‘My lord, Your Highness.’ I stroked his head.
He kept banging the soldiers one against the other.
‘My lord,’ I repeated.
Again, no reply, so I took one soldier from his hand. He turned quickly, holding the other up as if he were about to strike me; his face was pale, his eyes empty.
‘My lord?’ I took the other soldier from his hand; his fingers were clammy and cold. I sat down and pulled him towards me. He didn’t resist, but just sat there whispering as if he was talking to someone I couldn’t see. I glared furiously at Djarka.
‘He’s only frightened.’ Ankhesenamun came up. ‘The clatter of weapons and screams below were hideous. He’s only a child, aren’t you, my beloved?’
She knelt beside me. For a moment that word, ‘beloved’, and the smell of her perfume, the softness of her shoulder and arm, recalled Nefertiti. Tutankhamun jumped from my lap and flung his arms around her. For a while he just stood there, face buried in her neck. Ankhesenamun patted him gently on the back, rocking him gently as if he were a babe. I got to my feet, indicating to Djarka to follow. In the corridor outside I took him to a window enclosure overlooking the courtyard.
‘Is that fear?’ I asked.
Djarka blew his cheeks out. ‘The fighting was ferocious when those men burst in. Amedeta began screaming; so did the Prince. I dismissed his mood as the result of fear; I let him play.’
‘Has that happened before?’
‘Once, twice, but it’s usually a passing mood.’
‘Does he become violent?’ I insisted.
‘On one occasion, yes. He hit me with a toy scabbard; a piece of flint scored my cheek, and he ran away and hid. When I found him he was fine, though he had no recollection of what he had done. He’s only a child.’ Djarka repeated Ankhesenamun’s words. ‘He’s been snatched from one palace to another, then brought to this place of slaughter. They were guided in, weren’t they? We have a traitor in our midst.’
‘Possibly.’ I stared down at the courtyard, now empty of corpses; the servants were busy swilling it with water mixed with salt and vinegar. All the dead and weapons had been removed; only a splash of blood on the wall gave any indication of what had happened just a short while earlier. I suddenly felt weak, slightly dizzy. I pressed myself against the wall.
‘My lord, you are well?’
‘You know what it is like,’ I sighed. ‘I’ll eat and I’ll drink. Sleep as if I haven’t for days. One thing is certain, Djarka.’ I smiled at him. ‘We are no longer envoys. Keep an eye on the Prince and tell me if that ever happens again.’
I was halfway down the stairs when a servant delivered a message: Colonel Nebamun wished to see me in his private chamber. When I arrived, Sobeck and Meryre were already present, seated around a small table. Nebamun himself was acting as servant, pouring wine, serving freshly baked bread with spiced duck. He too had washed and changed. No longer the warrior, but the veteran soldier in his white robes and gold collars of office. Nevertheless, his face was drawn and lined, his eyes bloodshot. He nursed a savage cut on his forearm which the physician had already bandaged. Sobeck, who had received a similar cut on his thigh, was trying to tighten the bandage.
‘Don’t do that,’ Nebamun warned. ‘I don’t know why, but the wound will go putrid. Keep the bandage as loose as possible. My lord Mahu.’ He gestured at the cushions.
I sat down and Nebamun served me; the duck smelt delicious.
‘Go on, eat,’ Nebamun urged. ‘I have dismissed the servants.’ He squatted down himself. ‘I am a widower with no sons, though I am happy enough. Two or three of the local ladies see to my wants.’ He gestured around the stark chamber, which boasted only a few chests, stools and tables. It was dominated by a great wall painting showing Amenhotep the Magnificent, in the guise of Montu, God of War, in his chariot hurtling across scores of slain.
‘He’s my hero.’ Nebamun smiled. ‘I often come in here to say my prayers. When he was Pharaoh, there was no nonsense about the One.’ He glanced quickly at Meryre. ‘When he was Pharaoh, Hittite mercenaries did not sail along the Nile and attack the White-Walled City. They plundered neighbouring mansions,’ he sighed, ‘killed a few servants. I have sent troops to hunt along the banks; some may still be hiding.’
Meryre remained silent, staring down at his food. At last he shook himself from his reverie.
‘How did they know we were here?’ he asked.
‘Are you implying that I told them?’ Sobeck retorted.
‘Of course they knew,’ Nebamun intervened. ‘It was no great secret. Your flotilla must have been seen by many. You have been here a few days, people knew …’
‘We should have left the Prince at the City of the Aten,’ Meryre insisted.
I shifted so I could look at him directly: that round pious face, eyelids stained with green kohl, the Sun Disc amulet still around his neck. He sat all smug like a poisoned toad, cheeks bulging ready to spit his poison. He had that arrogant look which, when we were Children of the Kap, always provoked me. He was daring me to confront him, to ask if he was the traitor.
‘Shall we continue our mission?’ he asked, popping a morsel of food into his mouth.
‘No!’ I replied. ‘You know that we cannot. We are going to our deaths.’
‘You have broken the orders of the Royal Circle. The decrees of the Taurati.’ He invoked the official term for the regency council. ‘You have broken them twice. You could be accused of treason.’
‘Then arrest me, or try to!’
Meryre dismissed my words with a contemptuous gesture.
‘We must continue our mission,’ he insisted.
‘Nonsense!’ I glanced at Nebamun, but he refused to intervene; this was not a matter for him.
‘Then I shall continue my mission.’ Meryre pushed away the small table; he got to his feet and waddled towards the door.
‘Priest!’ I shouted, clambering to my feet. Meryre paused and turned round. I glimpsed the sword, Colonel Nebamun’s, lying on a table just near the doorway, and ran across and drew it. Meryre turned back to the door, but I crashed into him. Nebamun and Sobeck sprang to their feet. I tried to grasp Meryre’s head, but his wig came off in my hands. He turned, face all flushed, eyes glittering, and glanced at the sword.
‘What are you going to do, Mahu, Baboon of the South? Kill a high priest? We are under orders from the Royal Council.’ He tried to push me away.
‘This morning,’ I hissed, ‘those same people we are meant to treat with tried to kill me and everyone in this house, though perhaps not you.’ I grabbed the Sun Disc amulet and pulled the chain off his neck. He winced in pain.
‘Colonel Nebamun,’ he protested, ‘this is an outrage, it’s sacrilege.’
‘My lord Mahu,’ Nebamun warned.
‘I am the Prince’s Protector,’ I replied, ‘his official guardian.’ I brought the sword’s tip under Meryre’s fat chin. ‘I do not think I can allow you to go. I am placing you under arrest.’
‘How dare you?’ Meryre spluttered. He struggled to break free, but I held him firm against the door, the sword point digging beneath his chin.
‘Shall I tell you about the law, Colonel Nebamun?’ I kept my gaze on that fat, round face, resisting the urge to beat him or press the sword tip a little deeper. ‘Pharaoh’s law is very clear. An attack upon the Royal Person, or any member of the Royal Family or the Sacred Circle, is high treason, punishable by death.’
Some of the anger drained away from Meryre’s face.
‘You are not implying,’ his fat jowls quivered, ‘you are not saying that I am a traitor? I knew nothing about that attack.’
I stepped back. ‘I didn’t say you did, but Colonel Nebamun witnessed what the Hittite said. They came here to kill me and to abduct the Royal Personages: that’s treason! You know, Colonel Nebamun,’ I kept my eyes on Meryre, ‘that it is against the law for any loyal subject of Pharaoh to negotiate or treat with traitors. So, because of that attack, our mission has ended. You, my lord Meryre, because you threatened to break Pharaoh’s law, will be placed under house arrest. I shall take full responsibility for it. Now, my lord, I understand you are leaving.’