“I will deal with Nekoptah,” the prince said happily. “I have my own army now.”
The dressers departed and other servants brought chilled water and bowls of fruit.
“Would you prefer wine, Orion?”
“No, water will do.”
Aramset took up a small melon and a knife. As he began to slice it, he asked, “And you, my friend. You worry me.”
“I?”
He slouched on the bunk and looked up at me. “You are willing to give up that beautiful lady?”
“She is Menalaos’s lawful wife.”
Aramset smiled. “I have seen her, you know. I wouldn’t give her up. Not willingly.”
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, I said nothing. How could I explain to him about the Creators and the goddess I hoped to restore to life? How could I speak of the growing unhappiness within me, the reluctance to give up this woman who had shared my life for so many months, who had offered me her love? Silence was my refuge.
With a shrug, Aramset said, “If you won’t talk about women, what about rewards?”
“Rewards, your highness?”
“You have done me a great service. You have done this kingdom a great service. What reward would you have? Name it and it is yours.”
I barely gave it an instant’s thought. “Allow me to enter the great pyramid of Khufu.”
For a moment Aramset said nothing. Then, pursing his lips slightly, he replied, “That might be difficult. It’s actually the province of the chief priest of Amon…”
“Hetepamon,” I said.
“You know him?”
“Nekoptah told me his name. I was to bring him back to Wast with me, if I survived his trap with Menalaos.”
Impulsively, Aramset jumped to his feet and went to the chest on the other side of the tiny cabin. He flung open its lid and pawed through piles of clothes until he found a small, plain bronze box. Opening it, he lifted out a gold medallion on a long chain.
“This bears the Eye of Amon,” he told me. I saw the emblem etched into the bright gold. “My father gave me this before… before he became devoted to Ptah.”
Before he became hooked on the drugs that Nekoptah administered, I translated to myself.
“Show this to Hetepamon,” said the prince, “and he will recognize it as coming from the king. He cannot refuse you then.”
Our mighty armada unfurled their sails and started up the Nile two days later. The army that the Egyptians had gathered was now augmented by Menalaos and a picked complement of Achaian warriors, bound by oath to Aramset. The main strength of the Achaians remained on the coast, with Egyptian administrators to help settle them in the towns they would henceforth protect. The prince headed back for the capital, with his bloodless victory over the Peoples of the Sea.
I paced the deck each day, or gripped the rail up at the bow, trying to make the wind blow harder and the boat move faster against the current on the strength of sheer willpower. Each morning I strained my eyes for the first glimpse of the gleaming crown of Khufu’s great pyramid.
Each night I tried to reach inside that ancient tomb by translocating my body. To no avail. The Golden One had shielded the pyramid too well. Mental exertion could not penetrate his fortress. My only hope was that the high priest of Amon could lead me physically through an actual door or passage into that vast pile of stones.
That would be the ultimate irony, I thought, as I lay on my bunk sheathed in the sweat of useless exertion, night after night. The Golden One may be able to prevent his fellow Creators from entering his fortress, but could he stop a pair of ordinary humans from merely walking in?
The day finally came when we sailed past the outskirts of Menefer, and the great pyramid’s polished white grandeur rose before our eyes.
I summoned Lukka to my cabin and told him, “No matter what happens at the capital, protect the prince. He is your master now. You may never see me again.”
His fierce eyes softened; his hawk’s face looked sad. “My lord Orion, I’ve never thought of a superior of mine as a… a friend…” His voice faltered.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Lukka, it takes two to make a friendship. And a man with a heart as strong and faithful as yours is a rare treasure. I wish I had some token, some remembrance to give you.”
He broke into a rueful grin. “I have memories enough of you, sir. You have raised us from dirt to gold. None of us will ever forget you.”
A lad from the boat’s crew stuck his head through the open cabin door to tell me a punt had tied up alongside and was waiting to take me to the city. I was glad of the interruption, and so was Lukka. Otherwise we might have fallen into each other’s arms and started crying like children.
Aramset was waiting for me at the ship’s rail.
“Return to me at Wast, Orion,” he said.
“I will if I can, your highness.”
Despite his newfound dignity at being a true prince with an army at his command, his youthful face was filled with curiosity. “You have never told me why you seek to enter Khufu’s tomb.”
I made myself smile. “It is the greatest wonder in the world. I want to see all its marvels.”
But he was not to be put off so easily. “You’re not a thief seeking to despoil the royal treasures buried with great Khufu. The marvel you seek must be other than gold or jewels.”
“I seek a god,” I replied honestly. “And a goddess.”
His eyes flashed. “Amon?”
“Perhaps that is how he is known here. In other lands he has other names.”
“And the goddess?”
“She has many names too. I don’t know how she would be called in Egypt.”
Aramset grinned eagerly, the youngster in him showing clearly through a prince’s seriousness. “By the gods! I’m half tempted to come with you! I’d like to see what you’re after.”
“Your highness has more important business in the capital,” I said gently.
“Yes, that’s true enough,” he said, with a disappointed frown.
“Being the heir to the throne is a heavy responsibility,” I said. “Only a penniless wanderer is free to have adventures.”
Aramset shook his head in mock sorrow. “Orion, what have you done to me?” The sorrow was not entirely feigned, I saw.
“Your father needs you. This great kingdom needs you.”
He agreed, reluctantly, and we parted. I saw Menalaos peering over the gunwale as I clambered down the rope ladder to the waiting punt. I waved to him as cheerfully as I could. He nodded somberly back.
One advantage of a mammoth bureaucracy such as administered Egypt is that, once you have it working for you, it can whisk you to your goal with the speed of a well-oiled machine. The bureaucrats of Menefer had been given orders by the crown prince: convey this man Orion to Hetepamon, high priest of Amon. That they did, with uncommon efficiency.
I was met at the pier by a committee of four men, each of them in the long stiff skirt and copper medallion of minor officials. They showed me to a horse-drawn carriage and we clattered across the cobblestoned highway from the riverfront to the temple district in the heart of the vast city.
I was ushered by the four of them, who hardly said a word to me or to each other all that time, through a maze of courtyards and corridors until finally they showed me through a small doorway and into a modest-sized, cheerfully sunlit room.
“The high priest will be with you shortly,” one of them said. Then they left me alone in the room, shutting the door behind them.
I stood fidgeting for a few moments. There were no other doors to the room. Three smallish windows lined one wall. I leaned over the sill of the center one, and saw a forty-foot drop to a garden courtyard below. The walls were painted with what I guessed to be religious themes: animal-headed human figures accepting offerings of grain and beasts from smaller mortal men. The colors were bright and cheerful, as if the paintings were new or recently redone. Several chairs were grouped around a large bare table that appeared to be made of polished cedar. Other than that, the room was empty.