The Season of the Hyaena (Ancient Egyptian Mysteries) by Paul Doherty Page A
Authors: Paul Doherty
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looting is prohibited, martial law has been imposed, merchants and traders go freely about their business, and anyone who breaks these decrees faces summary execution.’
As he stretched out for the wine jug, his hand trembled; Nebamun recognised the danger and so did I. This mysterious usurper was not the chief of some band of robbers or desert marauders. He was leading a highly organised army and was eager to curry favour with the cities and towns of the Delta. He was demonstrating that he was not there to rob and pillage but to claim back what he regarded as his own. Nebamun glanced at me sheepishly.
‘Between here and the Delta, my lord, lie other garrisons. My loyalty is known. This city will be defended, the troops have a personal allegiance to General Horemheb.’
‘What are you saying, Colonel? That officers in other cities cannot be trusted?’
‘It’s obvious.’ Nebamun shrugged. ‘Soon the invader will march south. He’ll issue decrees. Troops will be given a choice: either fight or go over.’
I thanked him for his advice and returned to my own quarters. Lady Ankhesenamun was loudly haranguing Djarka; when I arrived, she turned on me. ‘I have been confined in a cabin,’ she snapped. ‘We were supposed to land at my father’s city; now we are placed here, surrounded by smelly, sweaty soldiers!’ She beat a tattoo on the table, her long nails rapping hard. Beside her crouched Tutankhamun, playing with his toy soldiers. Lady Amedeta turned her back on me as if eager to study the painting of a dancing heset girl, a vivid eye-catching picture.
‘My lady, these smelly, sweaty soldiers,’ I replied wearily, ‘will give their lives for you. I trust Colonel Nebamun; he is a soldier of the old school. You and His Highness,’ Prince Tutankhamun smiled up at me, ‘will be protected by him as well as by Djarka and my mercenaries. These, too, will give their lives for you.’
She pouted and flounced, but I could tell from the laughter in her eyes that she was only acting. Ankhesenamun never cared where she was; she was probably intrigued to be in a place where General Horemheb and Rameses had their strength. She would exploit every opportunity to ferret out information, question, flirt and suborn, anything to increase her power and that of her grandfather. She sat down in the throne-like chair; Tutankhamun rose to stand beside her. She stroked his head gently, whispering endearments to him.
‘And what will happen now?’ Her head came up.
‘I shall journey further north,’ I replied. ‘Send messages to the usurper that we wish to negotiate. You will remain here. In a few days Generals Horemheb and Rameses will arrive, bringing more troops from Thebes and the garrisons along the river.’
‘And?’
‘There will be a battle, my lady. We shall either win or lose.’ I bit back my words. Little Tutankhamun was standing, solemn-faced and owl-eyed. ‘Of course we will be victorious,’ I added hastily and, bowing, left, cursing my own stupidity.
I sent Djarka to the Prince and asked Sobeck to join me on the flat-roofed terrace.
‘It will be cooler there.’ I smiled. ‘And no one can hear.’
I took a wine jug and two cups. Sobeck followed me up the stairs. Nebamun had already erected a canopy; cushions were piled against the protective ledge which ran round the terrace’s four sides.
‘What are we going to do?’ Sobeck demanded. ‘What if Meryre is leading us into a trap?’
‘I suspect he is. The further I travel north, the more I believe we are part of a great conspiracy. Meryre is behind this nonsense; I fear he is coming north to tell this usurper everything he knows. I am even beginning to wonder,’ I slouched down on the cushions, ‘whether the Shabtis of Akenhaten are his work.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Sobeck dabbed at the sweat on his neck. ‘Are we to go north to put our heads on the slaughter block?’
‘What other choice do we have? I only wish I knew,’ I
As he stretched out for the wine jug, his hand trembled; Nebamun recognised the danger and so did I. This mysterious usurper was not the chief of some band of robbers or desert marauders. He was leading a highly organised army and was eager to curry favour with the cities and towns of the Delta. He was demonstrating that he was not there to rob and pillage but to claim back what he regarded as his own. Nebamun glanced at me sheepishly.
‘Between here and the Delta, my lord, lie other garrisons. My loyalty is known. This city will be defended, the troops have a personal allegiance to General Horemheb.’
‘What are you saying, Colonel? That officers in other cities cannot be trusted?’
‘It’s obvious.’ Nebamun shrugged. ‘Soon the invader will march south. He’ll issue decrees. Troops will be given a choice: either fight or go over.’
I thanked him for his advice and returned to my own quarters. Lady Ankhesenamun was loudly haranguing Djarka; when I arrived, she turned on me. ‘I have been confined in a cabin,’ she snapped. ‘We were supposed to land at my father’s city; now we are placed here, surrounded by smelly, sweaty soldiers!’ She beat a tattoo on the table, her long nails rapping hard. Beside her crouched Tutankhamun, playing with his toy soldiers. Lady Amedeta turned her back on me as if eager to study the painting of a dancing heset girl, a vivid eye-catching picture.
‘My lady, these smelly, sweaty soldiers,’ I replied wearily, ‘will give their lives for you. I trust Colonel Nebamun; he is a soldier of the old school. You and His Highness,’ Prince Tutankhamun smiled up at me, ‘will be protected by him as well as by Djarka and my mercenaries. These, too, will give their lives for you.’
She pouted and flounced, but I could tell from the laughter in her eyes that she was only acting. Ankhesenamun never cared where she was; she was probably intrigued to be in a place where General Horemheb and Rameses had their strength. She would exploit every opportunity to ferret out information, question, flirt and suborn, anything to increase her power and that of her grandfather. She sat down in the throne-like chair; Tutankhamun rose to stand beside her. She stroked his head gently, whispering endearments to him.
‘And what will happen now?’ Her head came up.
‘I shall journey further north,’ I replied. ‘Send messages to the usurper that we wish to negotiate. You will remain here. In a few days Generals Horemheb and Rameses will arrive, bringing more troops from Thebes and the garrisons along the river.’
‘And?’
‘There will be a battle, my lady. We shall either win or lose.’ I bit back my words. Little Tutankhamun was standing, solemn-faced and owl-eyed. ‘Of course we will be victorious,’ I added hastily and, bowing, left, cursing my own stupidity.
I sent Djarka to the Prince and asked Sobeck to join me on the flat-roofed terrace.
‘It will be cooler there.’ I smiled. ‘And no one can hear.’
I took a wine jug and two cups. Sobeck followed me up the stairs. Nebamun had already erected a canopy; cushions were piled against the protective ledge which ran round the terrace’s four sides.
‘What are we going to do?’ Sobeck demanded. ‘What if Meryre is leading us into a trap?’
‘I suspect he is. The further I travel north, the more I believe we are part of a great conspiracy. Meryre is behind this nonsense; I fear he is coming north to tell this usurper everything he knows. I am even beginning to wonder,’ I slouched down on the cushions, ‘whether the Shabtis of Akenhaten are his work.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Sobeck dabbed at the sweat on his neck. ‘Are we to go north to put our heads on the slaughter block?’
‘What other choice do we have? I only wish I knew,’ I
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