Ignoring that, I continued, “I came here as escort to the Queen of Sparta, the lady Helen…”
“Escort?” He smirked. “Or consort?”
I could feel the blood rising in me. With a deliberate effort I calmed myself, constricted capillaries that would have colored my face.
Softly, I said, “So someone was spying on us in our rooms.”
Nekoptah threw his head back and laughed. “Orion, do you think the king’s chief minister will allow strangers into the palace without keeping watch on them? Every breath you take has been observed — even the dagger you carry hidden beneath your kilt was seen and reported to me.”
I nodded acquiescence of the fact, knowing that there were armed guards standing on the other side of the door behind the priest’s desk, ready to defend their master or slay us at the slightest word from him. Yet there was one thing that Nekoptah did not know, for he had never observed me in action: I could tear out his throat before the guards could open that door. And I could kill three or four armed men, too, if I had to.
“I’ve been carrying it for so long now that it seems a part of my body,” I said meekly. “I’m sorry if it causes offense.”
Nekoptah waved a fleshy hand, the rings on his fingers glittering in the morning sunlight. “The chief priest of almighty Ptah is not afraid of a dagger,” he said grandly.
Nefertu shuffled his feet nervously, as if he wished he were somewhere else.
“As I was saying,” I resumed, “I came here as escort to the lady Helen, Queen of Sparta, princess of the fallen Troy. She wishes to reside in the Kingdom of the Two Lands. She has wealth enough so that she would not be a burden on the state…”
Nekoptah waggled a fat hand impatiently, a movement hard enough to make his mountainous jowls quiver like ripples in a lake.
“Spare me the dull recitation of facts I already know,” he said impatiently.
Again I struggled to keep my anger from showing.
Pointing a stubby thick finger at me, Nekoptah said, “This is what the king wishes you to do, Orion. You will take your men downriver to the delta, seek out these barbarian raiders, and destroy them. That is the price for accepting your Queen of Sparta into our city.”
Kill Helen’s husband in return for her safety in Egypt’s capital. I thought it over for a moment, then asked: “And who will protect the lady while I am away?”
“She will be under the protection of the all-seeing Ptah, Architect of the Universe, Lord of the Sky and Stars.”
“And mighty Ptah’s representative here among mortals is yourself, is it not?” I asked.
He dipped his chins in acknowledgment.
“Will the lady be allowed to meet the king? Will she live in his house, protected by his servants?”
“She will live in my house,” Nekoptah said, “protected by me. Surely you don’t fear my intentions toward your — queen.”
“I promised to deliver her to the King of Egypt,” I insisted, “not the king’s chief minister.”
Again Nefertu drew in his breath, as if expecting an explosion. But Nekoptah merely said mildly, “Do you not trust me, Orion?”
I replied, “You wish me to lead troops against the Achaian invaders of your land. I wish my lady to meet the king and dwell under his protection.”
“You speak as if you had some power of bargaining. You have none. You will do as you are told. If you please the king, your request will be granted.”
“If I please the king,” I said, “it will be because the king’s chief minister tells him to be pleased.”
A wide, smug smile spread across Nekoptah’s painted face, “Precisely, Orion. We understand one another.”
I tacitly acknowledged defeat. For the moment. “Will the lady Helen be permitted to see the king, as she wishes?”
His smile even broader, Nekoptah answered, “Of course. His royal majesty expects to sup with the Queen of Sparta this very evening. You yourself may be invited — if we are in complete agreement.”
For Helen’s sake I bowed my head slightly. “We are,” I said.
“Good!” His voice could not boom, it was too high. But it rang off the stone walls of the audience chamber, nonetheless.
I glanced at Nefertu out of the corner of my eye. He seemed immensely relieved.
“You may go,” said Nekoptah. “A messenger will bring you your invitation to supper, Orion.”
We started to turn toward the door.
But the high priest said, “One thing more. A small detail. On your way back from crushing the invaders, you must stop at Menefer and bring me the chief priest of Amon.”
Nefertu paled. His voice quavered. “The chief priest of Amon?”
Almost jovially, Nekoptah replied, “The very same. Bring him here. To me.” His smile remained fixed on his fleshy lips, but both his hands had squeezed themselves into fists.
I asked, “How will he know that we represent you?”
Laughing, he answered, “He will have no doubt of it, never fear. But — to convince the temple troops who guard his worthless carcass…”
He wormed a massive gold ring off his left thumb. It was set with a blood-red carnelian that bore a miniature carving of Ptah. “Here. This will convince any doubters that you act by my command.”
The ring felt heavy and hot in my hand. Nefertu stared at it as if it were someone’s death warrant.
Chapter 38
OBVIOUSLY, Nefertu had been shaken by our meeting with the king’s chief minister. He was silent as we were escorted back to my apartment, far across the complex of temples and palaces that made up the capitol.
I remained silent, also, trying to piece together the parts of the puzzle. Like it or not, I was in the middle of some sort of convoluted palace conspiracy; Nekoptah was using me for his own purposes, and I doubted that they coincided with the best interests of the Kingdom of the Two Lands.
One glance at Nefertu told me he would offer no hint of explanation. He was ashen-faced as we walked between the gold-armored guards down the long corridors and lofty colonnaded courts of the capitol, with their cats skulking in the shadows. His hands trembled at his sides. His mouth was a thin line, lips pressed together so hard that they were white.
We reached my apartment and I invited him inside.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid there are other matters I must attend to.”
“Just for a moment,” I said. “There’s something I want to show you. Please.”
He dismissed the guards and entered my room, his eyes showing fear, not curiosity.
I knew we were being watched. Somewhere along the walls there was a cunningly contrived peephole, and a spy in the employ of the chief priest of Ptah observing us. I took Nefertu out onto the terrace, where a pair of rope-sling chairs overlooked the busy courtyard and rustling palm trees.
I needed to know what Nefertu knew, what was in his mind. He would not tell me willingly, I could see that. So I had to pry into his mind whether he wanted me to or not. Perhaps somewhere beneath the surface of his rigid self-control I could reach the part of his mind that was searching for an ally against whatever it was that was frightening him.
The poor man sat on the front inch of his chair, his back ramrod straight, his hands clasped on his knees. I pulled my chair up close to his and put my hand across his thin shoulder. I could feel the tenseness in the tendons of his neck.
“Try to relax,” I said softly, keeping my voice low so that whoever was watching could not hear.
I kneaded the back of his neck with one hand while staring deeply into his eyes. “We have known each other for many weeks, Nefertu. I have come to admire and respect you. I want you to think of me as your friend.”