The Mask of Ra Page 6

‘I am Labda, priest of the snake goddess Meretseger.’

  Sethos started in surprise as he realised why this old priest had been called. Meretseger was venerated by the workers of the dead in the Necropolis.

  ‘And why have you been called?’ Amerotke pressed on remorselessly.

  ‘As you know, my lord, the worship of the snake goddess means the study of the different serpents: those which inhabit the banks of the Nile as well as those which thrive in the hills and valleys around the city of Thebes.’

  ‘And?’ Sethos snapped.

  The old priest didn’t even bother to turn his head.

  ‘To put it bluntly, my lord, a saw-scaled viper’s bite is most deadly. True, a physician may say that poison is helped by the speed by which the victim moves; that is particularly accurate about any animals this viper attacks. They recoil in fear and they run away but they do not travel far. The more agitated they become the faster they die.’

  Amerotke wanted to interrupt but he sat, hands on thighs.

  ‘If,’ the old priest continued, ‘our beloved Pharaoh was bitten as he left his barque on the Nile he would never have reached the gates of the city. The journey is too long. He would have collapsed and died long before he entered the temple of his father, the divine Amun-Ra.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ Sethos asked.

  ‘I know it because it is the truth,’ Labda replied. ‘Why should I tell a lie? I am an old man. I am on oath. There is nothing about snakes I do not know.’

  Amerotke surveyed the court. The old man’s voice was loud and strong. Even the scribes had stopped writing and sat staring across at Labda. If he spoke the truth, if divine Pharaoh had not been bitten as he left the Glory of Ra, then how had he died?

  ‘Was the palanquin searched?’ Amerotke asked. ‘The royal throne on which Tuthmosis sat as he was borne through the city?’

  ‘I made a rigorous check,’ Sethos replied. ‘A viper could not hide there. It would have been seen and caused consternation. Moreover, before you ask, my lord Amerotke, the same is true of the temple of Amun-Ra. Divine Pharaoh left his palanquin at the bottom of the steps and climbed them. The wife of Pharaoh, the beloved Hatusu, was there waiting along with priests and priestesses. No viper was seen or detected.’

  Amerotke hated this moment. It was as if the onlookers were expecting him to perform some trick, some feat of conjuring, and reconcile two conflicting truths.

  ‘My lord.’ Meneloto spoke up, his voice harsh. ‘Labda has spoken the truth. I therefore challenge, in the presence of the goddess Ma’at, those who brought these charges to prove me a liar!’

  ‘How?’ Sethos asked.

  ‘We have condemned prisoners in the cells. Men who have been rightly found guilty and sentenced to horrific death by hanging or, in some cases, poison. Let one of them be taken down to the quayside of the river Nile. Let a viper strike his heel. Let him be carried through the city. My lord Amerotke, I swear by the goddess that if the man survives, I will plead guilty. I will contest this charge no further. But, if he dies, then I ask you, lord judge, for these charges to be dropped.’ Meneloto glanced at the eyes and ears of Pharaoh. ‘I know my lord Sethos is only the mouthpiece of those who wish me ill but he must accept my challenge. I appeal to Amun-Ra, to the divine Ka of our beloved Pharaoh, whose life I treasured more than my own, that I be put to the test!’

  Amerotke covered his face with his hands, the formal sign that a judge was considering a verdict which would be published. Should he accept Meneloto’s challenge? He has appealed to the gods, Amerotke thought, let the gods decide! He took his cupped hands away.

  ‘My lord Sethos,’ he asked softly, ‘how say you?’

  ‘There is more,’ Labda added. ‘Captain Meneloto has spoken too hastily.’

  ‘In what way?’ Amerotke asked.

  ‘So far, my lord Amerotke,’ the old priest waved one vein-streaked hand, ‘we have talked about time and places. But I ask the court, has anyone here ever seen a man bitten by an asp or viper? Some snakes can bite and it’s like a bee sting.’ He pointed to the desiccated corpse of the saw-scale viper. ‘But that one’s bite is different. A true scourge.’

  Amerotke steeled his face. He had wondered when Meneloto’s defence would raise this matter. He knew little about vipers but, when he had been a member of Pharaoh’s chariot squadron, Amerotke had seen a horse bitten by such a snake and the animal’s convulsions had been terrible to behold.

  ‘Continue,’ he said.

  ‘May the goddess Meretseger bear witness that I speak the truth. My lord Sethos himself will also know this but, if divine Pharaoh had been bitten by such a viper, his convulsions would have been terrible to behold.’

  ‘But he did convulse,’ Sethos retorted, rather flustered. ‘In the temple of Amun-Ra, the beloved Hatusu, the god’s wife, says that he convulsed.’

  The old priest tried to hide his surprise.

  ‘But that was too late,’ he protested. ‘It should have happened before!’

  ‘I have appealed to the gods,’ Meneloto interrupted. ‘I have asked for their judgement.’

  Amerotke turned to his scribes but they kept their heads bowed. He glanced towards the darkening courtyard. He needed to think, to reflect, to sift among the evidence.

  ‘The court will adjourn,’ he declared. ‘It will convene at the prescribed time tomorrow morning. I will make my decision. Captain Meneloto, you are, I understand, under house arrest?’

  The soldier, looking strangely relieved, nodded.

  ‘Then you will be taken back there and brought before the court tomorrow morning for my judgement.’ Amerotke turned the pectoral on his chest so the goddess no longer looked out over the court. He clapped his hands gently. ‘That is my verdict!’

  The court then broke up. The old priest shuffled away from the cushions and a murmur of conversation rose from the scribes and witnesses. Amerotke remained seated. Only when Meneloto had left the hall did Sethos rise and come over. He crouched down before the judge.

  ‘What can I do for you, eyes and ears of Pharaoh?’ Amerotke sardonically asked. ‘You have heard my decision. The court will wait!’

  Sethos pointed to the volumes of law.

  ‘There is nothing in the procedure against divine Pharaoh’s prosecutor asking the judge of what sentence or punishment you will inflict if the case is proved.’

  ‘Surely you are not asking for this man’s life? The court will not allow that. Perhaps a downgrading in rank, a fine?’

  ‘Exile!’ Sethos replied sharply. ‘Exile to an oasis in the Red Lands to the west!’ He glimpsed the astonishment in Amerotke’s face. ‘I, too, am under orders,’ he explained. ‘The royal circle wanted his life. I tempered their anger.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  Amerotke rose from his seat and, although he knew he was being discourteous, turned his back on Sethos and walked into the small side chapel of the Hall of Two Truths. He stretched out and touched the huge ankhet, the symbol of truth, painted just within. On the wall which held the door, an artist had depicted Pharaoh Tuthmosis dealing justice to Egypt’s enemies, arm raised, his club about to descend on a Kushite captive. The artist had caught Pharaoh’s features most accurately: his thin, pointed face, the perpetual frown Tuthmosis had always seemed to wear. Amerotke bowed. Did Pharaoh’s Ka now visit this temple? Did he watch the proceedings?

  Amerotke closed the door, turning the intricate key so the wooden tongue caught the clasp and held it. He took off the pectoral and other insignia of office and put them in the mother-of-pearl inlaid casket. Afterwards, as customary, he crouched before the statue.

  Something was terribly wrong. He didn’t blame Sethos; the eyes and ears of Pharaoh looked most uncomfortable with this case. There was, indeed, an inherent contradiction. If Pharaoh had been bitten by that viper on board the Glory of Ra he would have convulsed. He would never have lasted until he reached the temple of Amun-Ra. So why were these charges being brought against Meneloto? Was he to be a scap
egoat? Or was it something else? Dark and more secretive? If divine Pharaoh had not been bitten as he left the royal barque, what had happened? Amerotke recalled the rumours. Hadn’t Pharaoh’s sepulchre been desecrated? Curses and maledictions daubed in human blood on his unfinished tomb? And hadn’t doves, blood streaming from their bodies, fallen from the sky? Was that an accident? A mere coincidence? But the desecration of the royal tomb could not be so easily dismissed. After all, here was Pharaoh returning in victory from his battles along the Delta. Across the Nile, in the City of the Dead, a group of determined blasphemers had committed the most horrendous crime. They had killed Pharaoh’s guards and desecrated his tomb. Why? Grave robbery was common but such sacrilege very rare.

  Amerotke played with the ring on his finger. Why was divine Pharaoh being cursed? Was his death some sort of judgement? But, if that was the case, it was no longer a matter of incompetence but of murder. And why hadn’t the desecration of the tomb been mentioned during the trial? Yes, he would raise that matter tomorrow, but he would have to be careful: he could not discuss this with anyone; even the merest hint that Pharaoh had been the object of a murderous conspiracy would throw Thebes into confusion. And, if he could not prove it, he would not be the first judge to receive a proclamation, signed with the royal cartouche, ordering his removal.

  Amerotke leaned his head against the wall, relishing its coolness. He heard a knock on the door but ignored it. He would walk home this evening and, yes, he would spend his evening quietly. Let his mind go back over what he had heard and seen today. Sethos was only the tool, but who was the person pressing this case? Tuthmosis’ heir was only a boy, a mere child. So, was it Hatusu, Pharaoh’s wife? Or Rahimere the Grand Vizier? Or was General Omendap, Pharaoh’s commander, jealous of Meneloto? Or Bayletos that cunning chief scribe of the House of Silver? Amerotke recalled playing on the sandstone cliffs above Thebes and going into a long, dark cave. He felt the same now and wondered what horrors waited in the shadows.

  Hathor: the Egyptian goddess of love.

  CHAPTER 4

  The knocking became more insistent. Amerotke rose and unlocked the door. Asural slipped through. In the poor light his face looked ashen; his eyes, usually crinkled in pleasure, shifted about. He put his helmet down and tapped his sword belt, fingers playing with the hilt carved in the shape of a jackal’s head.

  ‘Amerotke,’ he whispered as if the room were full of witnesses. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Do you realise what was being said in there?’

  ‘I listened to the evidence.’

  ‘My lord, don’t play tricks with me.’ Asural wiped the sweat from his dome-like head, drying his hand on his kilt. ‘My mind may not be as sharp as yours. I am a soldier, blunt and honest.’

  ‘I’m always wary of people who call themselves blunt and honest,’ Amerotke replied. ‘And don’t play the hearty soldier with me, Asural. You are cunning, sly and, although heavy in body, fleet in mind.’ He patted Asural on the arm. ‘You are a fox, Asural. I, for one, am not taken in by your bluff ways. But you are a good policeman. Honest, you don’t take bribes. More importantly, I like and respect you.’

  Asural sighed and his shoulders sagged.

  ‘So, don’t come in here,’ Amerotke continued, ‘trying to make me feel more agitated than I am. I know what was being said out there. I don’t believe divine Pharaoh was killed by that viper and neither do you. But how and why he died is a mystery. I have to decide where the power of my court ends and the tortuous ways of the royal circle begin.’

  ‘There’s also the tomb robberies,’ Asural said, scratching the side of his head. ‘We’ve received information about another. An old noblewoman. She was married to a Hittite general who settled in Egypt. The family went to her tomb on the cliffs above the City of the Dead. The false door was undamaged, the secret entrance undiscovered. No sign of a break-in but amulets, necklaces and small cups left in the porchway of the tomb had been removed. They are going to start complaining,’ Asural continued. ‘They’ll send in petitions to the House of a Million Years; they’ll look for a scapegoat and that will be me.’

  ‘Which reminds me of a story I intend to tell my children tonight,’ Amerotke replied.

  Asural groaned and looked away.

  ‘I promise you,’ Amerotke continued kindly, ‘once this business is finished, we’ll go searching for these tomb-robbers who can walk through rock and mud. What do you think of the evidence against Meneloto?’

  ‘As you said, for every item the eyes and ears of the Pharaoh produced, Meneloto produced another. It was like a game of Senet where both players have blocked each other.’

  ‘And the witnesses?’ Amerotke asked. ‘Peay?’

  ‘He has an unsavoury witness. He lives in the shadow lands between day and night.’ Asural moved his head from side to side. ‘Peay consorts with whores and prostitutes down near the quayside. He also has a predilection for pretty boys’ bottoms. A man who drinks from many cups: some clean, some soiled.’

  ‘But a good physician?’

  ‘He is a wealthy man. I don’t think he would lie.’ Asural smiled thinly. ‘Commit perjury in the Hall of Two Truths. Peay certainly would not like to spend years working in the gold mines of Sinai.’

  ‘And Labda?’

  ‘He dwells in a cave deep in the Valley of the Kings. He is a keeper of a small shrine to the goddess Meretseger. A man of integrity.’ Asural paused.

  From the trees in the courtyard came an owl hoot, long and mournful.

  ‘It’s time we were gone,’ Amerotke said. ‘Ensure the shrine and my chamber are safe.’ He put his hand on the latch.

  ‘You should take care.’

  Amerotke turned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t act the innocent with me,’ Asural teased. ‘All of Thebes is in turmoil. The Osiris and Isis regiments now camp outside the city. Five chariot squadrons have been moved up from the south. It may be the season of the planting but it is also the season of the hyenas.’

  ‘Oh, come, come, Asural, you are a chief of the temple police, not a riddler and soothsayer. Spell out your dire warnings and portents.’

  ‘There have been plenty of them,’ Asural replied. ‘Astrologers in the House of Life saw a star falling from the skies. The dead have been seen walking in the streets and alleyways in the city across the Nile. Pharaoh’s heir is only a boy. There are those who would like to seize the throne. Well, at least, until he is a man.’

  ‘I am a judge,’ Amerotke reminded him. ‘I only dispense Pharaoh’s justice.’

  And, opening the door, he walked out into the Hall of Two Truths.

  The courtyard beyond was now deserted. The sacred shrine had been closed, a wreath of flowers placed at its foot. The old priests, the pure ones, had sprinkled its doors with incense. The scribes had cleared away the books of judgement, the cushions and chairs. The hall was bare and empty. Amerotke always thought it looked more majestic that way. He knelt before the shrine, hands extended, muttered a short prayer of thanks then rose and left the temple. Its doors of burnished copper were open and closed by the guards. Amerotke walked down the hall of columns and out through the great soaring pylons. The Way of the Sphinx, the Dromos, was now deserted. A refreshing breeze had sprung up and the dying sunlight caught the roseate sphinxes and gave them a strange life of their own.

  A group of novice priests were leading great oxen, streamers fixed between their horns, up to one of the slaughterhouses for the morning sacrifice. A few weary pilgrims clustered around a stela of the dwarf god Bes at the end of the causeway. Under the grimacing figure of the dwarf god, sacred hieroglyphics had been carved. The stela was washed by a fountain, the water splashing over it and trickling down into a granite basin. The pilgrims were filling leather skins with water, a sure protection, or so it was claimed, against scorpion and asp bites.

  Amerotke brushed by them. He was now in the great forecourt of the temple. He paused. Should he really go straight home? Or journey to the north
of the city and visit the funeral priest in the temple of Amun-Ra whom he’d paid to pray for his dead parents? Amerotke breathed in: that was the place where divine Pharaoh had died. Perhaps they would think he was there on official business.

  ‘My lord Amerotke?’

  He turned. ‘Ah, kinsman Prenhoe!’

  The young scribe came shuffling towards him. One of the thongs on his sandal was broken.

  ‘I do not wish to discuss the case,’ Amerotke warned.

  Prenhoe hid his disappointment.

  ‘One day, kinsman,’ he asked, ‘would you support me in being appointed as a judge? I mean, in the minor courts?’

  ‘Of course. You are a member of the School of Scribes. You have taken its examinations.’

  ‘Good.’ Prenhoe’s thin face broke into a smile. He blinked. ‘I thought today was a good day. I had a dream last night.’

  ‘Prenhoe,’ Amerotke warned. ‘Now is not the time for your dreams though it is perhaps the hour to prepare for sleep.’ He stretched out and clasped Prenhoe’s wrist. ‘Go home!’

  His kinsman shuffled off. Amerotke walked down towards the palm trees where he had seen Shufoy selling amulets earlier in the day. The dwarf was leaning against a tree fast asleep, his master’s walking stick and parasol lying beside him, a beer cup cradled in his lap. Of the amulets, or the money Shufoy must have earned, there was no sign.

  Amerotke crouched down. He put his mouth near the dwarf’s ear.

  ‘Sleep only during the hours of night,’ he declared sonorously, quoting one of Shufoy’s proverbs. ‘But while Ra rules the day, use it for life; use the light for happiness, health and prosperity.’

  Shufoy startled awake. ‘Oh master! You were longer than I thought.’

  He scrambled to his feet, thrusting the beer cup into the little sack he carried. He handed Amerotke his white walking cane, its head carved in the shape of an ibis bird. He would have prepared the flabellum but Amerotke patted him on the head.

  ‘How much beer did you drink?’ he teased. ‘The sun’s strength is fading, I have no use for that.’