An Evil Spirit Out of the West (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) by Paul Doherty Page B

brilliant plumage were about to fly. Everywhere were symbols of the Sun Disc, either in full glory or just rising above a dark-blue horizon. Sometimes they were winged, sometimes not. A fireplace stood in the centre of the room; at the far end was a daïs protected by a grey curtain. Someone propelled me forward, the curtain was dragged back. The Veiled One sat on cushions with his back to the wall, a small table in front of him. I was pushed to my knees and nosed the ground before the daïs.
    ‘There is no need for that. There is no need for that.’
    The words came slowly, the voice low. ‘Let my guest join me.’
    I went up the steps. The Veiled One lifted his head, revealing his strange elongated eyes, yet their stare was entrancing, and it distracted my fears. I was no longer aware of the spidery fingers, the long hands on the breast or stomach bulging against the embroidered linen robe. Just those eyes, full of passion as if the Veiled One was going to chant one of those hymns as he had in the glade. His sensuous lips were parted: his tongue sticking out slightly as he studied me closely, like a judge weighing what I was worth, trying to discover in one glance who I really was. He smiled, slightly lopsidedly, a graceful movement of those long fingers gesturing at the cushions on the other side of the table.
    ‘You’d best sit down, hadn’t you?’
    The cushions were thick and soft. The table was of beautiful acacia inlaid with ebony and silver whilst the pots and jars were of the finest quality, containing small chunks of crisp duck, sauces, herbs, and bread cut into thin strips. The cups held wine not beer. When I tasted it I coughed and drew back. The Veiled One laughed softly.
    ‘The best,’ he murmured. ‘From the rich land of Canaan. They say the earth is black there, so rich you gather two crops in one year. Come, come, eat!’
    He gestured at the fresh reed basket before him. I was not frightened but wary. He served me himself, delicately wiping his fingers on a napkin.
    ‘You are purified and cleansed.’ He leaned across the table and I became aware of the Veiled One’s true features. He wore a blue and gold head-dress, a silver pearl dangled from one earlobe and a flowered pectoral hung about his neck. On his left hand glittered a ring bearing the symbol of the Sun Disc.
    ‘You are too shy,’ he murmured, eyes squinting as if he was short-sighted. ‘But not shy enough not to pry.’
    ‘I wasn’t prying.’ I swallowed quickly.
    ‘Then what were you doing?’
    ‘I was curious.’
    ‘Do you know who I am?’
    ‘The Veiled One.’
    ‘And why am I veiled?’
    ‘Because they say you are ugly.’
    ‘Do you think I am ugly?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Do you know who I am?’
    I shook my head.
    ‘My name is Amenhotep. I am the second son of the Magnificent One and his beloved wife, the Lady of the House, Queen Tiye.’
    I hid my nervousness by lifting the wine cup and gulping noisily.
    ‘You’ve never heard of me? I was born like this,’ he continued evenly, ‘kept in the Royal Nursery away from the Kap. Do you think I am strange? I have no real name. I am simply the Veiled One – he who lurks in the shadows.’ He broke from his reverie. ‘And who are you?’
    ‘I am Mahu, son of Seostris, the Baboon of the South. I, too, am called the Ugly One.’
    I spoke louder than I intended. I heard a sound from behind the veil; the Kushite archers were still there armed and ready. The Veiled One, however, just lifted those long fingers, palm upwards in the sign of peace. He stared at me for a while, that long, solemn face, the unblinking eyes and then he began to laugh. At first it was a sound deep in his throat, then throwing his head back, he laughed loudly, clapping his hands softly together.
    ‘Mahu the Ugly One, the Baboon from the South!’
    He picked up a piece of duck, dipped it into the herb sauce and, leaning across, gently fed me. ‘I like you, Mahu, Baboon of the South. You are a child of