When we reached the Lion Gate, the King publicly embraced Prince Zannanza-but I have rarely seen a colder, less effusive embrace between father and son. Prince Zannanza turned to look back at his home, and he must have known he would never see it again. The Crown Prince slapped him vigorously on the shoulder, and whispered something in his ear that caused Prince Zannanza to stiffen and redden as if he had been cruelly mocked and cursed.
And then, deafened by the cacophony of the fanfares that followed, we were led through the long dark tunnel of the great gate. We emerged into the light. The carved lions leapt from their stone. I looked up at the crenellations of the city walls, which were crowded with people. I searched them for any glimpse of the man I had seen staring at Nakht, or a man with red hair. But there was nothing, and our path was set, our journey was only just beginning. Before us lay the dark forests, and the long, dangerous road home.
Part Four
If thou openest not the gate to let me enter,
I will break the door,
I will wrench the lock,
I will smash the door-posts, I will force the doors.
I will bring up the dead to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living.
26
The ancient gates of the city of Aleppo opened at dawn, and we joined the throng of labourers going to the fields and of merchants and tradesmen setting off to work. We were glad to leave, for the second Prince of the Hittites, Viceroy of the City, had accommodated us with ill will. There was no brotherly love between him and Zannanza, for whom he displayed only a sneering condescension. Here also we had reached the border of Hittite-dominated territory. The Hittite guard, which had accompanied us from Hattusa, across the arid plains to the north, down through the poor villages and border towns, over the curling tracks of the cold mountain passes, dense with dark pines, and then across the plains towards Aleppo itself, would now turn back. They followed us a little way out of the city, suddenly stopped, stood to attention, offered a modest salute, and then simply rode away, as if relieved of a worrisome, distasteful responsibility. During the whole journey they had not exchanged one word, or one sign of friendliness with us.
Finally we were on our own. What lay ahead of us were unknown, uncertain wastelands, which for the last thirty years had been fought over, and for much longer had been extremely perilous to all travellers. Nakht had decided to take the trade road to Hamah, about five days to the south of Aleppo, and from there turn west, to rejoin the Way of the Sea at Byblos. The Hittite Crown Prince had arranged for us to be accommodated in fort-towns along the way, and given us documents to that effect.
It was a beautiful day. We set off into the unknown, our guards jogging before and behind. The road was lined with meadows, the dew was still heavy upon the fields, and birds sang in the branches of the trees and swooped along the trickling water courses. For the first time in many days, despite the perils that lay ahead, we all felt a weight lift from us. Even Prince Zannanza seemed to be touched by the beauty and the freshness of the early morning. Nakht said something politely to him, and he nodded, and almost smiled. For the whole journey up to this point he had been sunk in a profound, speechless depression; he had barely eaten, he had drunk little, and lack of sleep circled his elegant eyes with dark rings.
We rode together, Prince Zannanza in the middle, Nakht and I on either side, Simut and his guards before and behind. Nakht tried once again to engage the Prince in conversation.
‘Queen Ankhesenamun’s beauty is remarkable. Isn’t that so? Rahotep, I was just failing to find the words to describe her grace and her intelligence. She is quick-witted, and delightful in conversation.’
‘So why has she had to beg for a husband from her greatest enemy?’ Prince Zannanza asked quietly, in perfect-if accented-Egyptian.
Nakht began to answer him, but the Prince interrupted.
‘I am not a fool. I know what families will do for power and glory. My father has sold me; I am merely a commodity, bartered for political gain. And when I am no longer useful, I know I will be disposed of without a second thought.’
‘That is not so, Your Majesty. As long as I live I will serve you, and protect your life with my own,’ replied Nakht earnestly.
Prince Zannanza gazed at him.
‘And how long can I hope to survive in your Egyptian royal court, which is so notoriously full of assassins and betrayers?’ he replied. ‘And who are you?’ he said, turning to me unexpectedly.
‘Life, prosperity, health, Your Majesty. I am Rahotep.’
‘Tell me about yourself,’ commanded the Prince.
I could hear Simut coughing with amusement behind me.
‘What would Your Majesty care to know?’
‘You are not a noble, yet you are not a guard. Why are you here?’
I glanced at Nakht, who was following the unexpected progress of this conversation carefully.
‘The Queen of Egypt commanded my presence,’ I said. ‘I am a Seeker of Mysteries and worked for the Thebes Medjay.’
‘She must value your loyalty highly,’ he replied.
I could think of nothing to say to that. He gazed at me.
‘I see something else in your eyes. You carry a dark anger in your heart, don’t you, Rahotep, Seeker of Mysteries?’
I was taken aback.
‘I recognize the signs all too well. I, too, was not made for the darkness of men’s cruelty. But the Gods make fools of us all,’ he continued. And then he spurred his horse, and cantered forward a little, to return to his solitude.
Simut winked, and clapped me on the shoulder, whispering into my ear: ‘I think the Prince has taken a liking to you. “The Gods make fools of us all…”’
‘You’re just jealous,’ I replied.
We both laughed. Nakht was not amused.
The sun rose quickly as we travelled onwards, and soon the land began to simmer with heat. Later, up ahead, in the dazzle and shimmer of the afternoon, one of the reconnaissance guards suddenly stopped and whistled a warning. Simut and I cantered up to join him on a slight rise in the terrain. He gestured for silence, and pointed from his eyes to a square mud-brick building in the distance. It was hard to make it out in the glare of the light. ‘It’s an outpost. That’s a water cistern in the middle,’ he said.
‘So where is everyone?’ I asked.
There seemed to be no watchmen, nor any soldiers moving about on duty. In fact, the place was eerily silent, as if it had been abandoned. Wiping the sweat from our brows, we scanned the parched, empty terrain.
Simut and I dismounted and, taking two of his guards with us, made our way slowly and quietly towards the fort. There was nowhere for us to hide if we came under attack. The guards held their bows at the ready. The desert land was utterly silent all around us, and we made no sound either. I examined the dusty ground, step by step; it was heavily marked with the prints of horses’ hooves, and sandals, and bare feet, running crazily in all directions. As we came closer to the fort itself, spots, arcs and trails of dried black blood decorated the dirt. It was the diagram of a battle. But where were the dead?
Simut scanned the place, then motioned the two guards to cover us, their bows aimed at the walls; then, swift and silent as shadows, Simut and I ran across the dangerous open ground until we had our backs against the wall of the gatehouse. I wiped away the sweat dripping from my forehead; we listened for any sound within the fort. Still there was nothing. All I could hear was the buzzing of flies. Simut instructed the guards to position themselves directly before the gateway, and then, with a nod, he and I burst through into the inner court, our weapons raised.