The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) by Paul Doherty

Meryre’s furious protests. He could land if he wanted to; the Prince and I would continue north to Memphis, the white-walled city.
    At Memphis, Horemheb’s principal staff officer, Colonel Nebamun, entertained us in the courtyard of his elegant two-storey house overlooking the river. He offered incense to Seth the Announcer of Battles and quickly came to the point, the question which had so infuriated my entourage.
    ‘Why,’ he asked, glancing up at the awning snapping under a strong breeze, ‘didn’t the Royal Circle at Thebes act more swiftly? More importantly, why have you brought Tutankhamun and Princess Ankhesenamun into Memphis? Didn’t the Royal Circle order them to be left in the City of the Aten?’
    Sobeck and Djarka, not to mention Meryre, had made similar remonstrations, but on this matter I was adamant. I was wary of the lawlessness and my own darkest premonitions. I told Colonel Nebamun that the Royal Couple would be entrusted to him here in Memphis until the present crisis passed. Meryre sitting beside me clucked his tongue and shook his head, but lacked the authority to oppose me. Colonel Nebamun, resplendent in his gold collars and silver bees of bravery, did not object. I also promised that before I left Memphis I would issue formal letters accepting responsibility for what I had done. Nebamun sipped at his wine and nodded agreement. As for his questions about how the Royal Circle in Thebes had reacted to events in the Delta, I told him it was best if his commanding officer informed him personally when he arrived. Nebamun accepted the hint, quietly remarking that ever since he had heard the news, the city regiments had been put on a war footing and were ready to march.
    ‘And the usurper?’ I demanded. ‘What strength does he have?’
    Nebamun squinted up at the sun. ‘We know he has taken the city of Avaris and is camped in the fields beyond. He has about a thousand chariots, two thousand footmen and a host of mercenaries.’
    ‘Mercenaries?’ I demanded.
    ‘Libyans and Kushites, some sea people, but mostly Hittites.’
    ‘Do you think the Hittite king is behind this pretender?’
    ‘I have told you what I can, my lord,’ Nebamun replied. ‘I have used every spy I could. I have questioned merchants, traders, pedlars, but the enemy camp is closely guarded. They have dug a ditch around all sides with a high palisade. Every entrance is guarded and protected. Men who are regarded as spies face summary execution. They say a veritable wall of impaled corpses circle the camp. You can smell their stench before you see them.’
    ‘What is the usurper waiting for?’ Meryre demanded.
    ‘More troops,’ Nebamun declared. ‘We also know he is sending raiding parties back across the Horus Road into Sinai. He is robbing the mines of precious gold and silver, then using the plunder to pay troops and hire more.’
    ‘Haven’t you thought of infiltrating the camp?’ I asked. ‘Surely there are men here who would serve as mercenaries, or pretend to?’
    Colonel Nebamun’s close-set eyes studied me.
    ‘My lord Mahu, I was a mere stripling when I served under your father, Colonel Seostris, a cunning officer. I learnt my craft well. I handpicked six men and dressed them as mercenaries and sent them north. I told them to join the usurper’s army and send information back. I have neither seen nor heard from them since. According to a merchant, all recruits are closely interrogated. It’s not an impossible task to discover that someone has served alongside the imperial regiments then ask him what he is doing there. I suspect,’ he added bitterly, ‘my men are dead. I’ll send no more.’
    He picked up a piece of lamb, richly coated in herb sauce, and chewed on it absent-mindedly.
    ‘These spices,’ he remarked, ‘were brought by a merchant who also traded with the enemy. He had no choice. He said the usurper was well advised by Hittite officers and strict discipline is maintained in his camp. Any