Of course, no one could disprove our story. Great Queen Tiye, accompanied by the Crown Prince Tuthmosis, soon arrived. This time the Queen came in all her haughty beauty, garbed in costly robes, gold sandals with silver thongs, and a bejewelled head-dress. Crown Prince Tuthmosis looked more anxious than his mother. He was pale, rather thin from the loss of body fat. He ignored me and remained closeted with his mother and brother. At the end of their meeting Queen Tiye demanded to see me alone in the hall of audience. Tuthmosis had been sent to guard the door. The Queen acted her part, all anxious-eyed, a little nervous, solicitous and grateful that we had escaped — though I could tell from the amusement in her eyes that she knew what had truly happened.
‘I am concerned,’ her voice rose, eyes full of mockery, ‘I am concerned at my son’s security.’
‘Excellency,’ I replied, kneeling before her, ‘I have already taken care of that. I have armed a number of the Rhinoceri servants. Many of them have seen military service. I believe your son, my master, thinks that security enough.’
We spoke one thing with our mouths and another with our eyes. Tuthmosis, however, was not so easily mollified. He came striding down the hall, coughing into his hands. When he stopped before me, I saw the piece of linen furtively thrust up the voluminous sleeve, pushed under a wrist strap which dangled rather loosely.
‘Mother, guards should be brought from the palace!’
‘Yes and no,’ Tiye replied. ‘My son is disturbed. I think it’s best if he feels secure, for the moment at least.’
They left shortly afterwards. The Veiled One summoned me to his quarters. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed staring out of the open window and watching the sun set.
‘All life comes from him, Mahu. He who dwells on all things and supports all things. The One who numbers our days and metes out judgement. I am his Beloved.’ He looked over his shoulder at me and rubbed a finger up and down that long nose, his lower lip jutting out. ‘All life is sacred, Mahu. Be it a bird on the wing or a fish in the river.’
‘And the Kushites we slaughtered?’ I asked.
‘They died because their lives were not sacred any more.’ He turned to gaze out of the window. ‘What will happen to us, Mahu? We are like children, being chased by shadows. We can turn and hide and fight, but still the chase goes on. My father will send other soldiers or a gift, some tainted wine or poisoned food. What will happen, Mahu?’
I knelt down. It was the first time the Veiled One had ever really asked me a question. The tone of his voice revealed that he was waiting for an answer. I don’t know what prompted my reply but the words came tumbling out before I could even reflect on them.
‘You will become,’ I continued in a rush, ‘Lord of the Two Lands, Holder of the Diadem, he who speaks with true voice, whose heel will rest on the neck of the People of the Nine Bows.’
The Veiled One lifted his hands. He was staring fixedly at the setting sun. Then he clambered off the bed and came towards me. I kept my head bowed, staring at those strange feet with their elongated toes and bony ankles. He stopped, grasped me by the hand and pulled me to my feet, his face wreathed in smiles, his eyes bright with life. He placed a hand on each of my shoulders and stared at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. Then he clasped me to him. I could feel the bones of his pigeon chest, the strength of those long arms; I could smell the perfume on his flesh.
‘Blessed are you, Mahu,’ he whispered, ‘least yet first amongst men. It is not flesh and blood which has revealed this to you but my Father who dwells beyond the Far Horizon and whose fingers have touched your heart so that you speak with true voice. Blessed are you, Mahu, son of Seostris, friend of Pharaoh.’
He released his grip and stood back. Hobbling over to a side table, he removed the cloth from a jug and filled two goblets of wine, serving me mine as if I was a priest in a temple.
‘Do you know what you said? Do you recognise the truth of my reply?’
In fact, I didn’t. On reflection what had prompted me was Tuthmosis, pale and narrow-faced, that blood-speckled napkin being thrust up his sleeve, and this enigmatic ungainly young man who could sing a song to a butterfly but kill like any panther from the South. We drank the wine and the Veiled One, drawing me close, whispered what I was to do. From that evening on I became responsible for his safety and security. Snefru, still nervous after the killing in the desert, became Captain of his guard.
The following morning a cart arrived, a gift from Queen Tiye, not food or drink or precious robes but the finest weapons and armour from the imperial storerooms. I gave Snefru two tasks: to train his men and recruit others who could be trusted, and to hire more servants from the village of the Rhinoceri. The Veiled One had a hand in this. He gave each of his new bodyguards an amulet, a scarab depicting the Aten, the Sun in Glory, rising between the Two Peaks in the East. He made them kneel in the dust of the courtyard, as he passed from one to another, gently asking their names, thrusting the insignia of office into their hands and softly caressing the head of each man. I was not so gentle but gave them a lecture Weni and Colonel Perra would have been proud of: their loyalty was to me and to their Prince. They were guarantors of each other’s fidelity. The treachery of one was the treachery of all and the good of their Prince was the glory of all. I then distributed the weapons, the leather kilts, the shields and spears, organising a roster of duties, interviewing each new recruit, accepting some, rejecting others.
The walls and gates of the Silent Pavilion were now closely guarded. No one arrived or left without my knowing; even the servants who went down to the marketplace were watched carefully. To all appearances the Veiled One’s household was depleted, disorganised. The Prince, our master, was sheltering in his chamber after the hideous incidents out in the Eastern Desert. The truth was very different. Security was the order of the day, the protection of the Prince our constant watchword. Food and wine were rigorously checked. A servant girl who could not explain why she had left the market in Thebes to visit the Temple of Isis quietly disappeared. At the same time the Prince opened his treasures. The Kushites had been paid from the House of Silver; now every one of his bodyguards was lavishly rewarded by the One they served. Of course God’s Father Hotep came sauntering into my master’s residence, walking through the gates, escorted by a gaggle of priests and officers from the Sacred Band. I quickly recognised the faces of Horemheb and Rameses: burned dark by the sun, garbed in their dress armour, they moved with all the swagger and arrogance of their kind. I met Hotep at the gates to the Prince’s garden.
‘I bring a request from my master,’ I whispered, bowing low. ‘He asks that your retainers’ — I heard a gasp of anger from some of the officers — ‘your retainers,’ I repeated, ‘either stay in the courtyard,’ I gestured round, ‘where there is shade, and where food and wine will be brought, or perhaps beneath the trees beyond the gates.’