The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) by Paul Doherty Page B
Authors: Paul Doherty
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Thebes or against any other enemy which may emerge.’
‘No, no.’ Djarka lifted his hand. ‘I agree you must go north, but go with Meryre. This impostor and his army must be linked to the Atenists. If Meryre goes first, he may well spend the time plotting your death. Insist that you go with him, that you too are protected by the power of the Aten. Stay close to him, as a friend. Act as if he is your ally rather than your enemy. If you go in the company of a high priest, your life too is sacred.’
‘Do that,’ Sobeck offered, ‘and I will go with you. What about the young Prince?’
‘He’ll be safe,’ Djarka declared. ‘I’ll see to that. If there’s one person who keeps the Royal Circle united against all enemies it’s Prince Tutankhamun, so the sooner he is crowned the better.’ He paused as the captain of my guard came in, knelt and nosed the ground before me.
‘The assassin, my lord. We searched his quarters.’ He straightened up and stretched out his hand. I took the small yet brilliant ruby glowing like a fire. ‘That’s all we found.’
I dismissed the captain. Sobeck plucked the ruby from my hand and held it up against the light.
‘I have heard of similar stones,’ he murmured, ‘being on sale in Eastern Thebes.’
‘The Shabtis of Akenhaten?’ I asked.
‘Can I have this?’ Sobeck grinned.
‘It’s yours.’
‘I have told you before,’ Sobeck continued, ‘the narrow streets and alleyways of Eastern Thebes have nothing to do with the dreams of a God. What you must ask yourself, my dear Mahu, is who told the assassin that you were wearing a striped robe?’ He turned and grinned. ‘Oh, by the way, the door the assassin tried to escape through, unlike many in this palace, was jammed shut by a thick wedge of wood.’
The frieze on my wine cup, a Libyan being chased by Saluki hounds, seemed to come to life in the flickering light of the oil lamps.
‘A gardener,’ I mused, ‘who owns a precious ruby, kills a priest to take his place. How do you think he inveigled that priest away from the rest?’
‘Some of the shaven heads have exotic tastes,’ Sobeck retorted. ‘But whoever bought him – I mean the gardener – was quite prepared to sacrifice him. I suspect,’ Sobeck popped the ruby into his leather pouch, ‘that given time, the real assassin would have had the gardener disposed of and the ruby taken back. I mean, once the wearer of the striped robe was killed.’
‘Who,’ Djarka asked, ‘is this real assassin?’
‘Ankhesenamun calls me the Striped Hyaena,’ I whispered.
‘Beware of the woman from outside,’ Sobeck intoned a maxim of the scribe Ani, ‘who is not known in the city. She is a water deep and boundless.’ He wagged a finger in my face. ‘Beware of such a woman.’
‘Many thanks for the advice. Oh, by the way, Djarka, the painting of the pelicans in the House of Adoration? Have it changed tomorrow; remove the scene of the fowler and his net.’
mesu-hesui
(Ancient Egyptian for ‘terror-stricken beings’)
Chapter 3
I went along a painted corridor deep into the palace. The windows on either side overlooked the gardens, but these had been ill-tended and the stench of corrupt vegetation blended with the fragrance of the flowers. Nakhtimin’s mercenaries stood on guard in alcoves and recesses. From the courtyard below I heard a servant recite the curse against crocodiles; these river beasts sometimes followed the irrigation canals into the palace, where they’d lurk amongst the bushes and shrubbery. The chilling, ominous prayer wafted up:
Stop crocodile, son of Seth!
Do not swim with your tail,
Nor move your legs any more,
May the well of water become a well
of fire before you
Stop crocodile, son of Seth.
I crossed a courtyard blazing with light; guards stood aside, copper-plated doors swung open. I entered the women’s quarters, at the centre of which lay Ankhesenamun’s chambers, with their red and yellow lotus pillars,
‘No, no.’ Djarka lifted his hand. ‘I agree you must go north, but go with Meryre. This impostor and his army must be linked to the Atenists. If Meryre goes first, he may well spend the time plotting your death. Insist that you go with him, that you too are protected by the power of the Aten. Stay close to him, as a friend. Act as if he is your ally rather than your enemy. If you go in the company of a high priest, your life too is sacred.’
‘Do that,’ Sobeck offered, ‘and I will go with you. What about the young Prince?’
‘He’ll be safe,’ Djarka declared. ‘I’ll see to that. If there’s one person who keeps the Royal Circle united against all enemies it’s Prince Tutankhamun, so the sooner he is crowned the better.’ He paused as the captain of my guard came in, knelt and nosed the ground before me.
‘The assassin, my lord. We searched his quarters.’ He straightened up and stretched out his hand. I took the small yet brilliant ruby glowing like a fire. ‘That’s all we found.’
I dismissed the captain. Sobeck plucked the ruby from my hand and held it up against the light.
‘I have heard of similar stones,’ he murmured, ‘being on sale in Eastern Thebes.’
‘The Shabtis of Akenhaten?’ I asked.
‘Can I have this?’ Sobeck grinned.
‘It’s yours.’
‘I have told you before,’ Sobeck continued, ‘the narrow streets and alleyways of Eastern Thebes have nothing to do with the dreams of a God. What you must ask yourself, my dear Mahu, is who told the assassin that you were wearing a striped robe?’ He turned and grinned. ‘Oh, by the way, the door the assassin tried to escape through, unlike many in this palace, was jammed shut by a thick wedge of wood.’
The frieze on my wine cup, a Libyan being chased by Saluki hounds, seemed to come to life in the flickering light of the oil lamps.
‘A gardener,’ I mused, ‘who owns a precious ruby, kills a priest to take his place. How do you think he inveigled that priest away from the rest?’
‘Some of the shaven heads have exotic tastes,’ Sobeck retorted. ‘But whoever bought him – I mean the gardener – was quite prepared to sacrifice him. I suspect,’ Sobeck popped the ruby into his leather pouch, ‘that given time, the real assassin would have had the gardener disposed of and the ruby taken back. I mean, once the wearer of the striped robe was killed.’
‘Who,’ Djarka asked, ‘is this real assassin?’
‘Ankhesenamun calls me the Striped Hyaena,’ I whispered.
‘Beware of the woman from outside,’ Sobeck intoned a maxim of the scribe Ani, ‘who is not known in the city. She is a water deep and boundless.’ He wagged a finger in my face. ‘Beware of such a woman.’
‘Many thanks for the advice. Oh, by the way, Djarka, the painting of the pelicans in the House of Adoration? Have it changed tomorrow; remove the scene of the fowler and his net.’
mesu-hesui
(Ancient Egyptian for ‘terror-stricken beings’)
Chapter 3
I went along a painted corridor deep into the palace. The windows on either side overlooked the gardens, but these had been ill-tended and the stench of corrupt vegetation blended with the fragrance of the flowers. Nakhtimin’s mercenaries stood on guard in alcoves and recesses. From the courtyard below I heard a servant recite the curse against crocodiles; these river beasts sometimes followed the irrigation canals into the palace, where they’d lurk amongst the bushes and shrubbery. The chilling, ominous prayer wafted up:
Stop crocodile, son of Seth!
Do not swim with your tail,
Nor move your legs any more,
May the well of water become a well
of fire before you
Stop crocodile, son of Seth.
I crossed a courtyard blazing with light; guards stood aside, copper-plated doors swung open. I entered the women’s quarters, at the centre of which lay Ankhesenamun’s chambers, with their red and yellow lotus pillars,
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