Pharaoh

Pharaoh Wilbur Smith The Worldwide Number One Bestseller Wilbur Smith returns to Ancient Egypt in a captivating new novel that will transport you to extraordinary times.EGYPT IS UNDER ATTACK.Pharaoh Tamose lies mortally wounded. The ancient city of Luxor is surrounded, All seems lost.Taita prepares for the enemy’s final, fatal push. The ex-slave, now general of Tamose’s armies, is never more ingenious than when all hope is dashed. And this is Egypt’s most desperate hour.With the timely arrival of an old ally, the tide is turned and the Egyptian army feasts upon its retreating foe. But upon his victorious return to Luxor, Taita is seized and branded a traitor. Tamose is dead and a poisonous new era has begun. The new Pharaoh has risen.Pharaoh Utteric is young, weak and cruel, and threatened by Taita’s influence within the palace – especially his friendship with Utteric’s younger and worthier brother, Ramases. With Taita’s imprisonment, Ramases is forced to make a choice: help Taita escape and forsake his brother, or remain silent and condone Utteric’s tyranny. To a good man like Ramases, there is no choice. Taita must be set free, Utteric must be stopped and Egypt must be reclaimed.From the glittering temples of Luxor to the Citadel of Sparta, PHARAOH is an intense and powerful novel magnificently transporting you to a time of threat, blood and glory. Master storyteller, Wilbur Smith, is at the very peak of his powers. Copyright (#uc5dc77f3-06bb-53e1-b58d-29e213322865) HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016 Copyright © Orion Mintaka (UK) Ltd 2016 Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017 Cover photographs: Cityscape © Larry Rostant/Rostant.com (http://Rostant.com); all other images © Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) Map © Nicolette Caven 2016 Wilbur Smith asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical figures, are the work of the author’s imagination. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books Source ISBN: 9780007535842 Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007535835 Version: 2017-04-07 Dedication (#uc5dc77f3-06bb-53e1-b58d-29e213322865) I dedicate this book Pharaoh to my wife Mokhiniso. From the very first day I met you, you have been the lodestone of my life. You make every day brighter and every hour more precious. I am yours forever and I shall love you forever, Wilbur. Map (#uc5dc77f3-06bb-53e1-b58d-29e213322865) Contents Cover (#ue4a4faea-ffb8-524f-9f31-9a8c443744ec) Title Page (#u11c14ce6-d718-5881-8e3c-734dc7989a52) Copyright Dedication Map Pharaoh (#u17d72110-5a4d-5d53-b29b-201ec8134555) About the Author Also by Wilbur Smith About the Publisher Although I would rather have swallowed my own sword than openly admit it, deep in my heart I knew that finally it was over. Fifty years ago the Hyksos multitudes had appeared without warning within the borders of our very Egypt out of the eastern wilderness. They were a savage and cruel people with no redeeming features. They had one asset that made them invincible in battle. This was the horse and chariot, which we Egyptians had never seen or heard of previously, and which we looked upon as something vile and abhorrent. We attempted to meet the Hyksos onslaught on foot but they swept us before them, circling us effortlessly in their chariots, and showering us with their arrows. We had no alternative but to take to our boats and fly before them southward up the mighty Nile River, dragging our craft over the cataracts and into the wilderness. There we lingered for over ten years, pining for our homeland. Fortuitously I had managed to capture a large number of the enemy horses and spirit them away with us. I soon discovered that the horse, far from being abhorrent, is the most intelligent and tractable of all animals. I developed my own version of the chariot, which was lighter, faster and more manoeuvrable than the Hyksos version. I taught the lad who was later to become Tamose, the Pharaoh of Egypt, to be an expert charioteer. At the appropriate time we Egyptians swept down the Nile in our fleet of river-boats, landed our chariots on the shores of our very Egypt and fell upon our enemies, driving them into the northern delta. Over the decades that followed we had been locked in the struggle with our Hyksos enemies. But now the wheel had turned full circle. Pharaoh Tamose was an old man, lying in his tent mortally wound by a Hyksos arrow. The Egyptian army was melting away and tomorrow I would be faced by the inevitable. Even my intrepid spirit, which had been vital in carrying Egypt forward over the past half-century of struggle, was no longer sufficient. In the last year we had been beaten in two successive great battles, both bitter and bloody but in vain. The Hyksos invaders who had seized the greater part of our fatherland from us were on the threshold of their final triumph. The whole of Egypt was almost within their grasp. Our legions were broken and beaten. No matter how desperately I attempted to rally them and urge them onwards, it seemed that they had resigned themselves to defeat and ignominy. More than half of our horses were down while those still standing were barely able to bear the weight of a man or chariot. As for the men, almost half of them bore fresh and open wounds that they had bound up with rags. Their numbers had been reduced by almost three thousand during those two battles that we had fought and lost since the beginning of the year. Most of the survivors staggered or limped into the fray with a sword in one hand and a crutch in the other. It is true that this shortfall in our roster was caused more by desertion than by death or wounding in the field. The once proud legions of Pharaoh had finally lost heart, and they fled before the enemy in their multitudes. Tears of shame ran down my cheeks as I pleaded with them and threatened them with flogging, death and dishonour as they streamed past me on their way to the rear. They took no heed of me, would not even glance in my direction as they threw down their weapons and hurried or limped away. The Hyksos multitudes were gathered before the very gates of Luxor. And on the morrow I would lead what would almost certainly be our last feeble chance to avert bloody annihilation. As night fell over the field of battle I had my manservants clean the fresh bloodstains from my shield and my armour, and beat out the dent in my helmet which earlier in the day had deflected a Hyksos blade. The plume was missing, sheared off by the same enemy blow. Then by the flickering flame of a torch and the reflection in my polished bronzed hand-mirror I contemplated my own image. As always it gave my sorry spirits a lift. Once again I was reminded how readily men will follow an image or a reputation when common sense warned of imminent annihilation. I forced a smile into the mirror, trying to ignore the melancholy shadows in the depths of my eyes; then I stooped out under the flap of my tent and went to pay my respects to my well-beloved Pharaoh. Pharaoh Tamose lay on his litter attended by three of his surgeons and six of his numerous sons. In a wider circle around him were gathered his generals and high counsellors, and five of his favourite wives. All of them wore solemn expressions and his consorts were weeping, for Pharaoh was dying. Earlier in the day he had received a grievous wound on the field of battle. The shaft of the Hyksos arrow still protruded from between his ribs. None of his physicians present, including even me, the most skilled of them all, had had the temerity to attempt to withdraw the barbed arrowhead from so near to his heart. We had merely snapped off the shaft close to the lip of the wound and now we awaited the inevitable outcome. Before noon on the morrow Pharaoh would almost certainly have vacated the golden throne in favour of Utteric Turo, his eldest son, who was sitting by his side trying not to make it too obvious that he was relishing the moment when the sovereignty of this very Egypt would pass to him. Utteric was a vapid and ineffectual youth who could not even imagine that by the setting of tomorrow’s sun his empire might no longer exist; or rather that was what I believed of him at that time. I was soon to learn how sadly I had erred in judging him. By now Tamose was an old man. I knew his age almost to the hour, for it was I who had delivered him as an infant into this harsh world. It was popular legend that his first act on arriving had been to piss copiously upon me. I suppressed a smile as I thought how over the ensuing sixty-odd years he had never hesitated to make even his mildest disapproval of me manifest in the same manner. Now I went to him where he lay and knelt to kiss his hands. Pharaoh appeared even older than his actual years. Although he had recently taken to dyeing his hair and beard, I knew that beneath the bright ginger pigmentation he favoured it was actually white as sun-bleached seaweed. The skin of his face was deeply wrinkled and speckled with dark sun spots. There were bags of puckered skin beneath his eyes: eyes wherein the signs of approaching death were all too obvious. I have not the faintest idea of my own age. However, I am considerably older than Pharaoh, but in my appearance I seem much less than half his age. This is because I am a long liver and blessed by the gods – most particularly by the goddess Inana. This is the secret name of the goddess Artemis. Pharaoh looked up at me and he spoke with pain and difficulty, his voice husky and his breathing wheezing and laboured. ‘Tata!’ he greeted me with the pet name he had given me when he was but a child. ‘I knew that you would come. You always know when I need you most. Tell me, my dear old friend, what of the morrow?’ ‘Tomorrow belongs to you and Egypt, my Lord King.’ I know not why I chose these words to reply to him, when it was a certainty that all our tomorrows now belonged to Anubis, the god of the cemeteries and the underworld. However, I loved my Pharaoh, and I wanted him to die as peacefully as was possible. He smiled and said no more, but reached out with a hand that shook and fingers that trembled and took my own hand and held it to his chest until he fell asleep. The surgeons and his sons left his pavilion, and I swear I saw a faint smile cross Utteric’s lips as he sauntered out. I sat with Tamose until well after midnight, the same way I had sat with his mother at her parting, but finally the numbing fatigue of the day’s battle overwhelmed me. I freed my hand from his and, leaving him still smiling, I staggered to my own mattress and fell upon it in a death-like sleep. My servants woke me before the first light had touched the dawn skies with gold. I dressed for battle with all haste and belted on my sword; then I hurried back to the royal pavilion. When I knelt once more at Pharaoh’s bedside he was smiling still, but his hands were cool to my touch and he was dead. ‘I will mourn for you later, my Mem,’ I promised him as I rose again to my feet, ‘but now I must go out and try once more to make good my oath to you and to our very Egypt.’ It is the curse of being a long liver: to survive all of those whom you love the best. The remainder of our shattered legions were assembled in the neck of the pass before the golden city of Luxor where we had been holding the ravening hordes of the Hyksos at bay for the past thirty-five desperate days. In review I drove my war chariot along their decimated ranks and, as they recognized me, those who were still able to do so staggered to their feet. They stooped to drag their wounded comrades upright and to stand with them in their battle formations. Then all of them, men who were still hale and strong together with those who were more than halfway to their deaths, raised their weapons to the dawn sky and cheered me as I passed. A rhythmic chant went up: ‘Taita! Taita! Taita!’ I choked back my tears to see these brave sons of Egypt in such desperate straits. I forced a smile to my lips and laughed and shouted encouragements back at them, calling to those stalwarts in the throng whom I knew so well, ‘Hey there, Osmen! I knew I would find you still in the front rank.’ ‘Never more than a sword’s length behind you, my lord!’ he shouted back at me. ‘Lothan, you greedy old lion. Have you not already hacked down more than your fair share of the Hyksos dogs?’ ‘Aye, but only half as many as you have, Lord Tata.’ Lothan was one of my especial favourites so I allowed him the use of my pet name. When I had passed the cheering dropped into a dreadful silence once more and they sank to their knees again and looked down the pass to where they knew the Hyksos legions were waiting only for the full light of dawn to renew their assault. The battleground around us was strewn thickly with the dead of the many long days of slaughter. The faint pre-dawn breeze bore the stench of death to where we waited. With each breath I drew it clung as thick as oil to my tongue and the back of my throat. I hawked and spat it over the side of my chariot, but with every subsequent breath it seemed to grow stronger and more repellent. The carrion-eaters were already feasting on the piles of corpses that were scattered around us. The vultures and the crows hovered over the field on wide pinions and then dropped to the ground to compete with the jackals and hyenas in the shrieking and struggling mass, ripping at the rotting human flesh, tearing off lumps and tatters of it and swallowing them whole. I felt my own skin crawl with horror as I imagined the same end awaiting me when finally I succumbed to the Hyksos blades. I shuddered and tried to put these thoughts aside as I shouted to my captains to send their archers forward to retrieve as many of the spent arrows from the corpses as they could find to refill their depleted quivers. Then above the cacophony of squabbling birds and animals I heard the beat of a single drum echoing up the pass. My men heard it also. The sergeants bellowed orders and the archers hurried back from the field with the arrows they had salvaged. The men in the waiting ranks came to their feet and formed up shoulder to shoulder with their shields overlapping. The blades of their swords and the heads of their spears were chipped and blunted with hard use, but still they presented them towards the enemy. The limbs of their bows had been bound up with twine where the wood had cracked and many of the arrows they had retrieved from the battlefield were missing their fletchings, but they would still fly true enough to do the business at point-blank range. My men were veterans and they knew all the tricks for getting the very best out of damaged weapons and equipment. In the distant mouth of the pass the enemy masses began to appear out of the pre-dawn gloom. At first their formations seemed shrunken and diminished by distance and the early light, but they swelled rapidly in size as they marched forward to engage us. The vultures shrieked and squawked and then rose into the air; the jackals and other scavengers scurried away before the advance of the enemy. The floor of the pass was filled from side to side by the Hyksos multitudes, and not for the first time I felt my spirits quail. It seemed that we were outnumbered by at least three or even four to our one. However, as they drew closer I saw that we had mauled them as savagely in return for how they had treated us. Most of them had been wounded, and their injuries were bound up with bloodstained rags, as were ours. Some of them limped along on crutches, and others lurched and staggered as they were harried along by their sergeants, most of whom were wielding rawhide whips. I exulted to see them obliged to use such extreme measures to induce their men to hold their formations. I drove my chariot along the front rank of my own men shouting encouragement to them and pointing out the Hyksos captains’ use of their whips. ‘Men like you never need the whip to convince you of your duty.’ My voice carried clearly to them above the beat of the Hyksos drums and the tramp of their armoured feet. My men cheered me and shouted insults and derision at the approaching enemy ranks. All the time I was judging the dwindling distance that separated the leading ranks of our opposing armies. I had only 52 chariots remaining out of the 320 with which I had begun this campaign. The attrition of our horses had been bitterly hard to bear. But our only advantage was that we were in a strong position here at the head of the steep and rugged pass. I had chosen it with all the care and cunning learned in countless battles over my long lifetime. The Hyksos relied heavily on their chariots to bring their archers within easy range of our ranks. Despite our example they had never developed the recurved bow, but had clung stubbornly to the straight-limbed bow which was incapable of loosing an arrow as fast and therefore as far as our superior weapons. By forcing them to abandon their chariots at the bottom of the rocky pass I had denied them the opportunity of getting their archers swiftly to within easy range of our infantry. Now the critical moment arrived when I must deploy my remaining chariots. I led this squadron in person as we raced out in line ahead and swept down the front of the Hyksos advance. Loosing our arrows into their massed ranks from a range of sixty or seventy paces we were able to kill or maim almost thirty of the enemy before they were able to come at us. When this happened I leaped down from the platform of my vehicle and while my driver whisked it away I squeezed myself into the centre of the front rank and locked my shield in between two of my companions and presented it towards the enemy. Almost immediately followed the tumultuous moment when the battle was joined in earnest. The enemy phalanx crashed into our front with a mighty clangour of bronze on bronze. With shields interlocked the opposing armies shoved and heaved against each other, straining to force a breakthrough of the opposing line. It was a gargantuan struggle which wrapped us all in a state of intimacy more obscene than any sexually perverse act. Belly to belly and face to face we struggled so that when we grunted and screamed like animals in rut the spittle flew from our twisted mouths into the faces of the enemy that confronted us from merely inches away. We were packed too closely to be able to use our long weapons. We were crushed between banks of bronze shields. To lose one’s footing was to go down and be grievously trampled if not killed by the bronze sandals of allies as well as those of our enemies. I have fought so often in the shield wall as to have designed a particular weapon especially for the purpose. The long blade of the cavalry sword must stay firmly in its sheath, and be replaced by a thin dagger with a blade no longer than a hand’s span. When both your arms are trapped in the press of armoured bodies and the face of your enemy is only inches from your own, then you will still be able to make use of this tiny weapon and place the point of the blade in a chink in your enemy’s frontal armour and thrust home. This day before the gates of Luxor I killed at least ten of the swarthy bearded Hyksos brutes on the same spot, and without moving my right hand more than a few inches. It gave me an inordinate sense of satisfaction to look into the eyes of my enemy, to watch his features contort in agony as he felt my blade pierce his vitals and finally to feel his last breath blow hot into my face as he expelled it from his lungs before he collapsed. I am not by nature a cruel or vindictive person, but the good god Horus knows that my people and I have suffered enough at the hands of this barbarous tribe to revel in whatever retaliation becomes available to us. I do not know just how long we were locked in the shield wall. It seemed to me at the time to be many hours of brutal struggle, but I knew by the changing angle of the pitiless sun above us that it was less than an hour before the Hyksos hordes disengaged from our ranks and fell back a short distance. Both sides were exhausted by the ferocity of the struggle. We confronted each other across the narrow strip of ground, panting like wild animals, sodden with our own blood and sweat and reeling on our feet. However, I knew from hard experience that this respite would be short-lived, and then we would fly at each other again like rabid dogs. I also knew that this was our last battle. I looked at the men around me and saw that they were close to the end. They numbered no more than twelve hundred. Perhaps they could survive another hour in the shield wall, but little more than that. Then it would be over. My despair came close to overwhelming me. Then suddenly there was somebody behind me, tugging at my arm and shouting words at me that at first made little sense. ‘My Lord Taita, there is another large detachment of the enemy coming up in our rear. They have us completely surrounded. Unless you can think of a way to save the day then we are done for.’ I spun around to confront the bearer of such terrible tidings. If this were true then we were damned and double damned. And yet the man who stood before me was someone that I knew I could trust. He was one of the most promising young officers in the army of Pharaoh. He commanded the 101st Squadron of heavy chariots. ‘Take me and show me, Merab!’ I ordered him. ‘This way, my lord! I have a fresh horse for you.’ He must have seen how near I was to complete exhaustion for he seized my arm and helped me back over the piles of dead and dying men and abandoned weapons and other warlike accoutrements that littered the field. We reached the small detachment of our own legionaries in the rear who held a pair of fresh horses for us. By then I had recovered sufficiently to shake off Merab’s helping hand. I hate to show even the slightest sign of weakness before my men. I mounted one of the horses and led this small group back at a gallop over the ridge of high ground that lay between us and the lower reaches of the River Nile. On the crest I reined in my steed so abruptly that it arched its neck and pranced around in a tight circle. I found myself at a loss to express my despair. From what Merab had told me earlier I expected to find perhaps three or four hundred fresh Hyksos troops marching up behind us to engage us. That would have been sufficient numbers to seal our fate. Instead I was confronted by a mighty army of literally thousands of infantry and at least five hundred chariots and as many again of mounted cavalry, which thronged the nearest bank of the Nile. They were in the process of disembarking from a flotilla of foreign warships that was now moored along the bank of the river below our golden city of Luxor. The leading formation of enemy cavalry had already disembarked, and as soon as they spotted our pathetic little troop of a dozen or so men they came galloping up the slope to engage us. I found myself caught up in a hopeless quandary. Our horses were all but used up. If we turned tail and tried to out-run those magnificent and obviously fresh animals they would catch us before we had covered a hundred paces. If we stood at bay and tried to make a fight of it, they would cut us down without working up a sweat. Then I forced back my despair and looked again at these strangers with fresh vision. I felt a faint tugging of relief, enough to bolster my spirits. Those were not Hyksos war helmets that they were wearing. Those were not typically Hyksos galleys from which they were disembarking ‘Hold your ground, Captain Merab!’ I snapped at him. ‘I am going forward to parley with these newcomers.’ Before he had a chance to argue with me I had unhooked my sword sheath from my belt and, without drawing the naked blade, I reversed it and held it aloft in the universal sign of peace. Then I trotted slowly down the slope to meet this troop of foreign horsemen. I vividly recall the sense of doom that overshadowed me as we closed. I knew that this time I had pushed Tyche, the goddess of Providence, too far. Then to my astonishment the leader of the band of horsemen barked an order and his men obediently sheathed their swords in a sign of truce and halted in a tight formation behind him. I followed their example and reined my own steed down to a halt, facing them but with a few dozen strides separating myself and the leader of the group. We studied each other in silence for the time it takes to draw a deep breath, and then I lifted the visor of my battered helmet to show my face. The leader of this foreign band of horsemen laughed. It was a most unexpected sound in these fraught circumstances, but at the same time it was hauntingly familiar. I knew that laugh. However, I stared at him for fully half a minute before I recognized him. He was a greybeard now, but big and muscled and sure of himself. He was no longer the young buck with the fresh and eager face searching to find his place in this hard, unforgiving world. Clearly he had found that place. Now he had the air of high command about his person and a mighty army at his back. ‘Zaras?’ I said his name dubiously. ‘It cannot possibly be you, can it?’ ‘Only the name is somewhat different but everything else about me is the same, Taita. Except possibly I am a trifle older and I trust a little wiser.’ ‘You remember me still, after all these years. How long has it been?’ I demanded of him wonderingly. ‘It has been a mere thirty years, and yes, I remember you still. I will never forget you; not if I live for ten times longer than I have already.’ Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘You say your name is changed. What name are you known by now, good Zaras?’ ‘I have taken the name Hurotas. My former name had certain unfortunate connotations to it,’ he replied. I smiled at this blatant understatement. ‘So now you have the same name as the King of Lacedaemon?’ I asked. I had heard that name before, and it was always uttered with the deepest awe and respect. ‘The exact same,’ he agreed, ‘for the young Zaras you once knew has become that king of whom you now speak.’ ‘Surely you jest?’ I exclaimed in astonishment, for it seemed that my old subordinate of yesteryear had risen high in the world – in fact to the very pinnacle. ‘But if you speak the truth tell me what has happened to the sister of Pharaoh Tamose, the royal Princess Tehuti, whom you abducted out of my charge and care.’ ‘The word you are groping for is wooed and not abducted. And she is no longer a princess.’ He shook his head firmly. ‘She is now a queen, because she showed the good sense to marry me.’ ‘Is she still the most beautiful woman in the world?’ I asked more than a trifle wistfully. ‘In the vernacular of my kingdom, Sparta means “the loveliest one”. I named the city in her honour. So now the Princess Tehuti has become Queen Sparta of Lacedaemon.’ ‘And what of the others who are also dear to my heart and memory that you took north with you, all those years ago—?’ ‘Of course, you are speaking of Princess Bekatha and Hui.’ King Hurotas cut my questions short. ‘They are also now husband and wife. However, Hui is no longer a lowly captain. He is the Lord High Admiral and the commander of the Lacedaemon fleet; the same fleet that you see down there on the river.’ He pointed behind him at the tremendous array of shipping anchored against the bank of the Nile. ‘Right now he is supervising the landing of the remainder of my expeditionary force.’ ‘And so, King Hurotas, why have you returned to Egypt now after all these years?’ I demanded. His expression became fierce as he replied: ‘I came because at heart I am still an Egyptian. I heard from my spies that you in Egypt were hard pressed and on the verge of defeat at the hands of the Hyksos. These animals have despoiled our once lovely homeland. They have raped and murdered our women and children; among their victims were my own mother and my two young sisters. After they had violated them they threw them still alive on to the blazing ruins of our home and laughed as they watched them burn. I have returned to Egypt to avenge their deaths and to save more of our Egyptian people from a similar fate. If I succeed I hope to forge a lasting alliance between our two countries: Egypt and Lacedaemon.’ ‘Why have you waited twenty-three years before you returned?’ ‘As I am sure you will recall, Taita, when we last parted we were a mere handful of young runaways on three small galleys. We were flying from the tyranny of a Pharaoh who wanted to separate us from the women we loved.’ I acknowledged the truth of this with a nod. It was safe to do so now, for the Pharaoh in question was Tamose and, as of yesterday, he was dead. King Hurotas, who had once been the young Zaras, went on, ‘We were seeking a new homeland. It took all this time for us to find one and build it up into a formidable power with an army of more than five thousand of the finest fighting men.’ ‘How did you achieve that, Your Majesty?’ I asked. ‘By a little polite diplomacy,’ he replied guilelessly, but when I looked sceptical he chuckled and admitted, ‘together with more than a little blatant force of arms and outright conquest.’ With a wave of his hand he indicated the mighty army that he was disembarking on to the east bank of the Nile below us. ‘When one has a warlike array such as that you see before you, strangers are seldom disposed to argument.’ ‘That sounds more like your style,’ I agreed, but Hurotas dismissed my retort with a nod and a smile and went on with his explanation. ‘I knew it was my patriotic duty to give you all the succour and assistance in my power. I would have come a year earlier, but my naval squadrons were not sufficient to carry my army. I had to build more ships.’ ‘Then you are more than welcome, Your Majesty. You have arrived at precisely the critical moment. Another hour and you would have been too late.’ I swung down from the back of my horse, but he anticipated me and he jumped down from his own mount, as sprightly as a man half his age, and strode to meet me. We embraced like brothers, which was what we were at heart. However, I felt more than mere brotherly love for him, for not only had he brought me the means to save my very Egypt from this marauding pack of vicious predators, but it seemed also that he had brought back to me my darling Tehuti, the daughter of Queen Lostris. Mother and daughter, those two women are still the ones I have loved best in all my long life. Our embrace was warm but fleeting. I drew back and punched Hurotas lightly on his shoulder. ‘There will be more time for these reminiscences anon. However, at this moment there are several thousand Hyksos waiting at the head of the pass for our attention: mine and yours.’ I pointed back up the ridge, and Hurotas looked startled. But he recovered almost immediately, and grinned with genuine pleasure. ‘Forgive me, old friend. I should have known that you would provide me with generous entertainment immediately on my arrival. Let us go up there at once and deal with a few of these nasty Hyksos, shall we?’ I shook my head in mock disapproval. ‘You have always been impetuous. Do you remember what the old bull replied when the young bull suggested that they rush down upon the herd of cows and cover a few of them?’ ‘Tell me what old bull said,’ he demanded with anticipation. He has always enjoyed my little jokes. I did not want to disappoint him now. ‘The old bull answered, Let us rather saunter down at our leisure and cover the lot of them.’ Hurotas let out a delighted guffaw. ‘Tell me your plan, Taita, for I know you have one. You always do.’ I set it out for him quickly because it was a simple plan, and then I turned away and vaulted back into the saddle of my mount. Without a backwards glance I led Merab and my small band of horsemen back up the hill. I knew that I could rely on Hurotas who had once been Zaras to carry out my instructions to the letter; even if he was now a king he was sufficiently astute to know that my counsel was always the best available. As I crested the hill again I saw that I had not arrived ahead of time, for the Hyksos horde was advancing once more upon the battered and depleted ranks of Egypt, who stood to meet them. I urged my horse into a gallop and reached the shield wall only seconds before the enemy fell upon us again. I turned my mount free and seized the bronze shield that somebody thrust into my hands as I squeezed into my station in the centre of the front rank. Then with a sound like summer thunder the Hyksos front rank crashed, bronze on bronze, into our enfeebled line once again. Almost at once I was swallowed up in the nightmare of battle wherein time loses all meaning and every second seems to last an eternity. Death pressed in upon us in a dark miasma of terror. Finally, after what seemed like an hour or a hundred years, I felt the unbearable pressure of Hyksos bronze upon our fragile front line ease abruptly, and then we were moving rapidly forward rather than stumbling backwards. The discordant bellowing of triumphant enemy war cries was replaced by terrified screams of pain and despair in the barbaric Hyksos tongue. Then the enemy ranks seemed to shrivel and collapse upon themselves so that my forward vision was no longer totally obscured. I saw that Hurotas had followed my orders exactly, as I knew he would. He had moved his men in two wings around both our flanks simultaneously, catching the Hyksos aggressors in a perfect encircling movement, like a shoal of sardines in the fisherman’s net. The Hyksos fought with the recklessness born of despair, but my shield wall held firm and Hurotas’ Lacedaemons were fresh and eager for the fray. They drove the hated foe against our line, like slabs of raw meat thrown down upon the butcher’s block. Swiftly the conflict changed from battle to slaughter, and finally the surviving Hyksos threw down their weapons and fell to their knees on the ground that had become a muddy quagmire of blood. They pleaded for mercy but King Hurotas laughed at their pleas for quarter. He shouted at them, ‘My mother and my infant sisters made the same entreaty to your fathers as you make to me now. I give you the answer that your heartless fathers gave my dear ones. Die, you bastards, die!’ And when the echoes of their last death cry had sunk into silence, King Hurotas led his men back across that sanguine field and they cut the throats of any of the enemy who still showed the faintest flicker of life. I admit that in the heat of battle I was able to set aside my usual noble and compassionate instincts and join in celebrating our victory by sending more than a few of the wounded Hyksos into the waiting arms of their foul god Seth. Every throat I cut I dedicated to the memory of one of my brave men who had died earlier that same day on this field. Night had fallen and the full moon stood high in the sky before King Hurotas and I were able to leave the battlefield. He had learned from me much earlier in our friendship that all our wounded must be brought to safety and cared for, and then the perimeter of the camp had to be secured and sentries posted before the commanders could see to their own requirements. Thus it was well after midnight before we had fulfilled our responsibilities and the two of us were able to ride down the hill to the bank of the Nile where his flagship was moored. When we went on board Admiral Hui was on the deck to meet us. After Hurotas he was one of my favourites, and we greeted each other like the old and dear friends that we truly were. He had lost most of the once dense bush of hair on his head and his naked scalp peeped shyly through the gaps in the grey strands, but his eyes were still bright and alert and his ubiquitous good humour warmed my heart. He led us to the captain’s cabin and with his own hands poured both the king and I large bowls of red wine mulled with honey. I have seldom tasted anything as delicious as that draught. I allowed Hui to replenish my bowl more than once before exhaustion interrupted our joyous and raucous reunion. We slept until the sun was almost clear of the horizon the following morning and then we bathed in the river, washing off the grime and bloodstains of the previous day’s exertions. Then when the combined armies of Egypt and Lacedaemon were assembled on the river-bank we mounted up on fresh horses and with both Hurotas’ legions and my own surviving fellows marching proudly ahead of us, pennants flying, drums beating and lutes playing, we rode up from the river to the Heroes’ Gate of the city of Luxor to report our glorious victory to the new Pharaoh of Egypt, Utteric Turo, eldest son of Tamose. When we reached the gates of the golden city we found them closed and bolted. I rode forward and hailed the keepers of the gate. I was forced to repeat my demands for entry more than once, before the guards appeared on top of the wall. ‘Pharaoh wants to know who you are and what is your business,’ the captain of the watch demanded of me. I knew him well. His name was Weneg. He was a handsome young officer who wore the Gold of Valour, Egypt’s highest military honour. I was shocked that he didn’t recognize me. ‘Your memory serves you poorly, Captain Weneg,’ I called back. ‘I am Lord Taita, Chairman of the Royal Council, and commanding general of Pharaoh’s army. I come to report our glorious victory over the Hyksos.’ ‘Wait here!’ Captain Weneg ordered and his head disappeared below the battlements. We waited an hour and then another. ‘It seems that you may have given offence to the new Pharaoh.’ King Hurotas gave me a wry smile. ‘Who is he, and do I know him?’ I shrugged. ‘His name is Utteric Turo, and you have missed nothing.’ ‘Why was he not on the field of battle with you over these last days, as was his royal duty?’ ‘He is a gentle child of thirty-five years of age, not given to low company and rough behaviour,’ I explained, and Hurotas snorted with laughter. ‘You have not lost your way with words, good Taita!’ Finally Captain Weneg reappeared on the ramparts of the city wall. ‘Pharaoh Utteric Turo the Great has graciously granted you the right to enter the city. However, he orders you to leave your horses outside the walls. The person standing with you may accompany you, but no others.’ I gasped to hear the sheer arrogance of the reply. A retort rose to my lips, but I bit down hard upon it. The entire army of Egypt together with that of Lacedaemon were listening with full attention. Almost three thousand men. I was not disposed to follow that line of discussion. ‘Pharaoh is most gracious,’ I replied. The Heroes’ Gate swung ponderously open. ‘Come along with me, you unnamed person standing with me,’ I told Hurotas grimly. Shoulder to shoulder, hands gripping the pommels of our swords but with visors raised, we marched into the city of Luxor. However, I did not feel like a conquering hero. Captain Weneg and a troop of his men marched ahead of us. The city streets were hauntingly silent and empty. It must have taken the full two hours’ waiting that Pharaoh had enforced upon us to clear the streets of the customary swarming crowds. When we reached the palace the gates swung open seemingly of their own accord, without fanfare or cheering multitudes gathered to welcome us. We climbed the wide staircase to the entrance of the royal audience hall, but the cavernous building was empty and silent except for the echoes of our bronze-shod sandals. We marched down the aisle of empty stone seats and approached the throne on its high dais at the far end of the hall. We halted before the empty throne. Captain Weneg turned to me and his voice was harsh, his manner brusque. ‘Wait here!’ he snapped, and then without lightening his expression he silently mouthed the words which I had no difficulty lip-reading: ‘Forgive me, my Lord Taita. This form of welcome is not of my choosing. I, personally, hold you in the highest esteem.’ ‘Thank you, Captain,’ I replied. ‘You have performed your duty admirably.’ Weneg acknowledged me with a clenched fist held to his chest. He led his men away. Hurotas and I were left standing at attention before the empty throne. I did not need to warn him that we were certainly under observation from some hidden peephole in the stone walls. Nevertheless I felt my own patience under strain from the strange and unnatural antics of this new Pharaoh. Finally I heard the sound of voices and distant laughter, which became closer and louder until the curtains covering the entrance to the hall behind the throne were jerked aside and the Pharaoh Utteric Turo, self-styled the Great, strolled into the audience hall. His hair was dressed in ringlets which hung to his shoulders. There were garlands of flowers around his neck. He was eating a pomegranate and spitting the pips on to the stone floor. He ignored Hurotas and me as he ascended the throne and made himself comfortable on the pile of cushions. Utteric Turo was followed by a half-dozen young boys in various stages of dress and undress. All of them were decked with flowers and most of them had painted their faces with blood-crimson lips and blue or green shades around their eyes. Some of them were munching fruit or sweetmeats as Pharaoh was doing but two or three of them carried cups of wine which they sipped from as they chatted and giggled together. Pharaoh hurled one of his cushions at the leading boy and there were squeals of laughter as it knocked the wine cup from his hands and the contents spilled down his tunic. ‘Oh, you naughty Pharaoh!’ the boy protested. ‘Now, just look what you have done to my pretty garment!’ ‘Please forgive me, my dear Anent.’ Pharaoh rolled his eyes in penitence. ‘Come and sit beside me. This will not take too long, I promise you, but I have to speak to these two fine fellows first.’ Pharaoh looked directly at Hurotas and me for the first time since he had entered the hall. ‘Greetings, good Taita. I hope you are in excellent health as always?’ Then he switched his gaze towards my companion. ‘And who is this you have with you? I don’t think I know him, do I?’ ‘May I present King Hurotas, monarch of the Kingdom of Lacedaemon? Without his assistance we could never have overcome the forces of the Hyksos who were slavering at the very gates of your mighty city of Luxor.’ I spread my arms to indicate the man at my side. ‘We owe him a deep debt of gratitude for the continued survival of our nation …’ Pharaoh held up his right hand, effectively cutting short my impassioned speech, and he stared at Hurotas thoughtfully for what seemed to me an unnecessary length of time. ‘King Hurotas, you say? But he reminds me of somebody else.’ I was taken off balance and could think of nothing to say to contradict him, which was uncharacteristic of me. But before my eyes this feeble and apathetic sprig of the House of Tamose was being transformed into an angry and formidable monster. His countenance darkened and his eyes blazed. His shoulders began to tremble with fury as he pointed to my companion. ‘Does he not resemble someone named Captain Zaras, a common soldier in the army of my glorious father, Pharaoh Tamose? Surely you remember that rogue, do you not, Taita? Even though I was a very young child at the time I certainly remember this Zaras person. I remember his evil leering countenance and his insolent manner.’ Pharaoh Utteric’s voice rose to a shriek; spittle flew from his lips. ‘My father, the Great and Glorious Pharaoh Tamose, sent this Zaras creature on a mission to Knossos, the capital city of the Supreme Minos on the island of Crete. He was charged with the safe conduct of my two aunts, Princess Tehuti and Princess Bekatha, to Crete. They were to be married to the Supreme Minos in order to consolidate the treaty of friendship between our two great empires. In the event this Zaras creature abducted my royal relatives, and spirited them away to some barbaric and desolate place at the very edge of the world. They have never been heard of again since then. I loved both my aunties, they were so beautiful …’ Pharaoh was forced to break off his string of accusations. He panted wildly in an effort to calm his breathing and regain his composure, but he continued to point his shaking forefinger at Hurotas. ‘Your Majesty …’ I stepped forward and spread both my hands in an attempt to divert his wild and irrational anger, but he rounded on me just as furiously. ‘You, you treacherous scoundrel! You may have duped my father and all his court, but I never trusted you. I always saw through your wiles and machinations. I have always known you for what you are. You are a forked-tongued liar, a scheming black-hearted villain …’ Pharaoh shrieked wildly, and looked around for his guards. ‘Arrest these men. I will have them executed for treachery …’ Pharaoh’s voice sank and dried up. A profound silence filled the royal audience chamber. ‘Where are my bodyguards?’ Pharaoh enquired querulously. His young companions huddled behind him, pale-faced and terrified. Finally the one he called Anent spoke up. ‘You dismissed your guards, darling. And I am not going to arrest anyone; especially not those two thugs. They look like blatant killers to me.’ He turned and trotted back through the curtained doorway, followed immediately by the rest of Pharaoh’s pretty boys. ‘Where are my royal guards? Where is everybody?’ Pharaoh’s voice sank to an uncertain, almost apologetic pitch. ‘I ordered them to wait in readiness to make the arrests. Where are they now?’ But silence answered him. He looked back at the two of us suited in our armour, gauntleted hands gripping the pommels of our swords and our faces scowling. He backed away towards the curtained exit in the rear wall. I strode after him and now his expression became one of unmitigated terror. He sank to his knees facing me, arms outstretched towards me as though to fend off the blows of my sword. ‘Taita, my dear Taita. It was just a little joke. It was all in good-natured fun. I meant no harm. You are my friend, and the dear protector of my family. Don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything …’ And then an extraordinary thing happened. Pharaoh shat himself. He did it so loudly and malodorously that for a stunned moment he stopped me like a statue, with my one foot in the air, suspended in mid-stride. Behind me Hurotas exploded in a burst of delighted laughter. ‘The royal salute, Taita! The ruler of mighty Egypt greets you with the highest honour in the land.’ I don’t know how I stopped myself from laughing along with Hurotas, but I managed to keep my expression serious and, stepping forward, I reached down and took a firm grip of Pharaoh’s hands with which he was trying to fend off my putative attack. I lifted him to his feet and told him gently, ‘My poor Utteric Turo; I have upset you. The great god Horus knows I never meant to do so. Go up to your royal suite now and bathe yourself. Put on fresh robes. However, before you do so please give me and King Hurotas your permission to take your glorious armies north into the delta and fall upon that rogue Khamudi, the self-styled King of the Hyksos. It is our sworn duty to wipe clean forever the curse and the bloody stains of the Hyksos occupation of our homeland.’ Utteric pulled his hands free of mine and backed away from me, his expression still terrified. He nodded his head frantically, and between his sobs he blurted out, ‘Yes! Yes! Go at once! You have my permission. Take everything and everybody that you need and go! Just go!’ Then he turned and fled from the royal audience chamber, with his sandals squelching at each stride. King Hurotas and I left the great hall of audience alone and went back through the empty streets of the city. Although I was anxious to begin the next phase of our campaign I did not want Pharaoh to receive reports of our hasty departure from Luxor from his spies and agents. Of course there would be many of them hiding in the buildings and alleyways, keeping us under surveillance. When we finally emerged through the Heroes’ Gate of the city, our combined armies were still awaiting our return. I heard later that their ranks had been tormented by rumours that had grown more alarming the longer we remained locked away behind the gates of the city. There were even suggestions we two generals had been arrested on trumped-up charges and hustled away to the dungeons and thence to the torture chambers. The reaction of our battle-hardened men to our return was moving and deeply touched the hearts of both King Hurotas and me. Old veterans and young recruits wept, and cheered us until their voices cracked. The front ranks surged forward and some of them went down on their knees to kiss our mailed feet. Then they hoisted us on to their shoulders and carried us down to the banks of the Nile where the Lacedaemon armada was anchored, singing the songs of glory at the top of their voices until both Hurotas and I were well-nigh deafened by the cacophony. I must admit I thought little more of the childish antics of the new Pharaoh – there was too much of real import to occupy my mind. I thought that Hurotas and I had put him firmly in his place, and that we would not hear much more from him. We went aboard the Lacedaemon flagship, where we were greeted by Admiral Hui. Although by then the tumultuous day had fled, and it was almost dark, we went immediately into planning the final chapter of our campaign against Khamudi, the leader of what remained of the Hyksos rabble in the northern delta of Mother Nile. Khamudi had made his capital at Memphis, downriver from where we were now. My information on the state of Khamudi’s forces was extensive and up to date. My agents were well established in the Hyksos-occupied and -dominated territories of our very Egypt. According to these agents, Khamudi had stripped his territory in northern Egypt almost bare of warriors and chariots and sent them all south to participate in what he had hoped would be the final drive to shatter the remnants of our Egyptian forces there. But, as I have already related, the timely arrival of King Hurotas had put an end to Khamudi’s grandiose aspirations. The great majority of the Hyksos forces now lay dead at the head of the pass below Luxor, a feast for the scavengers. There would never be another equally fortuitous opportunity to put an end to the Hyksos presence in our very Egypt than was ours for the taking right now. What remained of the Hyksos army, foot and cavalry, were now with Khamudi in his capital city of Memphis in the northern delta of the Nile. They numbered not more than three thousand men in total, whereas Hurotas and I could field a total force of almost twice that number, including several hundred chariots. Nearly all of these were Lacedaemons, so despite the fact that I was indubitably the most experienced and skilled commander in Egypt and probably in the civilized world, nevertheless I felt I should as a matter of courtesy concede command of our combined forces to King Hurotas. I made my condescension apparent by inviting Hurotas to express his views as to how the second phase of our offensive should be conducted, which was as good as offering him supreme command. Hurotas gave me that boyish grin I remembered from long ago, and replied, ‘When it comes to command, I bow to only one man, and he just happens to be seated at this very table opposite me. Please proceed, Taita. Let us hear your battle plan. Where you lead we will follow.’ I nodded my approval of his wise decision. Not only is Hurotas a mighty warrior, but he never lets his pride override his good sense. So I aimed my next questions at him: ‘Now I want to know how you suddenly appeared at Luxor without any of us, including the Hyksos, knowing of your arrival. How did you bring your flotilla of twenty large war galleys hundreds of leagues upriver, passing the Hyksos forts and walled cities to reach us here?’ Hurotas dismissed my question with a casual shrug. ‘On my ships I have some of the very best pilots that there are on this earth, not counting you of course, Taita. Once we entered the mouth of the Nile River we travelled only at night and tied up to the bank and hid under a camouflage of cut branches during the day. Fortunately the sky goddess Nut granted us a dark moon to cover our nightly progress. We passed the main enemy strongholds on the banks of the river after midnight, and we kept to mid-river. Perhaps a few fishermen saw us, but in the dark they would have taken us for Hyksos. We moved fast, very fast. We made the journey from the mouth of the River Nile to where we met you here in only six nights’ hard rowing.’ ‘So then we still have the element of surprise on our side,’ I mused. ‘Even if a few of the enemy survived the battle at the pass, which seems unlikely, on foot they would take many weeks to find their way back to Memphis and spread the alarm.’ I jumped to my feet and paced the deck, thinking quickly. ‘Now what is absolutely vital when we attack Khamudi’s capital city is that none of the enemy manage to escape and somehow make their way eastwards to the border of Suez and the Sinai, and from there reach their ancestral homeland further east where they might be able to regroup and come against us again a few years hence – to repeat the same sorry cycle of war and conquest and enslavement.’ ‘You are right, Taita,’ Hurotas agreed with me. ‘We have to finish this. Future generations of our people must be able to exist in peace and flourish as the most civilized nation in existence, without fear of the barbaric Hyksos hordes. But how might we best reach such a happy conclusion?’ ‘I plan to use the bulk of the chariots as a blocking force along the eastern border to prevent any of the surviving Hyksos making a run for safety, to reach their ancient homeland,’ I told them. Hurotas considered my proposal for just a few seconds before he smiled. ‘We are fortunate to have you, Taita. You are without doubt the most experienced and skilful charioteer that I know of. With you guarding the border I would not give any Hyksos a dog’s chance of making it back to his kennel.’ Sometimes I suspect my old friend Hurotas of ribbing me with his extravagant praise, but as on this occasion I usually let it pass. By this time it was almost midnight; however, the darkness barely slowed our preparations for departure. We lit brush torches and by the light they afforded us we reloaded all the chariots aboard the Lacedaemon galleys. When this was done we boarded our men, including the remnants of my own native Egyptian regiments. With this additional cargo the ships were so crowded that there was no room for the horses on board. I gave orders to the grooms to drive the loose horses northwards along the east bank of the Nile. Then, still in darkness, we pushed off from our moorings and headed downriver to enter Hyksos-held territory, with the leadsmen chanting the soundings in the bows and the pilots calling every twist and turn of the river. The trotting herds of horses almost kept pace with the speed of the flotilla, even though our ships had the favourable current to carry them onwards. We covered almost thirty leagues of the voyage downstream before sunrise. Then we went ashore to rest through the heat of the day. Within a few hours the herds of horses had caught up with us, and were grazing on the pastures and the crops growing on the river-bank. These crops had been planted by Hyksos farmers, for we were now in enemy-held territory. We thanked them for their generosity. And then we sent them to their places on the rowing benches of Admiral Hui’s galleys where the slave chains were buckled snugly on to their ankles. Their womenfolk were hustled away by Hurotas’ men; however, I made no enquiry as to what became of them. War is a brutal business, and they had come into our land without invitation, and seized the fields from our peasants and treated them worse than slaves. They could not expect to be treated any better by us. When all was secure the three of us sat under the sycamore trees on the river-bank, while the cooks served us a breakfast of roasted sausage and crisp brown bread hot from the clay ovens, which we washed down with jugs of freshly brewed beer; and which I for one would not have exchanged for a banquet at Pharaoh’s board. We went on board again as soon as the sun had passed its zenith and continued our northwards voyage towards Memphis. But there was still almost two days of sailing ahead of us, and this was the first time since Hurotas and Hui had returned so unexpectedly that I had been given the opportunity to speak to them about the life we had known together so many years ago. In particular I was anxious to learn about what had become of the two young princesses whom they had taken into exile with them when they fled from the wrath of the princesses’ brother, Pharaoh Tamose. The three of us were seated on the poop deck of the flagship, and we were alone and well beyond earshot of any members of the crew. I addressed myself to both of them. ‘I have questions for both of you which I am sure you would rather avoid. You will remember that I had a special affection for the two beautiful young virgins that you coarse ruffians had the gall to steal away from me, their protector, and Pharaoh Tamose, their loving brother.’ ‘Let me put your mind at rest, for I know just how it works, that lascivious Taita mind.’ Hurotas cut me off before I was able to put to him my first question. ‘They are no longer either young or virgin.’ Hui chuckled his agreement. ‘However, we love them more with every year that passes for they have proved themselves incomparably loyal, true and prolific. My Bekatha has given me four fine sons.’ ‘And Tehuti has born me a single daughter who is lovely beyond the telling of it,’ Hurotas boasted, but I was sceptical of such claims because I am well aware that all parents have an inflated opinion of their own offspring. It was not until much later, when I laid eyes for the first time on Hurotas’ and Tehuti’s only daughter, that I realized that he had done her a serious injustice. ‘I do not expect that either Tehuti or Bekatha gave you messages to pass on to me.’ I tried not to sound wistful. ‘The chances of us meeting again were remote, and surely their memory of me has faded over the years …’ They would not let me complete my modest disclaimer before both of them burst out laughing. ‘Forget you?’ Hurotas demanded through his laughter. ‘It was only with the greatest difficulty that I convinced my wife to remain in Lacedaemon rather than to return to Egypt with us to find her darling Tata.’ It made my heart lurch to hear him mimic her exact rendition of my pet name. ‘She did not even trust me to memorize her messages to you, so she insisted on writing them down on a papyrus scroll for me to deliver to you in person.’ ‘A papyrus!’ I exclaimed with delight. ‘Where is it? Give it to me at once.’ ‘Please forgive me, Taita.’ Hurotas looked abashed. ‘But it was really too bulky to carry with me. I had to consider leaving it in Lacedaemon.’ I stared at him in dismay, trying to find the words to castigate him as severely as he deserved. He let me suffer only a little longer, and then he could contain himself no longer and he grinned. ‘I knew what you would think of that idea, Taita! So I have it in my saddlebags, which are in my cabin below.’ I punched his shoulder harder than was truly necessary. ‘Fetch it at once, you rogue, or else I shall never forgive you.’ Hurotas went below and returned almost immediately carrying a bulky scroll of papyrus. I snatched it out of his hands and carried it to the foredeck where I could be alone and uninterrupted. Gently and almost reverently I broke the seal and unrolled the first leaf so I could read the salutation. Nobody that I know of can paint a hieroglyph as artistically as my beloved Tehuti. She had rendered ‘The Falcon With a Broken Wing’, which is my hieroglyph, so that it seemed to be endowed with a life of its own and fly from the painted sheet of papyrus through the mist of tears that filled my eyes, and go straight to my heart. The words she wrote touched me so intimately that I cannot bring myself to repeat them to another living soul. On the third morning after leaving our moorings below the city of Luxor our flotilla had reached a point only twenty leagues upstream of the Hyksos stronghold of Memphis, which stood on both banks of the Nile. There we beached our galleys, and we unloaded the chariots. The grooms drove up the horses and sorted them into their teams, and the charioteers buckled them into the traces. The three of us held a final war council aboard the flagship of the Lacedaemon fleet, during which we once again ran over our plans in minute detail, covering every possible contingency that we might encounter during the assault on Memphis, then I embraced both Hui and Hurotas quickly but fervently and called down the blessing and favours of all the gods upon each of them before we parted company. I set off with my team of chariots for the head of the Red Sea to block the Hyksos escape route from Egypt, while the others continued their voyage northwards until they were in a position to launch their final assault on the stronghold of the Hyksos chieftain, Khamudi. When Hurotas and Hui reached the harbour below the city of Memphis they found that Khamudi had already abandoned it and set fire to the shipping moored within its stone jetties. The pall of black smoke from the burning vessels was visible even to me and my charioteers waiting on the border of Egypt at Suez many leagues distant. However, Hurotas and Hui arrived in time to save nearly thirty of the Hyksos galleys from the flames, but of course we had not enough crews to man these valuable ships. This is where my squadron of chariots came into play. Within only hours of taking up our stations along the border of Egypt with Suez and the Sinai we were hard at work rounding up the hundreds of refugees who were fleeing from the doomed city of Memphis. Of course each one of them was laden down with their valuables. These captives were sorted carefully. The elderly and infirm were first relieved of all their possessions and then allowed to wander away into the Sinai Desert, after being charged never again to return to Egypt. The young and strong were roped together in gangs of ten, and then I started them back towards Memphis and the Nile still carrying their possessions and those of their compatriots who had been allowed to proceed. In the case of the men these captives, no matter how illustrious their rank, were destined to a short life chained on the rowing benches of our galleys, or labouring like beasts of burden in the fields on the banks of the Nile; whereas the younger women – those who were not too grotesquely ugly – would be sent to do service in the public brothels, and the rest of them would find employment in the kitchens or the dungeons of the great mansions of our very Egypt. The roles had been completely reversed, and they would receive the same treatment as they had dealt out to us Egyptians when they had us in their power. When we reached the city of Memphis with these doleful lines of captives marching ahead of our chariots we found it under siege by Hurotas’ legions. However, chariots are not the most effective means of siege-breaking, so my dashing charioteers were dismounted and set to tunnelling beneath the walls to excavate a series of breaches to enable us to winkle out Khamudi and his rogues from their sullen lurking within the city. Like all sieges this was a dreary and time-consuming exercise. Our army was forced to encamp outside the walls of Memphis for almost six months before, with a rumble and a roar, and a column of dust that was visible for many leagues around, the entire ramparts of the eastern section of the city collapsed upon themselves and our men could pour through the breaches. The sack of the city went on for many more days for it was spread on both banks of the river. However, our victorious troops were at last able to apprehend Khamudi, where he and his family were found cowering in their hiding place deep in the dungeons beneath his palace. It was most fortuitous that they were sitting on a vast treasure of silver and gold bars, as well as innumerable large chests of jewellery that had taken him and his predecessors almost a century to collect from the enslaved Egyptian populace. This brood of royal rogues and rascals was escorted down to the harbour on the Nile by Hurotas’ troops, where to the accompaniment of music and laughter they were drowned one after another, beginning with the youngest members of the family. These were a pair of twin girls of about two or three years of age. Contrary to what I had come to expect of the tribe they were not really repulsive to look at; in fact they were pretty little mites. Their father Khamudi wept as they were plunged into the Nile and held beneath the surface of the river. I was not prepared for that either. Somehow I had come to believe that, like all the brute animals, the Hyksos were incapable of loving and grieving. The dreaded Khamudi himself was reserved for last on the execution roster. When his turn came he was accorded a more elaborate departure from this world than the others of his family. This began with skinning him alive using knives that were heated to a glowing red in charcoal braziers; followed by drawing and quartering, which evoked further merriment from the spectators. It seemed that Hurotas’ men have a particularly robust sense of humour. I managed to maintain a neutral countenance during these proceedings. I would have much preferred to have taken no part in them, but had I absented myself it would have been seen as a display of weakness by my men. Appearances are vital, and reputations ephemeral. Hurotas, Hui and I were subdued on our return to the Memphis palace. However, we soon became our usual cheerful and lively selves when we began counting and cataloguing the contents of the cellars beneath the palace of Khamudi. I find it truly remarkable how when all else in life has lost its flavour, gold alone retains its full fascination and appeal. Even though we had fifty of Hurotas’ most trusted men to assist us, it took us several days to lay out all of this treasure. When at last we turned our lanterns upon this mass of precious metal and coloured stones the reflected light was strong enough to dazzle us. We stared at it in awe and astonishment. ‘Do you recall the Cretan treasure we captured at the fortress of Tamiat?’ Hurotas asked me in hushed tones. ‘When you were still a young captain of legionaries, and your name was Zaras? I will never forget it. I thought that there was not that much silver and gold in the whole wide world.’ ‘That was not even one-tenth part of what we have here and now,’ Hurotas pointed out. ‘This is just as well,’ I replied Both Hurotas and Hui looked at me askance. ‘How is that, Taita?’ ‘That is because we have to share it at least four ways,’ I explained, and when they were still uncomprehending I went on: ‘You and Hui; me and Utteric Turo.’ ‘You don’t mean Utteric, that utter prick, do you?’ Hurotas looked aghast. ‘Exactly!’ I confirmed, ‘Utteric the Great, the Pharaoh of Egypt. This treasure was originally stolen from his ancestors.’ They considered what I had said in silence for a while and then Hurotas asked tactfully, ‘So then it seems that you intend to remain in Utteric Turo’s realm?’ ‘Naturally!’ I was taken aback by the question. ‘I am an Egyptian nobleman. I possess vast estates in this country. Where else would I go?’ ‘Do you trust him?’ ‘Who?’ ‘Utteric the Utter Prick; who else?’ Hurotas demanded of me. ‘He is my Pharaoh. Of course I trust him.’ ‘Where was your Pharaoh at the battle of Luxor?’ Hurotas asked remorselessly. ‘Where was he when we stormed these battlements of Memphis?’ ‘Poor Utteric is not a warrior. He is a gentle soul.’ I tried to make excuses for him. ‘However, his father, Tamose, was a fine and furious warrior.’ ‘We are discussing the son, not the father,’ Hurotas pointed out. I was silent again while I contemplated the implication of his words; finally I asked, ‘May I take it, then, that you will not return with me to Luxor when I go to make my report to Pharaoh Utteric Turo?’ He shook his head. ‘My heart lies in Lacedaemon with the lovely woman who is my queen, and with our daughter. My business in Luxor is finished. Besides which, there are people in that city who still remember me as young Zaras. I have only met your Pharaoh Utteric Turo once, and he gave me no good reason to like or trust him. I think I would rather return to my own citadel where I have control of the situation.’ He came to me and clapped me on my shoulder. ‘My old friend, if you are as wise as we all believe you to be, you will give your share of this splendid treasure to me, to keep it safely for you until you call upon me to return it to you. In that case no harm will have been done. However, if I am correct in my suspicions you will have good reason to be thankful to me.’ ‘I will think on it,’ I muttered unhappily. Hurotas and Hui lingered another ten days while they loaded their ships with the slaves and other booty they had captured in Memphis, including my share of the Hyksos treasure which I had reluctantly agreed to place in Hurotas’ care. Then they sent their chariots and horses on board and we said our farewells standing on the stone jetty on the west bank of the Nile. Four of Hui’s sons by Princess Bekatha were with us at Memphis. Each of them commanded a squadron of chariots. There had been little opportunity for me to become acquainted with them; however, it seemed they took after their father and their royal mother, and that meant to me that they were fine young men, and brave and skilful charioteers. The eldest was named Huisson for obvious reasons; and the other three were Sostratus, Palmys and Leo. Barbaric Greek names, to be sure, but they embraced me and called me ‘Revered and illustrious Uncle’ which endorsed my high opinion of them. They promised to convey my loving duty to their mother and their aunt immediately on their return to Lacedaemon. Hurotas had written out the sailing orders for a voyage from the Nile Delta to the island of Lacedaemon; and this, together with a receipt for my share of the treasure of Memphis, he pressed into my hands. ‘Now you will have no excuse for failing to visit us at the very first opportunity that presents itself to you,’ he told me, his voice gruff as he tried to mask his distress at this our second significant parting. On the other hand I had written a papyrus scroll for each of my two beloved princesses, Tehuti and Bekatha, for their husbands to deliver to them as soon as they reached their homes. I could not trust those two amiable ruffians to deliver verbatim my precious words to their spouses. These were expressions of such poetic beauty that, even after all these years repeating them silently to myself, can reduce me to tears. Then all of them went aboard their galleys and pushed off from the pier. The drums beat the cadence for the rowers; the long oars dipped and swung and dipped again. In line ahead they unwound like some mighty sea dragon awakening, and with the Nile current urging them onwards they disappeared around the first bend in the river, heading for the delta where the river debouched into the great Middle Sea. I was left alone and pining. Three days later I went aboard my own galley and we headed southwards, homeward bound for the golden city of Luxor. But my heart was still heavy and my thoughts were travelling in the opposite direction to that in which the wind and the banks of oars were carrying me. When we reached the port of Luxor below the city it seemed that the news of our magnificent victory at Memphis had been carried ahead of us by carrier pigeon to Pharaoh Utteric’s palace. Three of his senior ministers were waiting on the river wharf at the head of what appeared to be the entire population of Upper Egypt. In the background of this multitude there stood at least twenty wagons, each of them drawn by a team of twelve oxen. I presumed these were to carry the Hyksos treasure up to the city of Luxor where Pharaoh’s treasury, no doubt, stood ready and eager to receive it. A massed band of harps, flutes, lyres, trumpets, tambourines and drums were roaring out a spirited rendition of the new anthem to the glory of Pharaoh Utteric Turo, which it was rumoured he had composed himself. The Egyptian populace seemed to have stripped every palm tree in the land of its fronds which they waved enthusiastically as they chanted along with the bands. When my flagship docked at the main wharf I was prepared to acknowledge the praise and grateful thanks of Pharaoh Utteric Turo and all the people of Egypt for ridding them of the menace of Khamudi and his ghastly tribe for all time and for returning to them such a fabulous treasure from the enemy coffers. Utteric’s Chief Minister was a beautiful young man who had made a great fortune in the slave trade. His name was Lord Mennakt. He was a bosom companion of Pharaoh, and possibly much closer to him in the other more intimate parts of the flesh than merely the bosom; for I had heard it rumoured that they shared the same prurient predilections. A scribe must have written out his speech on a papyrus scroll, for he read it in a dreary monotone, stumbling over words of more than one syllable. I could have forgiven this lack of stagecraft, but what irked me at once was that he made no mention of my part in the final brilliant campaign which I had led against the Hyksos. In fact he did not mention my name at all. He spoke only of his patron Pharaoh Utteric Turo, and of the loyal and brave legions he was supposed to have commanded in battle. He extolled the leadership and courage of Pharaoh and his wisdom and sheer genius in liberating our very Egypt from a century of slavery and foreign domination. He pointed out that the five Pharaohs who had immediately preceded him, including his own father, Tamose, had been dolefully unsuccessful in their attempts to achieve the same conclusive results. He ended his tribute by pointing out that this magnificent victory had surely earned Pharaoh Utteric Turo a prominent place alongside Horus, Isis, Osiris and Hathor in the pantheon of our fatherland. For this reason, Mennakt explained, the main part of the treasure that Pharaoh Utteric had won from the Hyksos at Memphis would be used to build a temple to celebrate his rise above the mere human state to that of the celestial and immortal. While Lord Mennakt was regaling and enlightening us with this speech my crew was unloading the treasure that we had carried with us and piling it on the wharf. It made a magnificent display, which completely diverted the attention of the assembled multitudes away from Mennakt’s wit and mastery of the spoken word. When Mennakt finally stumbled into silence, the order was given and the wagons rolled forward and the sweating slaves loaded the treasure chests into them. Then the drivers cracked their long whips and an escort of heavily armed palace guards immediately surrounded them and they started up the causeway towards the main gates of the city of Luxor. All this took me completely by surprise. I had presumed that it would be my honour to lead this procession and to make the formal offering of the treasure to Pharaoh. When he accepted my gift Pharaoh would be obliged to accord me his full recognition and approval. I started forward to make my protest to Lord Mennakt and demand my rightful place at the head of the treasure train. What I had not been aware of in the press of bodies all around me and the exigencies of the moment was that six more high-ranking officers of the palace guards had come aboard my flagship from the crowd on the wharf. Without any fuss or outcry they had managed to surround me with a cocoon of armour and drawn weapons. ‘My Lord Taita, in accordance with Pharaoh’s express command I place you under arrest for high treason. Please come with me.’ The leader of this contingent spoke quietly but firmly in my ear. I turned and stared at him in astonishment. It took me a moment to realize that he was Captain Weneg for whom I had such a high regard. ‘What nonsense is this, Captain Weneg? I am probably Pharaoh’s most loyal subject,’ I protested indignantly. He ignored my outburst and nodded to his henchmen. Immediately they crowded me so closely that I could not struggle. I felt one of the men behind me slip my sword from its scabbard, and then I was being hustled to the gangplank. At the same time Lord Mennakt gestured to the band that was gathered behind him and they burst into yet another lively and spirited hymn of praise and worship to the divine Pharaoh, so that my protests were rendered inaudible. By the time my guards and I had reached the stone wharf, the dense crowds of spectators had turned away to follow the band and the procession of treasure wagons up the road to the main gates of the city. As soon as we were alone Captain Weneg gave orders to his men and they bound my wrists together at the small of my back with rawhide ropes, while others of their party brought up four war chariots. When they had me trussed up securely they pushed me up on to the footplate of the leading chariot. The whips cracked and we set off at a canter, not following the bands and the treasure train up the hill towards the main city gates, but taking one of the subsidiary tracks that bypassed the city, and then branched off towards the rocky hills beyond. The track was little used; in fact it was assiduously avoided by most of the citizenry. This was not extraordinary when its final destination was taken into consideration. Less than five leagues beyond the royal palace and the main city walls rose a low line of hills; and sitting astride their summit was a sombre edifice of chiselled native rock, a sullen shade of blue in colour and unambiguous in design. This was the royal prison, which also housed the gallows yard and the state torture chambers. We had to cross a small stream of water to reach the slopes of the hills. The bridge was narrow and the hooves of the horses hammered loudly on it; to my heated imagination they sounded almost like the drumbeat of the Death March. My escort and I were not accosted until we reached the appropriately named Gates of Torment and Sorrow, which gave access through the massive masonry wall into the bowels of the prison. Captain Weneg jumped down from the footplate of our vehicle and hammered on the doors with the hilt of his sword. Almost immediately a black-clad warder appeared on the bridge of the portcullis high above us. His head was enclosed in a hood of the same colour and it hid his features entirely except for his eyes and mouth. ‘Who seeks entry here?’ he bellowed down at us. ‘Prisoner and escort!’ Weneg replied. ‘Enter at your peril,’ the warder warned us. ‘But know ye, all enemies of Pharaoh and Egypt are eternally doomed once they are within these walls!’ Then the portcullis was raised ponderously and we drove through. We were the only vehicle to enter. The other three of our escort remained outside the walls when the portcullis rumbled closed once again. The interior walls of the first courtyard were decorated by rows of niches that rose tier upon tier to such a height that I had to throw my head right back to see the tiny square of blue sky high above. In each niche grinned a human skull: hundreds upon hundreds of them. It was not the first time I had passed this way. On occasion I had visited other unfortunates who had been incarcerated within these walls, to offer them what little help and comfort was in my gift. However, my spirit never failed to quail and my skin to crawl at the presence of death in such dire abundance; more so now that the threat was so personal and particular to me. ‘This is as far as I can take you, Lord Taita,’ Weneg said quietly. ‘Please understand that I am merely following my orders. There is nothing personal in what I have to do, and I take no pleasure in it.’ ‘I understand your predicament, Captain,’ I replied. ‘I hope that our next meeting will be more pleasurable for both of us.’ Weneg helped me down from the footplate of the chariot and then severed the bonds at my wrists with a sweep of his dagger. Swiftly he went through the formality of handing me over to the prison warders, and delivering to them my scroll of impeachment. I recognized Pharaoh Utteric’s hieroglyph at the foot of this document. Then Weneg saluted me and turned away. I watched him jump back on to his vehicle, seize the reins and wheel his team to face the gateway. As soon as the portcullis was raised high enough he ducked under it and without a backwards glance drove out into the daylight. There were four prison warders to receive me. As soon as Weneg had left the courtyard one of these lifted off his black headdress and confronted me with a derisive grin. He was a grossly obese creature, with garlands of fat drooping down from his jowls on to his chest. ‘We are honoured by your presence, my lord. It is not often that we get the opportunity to play host to such an illustrious personage, a man of the highest reputation and most fabulous wealth – after Pharaoh himself, of course. I am determined not to give you short measure. First let me introduce myself. My name is Doog.’ He bowed his great bald head, which was covered with obscene tattoos of stick figures doing repulsive things to each other, but he went on speaking: ‘A man of your erudition and learning will realize at once that Doog is Good spelled backwards, and he will know then what to expect of me. Those who know me well often refer to me as Doog the Terrible.’ Doog had a nervous twitch, which caused him to blink his right eye rapidly at the end of each sentence he uttered. I could not resist the temptation, so I winked back at him. He stopped grinning. ‘I see that you like your little jokes, my lord? In due course I will give you jokes that will cause you to die laughing,’ he promised. ‘But we must defer that pleasure for a short while longer. Pharaoh has arrested you for high treason, but not yet tried you nor found you guilty. However, that time will come, and I shall be ready for it, I assure you.’ He started to circle me, but I turned at the same speed to keep facing him. ‘Hold him still!’ he snarled at his henchmen, and they seized both my arms and twisted them to bring me down to my knees. ‘You have beautiful clothes, my lord,’ Doog commended me. ‘I have seldom seen such splendid garments.’ This was true, for I had been expecting to address Pharaoh and his state council when I delivered to him the Hyksos treasure. I was wearing the golden helmet I had captured from a Hyksos general on another battlefield a long time ago; it was a masterpiece in gold and silver. Around my shoulders hung the Gold of Valour and the Gold of Praise, equally magnificent chains which had been awarded to me by the hand of Pharaoh Tamose himself for the service and sacrifice I had given to him. I knew that, adorned thus, I was a wondrous sight to behold. ‘We must not let such lovely garments become dirtied or damaged. You must remove them at once. I will take them into my safekeeping,’ Doog explained. ‘But I assure you that I will return them to you as soon as you are found innocent of the charges against you and are released from custody.’ I regarded him silently, not giving him the pleasure of hearing my protests or entreaties. ‘My men will help you to undress,’ Doog ended his little speech, which I was certain that he had also addressed to all of the men who were now but skulls in the niches of the walls above me. He nodded at his henchmen and they ripped the helmet from my head and the gold chains from around my neck; then they tore away the lovely garments that covered my body, leaving me naked except for a brief loin-cloth. Finally they dragged me back on to my feet and forced me to walk to the doors in the back wall of the courtyard. Doog lumbered along beside me. ‘All of us who work here within the prison walls are so excited and happy about the ascension of Pharaoh Utteric Turo to the throne.’ He winked four or five times to express his excitement, his head bobbing in time to the blinking of his eyes. ‘Pharaoh has changed our lives and made us some of the most important citizens in this very Egypt. During Pharaoh Tamose’s reign we hardly ever drew blood from one week to the next. But now his eldest son keeps us busy from morning until night. If we aren’t chopping off heads we are drawing the entrails out of men and women; or twisting off their arms; or hanging them by their necks or their testicles; or peeling off their skins with the hot irons.’ He chuckled merrily. ‘My brothers and my five sons were all out of work only a year ago, but now they are full-time executioners and tormentors, as I am. We are invited by Pharaoh Utteric Turo nearly every few weeks to the royal palace in Luxor. He likes to watch us carrying out our duties. Of course he never comes to visit us here. He is convinced that there is a curse on these walls. The only persons who ever come here do so to die; and we are the chosen few who help them to do it. But Pharaoh particularly loves to see me work on the young girls, especially if they are pregnant. So we take them down to the palace to do so. One of my little foibles is to hang them from the scaffold on bronze hooks through their tits, and then I use other hooks to rip the living foetus out of their wombs.’ Doog salivated like a hungry animal at his own description. I felt my gorge rise to have to listen to such obscenities. ‘I will let you watch while you are waiting for your own turn. I usually charge a fee, but you have let me have your helmet and gold chains for which I am so grateful …’ He was one of the most repulsive persons I have ever encountered. The black hood and cloak he wore were obviously meant to disguise the blood of his victims, but this close to him I could see that some of the stains were still damp, and the ones that had dried had begun to rot the fabric, so the stink of putrefaction and death hung over him like a dank miasma over a swamp. His assistants dragged me on through this human abattoir where their colleagues were going about their grisly business. The screams of their victims echoed against the bare stone walls, and blended with the cracking of the whips and the jovial laughter of these professional tormentors. The smell of fresh blood and human excrement was so overpowering that I found myself choking and gasping for breath. Eventually we descended a narrow flight of stone steps to reach a tiny, windowless underground cell. It was lit by a single candle, but otherwise it was bare. There was just enough room for me to sit on the floor, if I kept my knees up under my chin. My captors shoved me into it. ‘Your trial by Pharaoh is set for three days from today. We will come to fetch you for it. Otherwise we will not bother you again,’ Doog assured me. ‘But I need food and fresh water to drink and wash myself,’ I protested. ‘And I will also need clean clothes to wear for my trial.’ ‘Prisoners make their own arrangements for such luxuries. We are busy men. You cannot expect us to be bothered by such trifles.’ Doog sniggered as he blew out the candle flame and thrust the stump into a pocket of his cloak. Then he slammed the door to my cell, and I heard his keys rattle in the outside of the lock. Three more days without water in this airless and sultry stone cell would be bitterly hard to bear, and I was not certain that I could survive it. ‘I will pay you.’ I heard my own voice rising with desperation as I shouted. ‘You have nothing with which to pay me,’ Doog’s voice carried back to me, even through the thick door, but then the footfalls of my captors receded into silence and my cell into utter darkness. In particular circumstances I am able to weave a spell of protection over myself which serves me in the same fashion as does the cocoon of certain insects. I am able to retreat to a secure place deep within my own self. This is what I did now. Early on the morning of the third day of my incarceration Doog and his henchmen had great difficulty summoning me back from the distant place in my mind to which I had retreated. I could hear their voices faint and faraway and gradually I became aware of their hands pummelling and shaking me, and their boots kicking me. But it was only when I felt the splash of a bucket of water thrown into my face that I recovered my full consciousness. I seized the bucket in both hands and poured what remained of the water down my throat and swallowed it, despite the efforts of three of the tormentors to rescue it from my clutches. That draught of filthy lukewarm water was my salvation; I could feel the power and energy flowing back into my parched body and the bastions of my soul being replenished. I was hardly aware of the lash of Doog’s whip across my naked back as they hustled me up the staircase into the light and the sweet airs of day. Indeed, the noxious odours of that prison were like the nectar of roses compared to the cell from which I was being dragged. They hauled me back to the Courtyard of Skulls where I found Captain Weneg waiting beside his chariot. After a single glance Weneg averted his shocked gaze from my battered face and my desiccated frame, and he busied himself in making his hieroglyph at the foot of the scroll which Doog demanded that he sign for my release. Then his charioteers helped me aboard the vehicle. Although I tried not to show it, I was still weak and reeling on my feet. As Weneg took up the reins and wheeled the chariot around to face the open gateway, Doog looked up at me with a grin and called out, ‘I look forward to your return to us, my lord. I have worked out a few new procedures especially for your execution. I am sure that you are going to find them diverting.’ When we reached the stream at the bottom of the hills Weneg reined in his horses and offered me his hand to help me alight from the chariot and he led me down the bank of the stream. ‘I am sure you will want to refresh yourself, my lord.’ Unlike good Doog, Weneg used my title without even a touch of irony. ‘I have no idea what has become of your splendid uniform, but I have brought a fresh tunic for you. You cannot go into the presence of Pharaoh dressed as you are.’ The water of the stream was sweet and cool. I purged myself of the dried blood and prison grime which coated me and then I combed out my long dense hair of which I am so justly proud. Of course Weneg must have been fully aware from previous experience what had happened to my helmet and gold chains once Doog laid eyes upon them, and so he had brought with him a plain blue charioteer’s tunic to cover my nakedness. Strangely this enhanced rather than detracted from my appearance, for it showed off my lean muscled torso to perfection. I did not have a bronze mirror with me, but my reflection in the waters of the stream gave me heart. Naturally I was not nearly at my best, but even with the facial bruising which Doog’s men had inflicted on me I could lift my chin high in the certain knowledge that very few could equal me for looks, even before the high court of Pharaoh. Weneg had also brought food and drink for me: bread and cold fillets of river catfish from the Nile with a jug of small beer to wash it down. It was delicious and nourishing. I felt renewed strength coursing through my entire body. Then we mounted up and drove on to the palace of Pharaoh, which was situated in the innermost courtyard of the walled city of Luxor. My trial was scheduled by Pharaoh to start at midday, but we entered the great hall of the palace a good hour in advance of that time. We waited until the middle of the afternoon before Pharaoh and his train entered. It was at once apparent that they had all been drinking strong liquor, most especially Pharaoh. His face was flushed, his laughter was raucous and his gait ungainly. All of us who had been awaiting his arrival these past many hours now prostrated ourselves before him and pressed our foreheads to the marble floor. Pharaoh settled himself on the throne facing us, while his band of sycophants sprawled on each side of him, giggling and making arcane jokes which were amusing only to themselves. While this was happening the ministers of state and the members of the royal family entered the great hall and took their seats on the line of lesser stone benches which had been arranged behind Pharaoh but facing me, the accused. The most senior and important of these witnesses was the second oldest son of Pharaoh Tamose, the next in line to the throne after his half-brother Utteric Turo. His name was Rameses. His mother was Pharaoh’s first and favourite wife. Her name was Queen Masara, but she had borne him six daughters before she gave birth to a son. In the meanwhile another of Tamose’s later and less beloved wives, a harridan named Saamorti, had deprived her by a mere matter of months of the honour of bearing the first-born son, and the heir to the throne. This was Utteric Turo. This audience maintained a dignified silence, which was in contrast to Utteric Turo and his minions, who went on chattering and hooting with laughter for some time longer. They completely ignored me and my escort, forcing us to suffer at Pharaoh’s whim and pleasure. Suddenly Pharaoh looked up at me for the first time and his voice cracked like a whip, sharply and viciously, ‘Why is this dangerous prisoner not manacled in my presence?’ Captain Weneg replied without raising his head and looking directly at Pharaoh, ‘Your Mighty Majesty …’ I had never heard this obsequious term of address before, but I learned later that it was required terminology when addressing Utteric Turo, on pain of the royal wrath. ‘… I did not think to chain the prisoner as he has not yet been tried nor has he been found guilty of any crime.’ ‘You did not think, fellow? Is that what I heard you to say? Of course you did not think. Thought presupposes a brain to think with.’ The toadies gathered at his feet giggled and clapped their hands at this royal sally, while two of Weneg’s men hauled me into a sitting position and locked Doog’s manacles back on to my wrists. Weneg could not look me in the eyes for shame as they carried out Pharaoh’s commands. When I was secured they pushed me face down on to the floor once more. Suddenly Pharaoh Utteric Turo started up from his throne and paced up and down in front of me. I dared not raise my head so I could not see him but I could hear his sandals clacking on the marble. I could judge from their increasing tempo that he was lashing himself into a fury. Abruptly he bellowed at me, ‘Look at me, you treacherous pig-swine!’ Immediately one of Weneg’s men behind me grabbed a handful of my hair and hauled me backwards into a sitting position, and pointed my face towards Pharaoh. ‘Look at that ugly, simpering and self-satisfied face! Tell me, if you dare, that is not guilt also written in gigantic hieroglyphs from ear to ear across it,’ he challenged everybody in the great hall. ‘I shall now relate to you the list of crimes against me and my family that this lump of excrement has committed. You will learn how richly he deserves the traitor’s death that I have prepared for him.’ He was starting to tremble with the force of his anger as he pointed the forefinger of his right hand into my face. ‘His first victim that I know of for certain, although there were probably scores before her, was my paternal grandmother Queen Lostris.’ ‘No! No! I loved Queen Lostris,’ I burst out in anguish, unable to contain myself at the mention of her name. ‘I loved her more than life itself.’ ‘That is probably the reason you murdered her. You could not have her so you killed her. You killed her, and boasted of your foul deed in the scrolls you left in her royal tomb. Your actual written words, which I have seen with my own eyes are: I killed the evil thing of Seth that was growing in her womb.’ I moaned at the memory of the growth that the foul god Seth had placed inside her body. In my medical tracts I have given it the name of ‘carcinoma’. Yes, I plucked that monstrosity from her dead body, mourning the fact that all my skills as a physician were inadequate to save her from its onslaught. I cast it into the flames and burned it to ashes, before I began the mummification of her still beautiful remains. However, I did not have the words to explain all this to her grandson. I am a poet who rejoices in words, but still I could not find the words to defend myself. I sobbed brokenly but Pharaoh Utteric Turo continued remorselessly with his list of accusations against me. He smiled with his lips, but his eyes were like those of a standing cobra: filled with cold and bitter hatred. The venom he spat at me was every bit as noxious as that of the snake itself. He related to the assembled noblemen and scions of royalty how I had stolen a vast fortune in gold and silver from the royal treasury which his father Pharaoh Tamose had placed in my trust. As proof of my treachery he cited the fabulous fortune in landed estates and treasure which I had accumulated over the years. He flourished a scroll and then read aloud from it. This purported to record all my embezzlements from the treasury. These amounted to well over a hundred million lakhs of silver; more silver than exists on all our earth. The charges were so preposterous that I did not know where to begin my rebuttal. All I could think of in my defence was to deny the accusations and repeat over and over: ‘No! That’s not the way it happened. Pharaoh Tamose was like a son to me, the only son I ever had. He gave all of that to me to reward me for the services I carried out on his behalf over the fifty years of his life. I never stole anything from him, not gold nor silver, not even a loaf of bread.’ I might not have spoken for Pharaoh went on listing the charges against me: ‘This assassin Taita used his knowledge of drugs and poisons to murder another precious royal woman. This time his victim was my own beautiful, gentle and dearly beloved mother, Queen Saamorti.’ I gasped to hear that monstrous trollop so described. I had treated many of her slaves that she had personally emasculated or beaten half to death. She had delighted in mocking me cruelly over my damaged and mutilated manhood; bemoaning the fact that others had been ahead of her with the gelding knife. Her handmaidens had been gainfully employed in smuggling a seemingly endless train of male slaves into her elaborate sleeping quarters. The obscenities she practised with these sorry creatures had probably resulted in the birth of the very person who stood before me now reading out my death warrant: His Mighty Majesty Pharaoh Utteric Turo. One thing I knew with the utmost certainty was that the potions and medicines which I administered desperately to Queen Saamorti had not been sufficiently therapeutic to cure the filthy diseases which one or more of her myriad paramours had squirted into her lower bodily orifices. I wish her peace, although I am certain that the gods in their wisdom will deny it to her. However, this was not the end of the horrific accusations that Pharaoh Utteric had to bring against me. The next was as far-fetched as all the previous charges lumped together. ‘Then there was his flagrant treatment of two of my royal aunts, the Princesses Bekatha and Tehuti. It is true that my father managed to arrange a marriage for both of them with the most powerful and fabulously wealthy monarch in the world, the mighty Minos of Crete. Pharaoh, my father, sent these royal virgins in a caravan to their wedding with the Minos. Their retinue reflected our own wealth as a nation. It was several hundred persons strong. The treasure that was the dowry of my sisters was almost two hundred lakhs of fine silver bars. My father Pharaoh Tamose once again placed his trust in this sordid criminal and reprobate you see before you: Taita. He gave him command of the caravan. His assistants were two military officers named Captain Zaras and Colonel Hui. My information is that this creature, Taita, succeeded in reaching Crete and marrying my sisters to the Minos. However, in the eruption of Mount Cronus caused by the rage of the eponymous god Cronus, he who is the father of the god Zeus and has been chained for all eternity by his son in the depths of the mountain …’ Here Pharaoh paused briefly to catch his breath, and then hurried on with his wild accusations: ‘The Minos was killed by the fall of rocks when the island of Crete was devastated by the eruption. In the ensuing chaos those two pirates, Zaras and Hui, abducted both my aunts. They then hijacked two of the vessels which belonged to my father Pharaoh Tamose’s fleet and fled northwards into the unexplored and savage archipelagos at the far end of the world. All this was against the will of my aunts, but with the connivance and encouragement of the accused scoundrel, Taita. When he returned to our very Egypt Taita told Pharaoh that his sisters had been killed in the volcanic eruption, and Pharaoh called off the search for them. Taita must bear the full guilt for their abduction and the hardships they must certainly have suffered. That dastardly deed alone warrants the death sentence for its perpetrator.’ Once again the only verdict I could truthfully plead was guilty: guilty of allowing the two young women that I love more even than they love me the opportunity to find true fulfilment and happiness after they had done their duty to the utmost. But once again I could only gape at my accuser and maintain the silence which I had promised to Bekatha and Tehuti when I sent them to find happiness with the men they truly love. Pharaoh turned away from me, drew himself to his full height and gazed upon the ranks of noblemen and princes, who were stunned into stillness and silence by his revelations and accusations. He regarded them one at a time, drawing out the suspense. Then at last he began to speak again. I expected no mercy from him, and he did not disappoint my expectations. ‘I find the prisoner guilty of all the charges brought against him. He is to be deprived of all his assets, be they large or small, fixed or moveable, situated anywhere in the world. They are all forfeited to my treasury, nothing excepted.’ A buzz ran through the ranks of his audience, and they exchanged envious glances for they all knew what riches this short recital entailed. It was common knowledge that I was the richest man in Egypt after only Pharaoh. He let them discuss it between themselves for a short while before he held up one hand for silence and they immediately froze. Even in my dreadful predicament I was amazed at how terrified they all were of their new Pharaoh, but I was learning the wisdom of their fear. Then Pharaoh giggled. This was the moment when first I realized that Utteric Turo was raving mad, and that he placed neither restraint nor control on his own madness. That high-pitched giggle was a sound that could only be uttered by a lunatic. Then I remembered that his mother had also been mad – only her madness merely took the form of sexual incontinence. In Utteric Turo it took the form of total megalomania. He was unable to restrain any of his baser instincts or fantasies. He wished to be a god, so he declared himself one and believed that was all that was required for him to become one. On this realization my heart went out to my fellow citizens of this, the greatest nation in the history of the world. They were only just beginning to realize what fate awaited them. I did not care about my own destiny for I knew that it was already fixed in the garbled mind of this madman. But I cared deeply for what was about to happen to my beloved Egypt. Then Pharaoh began to speak again: ‘I am only mortified that death will come too quickly to this felon after all the suffering he has inflicted on my family. I would prefer to see him suffer to the limits of his evil soul for the airs and graces he has always affected, and for his pretence of wisdom and learning.’ Here I managed to smile at how Utteric could not disguise his envy of my superior intellect. I saw the quick flush of anger that my smile evinced, but he went ranting on. ‘I am aware that it is not adequate punishment; however, I decree that you shall be taken in your rags and chains from hence to the place of Torment and Sorrow. There you shall be given over to the tormentors who will …’ Here he recited a list of atrocities so frightful that it left some of the gentler females in his audience pale with nausea and weeping with horror. Finally Pharaoh turned back to me. ‘I am now prepared to listen to your expression of remorse and regret before I send you to face your destiny.’ I rose to my feet, still manacled and half-naked, and I spoke out clearly, for I had nothing more to lose. ‘Thank you, Your Mighty Majesty Pharaoh Utteric Turo. Now I understand why all your subjects, not excluding me, feel as they do towards you.’ I made no effort to disguise the sardonic tone of my voice. The coward Utteric shot me a disgusted glance and waved me away. I was the only person in the great hall of Luxor still smiling. That smile of derision was the only rebuke that was in my power to inflict on the monster who now ruled Egypt. As Pharaoh had decreed Weneg and his platoon marched me out of the great hall of Luxor Palace, wearing only my loin-cloth and my chains. At the head of the great staircase I paused with astonishment and gazed down on the multitude that filled the open square at the foot of the steps. It seemed that every single citizen of our great city was assembled there, filling the square to overflowing. They stood in complete silence. I could sense their hatred and enmity. Yet most of them had been my people. They or their fathers and grandfathers had fought with me in fifty battles. Those who had been crippled in the fighting I had taken in and succoured on my estates, giving them shelter from the elements and at least one substantial meal a day. Their widows also were certain of my bounty. I had given them useful employment and had schooled their offspring, equipping them for a place in this hard world. I realized that they had resented my charity and had come today to give free rein to their feelings. ‘Why are they here?’ I asked Weneg softly, barely moving my lips. His reply was a whisper even softer than my question had been. ‘It is Pharaoh’s command. They are here to revile you as a traitor, and splatter you with ordure.’ ‘That is why he ordered my clothing to be taken from me.’ I had wondered why Pharaoh had so insisted on that. ‘He wants me to feel the filth against my skin. You had best not follow me too closely.’ ‘I will be one pace behind you. What is good enough for you, Taita, is good enough for me.’ ‘You give me too much respect, good Weneg,’ I protested. Then I braced myself and started down the stairs towards the sea of angry humanity. I could hear the footsteps of my guards pressing close behind me, willing to share my ordeal. I did not hurry or slink, but walked calmly with my shoulders back and my head held high. I searched the faces of that mighty crowd awaiting me, looking for their expressions of hatred, waiting for the storm of their abuse to break over me. Then, as the faces of the front rank of the dense throng came into clearer focus, I felt suddenly confused. Many of the women were weeping. That I had not expected. The men looked grim and – dare I even think it? – as sorrowful as the mourners at a funeral. Suddenly a woman broke through the line of armed guards, ostentatiously placed there to keep the crowds under control. The woman stopped a few paces from me and threw something at me. It fell at my feet, and I stooped and picked it up from the stone slabs between my manacled hands. It was not a ball of excrement as Pharaoh had decreed, but a lovely blue water lily from the Nile waters. This was the traditional offering to the god Horus, a token of love and deep respect. Two of the guards broke from the ranks behind the woman and took her by the arms to restrain her, but they were not angry; their manner was gentle and their expressions sorrowful. ‘Taita!’ the woman called to me. ‘We love you.’ Then a second voice shouted from the mass of humanity behind her, ‘Taita!’ and then another called, ‘Taita!’ And suddenly a thousand and then two thousand voices were crying my name. ‘We must hurry to get you beyond the city walls,’ Weneg shouted in my ear, ‘before Pharaoh realizes what is happening, and descends upon us in his wrath.’ ‘But even I don’t understand what is happening,’ I yelled back at him. He gave me no answer, but instead grabbed my upper arm. One of his men got a firm grip on my other arm. They almost lifted me off my feet as they ran with me down the open pathway which was shrinking as the crowds surged forward to try to touch or embrace me; I was uncertain which it would be. At the end of the alley four of Weneg’s men were holding the chariots. We reached them just before the crowds overwhelmed us. The horses were panicked by the uproar but as soon as we were aboard the charioteers gave them their heads. They galloped in single file down the cobbled streets, headed for the main gates of the city. Soon we had left the massed humanity behind us. The gates were already closing when we came in sight of them, but Weneg cracked his whip over the backs of his team and urged them through the narrow gap and out into the open countryside. ‘Where are we heading?’ I blurted, but Weneg ignored my question and handed the key of my manacles to his archer who stood close behind me, steadying me in the lurching cockpit of the chariot. ‘Get those things off his wrists, and then cover the Magus’ nudity.’ He did not reply to my question, but looked smug and mysterious. ‘What do you intend to use to cover me?’ I demanded, glancing down at my naked body. Again he ignored my question, but his archer handed me a sparse bundle of clothing from the bin in the coachwork of the chariot. ‘I never knew you were so famous,’ the archer said as I pulled a green tunic over my head. Annoyingly it was the only one in the bag I had to choose from. Green is my least favoured colour; it clashes appallingly with the colour of my eyes. ‘Did you hear them shouting for you?’ The archer enthused. ‘I thought they were going to spurn you; but they loved you. All of Egypt loves you, Taita.’ He was beginning to embarrass me, so I turned back to Weneg. ‘This is not the shortest road back to Doog at the Gates of Torment and Sorrow,’ I pointed out to him, and Weneg grinned at me. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, my lord. But it has been arranged for you to meet somebody other than the honourable Doog.’ Weneg whipped up the horses and turned them on to the paved road that led down to the harbour on the Nile. However, before we reached it he again turned the heads of the horses; but this time on to a northerly track that ran parallel to the great river. We drove in silence for several leagues at a fast trot. I would not give Weneg the satisfaction and importance of questioning him further. I was not sulking – that is something that I never do – but I must confess that I was slightly irritated by his mysterious reticence. I had glimpses of the river through the thick forest which grew along the bank, but I feigned indifference and looked away to the far hills on the eastern horizon. Then suddenly I heard Weneg grunt and exclaim, ‘Ah! There he is, right where he promised to be.’ I turned, but in a leisurely and uninterested manner. But suddenly I sat bolt upright on the transom of the chariot, for there, only a hundred paces off the near bank of the Nile, was the flagship of our battle fleet, indubitably the finest and fastest trireme in existence. She could run down any other ship afloat, and board her with a hundred fighting crew. I was not able to remain sitting calmly. I scrambled to my feet, and before I could restrain myself I had blurted out, ‘By the brimming breasts and the unctuous slit of the great goddess Hathor! That ship is the Memnon!’ ‘By the prime prick and turbulent testicles of the great god Poseidon! I believe that you are right; for once at least, Taita,’ Weneg mimicked me. I bridled for an instant and then, before I could prevent myself, I laughed and pounded him between the shoulder blades. ‘You should never have shown me such a beautiful ship. It will only serve to put a host of naughty ideas into my head.’ ‘Which was fully my intention, I must confess.’ Weneg called to his team of greys, ‘Whoa now!’ The magnificent animals nodded their heads and arched their necks to the drag of the reins, and the chariot came to a halt on the bank, looking out across the Nile towards the great warship. The instant they recognized us on the bank the crew of the Memnon sprang to the windlass on the foredeck and winched up the heavy copper cross-shaped anchor. Then under staysails and a flying jib the warship sauntered in on the light westerly breeze towards the bank where we waited ecstatically to greet her. My enthusiasm in particular was overwhelming, because I sensed that my salvation was at hand, and I was being spared another assignation with the dreaded Doog at the Gates of Torment and Sorrow. ‘Memnon’ was the baby name of my beloved Pharaoh Tamose, he who had so recently been laid low by the Hyksos arrow that his corpse had not yet completed the embalming process which would enable him to be laid to rest in his tomb that stood ready to receive him in the Valley of the Kings on the westerly bank of the Nile. There he would lie with his ancestors through all of eternity. The Memnon was an enormous vessel. I know her specifications intimately because, after all, I was mainly responsible for her design. It is true that Pharaoh Tamose claimed full honours for that feat, but he is gone now and I am not so mean as to take the credit away from a dead man. In length the hull of the Memnon exceeded 100 cubits. She drew 3 cubits of water fully loaded. Her crew numbered 230. She shipped a total of 56 oars in 3 banks a side, as her designation of trireme suggests. The staggered lower rowing benches and the outriggers on the top tier of oars prevented the strokes of the oars interfering with each other. Her width was less than 13 cubits so she was lightning fast through the water, and easy to beach. Her single mast could be lowered, but when raised it spread a massive square sail. She was quite simply the most beautifully designed fighting ship afloat. As she came in to moor on the river-bank I noticed a tall mysterious figure in the stern. He was dressed in a long red robe and a hood of the same colour that covered his face, except for the eye slits. It was apparent that he did not wish to be recognized, and as the crew made the ship fast, he went below without revealing his features or giving any other suggestion of his identity. ‘Who is that?’ I demanded of Weneg. ‘Is this who we have come to meet?’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot say. I will wait for you here ashore.’ I did not hesitate but clambered up on to the Memnon’s bows and strode down the length of the upper deck until I reached the hatch down which the red-robed figure had disappeared. I stamped my foot on the deck, and immediately a deep but cultured voice replied. I did not recognize it. ‘The hatch is open. Come down and close it behind you.’ I followed these instructions and stooped into the cabin below. The headroom was minimal, for she was a fighting ship and not a pleasure cruiser. My red-robed host was already seated. He made no attempt to rise, but he indicated the narrow bench facing him. ‘Please excuse my attire but for reasons that will be immediately clear to you I need to keep my identity hidden from the common flock, at least for the immediate future. I knew you well when I was a child, but circumstances have kept us apart since then. On the other hand you were well acquainted with my father, who held you in the highest regard, and more recently my elder brother who is less enthusiastic …’ Before he finished speaking I knew beyond any doubt who it was that sat before me. I scrambled to my feet to accord him the respect that he so richly deserved, but in the process I cracked my head resoundingly on the beams of the upper deck above me. These were hewn from the finest Lebanese cedar, and my skull was no match for them. I collapsed again on my bench with both hands cradling my head and a thin trickle of blood running into my left eye. My host leaped to his feet but he had the good sense to remain crouching. He whipped the red hood off his own head and rolled it into a ball. Then he clapped it over my wound, pressing down hard to stem the flow of my life’s blood. ‘You are not the first to sustain the same injury,’ he assured me. ‘Painful but not fatal, I assure you, my Lord Taita.’ Now that his hood was adorning my scalp, rather than covering his features, I was able to confirm that this was indeed the Crown Prince Rameses who was tending my injury. ‘Please, Your Royal Highness, it is merely a scratch which I richly deserve for my clumsiness.’ I was embarrassed by his solicitude, but grateful for the opportunity to gather my wits again and reassess the prince at such close quarters. He ranked as Lord High Admiral of the Fleet, and he was so assiduous in his duties that he very seldom made himself available for light socializing and mingling with any other than his own naval officers or, naturally enough, his father. Of course I had romped with him as a child and had told him fairy tales of noble princes saving lovely maidens from dragons and other monsters, but as he approached puberty we had drifted apart and Rameses had come totally under his own father’s influence. Since then I had never again been familiar with him. So now I was surprised at how closely he resembled his father, Pharaoh Tamose. Of course, this resemblance reaffirmed the high regard in which I had always held him. If anything he was even more handsome than his father. It gave me a twinge of conscience to even think this; however, it was the truth. His jawline was stronger, and his teeth more even and white. He was a little taller than his father had been, but his waist was leaner, and his limbs more supple. His skin was a most remarkable shade of deep gold, reflecting his mother Queen Masara’s Abyssinian ancestry. His eyes were a brighter and more lustrous shade of the same hue, and their gaze was piercing, but at the same time intelligent and kindly. My heart went out to him once again, as though the intervening years had never existed. His next words confirmed my instincts: ‘We have many things in common, Taita. But at the moment the most pressing of them is my elder brother’s baleful and implacable enmity. Pharaoh Utteric Turo will never rest until he sees both of us dead. Of course, you are already under sentence of death. But so am I, although not as openly but with equal or even greater relish and anticipation.’ ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why does your brother hate you?’ The question came easily to my lips. I felt that with this man I was perfectly in accord. I had nothing to hide from him, nor had he anything to hide from me. ‘It is simply because Pharaoh Tamose loved me and you more than he loved Utteric, his eldest son.’ He paused for a heartbeat, and then went on, ‘And also because my brother is mad. He is haunted by the ghosts and phantoms of his own twisted mind. He wishes to dispose of any person wiser and nobler than he is.’ ‘You know of this for a certainty?’ I asked, and he nodded. ‘For a certainty, yes! I have my sources, Taita, as I know you do also. In secret and only to his sycophants, Utteric has boasted of his hostile intentions towards me.’ ‘What are you going to do about it?’ I asked and his reply rang in my ears like my own voice speaking. ‘I cannot bring myself to strike him down. My father loved him: that is enough to stay my hand. But neither am I going to let him murder me. I am leaving Egypt this very day.’ His tone was calm and reasonable. ‘Will you come with me, Taita?’ ‘I served your father with joy,’ I answered him. ‘I can do no less for you, my prince who should be Pharaoh.’ He came to me and clasped my right hand in a gesture of friendship and accord, and I went on speaking, ‘However, there are others who have put themselves at risk for my sake.’ ‘Yes, I know who you mean,’ Rameses agreed. ‘Captain Weneg and his legionaries are fine and loyal men. I have spoken with them already. They will throw in their lot with us.’ I nodded. ‘Then I have no further quibble. Wherever you lead I will follow, my Lord Rameses.’ I knew very well where that was; better indeed than the prince himself. However, now was not yet the time to broach that subject. The two of us went up on deck again and I saw that on the bank Weneg and his men had already dismantled the chariots; as we watched his men carried the parts over the gangplank and sent them down into the ship’s hold. Then they swayed the horses aboard and sent them down below also. In under an hour the Memnon was ready to sail. We cast off from the bank and turned the bows into the north. With the wind in our sails, the river current pushing us and the treble banks of oars beating the Nile waters to foam, we headed northwards towards the open sea and freedom from Pharaoh’s malignant and pernicious thrall. One of the few benefits of being a long liver is to be gifted with remarkable powers of healing and recuperation from injury. Almost within the hour the self-inflicted wound to my scalp stopped oozing blood and began to dry up and shrivel away, and before we reached the estuarine mouth of the Nile where it debouched into the great Middle Sea the whip welts, bruises and other injuries inflicted upon me by the dreadful Doog and his minions had healed completely, leaving my skin smooth and glowing with health, like that of a young man again. During the ensuing long days as we rowed northwards down the river towards the sea the prince and I had plenty of time to renew our acquaintance. The next pressing decision we had to make was to decide our ultimate destination once we had left Egypt. It seemed that Rameses had conceived the horrifying notion of sailing out through the rocky Gates of Hathor at the end of the world – just to see what lay beyond them. I knew very well what lay beyond. The great nothingness lay beyond. If we were so ill advised as to take that course we would simply drop off the end of the world and fall in darkness through all eternity. ‘How do you know that is what will happen to us?’ Rameses demanded of me. ‘Because nobody has ever returned from beyond the Gates,’ I explained quite reasonably. ‘How do you know that?’ he wanted to know. ‘Name me one who has,’ I challenged him. ‘Scaeva of Hispan.’ ‘I have never heard of him. Who was he?’ ‘He was a great explorer. My great-grandfather met him.’ ‘But did you ever meet him?’ ‘Of course not! He died long before I was born.’ ‘So your great-grandfather told you about him?’ ‘Well, not really. You see he also died before I was born. My own father told me the story of Senebsen.’ ‘You know how much I respect the memory of your father; however, I never had the opportunity to discuss this Senebsen’s travels with him. Moreover, I doubt I would have been sufficiently convinced by third-hand accounts of what lies beyond the Gates to take the risk of travelling there myself.’ Most fortuitously I had a dream two nights later. I dreamed that the princesses Bekatha and Tehuti together with all their multitudinous children had been captured by Farsian pirates and chained to a rock at the edge of the sea as an offering to appease the terrible sea monster which was known as the Tarquist. This creature has wings with which it is able to fly through the air like a great bird or swim through the sea like a mighty fish. It also has fifty mouths which are insatiable for human flesh and with which it is able to destroy even the greatest ships ever built by men. Naturally I was extremely reluctant to tell Rameses of my dream, but in the end I had to take into account the solemn duty I had sworn to the royal house of Egypt. Of course, Rameses was fully aware of my reputation as a soothsayer and a reader of dreams. He listened quietly but seriously to my own interpretation of the dream, then without giving his own opinion he went to the bows of the ship where he sequestered himself for the remainder of the afternoon. He came back to me in the poop as the sun was setting, and wasted no words. ‘I charge you most strictly to tell me the truth about what happened to my two aunts when they were sent by my father, Pharaoh Tamose, to the Empire of Crete to become the wives of the Great Minos, the King of Crete. I understood that they carried out their duty as my father decreed and they became the wives of the Minos, but then they were killed in the violent eruption of Mount Cronus. This is what my father told me. But then I was present when my brother Utteric accused you of treachery and false pretences. He says that my aunts survived the volcanic eruptions which killed their husband, the Minos, but then they neglected their duty and rather than returning to Egypt they eloped with those two rogues Zaras and Hui and disappeared. I discounted Utteric’s accusations as the ravings of a lunatic, but now this dream of yours seems to endorse the notion that they are still alive.’ He broke off and regarded me with that piercing gaze of his. ‘Tell me the truth, Taita,’ he challenged me. ‘What really happened to my aunts?’ ‘There were circumstances?’ I hedged at the direct question. ‘That is no answer,’ he chided me. ‘What do you mean by There were circumstances.’ ‘Please let me give you another example, Rameses.’ He nodded. ‘I am listening.’ ‘Suppose a prince of the royal house of Egypt becomes aware that his elder brother who is Pharaoh was intent on murdering him for no good reason, and he decided to flee his country rather than stay and be killed. Would you consider that to be dereliction of his duty?’ I asked, and Rameses rocked back on his heels and stared at me in astonishment. At last he shook his head as if to clear it, and then said softly, ‘You mean, would I count that as extenuating circumstances?’ ‘Would you?’ ‘I suppose I would,’ he admitted, and then he grinned. ‘I suppose I already have.’ I seized upon his admission. ‘Very well. I will tell you about your two aunts. They were lovely girls, loyal and true as well as clever and very beautiful. Your father sent them to Crete as brides of the Minos. I was appointed their chaperon. They did their duty to your father and to Egypt. They married the Minos despite the fact they were in love with men of their own choice. Then the Minos was killed in the eruption of Mount Cronus and suddenly they were free. They eloped with the men they truly loved, and rather than discouraging them I assisted them.’ He stared at me in fascination as I went on, ‘You were correct in your suspicions. Both your aunts are still alive.’ ‘How do you know that?’ he demanded of me. ‘Because, not more than a month ago, I discussed the subject with their husbands. I want you to come with me to visit them. You can travel incognito, as the captain of the Memnon, not as a prince of the royal house of Tamose. Then you will be in a position to judge them and compare their decision to disappear to your own decision to do exactly the same thing.’ ‘What if I still think that my aunts reneged on their royal duty?’ ‘Then I will sail with you through the Gates of Hathor and jump with you over the edge of the world into eternity.’ Rameses let out a shout of laughter, and when he regained his composure he wiped the tears of merriment from his cheeks and asked, ‘Do you know where to find these two elusive ladies?’ ‘I do.’ ‘Then show us the way,’ he invited me. Two days later we reached the mouth of the Nile without further serious delays. The Hyksos fleet was destroyed, and there was no other ship afloat that dared challenge our right of way, for the Memnon ruled the river just as her namesake had ruled the land. The Middle Sea lay ahead of us. We passed out through the Phatnic mouth, the largest of the seven mouths of the River Nile, and my heart rejoiced within me to ride once more the waves of the greatest of all oceans. I knew that on the northerly course we had to take we would be out of sight of the land for days and possibly even as long as a week at a time. At this season of the year the clouds would probably blot out the sun for days on end. Navigation was always a problem in these circumstances, so it was time to show Rameses my magic fish. This had been given to me many years ago by an African medicine man. I had saved his eldest son from death by snakebite and his gratitude had been fulsome. This magic fish is carved out of a rare and weighty type of black stone found only in Ethiopia above the last Nile cataract. It is known to the tribesmen as the ‘going-home stone’, for with it they are able to find their way home. There are many that disparage the wisdom of the black tribesmen, but I am not one of those. My magic fish is about as long as my little finger but merely a sliver thick. When needed I glue it to a piece of wood carved to the shape of the hull of a boat. This miniature boat with the fish on board is floated in a round bowl of water. The bowl must also be made of wood and decorated with esoteric African designs in vivid colours. Now comes the magical part. The carved stone fish swims slowly but doggedly towards the northernmost point on the bowl’s circumference, no matter in which direction the bows of the ship are pointed. On this leg of our voyage we had only to point the bows of the Memnon slightly to the left of the direction in which the nose of the fish was aiming. Night or day the magical fish is infallible. On our return journey we would simply point the Memnon’s nose in the reciprocal direction; that is always supposing that we would ever have call to return to Egypt. Rameses scoffed at my little fish. ‘Can it also sing an ode to the gods, or fetch me a jug of good wine, or point the way to a pretty girl with a cunny that tastes sweet as honey?’ he wanted to know. I was deaf to such unbecoming levity. Our first night on the open sea the sky was obscured completely by cloud. There was no sun, moon or stars to guide us. We sailed all night in Stygian darkness with only the going-home stone to show us the way. Long before dawn the two of us went up on deck and sat over the wooden bowl, watching it in the feeble light of a sputtering oil lamp. Rameses passed the time by making more of his little jokes at my expense. He was mortified when the day broke and the clouds cleared to reveal that the Memnon and my little fish were holding the precise course slightly west of north. ‘It really is magic,’ I heard him mutter to himself when this happened the third morning in succession. Then on the fourth morning, as the sun pushed its fiery head above the horizon, the blighted island of Crete lay not more than five leagues dead ahead of our bows. Many years previously, when I first laid eyes on them, the mountains of Crete had been green and heavily forested. Great cities and ports had marked the island’s shores as the most prosperous in the world. The waters around its coast had teemed with shipping: both men-of-war and cargo ships. Now both forests and cities had gone, scorched to blackened ashes by the fiery breath of the great god Cronus, who in a fit of pique had destroyed the mountain wherein his own son Zeus had enchained him; blowing it apart in a fiery volcanic eruption. The remains of his singular mountain had sunk beneath the waters, leaving not a trace of its previous existence. We altered course and sailed in as close to the land as seemed safe, but I could recognize no features that had previously existed. Even after all these years the air still reeked of sulphur and the odour of dead things, both animals and fishes. Or perhaps that was really only my vivid imagination and my keen sense of smell. In any event the waters under our keel were devoid of life; the coral reefs had been killed off by the boiling sea. Even Rameses and his crew, who had never known this world, were subdued and appalled by such total destruction. ‘This bears abundant testimony to the fact that all the strivings of man are trivial and insignificant in the face of the gods.’ Rameses spoke in a hushed voice. ‘Let us hurry away from this place and leave it to the apocalyptic anger of the god Cronus.’ So I ordered the helmsman to put the rudder over and increase the beat. We bore away northwards into the Grecian Sea, still sailing a few points west of true north. For me these were unexplored waters into which we were sailing. Crete was as far north as I had ever ventured. Within a day we had passed out of the area laid waste by the volcano and the sea resumed its friendly and welcoming aspect. Rameses had a quick and enquiring mind. He was eager to learn and I was pleased to accommodate him. He wanted particularly to know all I could tell him about his family history and origins, about which I knew a great deal. I had lived with four generations of Pharaohs at first hand. I was pleased to be able to share my knowledge with him. But we were not so involved with the history of Egypt that we neglected our duties as commanders of the finest warship afloat. The time that we spent in examining the past was as nothing compared to that we spent preparing for future contingencies. As befitted a ship of its class, the crew had all been handpicked by Rameses and were as fine a bunch of men as I had ever seen in action, but I have always believed in improving upon perfection if it is even remotely possible. Rameses drilled his men pitilessly, and I assisted him in keeping them up to the highest levels of training. The very best military commanders have an instinct for danger and the presence of an enemy. By noon of the third morning after we had left the island of Crete behind us I began to experience the familiar nameless unease. I spent much of my afternoon surreptitiously searching the horizon not only ahead of the ship but behind us as well. I knew from experience that it was dangerous to ignore these premonitions of mine. Then I saw that I was not alone in my unease. Rameses was becoming restless also, but he could not hide his concern as well as I was able to do so. He was of course much less experienced than I was. In the late afternoon, when the sun was only a hand’s span above the western horizon, he laid his sword and helmet aside and clambered to the top of the mainmast. I watched him staring back over our wake for a while, and then I could contain myself no longer. I also divested myself of my weapons and half-armour and went to the foot of the mast. By this time the crew and especially those taking their turn at the long oars were watching me with interest. I climbed from the main deck to the crow’s nest at the peak without pausing and Rameses made room for me although it was a tight squeeze for the two of us in the bucket of the crow’s nest. He said nothing but regarded me curiously for a while. ‘Have you spotted him yet?’ I broke the silence and he looked startled. ‘Have I spotted whom?’ he asked carefully. ‘Whoever it is that is shadowing us,’ I replied, and he chuckled softly. ‘So you have sensed them also. You are a sly old dog, Taita.’ ‘I didn’t get to be an old dog by being stupid, young man.’ I am sensitive to references to my age. Rameses stopped laughing. ‘Who do you think it is?’ he asked more soberly. ‘This northern sea is the hunting ground of every pirate who ever cut a throat. How could even I pick out one of them?’ We watched the sun sink ponderously into the sea. However, the horizon behind us remained devoid of life, until suddenly we shouted together, ‘There he is!’ Just the instant before the sun was sucked under the waters it shot a golden shaft of light over the darkling waves. We both knew that this was a reflection off the skysail of the ship that was stalking us. ‘I think he’s after our blood, otherwise why is he being so stealthy? He is expecting us to shorten sail or even heave to entirely at the setting of the sun, so he is conforming in order not to overrun us. He wants to creep up on us in the darkness without causing a collision,’ I conjectured. ‘So now we should plan a little surprise for him.’ ‘What do you suggest, Taita? I am more accustomed to fighting other ships in the confines of the Nile, not out here in the open ocean. So I yield to your superior knowledge.’ ‘I saw that you have a change of sail in the after hold.’ ‘Oh, you mean the black sail. It comes in handy for night work, when we don’t want to be discovered by the enemy.’ ‘That’s exactly what we need right now,’ I told him. We waited until the last glimmer of daylight faded into darkness. Then we altered course ninety degrees to port and sailed for what I judged to be roughly a mile. There we hove to and brought down our white sail and replaced it with the black one. This manoeuvre was complicated by the darkness, and it occupied us for longer than I had hoped. At last, under our midnight-black mainsail, we circled back on to our original course, which manoeuvre was made possible by my magic fish and an occasional flash of sheet lightning that lit the clouds briefly. I was hoping that the other ship was following our original course and in the delay while we changed sail it had passed us and was now sailing along ahead of us, with every member of its crew staring fixedly over the bows. Obviously the captain of the pirate vessel would be piling on all his sail in order to overhaul us; so I ordered Rameses to do the same thing. The Memnon tore along through the darkness with spray coming in over the bows and pelting us like a hailstorm. Every member of our crew was fully armed and ready for a fight, but as time slipped by I began to doubt even my own calculations of the relative positions of the two ships. Then suddenly the pirate ship seemed to spring at us out of the night. I hardly had time to shout a warning to the helm and there she was dead ahead and broadside on to us, lit up by another fleeting flash of lightning. It seemed that the pirate skipper had given up all hope of coming up astern of us. He had convinced himself that he sailed past us in the darkness, so now he was trying to come on to the opposite tack and beat back to seek us out. He was full in the path of the Memnon and lying like a log in the water. We were charging in on him at attack speed and our axe-sharp bows would have cleaved him through and through, but would themselves have been staved in by the ferocity of the impact. It was a tribute to Rameses’ maritime skill and the training of his crew that he was able to prevent a head-on collision that would have demolished both vessels and sent them and all of us to the bottom of the ocean. He managed to alter course just enough to present our broadside to that of the stationary ship. Nevertheless the impact was sufficient to throw every member of the pirate crew to the deck, including the captain and the helmsman. They lay there in heaps, most of them hurt or stunned, and even the few of those who were able to regain their feet had lost their weapons and were in no condition to defend themselves. Most of the crew of the Memnon had been given sufficient warning to be able to brace themselves and seize on to a handhold. The others were catapulted from the deck of the Memnon on to the deck of the pirate ship. I was one of these. I was unable to decelerate by my own endeavours, so I chose the softest obstacle in my path and steered myself into it. This happened to be the pirate captain in person. The two of us crashed to the deck in a heap, but with me on top, sitting astride the other man’s torso. I had lost my sword in this abrupt change of ships so I was unable to kill him immediately, which was probably just as well, for he groaned pitifully and pushed the visor of his bronze helmet to the back of his head, and stared up at me. Just then another lightning flash lit the face of the man beneath me. ‘In the name of Seth’s reeking fundament, Admiral Hui, what are you doing here?’ I demanded of him. ‘I suspect it’s exactly the same as what you are doing here, good Taita. Garnering a little spare silver to help feed the baby,’ he answered me hoarsely, trying to regain his breath and to struggle up into a sitting position. ‘Now, if only you would get off me I will give you a hug and offer you a bowl of good red Lacedaemon wine to celebrate our timely reunion.’ It took some time to get both crews on their feet, to care for the more seriously wounded and then to get the pumps on the pirate ship manned and working to prevent her from sinking, for the damage she had sustained in the collision was much worse than ours. Only then did I have an opportunity to introduce Rameses to Hui. I did not do so as the next in line to the throne of Egypt, but simply as plain ship’s captain. Then in turn I introduced Hui to Rameses; not as his uncle-in-law but as admiral of the Lacedaemon fleet and part-time buccaneer. Despite the discrepancy in their ages, they took to one another almost immediately, and by the time we started on the second jug of red wine they were chatting like old shipmates. It took the rest of that night and most of the following day to repair the damage to both ships, and for me to stitch up the gashes and splint the broken limbs of the casualties which both sides had suffered. When eventually we set sail for the port of Githion on the south coast of Lacedaemon, Hui led the Memnon in his flagship which he had named, after his own wife, the Bekatha. I left Rameses in command of the Memnon and I went aboard the Bekatha so I was able to explain to Hui in private the complicated circumstances of our sudden arrival. Hui listened to my explanation in silence and only when I had finished did he chuckle with amusement. ‘What do you find so funny?’ I demanded. ‘It could have been much worse.’ ‘In what way, pray tell me? I am an outcast, denied entry to my homeland on pain of death, deprived of my estates and titles.’ It was the first time since being forced to fly from my very Egypt that I had the opportunity to bemoan my circumstances. I felt utterly wretched. ‘At least you are a rich outcast, and still very much alive,’ Hui pointed out. ‘All thanks to King Hurotas.’ It took me a moment to remember who that was. Sometimes I still thought of him as plain Zaras. However, Hui was right. Not only was I still a wealthy man, thanks to the treasure that Hurotas had in safe keeping for me, but I was also about to be reunited with my darling princesses after being parted from them for almost three decades. Suddenly I felt rather jolly again. The peaks of the Taygetus Mountains were the first glimpse of Lacedaemon that I ever laid my eyes upon. They were as sharp as the fangs of a dragon, steep as the gulf of Hades and although it was early springtime they were still decked with shining fields of ice and snow. As we sailed in towards them they rose higher from the sea and we saw their lower slopes were verdant with tall forests. Closer still the shores were revealed to us, fortified with cliffs of grey rock. The serried ranks of waves marched in upon them like legions of attacking warriors and one after the other spent their fury upon them in thunderous creaming surf. We entered the mouth of a deep bay many leagues wide. This was the Bay of Githion. Here the waves were more subdued and contained. We were able to approach the shore more closely. We sailed past the mouth of a wide river running down from the mountains. ‘The Hurotas River,’ Hui told me. ‘Named after somebody with whom you are well acquainted.’ ‘Where is his citadel?’ I wanted to know. ‘Almost four leagues inland,’ Hui answered. ‘We have deliberately concealed it from the sea to discourage unwelcome visitors.’ ‘Then where is your fleet anchored? Surely it would be difficult to hide such an array of war galleys as I know that you possess?’ ‘Look around you, Taita,’ Hui suggested. ‘They are hidden in plain sight.’ I have very sharp eyesight but I was unable to pick out what Hui was challenging me to discover. This irritated me. I do not enjoy being ridiculed. He must have sensed it because he relented and gave me a hint. ‘Look over there where the mountains run down to the sea.’ Then of course it all jumped into focus and I realized that what I had presumed to be a few dead trees scattered along the shoreline were rather too straight and lacking branches and foliage. ‘Are those not the bare masts of a number of war galleys? But they seem to be beached ashore, for I cannot make out their hulls.’ ‘Excellent, Taita!’ Hui applauded me generously, allaying my irritation with his childish guessing games. ‘The hulls of our galleys are hidden behind the sea wall of the harbour we have built for them. Only a few of them have their masts still stepped. Most of them have lowered theirs, which makes them ever more difficult to detect.’ ‘They are cunningly concealed,’ I conceded magnanimously. We headed towards the hidden harbour with the Memnon following us. When we were as close as half a bowshot offshore the entrance was abruptly revealed to us. It was doubled back upon itself to conceal it from seawards. As we entered it we lowered our own sails and plied the oars to carry us into the passage. We passed through the final bend and the inner harbour was revealed to us with the entire Lacedaemon fleet tied up to their berths along the sea wall. This concealed harbour was a hive of industry. On every ship men were busy preparing for sea: repairing sails and hulls or carrying aboard fresh supplies of food, equipment and weapons. However, all this industry came to an abrupt hiatus as our two galleys came through the entrance. The Memnon caused a stir amongst the men ashore. I doubt they had ever seen anything like her afloat, but then something else happened to divert their attention from even such a magnificent sight as Rameses’ flagship. The men switched their attention back to the leading trireme: Hui’s Bekatha. They began pointing at our small group of officers on the poop deck. They started calling to each other and I heard my name – ‘Taita’ – being bandied back and forth. Of course most of them knew me well, not only as an erstwhile companion in arms and a person of exceptional and striking appearance but for another reason eminently more memorable to the common sailor or charioteer. Before I had parted from them after the capture of the city of Memphis, the defeat of Khamudi and the annihilation of the Hyksos hordes, I had asked King Hurotas to distribute a small part of my share of the booty to his troops in recognition of the part they had played in the battle. This amounted to a mere lakh of silver out of the ten lakhs that were mine, the equivalent of approximately ten silver coins of five deben’s weight for each man. Of course, this is a trifling amount for you and me, or any other nobleman, but for the common herd it is almost two years’ salary; in other words it is a veritable fortune. They remembered it, and would probably continue to do so until their dying day. ‘It is Lord Taita!’ they called to one another, pointing me out. ‘Taita! Taita!’ Others took up the chant and they swarmed down to the jetty to welcome me. They tried to touch me as I came ashore and some of them even had the temerity to attempt to slap me on my back. I was nearly knocked off my feet a number of times until Hui and Rameses formed a bodyguard for me with twenty of their own men to protect my person. They hustled me through the hubbub to where horses were waiting to carry us up the valley to the site where King Hurotas and Queen Sparta were building their citadel. Once we left the coast the countryside became lovelier with every league we travelled. The constant backdrop of the snow-clad mountains was always in full sight to remind us of the winter just past. The meadows beneath them were a luscious green, waist-deep in fresh grass and myriad gorgeous flowers nodding their heads to the light breeze bustling down from the Taygetus heights. For a while we rode along the bank of the Hurotas River. Its waters were still swollen by the snowmelt, but clear enough to make out the shapes of the large fish lying deep and nose-on to the current. There were half-naked men and women wading chest-deep in the icy waters, dragging long loops of woven netting between them; sweeping up these fish and piling them in glittering heaps upon the bank. Hui stopped for a few minutes to bargain for fifty of the largest of these delicious creatures and have them delivered to the kitchens of the royal citadel. Apart from these river denizens, there were small boys along the roadside selling bunches of pigeon and partridges that they had trapped, and stalls at which were displayed the carcasses of wild oxen and deer. There were herds of domesticated animals at pasture in the fields: cattle and goats, sheep and horses. All of these were in good condition, plump and sturdy with glossy coats. The men and women working the fields were mostly very young or very old, but all of them seemed equally contented. They shouted cheery greetings to us as we passed. Only once we approached the citadel did the aspect of the population begin to change. They were younger, most of them of military age. They were living in well-built and expansive barracks and engaged in training and exercising battle tactics. Their chariots, armour and weapons seemed to be of the best and most modern type, including the recurved bow and the light but sturdy chariots each drawn by a team of four horses. We paused more than once to watch them at their drill and it was immediately apparent that these were first-rate battle-ready troops, at the peak of their training. This was only to be expected with Hurotas and Hui as their commanding officers. We had been climbing gradually ever since we left the coast. Finally after a ride of four leagues we topped another wooded rise and paused again, this time in amazement, as the citadel was laid out before us in the centre of a wide basin of open ground surrounded by the high ramparts of the mountains. The Hurotas River ran through the middle of this basin. But it was split into two strong streams of fast-running water, in the centre of which rose the citadel. The river formed a natural moat around it. Then the streams were reunited on the lower side to continue their course to the sea at the port of Githion. The citadel was formed by an up-thrust of volcanic rock from the earth’s centre. When after many hundreds of centuries he grew disenchanted with the citadel, he abandoned it. It was then appropriated by the savage and primitive tribe of the Neglints who lived in the Taygetus Mountains. In their turn the Neglints were defeated and enslaved more recently by King Hurotas and Admiral Hui. Hurotas and Hui had used the newly captured slaves to strengthen the fortifications of the citadel until they were nigh on impregnable, and the interior was not only commodious but also extremely comfortable. Hurotas was determined to make this the capital city of his new nation. I wasted very little time examining the citadel from afar, and listening to Hui reciting its history. A first-rate admiral he may very well be, but as a raconteur he makes a fine pedant. I shook up my steed and gave him a touch of my spurs, leading the party at a gallop down into the bowl and on towards the citadel. When I was still some distance off I saw the drawbridge being lowered and no sooner than it had touched the near bank but two riders came across it at full pelt, their faint squeals of excitement and high-pitched cries of joy increasing in volume as they approached. I recognized the leading rider at once. Tehuti led the way as she has always done. Her hair flew out like a flag in the wind behind her. When last I had seen her it was a lovely russet colour, but now it was pure white and glistening in the sunlight like the snowy peaks of the Taygetus Mountains behind her. But even at this distance I could see she was as slim as the young girl I remembered so lovingly. She was followed at a much more sedate pace by an older and larger lady whom I was certain I had never previously laid eyes on. Tehuti and I came together still shouting endearments at each other. We both dismounted while our mounts were at almost full gallop and maintained our footing when we hit the ground, but used our residual impetus to come together in a ferocious embrace. Tehuti was laughing and weeping simultaneously. ‘Where have you been hiding all these years, you naughty man? I thought I would never see you again!’ Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks and dripped from the tip of her chin. My face was wet also. Of course the moisture was not my own. I had received it second-hand from the woman I was hugging. There was so much I wanted to say to her but the words jammed in my throat. I could only clasp her to my bosom and pray for us never to be parted again. Then her companion trotted up to where we were involved. She dismounted carefully, and then she came to where we stood with both her arms extended. ‘Taita! I have missed you so bitterly. I thank Hathor and all the other gods and goddesses that they have allowed you to return to us,’ she said in that lovely musical voice which had come down unaltered through all the years, and which I remembered with sudden guilty delight. ‘Bekatha!’ I cried instead, and rushed to seize her in my embrace. But I kept Tehuti firmly in the circle of my other arm as I hugged her little sister, who no longer merited that diminutive adjective. The three of us clung together sobbing and gabbling joyous nonsense at each other, thereby trying to expunge the memory of all the years that we had been separated. Suddenly Tehuti, who had always been the more observant of the two, said, ‘It really is uncanny, Tata my lovely old darling, but you have not changed an iota since I waved goodbye to you all those years ago. If anything you seem to have grown younger and more beautiful.’ Of course I made dissenting noises, but Tehuti has always had the knack of choosing the most appropriate description of any subject. ‘Both of you are far more lovely than ever I remember you,’ I countered. ‘You must know that I have recently heard much about you from your doting husbands, but that was only sufficient to whet my appetite rather than assuage it. I have met all four of your sons, Bekatha, when they came to Egypt to help free the homeland from the Hyksos domination. But it was only a brief meeting and now I want to learn everything about them from you.’ For any mother her whelps are the most fascinating objects in creation and so Bekatha regaled us all the way back to the citadel with a minute account of the virtues of her four sons. ‘They are not quite as perfect as my sister paints them.’ Tehuti gave me a surreptitious wink. ‘But then no man alive is.’ ‘That’s pure jealousy,’ Bekatha interjected complacently. ‘You see, my poor sister has only one child, and that is a girl.’ Tehuti took the jibe with equanimity. Obviously it had grown stale with over-usage. Despite her silver mane of hair, or probably because of it, Tehuti was still a magnificent-looking woman. Her countenance was unlined by time or the elements. Her limbs were lean but elegantly sculpted from hard muscle. Her raiment was not festooned with ribbons and flowers and feminine frippery; instead she wore a military officer’s dress tunic. She moved with feminine grace and elegance, but also with masculine power and purpose. She laughed easily but not loudly or without ample reason. Her teeth were white and even. Her gaze was deep and searching. She smelled like a fruiting apple tree. And I loved her. When I turned back to Bekatha I saw she was the diametric opposite to her elder sister. If Tehuti was Athena the goddess of war, then Bekatha was the earth goddess Gaia personified. She was plump and rosy. Even her face was rounded like the full moon, but more highly coloured, pink and glossy. She laughed often and loudly, for no good reason other than the joy of life itself. I remembered her as a pretty little slip of a girl just coming into puberty, half the size of Hui her husband. But now that she had grown large with repeated childbirth he still adored her, and I soon discovered that I did also. The three of us rode well ahead of the rest of the party. Hui and Rameses hung back tactfully to let the two sisters and me resume our very singular relationship. There was so much for us to recall and delight in that the time was not enough, before we found ourselves before the main gates of the citadel of Sparta, the Loveliest One. Although an army of slaves had been labouring upon it for many decades it was not yet completed, but I judged that its mighty walls and systems of moats and fortifications would be able to repel the greatest and most determined army of any potential enemy of which I was aware. I reined in my horse in order to admire it in detail, and while I was doing so Hui and Rameses rode up to join us. Both Tehuti and Bekatha immediately transferred their attention from me to Rameses. I did not resent this. They had given me more than my full share, and Rameses was truly a striking-looking man. In all fairness I knew of no other to match him; well, perhaps that is not strictly correct but modesty precludes me from further comparisons. So I retired gracefully into the background. ‘And who might you be, young sir?’ Bekatha was never one to hang back. She studied Rameses boldly. ‘I am not anybody of particular account, Your Royal Highness.’ Rameses dismissed her query with a modest smile. ‘I am merely the captain of the ship which brought Lord Taita to visit you on your lovely island. I am named Captain Rammy.’ He and I had agreed not to prattle about his close links to the throne of Egypt. We were both fully aware that Pharaoh Utteric Turo the Great had his spies in high and unlikely places. Tehuti was studying Rameses with an intensity which was much more telling than her little sister’s eager prattle. ‘You are a member of the Egyptian royalty.’ When she spoke Tehuti made it sound like an accusation and a challenge. ‘How did you know that, Your Majesty?’ Rameses was nonplussed. ‘When you speak your accent is unmistakable.’ Tehuti went on studying his face a few moments longer, and then she said with certainty, ‘You remind me of somebody I knew well but whom I have not seen in many a long year. Let me think!’ Then her expression changed again, becoming more eager and fascinated. ‘You remind me of my brother Pharaoh Tamose—’ She broke off and stared at her reluctant relative. ‘Rammy! Yes of course! You are my nephew Rameses.’ She turned away from him and focused her disapproval on me, but her censure was alleviated by the sparkle of happiness in her eyes and the barely suppressed laughter on her lips. ‘You naughty, naughty man, Tata! Whatever gave you the notion of trying to dupe me? As if I would not have known my own flesh and blood. I taught this little hellion his first swear words. Don’t you remember, Rameses?’ ‘Shit and corruption! And bugger me sideways! I remember them so well.’ Rameses merged his laughter with hers. ‘I was only about three or four years old at the time and you were an old lady of sixteen or seventeen, but I will never forget those sweet words of wisdom.’ Tehuti leaped from the back of her mount and spread her arms wide in invitation. ‘Come and give your old auntie a kiss, you horrid child!’ I watched the two of them embrace with pleasure; and this was not solely because I was no longer obliged to leap from the end of the earth into eternity to make good my pledge to Rameses. It took some time for the greeting ceremony to run its course because naturally Bekatha felt obliged to add her considerable weight to the occasion, but finally we were free to mount up again and continue on our way to the citadel. The two sisters rode within touching distance of Rameses, one on each side of him. The gates were thrown wide open as we approached the citadel and King Hurotas scrambled down the scaffolding which still covered part of the new fortifications and on which he had been directing the builders. In appearance he seemed more like a workman himself than a king, covered as he was by dust and grime. Of course he had recognized me from afar. I am not a person who is easy to overlook, even in a crowd. And then he had been intrigued to see his own wife and her sister clinging adoringly to the young stranger who rode between them. ‘This is my nephew Rameses!’ Tehuti yelled at her husband when they were still separated by fifty paces. ‘He is our brother Tamose’s second eldest son,’ Bekatha endorsed the relationship. She was making absolutely certain there was no misunderstanding as to what was meant by the word ‘nephew’. ‘And he is next in line to the throne of Egypt after you and Taita have ridded the world of Utteric.’ I was taken a little aback at her assumption of our future role as kingmakers. However, Hurotas was obviously inured to her flights of fantasy. He came on readily to embrace Rameses, and transfer to his admiral’s uniform a liberal portion of the builder’s muck that covered his royal personage. At last he drew back and announced every bit as loudly as Bekatha had done, ‘This calls for a celebration to welcome Prince Rameses. Tell the chefs that I am hosting a banquet this evening, with the best wine and good food for everybody.’ That evening the inner courtyard of the citadel was lit by a dozen large bonfires and trestle tables sufficient to seat several hundred of the most important nobles of Lacedaemon. The king and his immediate family sat in the centre of a raised dais where they were visible to all the lesser creatures in creation. Of course I sat between my two former charges, Tehuti and Bekatha. Directly below us were seated the sons of Bekatha and Hui. These were the four splendid young men that had accompanied their father to Egypt on the campaign to rid the world of King Khamudi. Although I had met them only briefly at that time I am an infallible judge of humanity. I knew that Bekatha had bred true to her line of Pharaohs and that her sons were choice specimens of the Egyptian nobility. Two of her boys were already married and their pretty little wives sat with them. They were all close in age to Rameses, and they were treating him like the honoured guest he so clearly was. I expressed my approval of them to Bekatha, their mother, and she took it as nothing more than their due. ‘In fact I had hoped that one of my boys would marry their cousin, Serrena,’ she confided in me. I was by this time aware that Serrena was the name of Tehuti’s mysterious and elusive daughter, whose empty chair awaited her arrival to sit beside her father King Hurotas at the head of the festive table. Bekatha went on speaking with barely a pause for breath: ‘All four of them pressed their suits to her, one after the other. But she turned them down prettily with the excuse that she could not marry someone with whom she had bathed naked as a child, and had discussed their differing genital structures while sharing the same piss pot. I wonder what excuse she had for the hundred and one other suitors who have come in a constant stream from the ends of the earth to ask for her hand in marriage.’ ‘I look forward to meeting her. I gather that she is a very handsome young lady,’ I acknowledged, and Bekatha went on enlarging on the subject. ‘Everybody and their uncles say that she is the most beautiful girl in creation, a fitting rival to the goddess Aphrodite; but I cannot see it myself. Anyway, Serrena is so fussy in her choice of a husband that she will most probably die an old spinster.’ Bekatha shot a teasing glance at her sister on the other side of me. Tehuti had followed our conversation but she did not deign to reply and merely stuck out the tip of her pink tongue in Bekatha’s direction. ‘Where is this paragon of feminine pulchritude?’ I demanded. None of this was news to me, but I thought it best to divert the two of them from their discussion before it boiled over from fun into fury. ‘Will she be joining us this evening?’ ‘Do you see an empty stool anywhere in the courtyard?’ Bekatha asked, and looked pointedly in the direction of King Hurotas who was sitting across the table from us. The seat at his left hand was the only one in the packed courtyard that was presently unoccupied. Bekatha grinned and answered her own question before her elder sister could reply, ‘Princess Serrena of Sparta marches to the beat of her own drum which she alone can hear.’ She said it in a jocular tone, almost as though she meant it as a compliment rather than an accusation. But King Hurotas, who had been following the conversation, leaned forward quickly and intervened: ‘When a beautiful woman is only an hour late it is because she is making a particular effort to be on time.’ Bekatha subsided immediately and I realized who truly ruled this kingdom and where his devotions lay. There was an almost immediate lull in the clamour of festivities, and I thought for an instant that the rest of the company was reacting to the king’s rebuke, but then I realized that very few of them could have overheard it, and that they were paying no heed to Hurotas or anyone else in the courtyard. Instead every head was turning towards the main doors opening out into the courtyard from the citadel. Through them walked a young woman. This is an inaccurate description of her entrance into my life, and that of Rameses. Princess Serrena did not walk; she glided without appearing to move any part of her body, for the long skirts she wore screened her legs and lower parts from her hips downwards. Her hair was piled high on her head, a crown of dense shimmering gold. The lightly sun-tanned skin of her arms and shoulders was as unblemished and glossy as polished marble or freshly woven silk. She was tall, but her body was perfectly proportioned. She was not pretty, because that adjective suggests a simpering vacuity. She was simply magnificent. Every facet of her face was perfection. When taken together they exceed my powers of description. As she moved her features changed subtly, perfection surpassing perfection. She captivated every person who looked upon her. However, her single most striking feature – if it were possible to distinguish it – was her eyes. These were enormous but in perfect harmony with the rest of her face. They were a particular shade of green that was brighter than any emerald. They were also piercing and perceptive, but at the same time clement and forgiving. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/wilbur-smith/pharaoh/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.