Hotep held my gaze, those bright, sardonic eyes studying me carefully.
‘So you do not wish my companions to be wandering about?’
‘Excellency,’ I bowed again, ‘you and yours are most welcome here. However, you must remember, the Prince has lost the Captain of his guard — that vile attack in the Eastern Red Lands …’ I spread my hands. ‘My master is not a warrior or soldier …’ My voice faltered as if I, too, was nervous. Hotep turned, fanning his face, and gazed round, noting the guards at every doorway, spears at the ready, archers with their bows unslung. He grinned lazily at me and tapped me on the chest.
‘Horemheb is right. You are a clever baboon.’ He turned to his retainers. ‘Gentlemen, you may stay here. I bear messages from the Divine One.’
And, brushing by me, he entered the garden where my master was waiting for him in the pavilion. His escort rather self-consciously broke up. Some drifted towards the gate or made for the shade of the trees. Horemheb and Rameses, gold collars gleaming in the sun, remained standing alone, tapping their staffs of office against their legs.
‘My friends!’ I exchanged the kiss of peace with each of them.
Rameses pinched my arm mischievously.
‘You’ve climbed high, Baboon,’ he whispered before letting me go, so I could clasp Horemheb’s hand. The great soldier had filled out, muscular in his shoulders and arms, strong of grip, dark eyes in that hard, granite-like face. Both he and Rameses had their heads completely shaven. Horemheb had a scar high on his right cheekbone. He noted my gaze and rubbed this.
‘A Libyan arrow.’ His mouth smiled but his eyes didn’t. ‘Brother Rameses and I have been out in the Eastern Desert pursuing these marauders who attacked your master.’
‘We found some javelins and arrows, bones whitening under the sun.’ Horemheb squinted up at the sky. ‘As mine will if we don’t get into the shade and have some wine.’
I ushered them into the house, to the small tables I had prepared in an alcove beneath a window which overlooked the garden. I served them sweet white wine and a dish of glazed walnuts smeared with honey on strips of flat bread. They both ate, noisily smacking their lips, dabbing their fingers in the water bowl and wiping them on the napkins as they stared around. Horemheb noticed the guards standing in the shadows and grinned.
‘How good are they, Mahu?’ he asked, nodding his head. ‘As skilled as the Kushites?’
‘They are loyal and they will kill.’ I smiled and toasted him with my cup.
Rameses laughed behind his hand. ‘Soldiers with no noses,’ he taunted, ‘and little military training. Have they been drilled by you, Mahu?’
‘Tell me,’ I replied, ignoring his question, ‘what do men fight for the most? For money? Plunder? Women?’
‘Glory,’ Horemheb snapped. ‘The glory of To-mery, the Kingdom of Egypt.’
‘What about their own glory,’ I retorted, ‘as well as that of the One they serve?’
The smile faded from Horemheb’s face. ‘The Divine One could send the regiment here,’ he whispered, ‘and soon take care of these toy soldiers.’
‘Attack his own son?’ I replied. ‘Queen Tiye’s beloved? My friends, I shall tell you something: there are moments in life when you make choices. On these choices your life, your fame, your fortune depend.’
‘What are you saying?’ Rameses snarled, his lean face ugly with the anger seething within him.
‘We are children of the Kap,’ I replied. ‘I am not threatening you, or describing the way things should be, just the way they are. I gave Sobeck good advice and he ignored it. I did what I could for him. Don’t you expect me to do the same for you?’
Horemheb wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and got to his feet. Rameses followed. He was about to walk away when he came back and smiled down at me.
‘I’ve got two new dwarves,’ he said. ‘I never forgot that night, Mahu,’ his smile widened, ‘and the horrors of the crocodile pool. You are right. You never know when you can be swept away.’
He and Rameses sauntered lazily to the door. They’d hardly gone when Hotep appeared. He gestured at me not to rise and sat down opposite.
‘Well, well, well.’ His furrowed face broke into a smile, eyes watchful, like a hawk on its perch. ‘Quite a few changes here, Mahu.’
‘It is important that the Prince feels secure.’
‘He’s under the care of the Divine One; we all rest in the shadow of his hands.’
‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Still, prudence and wisdom are gifts of the gods.’
Hotep picked up Horemheb’s cup and sipped at it. ‘Tell me again what happened in the Red Lands.’
I did so. Hotep sat nodding his head. ‘And Imri?’
I gave him a description of our calamitous journey on the river. ‘An unfortunate accident,’ I concluded.
‘And all of Imri’s guard were killed out in the Red Lands?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘And you went hunting there?’
‘We went hunting,’ I replied, holding his gaze. ‘Gazelle and ostrich, whatever crossed our path.’
‘But you never took Saluki hounds?’
I hid my disquiet — a mistake we had overlooked.
Hotep put the cup down. ‘Why didn’t you take Saluki hounds? They are as fleet as any deer.’
‘My master knows my dislike of Saluki hounds,’ I replied quietly. ‘My Aunt Isithia had one called Seth. He killed my pet monkey — I never forgot.’
‘Ah yes, Isithia.’ Hotep scratched his neck. ‘I understand you don’t visit her.’
‘She is never far from my heart.’
Hotep smiled thinly. ‘She said that your fates were intertwined.’
A prickle of fear curled along my back. ‘Whose fates, Excellency?’
Hotep sipped from his cup to conceal his own disquiet.
‘Why was I sent to the Kap?’ I asked abruptly. ‘My father was a brave soldier but Thebes is full of the sons of brave soldiers.’
‘Your aunt petitioned me whilst your father’s bravery was known to the Divine One, but that’s in the past, Mahu.’ Hotep smiled. ‘The evils of one day are enough and we must look to the future. What will happen to your Prince when his brother succeeds?’
‘May Pharaoh live for a million years,’ I replied.
‘Of course,’ Hotep agreed, ‘and enjoy a thousand jubilees. My question still stands. You talk of choices.’
‘When did I talk of choices?’
Again the crooked smile.
‘Don’t you know, Mahu? Even the breeze can carry words. You must make choices.’ Hotep spread his hands. ‘Which path you are going to follow? Whom will you truly serve? Ah well.’ He brushed some crumbs from his robe and got to his feet. ‘I don’t want your answer now, but one day.’ He plucked a fan from his sleeve to cool his face. ‘You know where I am.’ He turned away but then came back. ‘Your master, he talks to you?’
‘Like my aunt talked to her Saluki hound.’
Hotep smacked me across the face with his fan. ‘What do you think of your master, Mahu?’
‘I don’t think at all about him, Excellency. I do meditate quite often, at the way things are and, perhaps, the way things should be. I remember the poet’s words. You may know the line? “It is easier to hate than to love. It is better to love than to hate. But sometimes, you must hate to protect what you love”.’
‘A riddle?’ Hotep stepped back.
‘The solution is easy, Excellency. I could take an example from agriculture. They say that you are the son of a farmer?’
‘And?’
‘As the vine is planted,’ I replied, ‘so shall it grow.’
‘Are you talking about yourself?’ he queried.
‘No, Excellency, I am talking about all of us.’
I have been asked where it really all started, when I became aware of the real cause. I have been asked to speak with true voice. I do find this difficult. It’s like a fire in a house. You smell the smoke, you see the wisps but you are not certain where the fire is burning. So it is with the one they now call the Accursed, Akhenaten, the Grotesque, the Ugly One, the Veiled One, the Beloved of the Aten, the Lord of the Diadems.