Then suddenly the boy drew a tiny inward breath, more like a small cry. He tried to move, but the shattered bones made no sense; and then a flash of pain arched through him.
‘Try to stay still. I am a friend. Who did this to you?’
But he could not speak, for the bones of his jaw were broken.
‘Was it a man?’
He struggled to comprehend me.
‘A young man or an old man?’
He was trembling now.
‘Did he give you a powder or a juice to ingest?’
Khety touched my shoulder.
‘He cannot understand you.’
Now the boy began to moan, a low, mournful sound like an animal in appalling distress. He was suffering the memory of what had happened to him. Drawing breath seemed suddenly impossibly painful. Instinctively I touched his hand with mine, but the moan became a terrible wail of pain. Desperate for him not to die, I moistened his lips and brow with a little water. This seemed to revive him. He opened his mouth a fraction, as if pleading for more water, which I gave him. But then he slipped from consciousness. Horrified, I leant down to listen again at his mouth and heard-thanks be to the Gods-the lightest of breath. He was still alive.
‘Khety-we need a doctor. Now!’
‘But I don’t know any doctors,’ he stammered.
I racked my brains. And then suddenly it came to me.
‘Quickly, we have to carry him to Nakht’s house. We don’t have much time.’
‘But how…?’ he began, his palms waving uselessly in the air.
‘On his bed, you idiot, how else?’ I shouted back at him. ‘I want him kept alive, and Nakht can do it.’
And so, to the amazement of the boy’s family, I covered the boy’s body with a linen cloth as if he was already dead, and the two of us took up the bed-which was light enough, and his frail weight added very little to our burden-and made our way through the streets. I went first, shouting at everyone to make way, and trying to ignore the curious faces of the people, all pushing to get a glimpse of what we were carrying, and what was causing such a stir. But when they saw the linen over the body they assumed we carried a corpse, and backed away, losing interest quickly. Their reaction was very different to Nakht’s, when I revealed the damaged body beneath the cloth to him. Khety and I were drenched in sweat, and desperate for a long draught of cool water; but my priority was the boy. I had not dared to check on his state in the street, only praying that the inevitable rocking and jostling of the bed in our hands would not cause him too much agony. I hoped he was only unconscious, but not, please the Gods, already in the Otherworld.
Nakht ordered the servants to carry the boy into one of his chambers, and then he examined him carefully. Khety and I watched him nervously. Once he had concluded, he washed his hands in a bowl, and nodded sternly to us to join him outside.
‘I have to confess, my friend, this is the strangest gift you have ever brought me. What have I done to deserve it? A boy’s lame body, the bones shattered, the face so curiously scored by needle-holes, and the eyes removed? I am at a loss, a complete loss, to understand whatever persuaded you to bring him to me, like a cat bringing home the remains of her kill…’
He was angry. And so, I realized, was I.
‘And to whom else should I bring him? Without expert attention he will die. But I have to keep him safely, until he is well. He is my only lead. Only he can tell me who did this to him. He might be able to help us identify his attacker. He will recover?’
‘He has a dislocated jaw. His arms and legs are both broken in several places. I fear infection in the cuts around his face and in the eye-sockets. And among all the great mysteries of the cruelties that have been so precisely inflicted upon this boy’s body, why does he have the marks of needles upon his face?’
I pulled the girl’s face from my bag and showed it to him. He turned away in revulsion.
‘We found this sewn on to his face. It belongs to a body we also found. The face belongs to a girl. Her name was Neferet.’
‘Please, put that thing away. I simply can’t talk to you while you are thrusting the remains of a human face at me,’ he cried.
I saw his point. I passed the face to Khety, who took possession of it reluctantly, fastidiously placing it back in the bag.
‘Now can we talk?’
He nodded.
‘I am not accustomed, as you are, to the more brutal acts of our kind. I have never been in battle. Never been robbed or attacked. Never even been in a fight. I abhor violence, as you very well know. The thought of it makes me sick. So forgive me if what, for you, is all in a day’s work, is for me something more of a profound shock.’
‘I forgive you. But tell me now: can you save him?’
He sighed.
‘It is possible, provided there is no infection. Bones we can set. Blood we cannot heal.’
‘And when might I be able to speak to him?’
‘My friend, this boy has been literally shattered. It will take weeks, months, for these injuries to heal. His jaw is a mess. If he lives, he will need time to recover from his blindness. It will be some time, a month at the very least, before he can speak. This is assuming his mind remains undamaged by the experience, and that he is capable of articulation and comprehension.’
I gazed down at the boy. He was my only hope. I wondered what he could say to me, and whether, in a month, it would all be far, far too late.
‘So what do we do now?’ asked Khety quietly, as we stood outside Nakht’s house. He looked shocked.
‘Have you got a lead on Neferet’s place of work?’
‘I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of places. We should visit them,’ he replied.
He showed me a list of establishments.
‘Fine. When?’
‘After sunset would be best. When they get busy.’
I nodded.
‘Meet me at the first one. Bring that with you,’ I said, meaning the face which he had replaced in its leather bag.
‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked.
‘I feel like going home and drinking a bottle of decent red wine, and feeding my son his dinner. But I have to return to the palace. The interviews of all those who have priority access to the royal quarters took place this afternoon. I should have been there.’
I glanced up at the afternoon sun, which was now descending to the west. I might already have missed everything.
‘Do you want me to come, too?’
I shook my head.
‘I want you to go back to the boy’s family and explain we’re taking care of him. Tell them he’s alive, and we have good hopes. And above all make arrangements for the boy to be guarded. Set a pair of guards inside the entrance to Nakht’s house at all hours. We don’t want anyone to hurt the boy any more. We can’t risk losing him.’
‘What happens if he dies?’ asked Khety quietly.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘Pray to the Gods he lives.’
‘You don’t believe in Gods,’ he replied.
‘This is an emergency. Suddenly I am reconsidering my point of view.’
18
I tried to stop myself breaking into a run as I made my way, by memory now, towards the royal quarters. By day, I noticed more people: groups of officials, foreign ministers, delegates and potentates being entertained in various chambers. I showed my permissions to the guards, who scrutinized them carefully before allowing me to pass. At least the security had improved.