At last the enemy threw down their weapons and knelt in the dust, hands stretched out for mercy — but the bloodlust was up. Those who surrendered had their heads pulled back, their throats slashed. Some mercenaries even forced the young Libyans to lie face down against the hard ground to urinate on them and inflict other indignities before they finished them off. At last Akhenaten issued an order and all fighting came to an end. He climbed down from his chariot to receive the plaudits and cheers from his troops. The Libyan captives were hustled forward, no more than two dozen. An avenue was formed leading up to the imperial chariot, its wheels, the blue and gold electrum, coated in drying blood. One Libyan chieftain tried to bargain for his life. Akhenaten shook his head, gripped his war-club and issued an order. Each prisoner was bound, arms behind him, hustled up and made to kneel. Akhenaten grasped his victim’s hair and swung the war-club, cracking skulls, dashing out the victims’ brains as easily as he would shatter a nut. The pile of corpses grew. The valley was silent except for the groans of the prisoners and the sound of Akhenaten’s bone-crunching war-club. He stood, a fearsome figure, spattered with gore, blood swilling in pools around his ankles. At last all the prisoners were dead. Then Akhenaten lifted the war-club like a priest would an Asperges rod.
‘Aten is glorious!’ he screamed. ‘Our victory is his!’
His voice echoed round the valley like a peal of thunder: again and again he repeated it. His troops replied, going down on their knees, roaring the paean of praise.
‘Aten is glorious! Our victory is his!’
Chest heaving, face stained with blood, Akhenaten finally climbed back in the chariot. I gathered the reins as his commanders clustered round. My master congratulated and thanked them.
‘Aten is glorious.’ He gestured at the carpet of bodies stretching on either side. ‘Let the enemy dead rot,’ he commanded, ‘their bellies swell and burst. Let them stink in the air. They have polluted my Father’s holy place. Let their bones whiten as a warning!’
I felt my hand touched. Horemheb, covered in dust and sweat, grinned up at me.
‘You delayed.’ I leaned down. ‘You should have come sooner.’
‘The chariots carried more men.’ Horemheb wiped the dust from his lips. ‘We were slower than intended but we saved you.’
‘And yourself!’ I whispered hoarsely, pointing to the mercenaries whom the squadrons had brought in. ‘I gave the Captain orders: if you didn’t move, they were to kill you.’
Horemheb’s eyes smiled. ‘I shall remember that, Mahu.’
‘And I shall never forget.’
Escorted by his troops, still singing his praises and removing the bodies from the path of his horses, Akhenaten left that valley never to return. At the mouth of the gulley I looked back. Our men were reforming. The sky above them was growing dark now, the vultures sweeping in. They were already busy on the corpses of Snefru’s retinue which sprawled headless in bloody pools. I murmured a prayer for them and passed on.
Akhenaten gripped the rails of the chariot, eyes closed, lips moving silently. I don’t know whether he was praying or issuing silent threats. However, once we returned to the palace, the terror began. News of the sudden, unexpected battle in the Valley of the Shadows had swept through both the palace and the city. My men had already been prepared. A wave of arrests took place, all land and river routes were sealed. Powerful merchants, notables, and army officers were rounded up and hustled through the streets to be questioned in the palace. Some of the guilty ones had either fled or tried to. A few took poison and those who had fallen under Akhenaten’s displeasure were invited to take the same honourable path. Ay set himself up as Pharaoh’s supreme judge. Terror was his weapon. Solemn oaths of loyalty, underwritten with generous donations of gold and precious stones, were the acceptable guarantee of good behaviour. Those who kept their nerve and stayed survived. Those who panicked and fled were banished, their estates confiscated. A few were singled out for punishment, being offered exile or a cup of poison. In the army and different Houses of State a number of important posts became vacant, all immediately filled by Ay’s nominees. The same happened in the great temples. The priests submitted, the sign of the Aten was publicly displayed and, most importantly, temple granaries and treasures were placed at Akhenaten’s disposal. Wealth and foodstuffs from these were distributed amongst the poor, the petty traders and, of course, what Sobeck called ‘his own starving flock’.
Sobeck and I met soon after and we agreed on well-organised but very noisy demonstrations in favour of Akhenaten and against the temple aristocracy in both Thebes and the Necropolis. These took place, spoiled by a little rioting and arson, but the effect was pleasing. The doors to the sacred granaries and treasuries were opened even wider. Temple guards and mercenaries were absorbed into Nakhtimin’s palace guard. All officers in the army were invited to take oaths of loyalty. Very few refused. Rameses and Horemheb were promoted to full Colonels, Scribes of the Army, responsible for the Seth and Anubis regiments, now deployed around Thebes. Changes were also published in provincial towns. The Magnificent One, now a recluse in the House of Love, could do nothing. Our persecution of the Amun cult and its supporters proved unexpectedly easy. In Thebes and elsewhere a deep resentment surfaced at the arrogance, wealth and growing power of Karnak and Luxor. Other temples, both in Thebes and elsewhere, rejoiced at the news of their disgrace and Akhenaten received congratulations and assurances of loyalty from the temples of Horus in the Delta, Ra at Heliopolis, Ptah at Memphis, Osiris at Abydos and elsewhere.
Queen Tiye assumed responsibility for the House of Envoys, dealing with matters beyond Egypt’s borders. Pentju became Supervisor of the Royal House of Life. Maya, Overseer of the Royal House of Silver. I was given the House of Secrets. I visited its well-guarded precincts to assume the seals of office, and enjoyed wandering through its courtyards and gardens, visiting the small houses and mansions where the scribes worked. I inspected the dungeons, which were surprisingly empty, and then solemnly processed across a central courtyard to meet its School of Scribes in the hall of columns — a low, dark building shot with rays of light. Flanked by Djarka and three burly mercenary Captains, I displayed my commission and informed them that I was to be Overseer of the House of Secrets with immediate effect. They would take an oath of loyalty to me and would be lavishly rewarded for faithful service. If they found such an oath distasteful they must resign, receive a temple pension and be invited to finish their days farming as far away from me as possible. They were to be given the afternoon to reflect upon my offer and gather again at the ninth hour to take the oath.
‘However,’ I warned, walking down between them, ‘if you take the oath and later betray me, or my masters, you will be impaled, your families sold into slavery and your estates confiscated.’
They sat in silence and heard me out, not that they had much choice. Moreover, like the administrators, they were still stunned by the news of the battle in the Valley of the Shadows a few days earlier. They were also shocked, their loyalty to their own masters severely shaken. Court intrigue and political confrontation were part of their life. However, for highranking servants of Pharaoh to invite enemies of Egypt onto her sacred soil, to kill her Prince and ravage his city was a heinous blasphemy. I left them to their thoughts and asked the Chief Scribe to open the Chamber of Secrets where the most confidential and valuable records were kept. He took me down and unlocked the heavy cedar door studded with bronze clasps and ushered me into a windowless room with dark-red walls; countless alabaster oil jars placed in niches provided light. I demanded the records for Akhenaten and the children of the Kap. The Chief Scribe, now sweating and trembling, spread his hands, saw the look on my face and fell to his knees with a moan. ‘I am sorry, my lord,’ he gabbled. ‘God’s Father Hotep removed them two days ago.’