on the distant western wall – he had obviously decided that the best way to deal with the crowd was to pretend that they simply didn’t exist. ‘Indeed, our governor, Zahur, has long been aware of the plight of the citizens of Memphis. He has been working tirelessly, night and day, to ensure that the warehouses are filled and no one goes without.’
A murmur raced around the crowd like the first tremor before an earthquake.
If Khanay heard it, he didn’t show it. He continued to stare at the western wall.
‘I come to you today with news that will swell your hearts,’ he said. ‘There is work to be done, important work, to prepare Memphis for the joining of the two kingdoms. This will ensure the days of want lie behind us.’
The official paused to moisten his lips. Piay watched as curiosity began to light up the faces around him.
‘Able-bodied men are required for work beyond the city walls. Better rations will be provided for all who labour and for their families. The governor has found ways to . . .’
A joyful cheer erupted across the crowd, drowning out the rest of Khanay’s words. That sound became one voice tinged with desperate relief. Fists punched the air.
‘The work begins today!’ the official bellowed. ‘Make haste! Gather at the gate to the west . . .’
The crowd’s voice surged into a roar. Khanay looked around, realising it was pointless to attempt to say any more, and with a sigh of relief he stepped back.
The roads to the west of the square were instantly full of pushing, shoving men, all fighting for the chance to sign up.
My plan has been a success, Piay thought. But when he glanced at Hannu he was surprised to see his assistant scowling.
‘What’s wrong?’ Piay asked. ‘That went perfectly.’
‘For the diggers, maybe,’ Hannu said. ‘But they’re not the ones who’ve got to go down to the kingdom of the dead.’
I
n the distance, the bronze hills wavered in the heat haze. The wind had dropped and the midday sun beat down on almost two hundred men crowding the dusty shade just beyond the western wall. Despite the conditions, the mood was bright. Grins flashed and hands clapped shoulders as friends greeted each other.
Scribes bent over their scrolls, making marks with their brushes as they questioned each new arrival. The youngest and strongest were welcomed. Those who were too weak or too old trudged away, complaining loudly.
The taskmaster, Adon, was watching the proceedings closely. He had a face that looked as though it had never known laughter. A whip was coiled at his side. Khanay circled him, clucking. Every now and then Adon would mutter something, and the official would scurry away to scold some poor unfortunate tasked with bringing in a cart with supplies or tents or tools.
‘It seems like Zahur and Harrar can make arrangements fast enough when they want to,’ Hannu said, scanning the mass of bodies.
‘All it took was the promise of gold,’ Piay replied.
‘If they’d acted like this in the first place, they wouldn’t have had a city filled with starving people who wanted to hang them from the walls.’
Piay looked out across the waste. It was half a day’s march from Memphis to Giza. Could Myssa have already solved the puzzle of the Disc of Ra and reached the great monument before them? He prayed to Khonsu that this was not the case.
Bast rubbed against his legs. The trek would seem even longer if they had to take the cat with them, but Piay didn’t dare leave it behind. Hannu had told him he had grown superstitious, but if Bast was a conduit to the protective goddess, as Myssa had once believed, he was not about to take any chances.
Hannu kicked up a whorl of dust. Piay had known him long enough to realise he was wrestling with saying something.
‘What is it?’ Piay asked.
‘Just thinking about that woman.’
Piay did not need to be told who he meant.
‘What about her?’
‘Well, Akkan was a vicious dog, and a powerful enemy. But we could have taken him on, sword to sword. Myssa, though, she’s different. That mind of hers is more dangerous by far than Akkan’s blade.’
‘She could defeat us – is that what you’re saying?’
Hannu remained silent.
Piay nodded. ‘Yes, that’s possible. And if she’s got Seth on her side, that’ll only make it harder for us, but—’
‘Piay!’
At the sound of his name, Piay looked up and immediately spotted his father hurrying through the gate with two of his burly guards beside him.
‘My son,’ Asil gasped. ‘I came as soon as I heard the news.’
‘What news?’
His father leaned in so he would not be overheard, his eyes darting towards the men preparing to march towards Giza.
‘When I heard Zahur was conscripting men to work in the shadow of Khufu’s pyramid, I knew I’d find you here. That fat fool would never have thought of doing that by himself.’
‘It is true. I did offer the governor some advice.’
Asil grinned. ‘I knew it. And such an army, arranged at such expense – that can only be for a work of great importance.’
My father is a shrewd man, there is no doubt of it, Piay thought.
‘Then you have found what you were searching for?’ Asil pressed.
‘Not yet.’
‘But you are close. I have seen the shovels and the picks in the carts. There will be digging, and in the place where the great monuments stand. With this help, I’d wager you’ll find your treasure in no time.’
Piay smiled, humouring the old man. He was not about to reveal his plan, even to his own blood.
‘I never doubted you’d be successful, my son,’ Asil said. ‘I’m proud of you.’
He reached out and squeezed Piay’s arm, a simple act, but one that seemed infused with love.
Piay found himself moved by his father’s words. It surprised him. He’d never felt such a thing before.
‘And Zahur is going to feed all these men and feed them well, I hear,’ Asil added.
‘Carts will be sent from Memphis to the camp every day. These men will not go hungry. Nor will their families.’ Piay paused, watching Asil’s face, and suddenly he thought that perhaps the old man was yearning to be fed himself. ‘Forgive me, Father. I never considered your needs. I will see what provisions can be sent your way.’
Asil shook his head. ‘No, my son. I don’t need favours. The gods will provide for me if that is part of their plan. There are others in greater need. Let them eat first.’
Piay felt a wave of warmth for the old man. ‘Let us speak again when I return. You’ve had a hard life. I’ll make sure that you are well cared for in the time to come.’
Asil blinked away a tear and hugged his son. When he pulled away, he said, ‘When you return, my son.’
As Piay watched the old man walk back through the gate, he tried to make sense of the new emotions swirling around inside him. Was this what it felt like to have a family? And did everyone else find it equally confusing?
‘Complicated man, your father,’ Hannu said. ‘He can be kind, all right, but then you remember he’s best friends with the Guild of Thieves.’
Piay sighed. ‘If there’s one thing that we both should have learned by now, it’s that nothing’s simple.’
Behind them, the taskmaster barked a command and the labourers formed up into a disorderly line. As the carts trundled into place beside them, the column started out towards the necropolis. Someone began to chant a marching song that leaped from mouth to mouth, the words tinged with hope for better times. The wind whisked up the melody, carrying it back to where Piay and Hannu stood waiting.
‘Where is he?’ Hannu growled, looking round.
‘Busy making last-minute arrangements, I expect,’ Piay replied. ‘When I visited Ankhu in his chamber, he was still keen to accompany us. More than keen. Excited.’ He paused. ‘The question is, can we trust him?’
‘Hard to say. Gold has a way of messing with people’s morals.’
They waited and they waited.
The army of labourers disappeared into a cloud of dust that drifted over the horizon. Midday became mid-afternoon. Hannu paced back and forth like a dog waiting for his master’s return. Piay felt his own irritation begin to build.
‘Night will fall before we get to the camp,’ Hannu snapped.
‘At least it will be cooler to travel now,’ Piay said, trying to lift his own spirits, but it wasn’t long before his frustration got the better of him. ‘I can’t wait any longer. I’m going back to the palace to find him.’
Barely had the words left his lips than Piay glimpsed Ankhu striding along the street towards the gate. He was hunched under the weight of a pack, and he leaned on a staff for support, his white robe pristine in the sun, a mauve scarf tied around his head.
Piay sighed. ‘Can you believe that’s our guide?’
‘We should have left here hours ago,’ Hannu snapped when the old man stood in front of them.
‘The Pyramid of Khufu will be there whether we arrive early or late.’ Ankhu shucked off his pack. ‘I am an old man. I will tire quickly carrying this, and then we will be even later.’
Hannu spat and snatched up the pack.
