An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) (19 page)

Read An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) Online

Authors: Paul Doherty

On our journey home both the Queen and my master remained silent. We entered the palace grounds by a side gate. Our retinue with the carts disappeared, leaving the Queen, the Veiled One and myself to walk alone through the deserted gardens. We passed through guard posts; the Queen, armed with the imperial seal, was not checked or stopped, but given every deference. As we passed the House of Residence, the place where I had been raised, I paused in astonishment: the gates had now been removed from their hinges, the walls widened to allow the builders’ carts in. Stacks of timber lay next to slabs of masonry and builder’s tools. Already the masons, sleepy-eyed, were gathering. I hadn’t been there for some time. I’d heard vague rumours about refurbishment and rebuilding.
‘You are surprised, Mahu?’ The Veiled One took off his striped robe, throwing it over his arm. He stood like a hunting dog sniffing the breeze.
‘All things change, Mahu. This is going to form a new residence for me and my bride.’
‘You are to marry, Master?’
‘The bride is already chosen. My Cousin Nefertiti.’
‘The Beautiful One!’ The words slipped out of my mouth before I could bite my tongue.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ The Veiled One stared at me, head to one side. ‘That’s what her name means: the Beautiful One has arrived. How did you know this?’
‘I glimpsed her once.’
‘Impossible.’ He shook his head. ‘But, there again, Mahu is the Baboon who hides amongst the trees. My Cousin Nefertiti is the daughter of Ay, my mother’s brother.’ He grasped my hand. ‘You will meet her soon.’
Tiye was watching us strangely. The noise from beyond the walls grew: the shouts of masons, the creak of timber, the clatter of ropes and pulleys.
‘You know nothing of her, do you, Mahu?’ she asked, coming forward and pulling back her hood.
I noticed again how she wore no adornment, not one precious stone on her fingers, ears or around her neck. The same for her son, as if they had to enter the presence of their god purified, wearing nothing more than simple clothes.
‘The Divine One wanted a marriage with a Mitanni Princess’ – Tiye gave that twisted smile – ‘but I convinced him otherwise.’
She was about to continue when I heard the sound of running feet and Snefru, breathless and wide-eyed, came running down the path. He fell to his knees trying to catch his breath and he touched the ground with his forehead.
‘What is it?’ the Veiled One snapped.
‘My lord!’
‘Kneel back, man.’
Snefru raised himself back on his heels, wiping the sweat from his disfigured face.
‘A company of archers,’ he gasped. ‘The Strength of Khonsu are now encamped’ – he gestured with his hands – ‘not far from our pavilion.’
‘Troops?’ the Veiled One murmured, turning to his mother. ‘The Divine One has sent troops!’
‘Their officer,’ Snefru panted, ‘claims they are here to protect you against any further accidents or mishaps.’
The Veiled One’s face suffused with anger. Tiye seized his arm. ‘Let it be. Let it be,’ she murmured, ‘for the moment. Let us be like,’ she smiled, ‘yes, let us be like trees and bend before the wind.’
My master dismissed Snefru. He led me and his mother into a sunfilled glade. ‘Whom do people say I am, Mahu?’
‘You are Prince Amenhotep,’ I stammered.
He raised his hand to slap me but let it fall.
‘But who do men say I
am
, Mahu? What do they snigger behind their hands?’
‘The Grotesque? The Ugly One? The Veiled One?’
My master nodded. ‘You have spoken with true voice and so will I. I shall tell you my real name. I shall reveal it to you as I have to those who are close to me.’ He stared through the trees at the sun. ‘I am He-who-ispleasing-to-the-Aten, my true Father, who knows my name. At the appointed time I shall reveal it to others but now to you, Mahu. I am He who is pleasing to the Aten. My name is Akhenaten.’
Chapter 8
Your love, dear woman, is as sacred to me as sweet
balmy oil is to the limbs of the restless.
Your love, dear woman, is as vital to me as the shade of
a cool tree in the blazing midday heat.
Your love, dear woman, is as alluring to me as the fire
in the freezing night wind.
Your love, dear woman, is as precious to me as the
gurgling spring to my thirsty throat.
Your love, dear woman, is as delicious to me as sweet
soft bread to a starving man.
So says the poet, so says Mahu when he first met Nefertiti! ‘She of Pure Heart and Pure Hands, Beloved of his Flesh, Great King’s Wife whom he loves beyond all others. Lady of the Two Lands, Mistress of the Diadem, Wearer of the Two Plumes, Mistress of the House! Nefertiti, may she live forever! Beloved of the Great High Sun Disc who dwells in eternal jubilee.’
I still sing her praises. The very thought of Nefertiti sets my heart dancing in its own dark chamber. The faintest whiff of her fragrance is like the sound of gushing water in a stone-dry desert. She is the warmth on the coldest night, that wide-eyed girl whose memory calls across the years as clear as the song of a swallow on a quiet spring morning. Nefertiti’s touch is still with me; her smile warms my soul and sends the memories whirling like birds from a thicket. She comes to me on the wings of an eagle in the dead of night wrapped in storms, Nefertiti, my pearl of great price. My witch queen with her face of dazzling beauty. Nefertiti, the beautiful woman who has arrived!
Nefertiti arrived during the hot season in the thirty-third year of the Magnificent One’s reign. She and her entourage swept into the courtyard to be met by Akhenaten, his mother, God’s Father Hotep and myself standing behind them. Oh, how shall I describe her? How do you describe the sun? The cool North wind? The beauty of a million dazzling flowers? Oh, of course, I shall try. She was about medium height dressed in embroidered robes. She shimmered and dazzled in jewellery: a pair of bracelets of copper, gold-studded with turquoise, cornelian and lapis lazuli were fastened to her wrists by a golden clasp. A necklace of unique pendants decorated her exquisite neck: it was made of balls of turquoise, lapis lazuli and cornelian, all set in gold cages, and, in the centre an amulet with the inscription:
All Life and Protection
. Against her lovely chest rested a falcon pectoral displaying the sun disc; it was inlaid with precious stones of blue glass. Anklets of amethyst and gold beads glittered above silver sandals with thongs of pure gold. She was most graceful of form, long-legged and narrow-waisted; the front of her white gown was pulled tightly back to tease us with her full white breasts and elegant throat. People have asked me to describe her face. Perfection in every sense! Oval-shaped with high cheekbones, a short narrow nose above full red lips. Her skin was like dusty gold framed by dark-red hair which cascaded down to her shoulders. Finally, those eyes! Dark blue, eerily beautiful beneath the heavy painted lids. Yet Nefertiti’s beauty was more than that. The way she walked, languorous but purposeful, head slightly back, the imperious gaze belied by the laughing mouth and sparkling eyes.
On that day, Nefertiti came and stopped before Akhenaten and crossed her arms, coy though seductive, her lovely fingers splayed out against her shoulders. She bowed her head. Even as she did so, she winked at Akhenaten, and, in a soft but carrying voice, spoke the formal words of greeting. Akhenaten took her hands. From where I stood behind him I sensed the joy which flooded his entire being. He replied formally, their faces met then parted. After this we processed into the audience hall, rich with the smell of cooking and the aroma from pots of perfume and countless baskets of sweet-smelling flowers. Eventually I was introduced. I did not make the obeisance: I just stood and stared at this woman whom I had loved at first sight and will love to my last breath. Akhenaten coughed. Nefertiti smiled, one eyebrow slightly raised, the tip of her tongue between those delicious lips. She laughed, came forward, hands touching my arms, those dazzling blue eyes dancing with mischief.
‘You are Mahu.’ She spoke as if I was a close friend, a brother. ‘You are Mahu,’ she repeated, ‘the Prince’s childhood friend. I have longed to meet you.’ She paused and glanced in mock anger at Akhenaten. ‘You are more handsome than they said,’ she added impishly.
I made the obeisance. She withdrew her hand, the tip of her fingers caressed my skin.
We were ushered to our seats. Hotep and Tiye sat at one end of the small table, Akhenaten and Nefertiti at the other. I sat facing the other person who was to play such an important role in my life though, to be honest, at first I hardly noticed his smiling face. My heart was still singing, my blood thrilling, I was in the Field of the Blessed. Oh, of course, Nefertiti was Akhenaten’s betrothed. She would become the Nebet Per, the mistress of the house, the Ankhet Ennuit, his married woman, the Hebsut, his wife. Yet that did not concern me. She was so beautiful. Who cared how many might stare, touch, possess her, as long as I could?
The food was served, the goblets filled. I sipped and ate absentmindedly, almost unaware of the diced meat mixed with rice and nuts, the cauliflower and anchovies, the fish in lemon, the lamb and beef in their savoury sauces. Nefertiti was my food and drink. I studied her out of the corner of my eye. Her moods were as changeable as the moon, shy but coquettish. She flirted outrageously with Akhenaten, fluttering her eyelashes, their hands brushing, touching and teasing beneath the table. At times she broke off talking to him and turned to the servants. She ignored the disfigurement of the Rhinoceri but chattered pleasantly to them, asking for their names and how long they had served. Snefru, acting as steward, was specially singled out and complimented. Nefertiti in those first few hours captivated everyone, with her charm and tact. Eventually I had to look away. Her gaze would catch mine, the smile would fade, her eyes becoming more searching as if she was weighing me in the balance like the Goddess Ma’at, sifting for the truth. Only then did Ay sitting opposite me make his presence felt.
Ay, father of Nefertiti, handsome and dangerous as a panther. A man in his mid-thirties who had seized the cup of life and meant to drink it to the dregs. He was comely of face with a hard, muscular body, every inch the professional soldier. He wore a short, oiled and perfumed wig over his reddish, cropped hair, those sharp, ever-seeing eyes heavily lined with kohl, his handsome, highcheeked face delicately painted. I could see the likeness between father and daughter though Ay possessed an obvious sharpness, carefully hidden beneath effete movements, exquisite manners and precious speech. He had intelligent eyes, a smiling mouth, smooth cheeks and an even smoother tongue. Even then, fascinated as I was by Nefertiti, I recognised a dangerous man, who rejoiced and exulted in his own talents as well as those of his beautiful daughter.
Oh yes, Ay was a joy to behold and a terror to be with. From the very beginning it was so. A mongoose of a man, of cunning heart and keenest wits. He was dressed in embroidered robes, silver rings on his fingers, and a collar of gold around his neck. He ate and drank sparsely, more intent on studying me. When I noticed him, he grinned boyishly and extended his hand across the table. I clasped it. He then gently led me into conversation about the hunting along the river, the price of wheat, and the details of his own journey down the Nile. At the end of the meal Hotep and Queen Tiye withdrew, as did Akhenaten and Nefertiti, hands clasped together, whispering endearments. I watched them go, such a strange contrast. Akhenaten with his ungainly body and strange face, the jerky movements, the tap of his cane; Nefertiti almost gliding beside him. Yet it was not so much a contrast. They complemented each other: Akhenaten with his sharp, haunting features next to the glorious beauty of his companion. It was almost as if they were no longer man and woman but merged to become one flesh, one being.
Once they’d gone, I felt as if the sunlight had left the room. For a while I sat sadly cradling my wine cup. Ay plucked a grape and coughed. I looked up, the servants had gone. Only Snefru guarded the door.
‘You are fascinated by my daughter?’
‘Any man would be.’
Ay smiled, his eyes half-closed as if he was tired and had drunk too much. He began a desultory conversation but, as he talked, I became aware of how crafty he was. Oh, he mentioned the gossip of the court, once again the weather and the crops. He also used such items to let slip how much he knew, as well as details of his own life: his two marriages, his career as a scribe, his war service as a commander of a chariot squadron. In any other situation he would have been a bore. He kept filling my wine cup, at the same time watching me intently.

Other books

My Lord and Master by Whitlock, Victoria
Natural Selection by Sharp, Elizabeth
Beware of the Dog by Peter Corris
The Venetian by Mark Tricarico
DoubleDown V by John R. Little and Mark Allan Gunnells
Beauty and the Chief by Alysia S Knight
The Shifting Price of Prey by McLeod, Suzanne
Make Me Remember by Beth Kery