I waited outside the Audience Hall, in a long corridor where officers, administrators and priests in their white linen robes came and went, self-important and whispering in the awful hush that seemed to hold the whole labyrinth of the palace in its thrall. In order to reach this hallowed place, we had been ushered through chamber after chamber, stateroom after stateroom, each one ever-more glorious, ornately decorated and filled with ever-more important dignitaries, Priests and Officers, who had bowed and watched us like jackals as we continued on our progress to the heart of the Palace. The sense of gloom was unrelieved by the glorious paintings covering the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. Elegant fish swam beneath my feet. Wild ducks rose up from the papyrus reed beds of the Great River. The painted water was clean and the painted flowers were perfect. It all seemed like wishful thinking.
With nothing to do but wait, I drifted back to a reverie of one of the last times I had entered this palace. I had returned from the royal hunt with the corpse of Tutankhamun, who had been killed in a hunting accident. For this, I had incurred Ay’s wrath, and his unending enmity. And Ankhesenamun, the King’s young wife, the daughter of Nefertiti, had known at once that her own destiny was changed for ever. Instead of the new enlightenment which she and Tutankhamun had intended to bring to the empire, she had been forced to marry the vicious old Vizier, Ay. She had had to acquiesce to his ascension to absolute power in order to prevent an even worse outcome: a military coup by General Horemheb. And now, with Ay’s impending death, it seemed that that great disaster had only been postponed, and would soon be upon us.
As I was pondering these matters, footsteps approached. I looked up to see a friendly face. It was Simut, Commander of the Palace Guard. A Nubian, he was statuesque and broad-shouldered, and possessed a face of burnished integrity. We had been together with King Tutankhamun when he had died.
‘Have you put on weight?’ he asked, assessing me.
‘Probably,’ I said. ‘I wish I could say the same of you. You always look so absurdly fit and healthy.’
He laughed quietly and invited me to sit on one of the gilded benches near by.
‘What brings you back to the palace after all this time?’ he asked.
‘I’m accompanying the royal envoy, Nakht. But in a private capacity, as it were. I’m really only here for show…’
‘Ah,’ he said, delicately grasping my meaning. ‘Well, it’s good to see you. How long has it been?’
‘A while,’ I replied, carefully.
‘Best not to dwell too much in the past,’ he offered. ‘Although the present isn’t promising, either. And as for the future…’
He shrugged his big shoulders. And then he added quietly: ‘She still asks after you, from time to time, you know.’
I felt ridiculously gratified to hear the Queen still remembered me.
‘I hope all goes well with her,’ I said.
He glanced up and down the corridor to check we were alone.
‘The Queen’s position is delicate. She is greatly admired, and many still love her with the old devotion. But when Ay dies she will be extremely vulnerable. People in power are weighing up their alternatives. Without Ay she will not be able to control the army-indeed, no one could. Horemheb is on the warpath all right…’
‘I thought he was far away, in the northern lands, fighting the Hittite wars?’ I asked.
‘Indeed, he is supposed to be. But…’ he leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘… no one knows exactly where he is. He might be in Memphis, or he might be with his battalions. Things have changed, you know, especially the business of war. He’s taken it all into his own hands, built a new network of garrisons, changed the whole management of the conflict. The grand old days of heroic and mighty armies clashing on the field of battle in blood and bravery are a thing of the past. Now there’s a new strategy-low-key occupation of cities and towns. The garrisons control the ways and the trade routes. And…’ he lowered his voice even further, ‘… he’s set up a very efficient new system of army messengers. Basically, he’s created his own intelligence network, independent of the palace-’
I was about to ask Simut more about this when the huge, gilded ceremonial doors before me suddenly opened. We both leapt to attention. Nakht appeared, but instead of departing, as I had expected, he absorbed the little scene of my dialogue with Simut; and then, to my astonishment, he invited me into the great Audience Hall.
‘Life, prosperity, health.’
I offered the royal greeting, on my knees, my head bowed.
My words echoed quietly among the columns of the great, hushed hall.
‘Stand up, Rahotep.’
There was a warm pleasure in the voice of Ankhesenamun, She Who Lives through Amun, the Queen of Egypt, as she spoke my name.
I looked up. She sat on a gilded throne set on a dais at the end of the hall. Her face had changed. The soft, delicate, slightly unfocused youthful features I remembered had acquired great beauty and angularity, and more authority, without losing the charismatic glow that became her so well. There was a new depth of understanding in her eyes. She wore a highly fashionable black wig, perfectly curled, cut precise and short under the back of her head, that framed her face perfectly. It enhanced her beauty and added a powerful, stylish severity. Her diaphanous pleated gown was elegant and elaborate, with a knot under her left breast, leaving one shoulder bare. She wore a magnificent, inlaid gold vulture collar and the rearing gold cobra of the uraeus on her brow, to express her royal authority. On her wrist she wore a gold bracelet inset with a large lapis lazuli scarab. She was composed and regal. She had grown into herself. She had become Queen. I felt unexpectedly moved, as if she were a youngster I had once admired, and now met again as a famous and accomplished adult. But as I looked into her eyes, I realized she was also extremely tense, coiled with an anxiety she struggled to disguise.
And we were not alone. On the other gilded throne set upon the dais, I saw a strange bundle of linens. And then I realized the bundle was alive. It was Ay, Doer of Right, King of Egypt. The last time I had seen him he had been suffering from the misery of toothache, sucking on a lozenge. Now, in his shroud of white linen, and with an exquisite gold ankh amulet hanging around his scrawny neck, he looked like something that should have crossed the border between the living and the dead long ago. I observed the blunt facts of his bony skull, his jutting, quivering jaw, and his crippled fingers. He seemed as shrunken and fragile as a wingless, featherless bird. His skin was thin and dry, stretched between bone and bone, blotched and stained purple and brown by time. But there was also a grim tension, a determined force that still held him together, and I realized that that tension was acute physical agony. For the left side of his face was completely disfigured by a vile canker. It seemed to be eating him alive. It was pink, red and black, and in places beaded with blood. It gave off a scent that was not of rotting flesh, but something more acrid and revolting and animal; I knew it would haunt me for the rest of the day. He panted lightly, struggling for each breath. And he could not speak. Only his right eye still seemed alive; and it gleamed with all the hatred of the pain destroying his body. Once, this diminished monster had held all earthly power in his hands; he had controlled kings, he had destroyed great enemies, he had waged war on other empires, and he had aspired to the status and power of a god on earth. And now he was nothing but skin and bone, and the grim black blossom of the canker that would soon destroy him.
In truth, the revenge of time on this tyrant seemed like earthly justice. But even I was shocked when I noticed the open canker’s wounds were dotted with tiny white eggs-and that, despite the attentions of the Bearer of the Fan who stood impassively behind the throne, waving the ornate ostrich-feathered royal fan, minute black flies whirred incessantly around Ay’s head in a quiet cloud. He gestured for me to approach, as if he wanted to communicate with me. He struggled to speak, but only weak grunts issued from his constricted throat. In a fit of impotent fury, he gradually raised his arm and pointed a quivering, gnarled finger at me, as if concentrating all power and meaning into the gesture. Then his eyes swivelled towards Nakht as if to say something; but suddenly he fell back, powerless, flopping weakly on to the arms of his gilded throne.
With surprising compassion, Ankhesenamun laid her warm, beautiful hand on his vile claw. This simple gesture seemed to draw him back to consciousness, and he revived slightly. There was a touch of froth on his desiccated lips. He gasped lightly for air like a suffocating fish. He had so desired immortal life on this earth, and now he was brought down to the simplest of truths: he would die, and very soon. The water clock of his life was nearly dry; the last drops were falling, slowly, slowly. He would soon lie in his magnificent tomb, encased in the gold and stone nest of his sarcophagus and coffins, waiting for the life after life. No doubt it was already well prepared.
Ankhesenamun nodded; four servants picked up the throne with little effort, and carried him away, out of the Hall, and into the private apartments beyond. I knew I would never see him again. And I could not help thinking the world would be better off without him, no matter what came next.
I wondered why I had been invited to witness this grotesque spectacle. I glanced at Nakht, who seemed to be unaffected by what had passed, and merely waited for the doors to close behind Ay. Then he bowed his head to the Queen, and waited. She seemed to have something she wished to say to me. She began to pace the great Audience Hall, moving through the elegant pillars, keeping away from the strong light from the clerestory windows, and within the deep shadows that lay across the beautiful painted floor. She gazed at the walls inlaid with coloured tiles depicting the victories of Egypt over her captive enemies-rows of Syrians with their arms behind their backs, Libyans kneeling, and curly-haired Nubians prostrating themselves.
‘Do you remember, Rahotep; we sat together, some years ago, out in that courtyard, and I confided in you what my mother once told me?’
Her voice was quiet in the great space of the hall.
‘She said if you were ever in any real danger, you should call for me. And you did,’ I answered.
She came closer to me. I saw fear in her eyes.
‘I was right to do so. I trusted you. My mother trusted you.’
I was suddenly unnerved. I had no idea where this was leading.
‘It was an honour to serve you,’ I said.
She considered me, then turned and sat on her gilded throne and once more assumed the posture of Queen. The brief intimacy of her manner was gone. This was business.
‘What I am about to tell you is absolutely secret. It must remain so, on pain of death. If you fail my trust, I cannot and will not spare you. Is that clear?’
My doubts must have showed on my face, for she glanced at Nakht, who took up the thread.
‘The Queen is calling on your duty. This is not a question of volition. Attend the Queen more closely,’ he ordered, and we both approached her. I bowed my head. Even if there were spies listening through secret apertures in the walls, they could not hear us now.
‘Rahotep, I have asked the noble Nakht to bring you here because I need you once more. I would not have done so unless it was absolutely necessary. I have not asked you here for myself. It is as Queen of Egypt I must once more command your loyalty,’ she said, quietly, confidentially.
I nodded as loyally as I could.
‘Since Ay and I have ruled the empire together, I have learned a great deal about power, and what men will do to possess it. Of course, he will not live long now. For the sake of the empire, and for the continuation of the civilized values I hold dear, and for the continuation of my dynasty, I will rule alone as Queen after his death. The noble Nakht and I have laid plans for a stable succession. I am a woman, but I have supporters. Many high-ranking men-and women-have made their loyalty known to me. But I must also recognize the honest advice others have given me: there are those whose political and financial interests would be better served by the ascension of another ruler. I am sure you know of whom I speak. General Horemheb has made his ambitions very clear for a long time. I know there are many in the ministries, and in the priesthood, who will go to his side, if they believe he can offer them, and the Two Lands, something better than I can-or more likely if they feel sufficiently afraid. I must recognize the truth of the situation. The nobles and priests wish to protect their powers and possessions. Horemheb has the army under his command, and it is a great force. Without the support of the great battalions of the Egyptian army, it will be simply impossible for me to rule Egypt.’
She paused to look at me.
‘I know perfectly well the great flaw in my situation. I am a woman without heirs. There must be a succession. I must produce heirs. I must continue my family line. I must continue my dynasty. But I will choose the father of my child. Of course, with Ay there was never any possibility of that. The general might consider the political advantages of offering me the solution of marriage. But I will never accept him as a husband. I know his merciless ambition and heartless cruelty too well. I remember his treatment of my aunt after he married her. Even if I could find it in myself to have him join me on the throne, I know I would not live long … some accident, or a clever, invisible poison, would surely kill me…’
She shivered at the thought.
‘Were I a king, I would simply take a noble wife. But I am a woman, and I am alone. I have already lost one husband, and suffered another old enough to be my own grandfather. And who is left for me to marry? How can I save my great dynasty? I think, and think, and all I hear are the voices of my parents, and my grandfather, telling me “You are the last, you must save our dynasty from oblivion”, for Horemheb would surely annihilate all signs of our rule. Our royal names would be hacked from the stones, and the great monuments of our reigns would be obliterated. Our glories would be annihilated, and our royal names would never be spoken again. The Gods would not know us. It would be as if we had never even existed. But-I must think not only of my family, but also of what we represent: we are Egypt. We have created its greatness. We have brought pride, stability, affluence and peace to this empire. And what will Horemheb do with this inheritance, with this legacy of glory? We all know he will dash it to the ground, for the sake of his own glory. His rule would be cruel and tyrannical…’
She stopped speaking, and stood up from the throne, as if overwhelmed by the vision of such a catastrophe. She began once more to pace the great shadows of the Audience Hall, and Nakht and I followed her respectfully. Nakht took up the story.
‘But there is great opposition to Horemheb. He has no royal blood. The Gods have not yet chosen him. The oracles have not yet spoken in his favour. Many in the priesthood would never willingly accept him as King. Many are loyal,’ he added. He bowed his head, I thought rather ostentatiously.
She turned quickly, speaking urgently again.
‘Why do you flatter me with gentle words, noble Nakht? You know, as well as I do, that his power is great, and if he decides to enter Thebes to conquer it and take power from me, many will simply acclaim it as the will of the Gods,’ she replied. ‘Some oracle or other will be deemed to have foretold his rule and given it divine sanction. I mean no sacrilege when I say oracles are easily bought…’
There was no answer to this self-evident truth. And there seemed nowhere else to go in this strange conversation. But then she turned to me again. This living god, the Queen of Egypt, was so close I could smell the delicate scented oil she wore on her gleaming shoulders, and on her elegant throat. And with the old spirit in her voice, she suddenly brightened, and whispered into my ear: ‘But I have a plan. I have ordered Nakht to explain everything to you, and to outline the duties I require of you. I trust him absolutely, and his word carries my authority.’
Nakht knelt, and I followed suit.
‘I need you once more, Rahotep. I know you will not fail me,’ she said.
Our audience seemed over, but she stayed where she was, hesitating.
‘It was good to see you again. Nakht could have communicated my orders to you, but I confess I wanted to see you in person. I have missed you.’
‘And I you, Your Majesty,’ I replied.
She smiled, for the first time.
‘How is your family? Your three girls? They must be beautiful young women now. And your baby son? I suppose he is no longer a baby.’
‘They are all well, thanks be to the Gods,’ I replied. ‘My oldest is studying medicine. She dreams of becoming a doctor.’
‘Oh, that is marvellous! Egypt has been dominated by men for too long. I of all people should know this. Women have been underestimated. We need strong, educated women to help us build a better world. If all goes well with us, she will have a bright future under my reign. I will see to it personally.’
‘May it be so,’ I said quietly.
‘I hope to witness her success. Tell her she can count on my personal support.’
‘I will,’ I replied.
She gazed at me. Such small talk seemed to give her an intense pleasure, as if for once she could share in the things of ordinary life.
‘Be kind to yourself, Rahotep,’ she said, and then, to my surprise, she pressed a small bag of gold into my palm, and quickly turned away before I could stammer out my thanks.