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‘Very good, very good, Baboon of the South,’ the Veiled One laughed. ‘You may now raise your head and look on our faces.’

The first one I stared at was Queen Tiye, a woman I had glimpsed from afar. She was of middle stature, her body rather thin but very elegant. She was dressed in robes of purest white, an embroidered shawl across her shoulders, a shimmering necklace of cornelian around her throat. On each of her fingers sparkled a precious gem. Silver bangles clattered on her wrists. It was her face which held me: very feminine, with strong, laughing eyes but a firm mouth, lips slightly drooping as if in disapproval. She’d kept her own hair; this was neatly dressed and caught up under a shimmering net of mother-of-pearl. She delicately popped a piece of meat into her mouth.

‘Is this the one, my son?’

‘The Baboon of the South,’ the Veiled One agreed, ‘son of Seostris, a Colonel of the Medjay who performed great service …’ the Veiled One glanced at me sardonically, ‘in the Eastern Deserts. Why, Baboon, have you come bounding up my garden path?’ The words were harsh but the voice was soft. Again I bowed.

‘None of that,’ the Veiled One reproached me. ‘You’ll give me indigestion. One thing I can’t stand are bobbing priests.’ He paused. ‘Or baboons.’

‘Your friend has been taken up.’ Hotep lowered his cup. ‘Sobeck is to go to the Wood for daring to raise his eyes, let alone anything else,’ God’s Father sniggered, ‘against a Royal Ornament.’

The Veiled One clicked his tongue in mock disapproval though I could see both he and his mother were amused by what had happened.

‘The girl is dead,’ I declared.

‘And so she should be.’ The Great Queen’s voice was sharp and clipped. I caught the trace of a faint accent. ‘If you drink the wine and eat the salt of the Royal House you do not share it with commoners.’

‘She died brutally,’ the Veiled One remarked. ‘I went down to see what was left of her in the cage, and her body was badly mauled. They killed the cat with arrows.’

Tiye waved her fingers, a sign she had heard enough.

‘So, if you haven’t come for the girl,’ the Veiled One teased, ‘you must be here to plead for Sobeck?’

‘I had a dream last night, my lord.’

The smiled faded from the royal faces.

‘I was down by the Nile, it was dark and swollen. The sky had turned red; I realised I was going to be visited by a god.’

‘Did you really?’ The Veiled One moved his head slightly to the side, a look of mock astonishment on that strange face. ‘And what was your dream, Baboon?’

‘I saw the waters part. A huge crocodile emerged with the Jackal-Headed One riding on its back.’

The Veiled One’s head went down. He was laughing, though both the Queen and Hotep remained grim-faced.

‘He told me where to find the stolen statue of Ishtar,’ I continued in a rush. ‘I was to dig it up, return it to the Magnificent One and seek his pardon for the sins of Sobeck.’

‘And you dug it up, of course.’ Hotep held his cup in one hand and waved the other airily.

‘I did. In the olive grove where they met.’ I produced the statue from a sash in my robe, lifting it so it gleamed in the light.

‘You could be arrested,’ Hotep remarked lazily. ‘They might say you are an accomplice.’

‘Then I shall call witnesses, Your Excellency. They will report that I have no friends or accomplices.’

The Veiled One pointed a long spidery finger. ‘And you discovered the statue? Leave it there on the steps.’

‘Why have you come here?’ Queen Tiye demanded. ‘Why not take it immediately to the court?’

‘I am not favoured to look on the Divine One’s face, Your Majesty.’

‘So you are going to ask my son to do it for you?’

I didn’t reply but stared at the Veiled One. He looked angry.

‘My lord?’ I begged.

‘Sobeck violated my father’s honour. The power of Pharaoh is not to be mocked.’ He flicked his fingers. ‘Withdraw and await.’

I bowed my head in surprise, fighting hard to control my temper. I recalled that pavilion in The Cauldron, the two Kushites bursting into the tent, spears eager for his blood. I rose, backed away and joined the noisy throng in the courtyard. They were watching a monkey perform tricks; the little fellow reminded me of Bes. I must have been there an hour when Imri returned and grasped me by the shoulder. As I got to my feet, his grip tightened.

‘You really should have a rope round your neck,’ he whispered. Then his face broke into a smile. A patch now covered the hole where his right eye had been; the white of the good one was slightly yellow and flecked with blood.

‘You never asked,’ he rapped out, ‘where I lost my eye?’

‘I was never really interested.’

‘Out in the Red Lands.’ Imri ignored the insult. ‘A stone from a sling found its mark in me — and that’s why I am here, Mahu. Only those with disfigured faces guard my master.’

‘And?’ I asked, trying to break free from his grasp.

‘Why are you here, Mahu?’ he asked softly. ‘What is it between you and my master?’

‘Are you asking because of him or because of yourself?’

Imri relaxed his grip and patted my cheek gently as a father would a child. ‘I am just curious. But come, His Excellency wishes to talk to you.’

Hotep was sitting on a turfed seat just within the garden gate and, surprisingly, Crown Prince Tuthmosis sat beside him. I sank to my knees. Hotep did not tell me to rise. I glanced up. Tuthmosis’ face was red with anger. He glared at me as if I was an enemy and I knew my request had made him mine. He swung his foot and kicked me viciously in the side.

‘You plead for a criminal?’

‘I plead for a friend.’

‘Who happens to be a criminal. Look at me, Baboon.’

I stared up. Tuthmosis leaned forward, his face a few inches from mine. I saw the blood beat in his brow, the twist of his mouth. I was aware of the wine on his breath and the anger in his soul. I also noticed something else: just on the corner of his mouth, a fleck of his blood as if he had cut his lip or bitten his tongue.

‘My father,’ Tuthmosis swallowed hard as if fighting for breath, ‘my father’s dignity, the Magnificent One …’ He coughed, holding a small napkin to his mouth; when he took it away I glimpsed the red stains. ‘Sobeck should have been put in a cage with his whore,’ he rasped, dabbing at his mouth.

‘Sobeck is the guilty one,’ Hotep said softly, ‘not Mahu. He has simply come to plead for his friend. I have used my good offices to achieve two things.’ He leaned forward, fingers splayed, as if counting for a child. ‘Listen, Mahu. First Sobeck will not go to the Wood. He will be exiled to an oasis in the Western Desert. You know what that means?’

Oh I knew! A few palm trees, some figs, and water, but not enough to sustain a man for ever or give him the strength to try and break out across the desert. If he did, the Sand Dwellers or the Desert Wanderers, if not the Libyans, would catch him and flay him alive.