I could smell resin being warmed; and then a man appeared, carrying a wide pot of resin with a brush in it, along with a flint knife and a sharp, pointed instrument. The guard dog immediately sat up. Seemingly oblivious to the appalling stink, the man set the pot down, laid the knife alongside the naked corpse of a fat, middle-aged man, and then, as if this were the most normal thing in the world, he inserted the point of the tool up the man’s nose and jabbed hard. I heard the sound of bone cracking. Whistling, he took out the tool, inserted a long, thin spoon, and began to scoop out brain matter, scraping around carelessly inside the dead man’s skull; and this he flung casually at the attentive dog, who eagerly gobbled up the offering. This work completed, he sliced along the side of the corpse, and the yellow fatty flesh opened up quickly. He rummaged around inside the body with his knife, tugging and cutting and drawing out organs, which he threw equally casually into a pot at the foot of the table. Then he set about painting the face of the man with the warm resin.
While the guard dog was preoccupied with his snack of brains, I quickly moved across the courtyard towards another opening on the far side. I hurried down the darkness of a passage, but quickly backed into a doorway, for just ahead of me, soldiers were unloading the coffins from a backyard area into a storage room. I listened to their feet coming and going, and their grunts as they worked, carrying and setting down the heavy burdens. And I heard two men’s voices, speaking in a low tone to each other. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. There was clearly a problem. And then their voices faded as they walked back into the yard. I inched my way along the wall, and peered into the storage room; inside, the coffins marked with the sign of Seth were laid out on the ground, with their lids removed. The twenty dead soldiers gazed up sightlessly at the ceiling. And along one wall, as I knew, seventy-nine packages of opium were stacked. One was missing, because it was in my satchel. No doubt they had now discovered that.
I made my way back as quickly as I could; but the guard dog spotted me and barked furiously. The embalmer looked up. I offered a confident greeting, and continued back towards the shop. Suddenly, footsteps hurried towards me, and the two brothers appeared, alarmed. The embalmer approached, too, knife in hand. I raised my hands.
‘I was looking for somewhere to piss. I got lost. If you’re free, can we discuss arrangements for my brother now?’
Attended by the man with the knife, the brothers surrounded me, questioning me loudly. I continued to protest my innocence, and to talk about my dead brother. Then a large man appeared, quickly coming up the passageway; obviously the father of the brothers. He had a face made for dealing with the dead-cold, pious and hard.
‘What’s going on?’ His was the voice of one of the two men in the backyard.
‘He says he’s here for his brother’s body,’ said one brother.
‘He says he needed a piss,’ said the other.
‘This is a private area. Why didn’t you ask, like any other customer?’ asked the father.
‘These gentlemen were busy with other customers-I see how very busy you are-by the Gods, death has much to answer for in these days, doesn’t it?’
They stared at me. I allowed my shivering to turn into a fit of grief. ‘I’m sorry. The truth is-I don’t know what happened-I was suddenly overcome, and I didn’t want to show my grief in public. I am sure you understand. We were notified my dear brother had been killed in honourable battle, and his coffin would be returned here. I have come to reclaim his body.’
I stared at the ground, shaking my head sorrowfully, and drying my eyes. The father considered me.
‘My condolences. Your brother gave his life for the greater good of Egypt. Now, if you will just return to the front office with my sons, they will take down your details, and we will gladly assist with the necessary arrangements.’
38
I stood before Horemheb, in his office within the Memphis military compound. At first his handsome, cold face betrayed nothing as he stared out of the window. ‘These men will be arrested immediately! I will interrogate them myself, and then they will be executed. They have disgraced the army and the Two Lands of Egypt.’
But this would not serve my purpose.
‘Consider again, lord. Only two people know about this: you and I. These men have no idea we know about their activities. But they are not the important ones. They are the workers, not the head. We must track the shipment of opium to Thebes, to see where it goes-to see who receives it. To see who is behind the operation that is selling the opium on the streets. Those are the key men. The killers.’
He stared suspiciously at me. I had to persuade him.
‘There is still more to this. There is a commander who runs it all. He has a code-name. Obsidian. I believe he’s one of your men. He is extremely dangerous. He created and instigated everything, inside the Egyptian army itself, inside the Seth division, for his own profit. Such a man is extremely dangerous to you. Imagine how much power he commands. Imagine the disastrous effect of his work. Imagine what could happen if he has power in Thebes, especially at this highly sensitive moment for the Two Lands…’ I said.
I let the implications of that do their own work; for if Obsidian were not caught, Horemheb’s ability to command the city would be severely compromised. Worse still, if the corruption came to light, his claim to the royal succession would be profoundly damaged, no matter how many divisions he ordered to take over Thebes, no matter how brutally efficient the martial law he might impose. Horemheb’s face was taut with suppressed rage at this unexpected flaw in his grand plan.
‘Find this Obsidian. But I want him alive. Keep me informed at all times, and when the moment comes, I will personally command the troops that attack these traitors, and I will destroy them and their filthy trade. All corruption will be wiped out in the new Egypt; none will be tolerated. And I will personally silence this Obsidian. Be sure you deliver him to me. You know the price of failure,’ he said quietly.
I nodded and turned away. He had given me what I wanted: permission to track down Obsidian. But he was my prize, and I would never give up the satisfaction of my revenge for Khety’s death, not to Horemheb or anyone else.
As I passed through the doorway, he called out: ‘And remember this, Rahotep. I don’t trust you. I won’t hesitate to destroy you if you put one foot out of place. You have three days to accomplish everything. Ay is dead. A storm is coming to Egypt now, a storm that will cleanse and purify the corruption and the chaos into which we have descended as a result of the selfish decadence of the so-called royal family and those fat, self-satisfied priests. Their time is over. My time is now.’
39
When the pylons and great walls of the temples of Thebes finally appeared before me, rising above the river waters and the surrounding cultivation, after so long away my heart brimmed over with the emotion of homecoming. Ra shone brightly upon the city that held my wife and my family.
But I confess, too, that the beautiful light seemed a cruel illusion. Little did the citizens of this great city know of the dark storm that would soon change everything: Horemheb and his divisions were on their way, to occupy the streets, palaces and offices of the city, and bring the arrests, executions and wholesale destruction that would surely follow, as he grasped power, took the Crowns, destroyed the carved names and faces of the statues of the old dynasty, and asserted his new dynasty. But more than even that, I was the only one of the original party to return alive: Nakht had died at Inanna’s compound; Simut was in chains, condemned; Zannanza had been brutally assassinated. And now Ankhesenamun was doomed.