Nefertiti (29 page)
A quiet but entirely authoritative voice possessed the sudden silence of the cell: 'What is happening here?'
He had entered unnoticed. Perhaps both Mahu and I had been too engaged with the enactment of our mutual antagonism, the blood and sweat of what was happening; but it was as if he carried no shadow, made no noise, as if he had suddenly appeared from thin air. Ay. His very name was weightless. Thin air, indeed, seemed to describe his presence. But what force has thin air that it can cause a thug like Mahu to leap to his feet, alarmed, already stammering his excuses?
'Release this man from his bonds,' Ay whispered almost, to ensure we all listened carefully.
Mahu nodded, full of hatred and uncertainty, and the guards did as they were ordered. I cradled my damaged hand and bloody wrists.
'This man is naked,' Ay added, as if mildly puzzled. He looked enquiringly at Mahu, who gestured vaguely, at a loss to answer. Ay's face modulated into an expression that in
others would have constituted a
smile. His lips pulled back to reveal evenly spaced fine white teeth, the teeth of a man whose diet is so refined nothing ever rots or damages them. But his grey eyes smiled not at all. 'Perhaps you should offer him your own clothes,' he said softly.
Mahu looked so surprised I almost laughed. And his hands did indeed stray towards his own linens as if he would actually obey this absurd command. Then Ay, with a dismissive nod, made it clear that my clothing should be brought for me - which it was, instantly. I dressed as quickly as I could, despite the sickening pain of my broken finger, and immediately felt stronger, more equal. The three of us stood in silence. I wondered what could possibly happen now. Ay let Mahu suffer; he stood there wishing he were made of stone.
'Did this man not expressly state to you that he was under my protection?' Ay enquired of Mahu.
If it was possible, I was momentarily the more startled. Mahu glanced at me.
Yet what do I find? The chief of police personally enacting his own little inquisition. I am very surprised.'
'I detained him in the course of my duties, and with the authority of Akhenaten himself,' Mahu countered.
'I see. So the King knows you have this man here for interrogation?'
Mahu could say nothing.
'I do not think he would approve of your treatment of a fellow officer whom the King himself decided, from the depth of his wisdom, to appoint.'
Then he turned to me and I looked for the first time properly into his frozen grey eyes - full, it suddenly struck me, of snow. 'Come with me.'
I would save my vengeance on Mahu for later, and relish it then. It took all my willpower not to punch him hard in the face with my good hand as I walked past him. He knew it, too. Instead I just stared at him, then carried on, as well as I was able
, and followed the footsteps of
Ay up the stone stairs, towards the weak light of day staining these miserable walls.
We were soon in a wide brick-lined shaft, perhaps a hundred cubits deep, like an enormous well that had not yet struck water, and never would. Stairs wound up the sides, and at every level chambers like those in a catacomb disappeared quickly in different directions into inky shadows. The entrances to these were barred but I saw, as we passed, the still-living mortal remains of men in the darkness, little piles of skin and bone, some with their white eyes open, in tiny cages not fit for dogs. In another space I saw men buried up to their noses in large sand-filled clay vases, like the ibises and baboons we dedicate in sacred catacombs. Madness and despair showed in their eyes. These men had been abandoned here and could no longer speak to defend or betray themselves. There was almost no sound.
Ay acknowledged the existence of none of this horror; he just walked up the stairs methodically, step by step, as if it cost him no effort. I followed, my mind bewildered by events and these sights, until finally, out of breath, I stepped out of that pit of suffering and misery and into the ordinary light of day. Suddenly there was the world again: heat and brightness, and guards sitting bored in the shadows of a reed hut. They all rose instantly to respectful attention when they saw Ay.
Ay got into a carrying chair, already prepared with uniformed carriers, and motioned for me to sit beside him. Shading my eyes against the blaze of daylight, I suddenly recognized where we were: in the Red Land behind the city, south of the desert altars. It must be late morning, for the shadows had gone and all was hazy with heat and overwhelming light. I felt very weak and tired. Ay handed me a little water jar, and I drank slowly as the carriage moved away along one of the Medjay paths. Servants ran beside us holding shades against the light. I think he had a profound aversion to the sun. We sat in silence. I found myself unable to think, only to feel the strange adjacency of these two worlds, the one buried deep, the other o
pen to
Ra and the light of day, and me passing between them, fortunately in the right direction.
'How long have I been imprisoned?' I asked Ay.
'Today is the eve of the Festival,' he replied calmly.
Two days.
Because of Mahu, I now had only one day left. How could I solve the mystery in so little time? And how could I now save my family? My hatred for him intensified, like a pure flame.
'And what news of my assistant, Khety?'
'I know nothing of this man,' said Ay dismissively.
That was the one piece of good news. Perhaps he had escaped.
The carrying chair took us to the border of the city, and soon we were passing through the ways of the central city, where the people were going about their daily acts and affairs so absurdly unconscious of the atrocities being committed on their fellow humans nearby. For a city in so much sun, I saw dark shadows everywhere. Parennefer had described the place as an enchantment, but now it seemed a mockery, an appalling delusion. Ay looked out at the spectacle, occasionally glancing up at building work in progress, at the many teams of artisans and workmen moving about anxiously and hurriedly on the high walls, trying to make the place look as finished as possible in time for the Festival. He seemed sceptical. He noticed me glancing at him.
'Do you believe they will finish in time for the ceremonies?' I asked.
He replied in his quiet voice: 'This is a fools' paradise, made of mud and straw, and soon it will crumble and collapse back into the base matter from which it is constructed.'
We passed the Small Aten Temple and the Great Palace, and continued along the Royal Road until we arrived at the harbour. I had not stopped, at any point, to consider my position. Here I was in the company of this man of enormous power, having been saved from the loving attention of Mahu and his gang; but of what nature was this new company? What did Ay want from me? He had freed me from one trap, but was I entering another? No guards accompanied us; I could simply have stepped out of the carrying chair and walked away up the street. But then what? I felt that he would be able to locate me anywhere.
He gestured to me to board a reed boat. I saw anchored out on the water his magnificent ship. So, this was our destination: his floating palace, a movable estate of power. I boarded the reed boat, as he knew I would.
The ship seemed to hang in the water by its own immutable laws, a self-contained creation of stateliness. The streamers had been removed, the Priests and the orchestra had gone, and now, as I stood on the main deck, it gave above all a sense of power, clarity and grace. Ay moved swiftly into the shade of the portico, gesturing for me to follow. 'The physician will examine your injuries,' he said. 'Then we will dine.'
Instantly, serving men came forward to guide me to a room with a low bed, made up with fresh linen. They indicated that they wished me to undress so that they could wash me, but I refused. I wanted to wash my own wounds, even though my finger was throbbing horribly. I managed to get myself out of my old clothes and slowly cleaned the cuts, the sores on my wrists and ankles, and the sweat and dirt from my face and neck. Mahu and his guards had cut me up: bruises and knife lacerations criss-crossed on my inner thighs, and under my arms. Then, as I was drying myself, there was a knock at the door, and a man
of middle age, wearing an understated but costly tunic, entered. He had a strange, empty face. His lips were thin. He reminded me of an abandoned house.
'I am the chief of physicians to God's Father,' he said in a voice that was almost colourless. 'I will need to examine you now.' I experienced a reluctance to allow him to touch me. He saw this. 'It is necessary.' I nodded.
He placed his hands upon me at different points; then his fingers quickly probed the cuts and wounds, squeezing at the broken skin to test for infection or vile fluids. When he lifted my hand to observe the broken finger, taking it between his own to test it by moving it about, the pain was horrible and I flinched. He did not seem to notice. He just nodded, as if this confirmed the obvious conclusion that the finger was truly broken.
He opened a small chest, which I noticed contained jars of minerals, herbs, honey, fat and bile. Next to them were vessels for the mixing and storage of essences and oils, and then an array of surgical instruments; sharp hooks, long probes, cupping vessels and vicious-looking forceps hanging from hooks. It was precise and highly ordered; a small working laboratory. How similar such instruments were, I realized, to those used in the processes of embalming and mummification. I remembered the Chamber of Purification. I remembered Tjenry and his glass eyes. I remembered the canopic jar and its appalling contents. I noticed a statue of Thoth, god of knowledge and writing, in his baboon form looking down at us both from a niche. Guardian of the deceased in the Otherworld.
'I see you are interested in alchemy,' I said.
He closed the chest and turned around. 'It is a way of knowledge,' he replied. 'Transmutation. The purification from base substance of eternal truth.'
'By what means?'
'By fire.' He looked at me with his desolate eyes. 'Turn to face the wall, please.' He handed me a dish. 'What is this for?' I asked.
He did not reply. I turned away. I felt him laying out my fingers on a board, the broken one tender and crooked to one side.
'I have heard of a substance, known only to the alchemists; a water that wets not and yet burns everything.'
Suddenly an intense pain exploded in my little finger, shooting up my arm. I vomited into the dish he had given me. When I came back to my senses he was already binding the finger in the splints. Now the pain was gone, replaced by a thrumming ache.
Your finger is reset. It will take time to heal.'
He busied himself with returning his room to its state of meticulous order.
'As Chief of Physicians you must have access to the Books of Thoth?' I asked.
After a short silence he said: 'You could know nothing of such matters.'
'The Books are spoken of as compendiums of secrets and hidden powers.'
'Power is hidden in everything,' he replied. 'There is great power in this knowledge. And also great danger to those who are not correctly initiated into its secrets and responsibilities.'
We stared at each other. He waited to see whether I would try again. Then he nodded discreetly and departed, shutting the door silently behind him.
I was taken to the state room, with its gold chairs, long benches and Hittite wall hangings, and left alone to wait. Two trays on stands had been set - crisp linen, precious metal dishes, alabaster goblets almost pellucid in the polished light entering through the cabin windows. I was starving, and the prospect of a fine feast, however tense the occasion, set my stomach grumbling.
I was just pondering the glorious objects around me when I felt a drift of air, and there was Ay. We sat beside the trays, the two of us attended by a silent servant who was able to serve us perfectly and to maintain an air of not really being there. He brought us many dishes, including a fish cooked in a package of papyrus with the addition of white wine, herbs and nuts - a thing I would never have imagined.
'The fish is considered a poor man's meal,' Ay said, 'but correctly prepared it is delicate and makes meat seem crude. After all, it comes from the heart of the Great River, which gives us all life.'
'And carries away our rubbish and our dead dogs.'
'Do you see it that way?' He thought about it, then shook his head, dismissing my comment. 'The fish is an impressive creature. It lives in a different element. It remains silent and pure. It has its secrets but cannot speak of them.'
He delicately peeled the tail, spine and head away from his fish, and placed them on another dish. I followed suit, more messily. The two greasy heads lay on their sides as if listening intently to our conversation. Ay ate a few mouthfuls of the delicate flesh.
'I brought you here because I know you have found the Queen,' he said. 'Otherwise I would have left you to the tender care of Mahu, who hates you.'
I said nothing. Anyway, my mouth was full.
'In fact, I will express that thought another way. She is a clever woman, and would not have led you to her unless she wished to be found. True?'
Again, I did not reply. I needed to see where we were going. I remembered the look of animal fear upon that beautiful face when Ay's name was mentioned.
'Therefore she has a plan, which to some extent depends on your participation. And of course this plan must be to reveal herself again during the Festival. Why else would she sequester herself?'
It was not a question requiring an answer.
'I have not found her,' I said. 'I do not know where she is.'
He stopped eating. Those snow-filled eyes stared at me. 'I know you have found her. I know she is not dead. I know she will return. So the only question is, what happens next? She cannot know, so this is the area of interest to me.'
At a nod from Ay, the servant cleared the dishes and set new ones.
'And what have I got to do with all this?'
You are her go-between. That being the case, I wish you to take her a message from me.'
'I'm not a messenger boy.' 'Sit down.'
'I'll stand.'
'The message is this: ask her to come to me, and I will restore order. There is no need for this melodrama. There are sensible solutions, correct choices to be made, for all of us. She does not have to fight us all to return stability to the Two Lands.'
I waited for more, but he said nothing.
'Is that it?'
'That is what I wish her to know.' 'It's not much of an offer.'
Suddenly he was angry. 'Do not presume to comment on what does not concern you. You are lucky to be alive.'
I watched him, the flash of intensity, the brief revelation of his power.
'Tell me one thing. What is the Society of Ashes?' Ay gave me the long stare.
'And do golden feathers mean anything to you? And a water that wets not, and yet burns?'
His face gave even less away, but this time he got up and walked away without bidding me farewell.
So I sat down and finished my lunch. After everything I had gone through, a good meal was the least I deserved.
