During this, Inanna began cleaning her long nails with the tip of a dagger, shaking her head with amusement. But suddenly she pushed the point of the blade right against Nakht’s lips.
‘Open your mouth, Egyptian liar,’ she hissed. He complied, and she slowly pushed the blade deep into his mouth. He gagged, desperate not to have it cut his lips or his face open. His eyes blazed with the dishonour of it. She forced him down on his knees.
‘For lying to Inanna, I should slice off your tongue and your lips and make you swallow them. Your lies would not be so elegant, then.’
The moments passed in agony. Nakht tried to return her gaze, and waited for his fate.
‘You understand me now,’ she said. ‘It is I who speak the truth. You are all my slaves. Do not think of attempting to escape. Egypt is far away. You will not see your land again. Here lives death. She is standing before you now.’
And she withdrew the dagger and raised her fist, commanding a jubilant roar from her men.
Our path veered south, away from the westerly direction where the Way of Horus, and our chosen route to safety and home, lay. We were entering unknown territory. The chances of our being rescued or found were extremely slight. For who would venture into these wastelands, and even if they did, how could they locate us? Far in the distance rose a line of mountains, pale misty shapes like sleeping monsters in the afternoon heat. We continued through the barren wastes all day, and the sun was descending when we reached the grey and silver foothills that ran along the eastern slopes of the mountains. We slowly climbed up and up, until eventually we reached a cool, high, rocky pass which gave way to a spectacular vision: an amazing hidden valley falling away below us on the far side, its wide floor and lower slopes to the south packed full of intensely green fields, spreading as far as the eye could see to a far mountain peak, topped with snow, which shone with the light of the setting sun in the furthest distance. Everything was illuminated by the long, incongruously golden light of the early evening; after so long in the dry lands, it felt as if we had arrived in the Field of Reeds as depicted in our Books of the Dead. It looked like the promised bounty of the Otherworld.
Inanna raised her sword, rose up on her stirrups, and cried out her name down into the valley, where it echoed briefly. Her men yelled and whooped all around us, relishing the echoes that came back to them; and then we began the descent, following an established route down the rocky slopes, and around the scattered boulders. Soon we were riding down through densely cultivated fields. It was warmer on the valley floor. Poor, aggressive-looking farmers prostrated themselves in fear and awe, but turned their faces away from the sight of us, making the sign of the evil eye. Children ran alongside, until Inanna’s men chased them away, and they raced, shouting, into the fields to hide. Peasants were labouring everywhere. Countless white, red and pink flowers rose from the richly green plants. And then I was suddenly struck by a revelation: these flowers were poppies. They were growing opium. Fields of opium as far as the eye could see. I knew now where we were: in the lost valley from which Paser had warned me no one ever returned.
Near sunset, we stopped at a spring, to refresh the horses. Our hands were unbound and we were allowed to drink, too. The cold water tasted of rocks and herbs; I thought it was the finest drink of my life. I raised Simut’s head to help him drink. He looked feverish. I washed his head wound and his face, carefully. The air was fresh and scented. The evening shadows lay long across the valley floor. Inanna shouted an order, and a farmer and his wife, bowing low, hurriedly brought a straw basket full of glorious black grapes, just cut from a vine that grew in front of their hut. She threw a bunch to us, and we shared the luscious fruits hungrily. I suddenly felt a surge of gratitude and hope; we were not yet dead. I might see my family again.
‘Where are we?’ whispered Prince Zannanza.
‘We’ve been taken to these people’s heartland,’ said Nakht, quietly. ‘Somehow they know who we are. They must know we’re more valuable alive than dead. I imagine they intend to ransom us-for gold, no doubt.’
‘But who will buy us?’ he asked.
Nakht pretended he did not know; but I did. Aziru must have commissioned our kidnapping. I took Nakht aside.
‘Have you noticed the crop being grown here?’ I said.
He looked at me as if he did not understand the question.
‘I see flowers, that is all…’
‘It’s all opium!’ I said.
He gazed around him. ‘But this much opium would be worth more than all the gold in Nubia!’ he said, amazed.
But then a command was called; the guards retied our hands and threw us back into the cart. We travelled on into the darkness, through the endless shadowy poppy fields, now silvered in the moonlight and alive with activity. Hundreds of farmers, young men and boys in simple, rough woollen robes, working backwards, moved down the rows of plants, among the millions of seed-heads, slitting them open to release white opium sap. They shouted and called to each other from field to field, farm to farm, and from one side of the valley to the other in the dark.
The moon was high in the starry night sky, and we were shivering in our light robes when we finally arrived at our destination, a fortified stronghold of low, flat-roofed mud-brick buildings gathered together within a large walled compound. The place was a mixture of opulent booty and filthy chaos. Several old decapitated heads, disfigured from the hungry attentions of birds, were stuck on poles on either side of the entrance gate. Crudely butchered goats and ducks were roasting over open fires, attended by hunched women, their faces hidden inside their headscarves. Dark figures moved malevolently around the campfires, gnawing on the bones of roasted animals, drinking deeply from wine vessels, and laughing at dirty jokes or picking fights with each other. Captured men, women and children served them, and were kicked, beaten and abused for their pains. Animals and naked infants wandered freely about the compound, chewing on discarded bones or howling hopelessly. Cats and dogs stole whatever they could find. There was also an intense, bitter stink in the air, which came from a pair of mangy, apathetic desert lions captured in a cage.
Inanna strode ahead, and everyone bowed to her. We were pushed and kicked behind her, stumbling in the dark. Inside, smoky bowls of oil gave off a poor light. Richly inlaid furniture and statues, lapis lazuli and turquoise amulets and jewellery were heaped up casually, as if their variety, huge value and rarity were meaningless. In the side rooms, I saw men and girls lying on couches, obviously in opium trances. The place was dismal, and the air itself seemed corrupted.
We were dragged into a large interior courtyard lit by torches. The ropes binding our wrists were kept tied. We were forced down on to our knees, amid much shouting from Inanna’s men, who crowded around, cursing and spitting on us. Now that the attention of our kidnappers was elsewhere, I began to try to loosen the inept knots that bound my hands.
Inanna shouted, and her men were silenced. I wondered how she could exercise such unquestioned authority over these men. They cringed under her command. Without her, I had no doubt they would have torn us to pieces. I worked one finger gradually inside the knot of the binding.
Inanna had Prince Zannanza brought forward. She gripped his head, turning it from side to side, and watching how the fear played across his features.
‘What will she do to him?’ whispered Nakht.
‘She won’t harm him, he’s the prize,’ I replied.