you’re not actually worshiping the crocodile, but the spirit of Sobek?”
“Exactly!”
Tjemu shrugged. “It makes no sense …”
The priest started to open his mouth, but Nebmaatra interceded. “It would be easier, Pure One, to explain the subtleties of Egyptian religion to yonder statue.” A soldier of the Guard caught Nebmaatra’s eye and nodded. “It’s time.”
The guards at the palace doors snapped to attention as servants levered the gold-sheathed portals open. Nebmaatra helped Tjemu to his feet. Courtiers trickled in according to their social stature, lesser making way for greater. Nebmaatra and Tjemu fell in behind the vizier.
“… kept waiting like common courtiers!” Sethnakhte growled to one of his sycophants. “This is preposterous! I am vizier! I should be the one who counsels him! Who does he think —”
“School your tongue if you would remain vizier!” Nebmaatra warned. They were of comparable height, but the soldier’s thick frame made him seem all the more daunting. “The ground you tread can just as easily become your grave! Keep this in mind: should you attempt to walk the path that your friend Phanes has embarked on, then I will become your enemy. And my enemies tend to die violent deaths.”
The vizier’s thin nostrils flared. He bared his teeth in an animal-like snarl. “You are nothing to me! A peasant! For reasons known only to himself, Pharaoh favors you, but that favor will not last many more years. I will accept your lack of respect for now, but there will come a day when no one will stand between us. No one!”
“When that day comes, I’ll not be hard to find!”
Sethnakhte made a subtle spitting gesture and turned away from Nebmaatra, rejoining his clique.
“Why does Pharaoh tolerate him?” Tjemu whispered.
Nebmaatra exhaled. “His arrogance not withstanding, Sethnakhte is good at what he does. You’ll find that Pharaoh has boundless patience when it comes to men of that sort.”
“Snakes, you mean?”
Nebmaatra smiled.
Pharaoh held up his hand, and every tongue was stilled; every eye turned toward him. Psammetichus mounted the royal dais. Ahmose spoke.
“I rule this land, and my word is the word of the gods, yet no man rules in a vacuum. To rule effectively, I must listen to those I trust. I have learned to trust Hasdrabal Barca’s judgement. His instincts have never led him astray. But, I also trust my own instincts.
“The safety of Egypt rests in more than her military might; it rests in her people, as well. If we abandon them in times of strife, would they not abandon us in times of prosperity? Men say I am a wine-sot, that I am a philanderer, but let no man say I am fickle! Prepare the royal fleet. Muster the regiment of Amon and the Calasirian Guard. I intend to set Memphis a-right, as it should be. Psammetichus, I leave Sais in your hands.”
“Sire,” Sethnakhte said, “In spite of the preponderance of circumstantial evidence I must protest! At the very least, do we not owe Phanes the benefit of the doubt? Send for him! Make him explain himself!”
“Protest to your heart’s content, vizier, but see that my will is made known.” Pharaoh rose. “I am going to Memphis. If Phanes is loyal, he will greet me as his king. But, if he wishes a fight, then by all the gods of the Nile, a fight he will have!”
The same sunlight warming the palace at Sais barely penetrated the tangle of streets at the heart of the Foreign Quarter at Memphis. An elongated square of dusty gold brought unnatural color to the faces of the dead Arcadians.
“Ah, Leon,” Phanes whispered, crouching over the assassin’s corpse. “Finally met your match.” The Greek’s practiced eye swept over the slain men, noting their positions, their wounds. In his mind he recreated the carnage, willing the dead to rise again and fight, watching them die in painfully slow motion. The men who did this …
Phanes picked up Leon’s sword, an antique weapon, its
“Exactly!”
Tjemu shrugged. “It makes no sense …”
The priest started to open his mouth, but Nebmaatra interceded. “It would be easier, Pure One, to explain the subtleties of Egyptian religion to yonder statue.” A soldier of the Guard caught Nebmaatra’s eye and nodded. “It’s time.”
The guards at the palace doors snapped to attention as servants levered the gold-sheathed portals open. Nebmaatra helped Tjemu to his feet. Courtiers trickled in according to their social stature, lesser making way for greater. Nebmaatra and Tjemu fell in behind the vizier.
“… kept waiting like common courtiers!” Sethnakhte growled to one of his sycophants. “This is preposterous! I am vizier! I should be the one who counsels him! Who does he think —”
“School your tongue if you would remain vizier!” Nebmaatra warned. They were of comparable height, but the soldier’s thick frame made him seem all the more daunting. “The ground you tread can just as easily become your grave! Keep this in mind: should you attempt to walk the path that your friend Phanes has embarked on, then I will become your enemy. And my enemies tend to die violent deaths.”
The vizier’s thin nostrils flared. He bared his teeth in an animal-like snarl. “You are nothing to me! A peasant! For reasons known only to himself, Pharaoh favors you, but that favor will not last many more years. I will accept your lack of respect for now, but there will come a day when no one will stand between us. No one!”
“When that day comes, I’ll not be hard to find!”
Sethnakhte made a subtle spitting gesture and turned away from Nebmaatra, rejoining his clique.
“Why does Pharaoh tolerate him?” Tjemu whispered.
Nebmaatra exhaled. “His arrogance not withstanding, Sethnakhte is good at what he does. You’ll find that Pharaoh has boundless patience when it comes to men of that sort.”
“Snakes, you mean?”
Nebmaatra smiled.
Pharaoh held up his hand, and every tongue was stilled; every eye turned toward him. Psammetichus mounted the royal dais. Ahmose spoke.
“I rule this land, and my word is the word of the gods, yet no man rules in a vacuum. To rule effectively, I must listen to those I trust. I have learned to trust Hasdrabal Barca’s judgement. His instincts have never led him astray. But, I also trust my own instincts.
“The safety of Egypt rests in more than her military might; it rests in her people, as well. If we abandon them in times of strife, would they not abandon us in times of prosperity? Men say I am a wine-sot, that I am a philanderer, but let no man say I am fickle! Prepare the royal fleet. Muster the regiment of Amon and the Calasirian Guard. I intend to set Memphis a-right, as it should be. Psammetichus, I leave Sais in your hands.”
“Sire,” Sethnakhte said, “In spite of the preponderance of circumstantial evidence I must protest! At the very least, do we not owe Phanes the benefit of the doubt? Send for him! Make him explain himself!”
“Protest to your heart’s content, vizier, but see that my will is made known.” Pharaoh rose. “I am going to Memphis. If Phanes is loyal, he will greet me as his king. But, if he wishes a fight, then by all the gods of the Nile, a fight he will have!”
The same sunlight warming the palace at Sais barely penetrated the tangle of streets at the heart of the Foreign Quarter at Memphis. An elongated square of dusty gold brought unnatural color to the faces of the dead Arcadians.
“Ah, Leon,” Phanes whispered, crouching over the assassin’s corpse. “Finally met your match.” The Greek’s practiced eye swept over the slain men, noting their positions, their wounds. In his mind he recreated the carnage, willing the dead to rise again and fight, watching them die in painfully slow motion. The men who did this …
Phanes picked up Leon’s sword, an antique weapon, its
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