The New Kingdom Read online

  Praise for

  ‘A thundering good read is virtually the only way of describing Wilbur Smith’s books’

  IRISH TIMES

  ‘Wilbur Smith . . . writes as forcefully as his tough characters act’

  EVENING STANDARD

  ‘Wilbur Smith has arguably the best sense of place of any adventure writer since John Buchan’

  GUARDIAN

  ‘Wilbur Smith is one of those benchmarks against whom others are compared’

  THE TIMES

  ‘Best Historical Novelist – I say Wilbur Smith, with his swashbuckling novels of Africa. The bodices rip and the blood flows. You can get lost in Wilbur Smith and misplace all of August’

  STEPHEN KING

  ‘Action is the name of Wilbur Smith’s game and he is the master’

  WASHINGTON POST

  ‘A master storyteller’

  SUNDAY TIMES

  ‘Smith will take you on an exciting, taut and thrilling journey you will never forget’

  SUN

  ‘No one does adventure quite like Smith’

  DAILY MIRROR

  ‘With Wilbur Smith the action is never further than the turn of a page’

  INDEPENDENT

  ‘When it comes to writing the adventure novel, Wilbur Smith is the master; a 21st century H. Rider Haggard’

  VANITY FAIR

  Contents

  Praise for Wilbur Smith

  Dedication

  Map

  Letter from Author

  Afterword by Tom Holland

  The Readers’ Club

  The Complete Ancient Egyptian Adventures

  The Power of Adventure

  About the Author

  Also by Wilbur Smith

  Copyright

  For Mokhiniso

  You mended my heart and gave me the strength of an army

  Thank you for pushing me to be the best writer I can be

  Dear Reader,

  One of the most satisfying surprises of my career was the success of River God and the novels that followed in the Ancient Egyptian Series: The Seventh Scroll, Warlock, The Quest, Desert God and Pharaoh. When a publisher first expressed interest in working with me and co-authors to explore untold Taita yarns, I was excited by their interest and the ensuing publicity, and was ready to revisit my own Ancient Egypt. I re-read the series and discovered a gap and saw vividly in my imagination what Taita was up to. It was in this space between River God and Warlock where Desert God and Pharaoh now stand. It was a good feeling to spend more time with Taita. Some claim he is my alter-ego (but that is a matter between Taita and myself).

  Egypt had always fascinated me, it was the crossroads of the continents, the foundation of the history of civilization – it all happened there. The Hyksos invasion was a time of confusion and chaos, which was why I was able to indulge my imagination by filling in the gaps of that period.

  One of the pleasures of communicating with my fans is the questions they ask me on social media. They want to know so much more about the world of River God. When I finished re-reading the Egyptian Series, I realised that in all six novels I was so totally focused on Taita’s first person narrative and his quest to protect the Two Kingdoms that I had totally missed a secondary character who earned a stage of his own and could offer another view of that extraordinary time.

  You may recall Hui, the young bandit who becomes the Pharaoh’s best charioteer, training an army to regain the throne against Hui’s own people. Hui’s story runs parallel to the world of River God and I hope you will find the cameo from Taita satisfying. It’s a story of vengeance, as Hui plots against his brother Qen. Keep an eye out for another personal favourite of mine from River God. The Easter eggs are there to be found and savoured for my old and new readers. I hope you enjoy this new series as much as I did plotting it and co-writing it.

  As ever,

  Wilbur Smith

  The two men clambered across the high ground under the watchful eye of the gods. At the summit, the barren landscape rolled out, silvered by moonlight and carved by shadow. A cool breeze blew from the east, ripe with the earthy aromas of the lush vegetation swelling around the Nile.

  They were friends from their earliest days. Of the two, Hui was the braver. He wore no more than a linen kilt, wrapped around him and knotted at the waist, showing off limbs that were hard and strong. In Lahun, the home they had crept away from at sunset, many still thought of him as a child. Hui blamed his youthful features, which still glowed with innocence – cheeks a little too plump, no worry lines around his mouth or on his forehead. A child! Seventeen, he was! He wrinkled his nose. Those detractors would be proved wrong soon enough.

  ‘Do you see it?’ Kyky said in a tremulous voice.

  His nickname meant ‘monkey’, for that was what he resembled, with thin arms that seemed to reach almost to his knees, and a small face with big dark eyes.

  Hui pressed a finger to his lips. Crouching, he craned his neck to stare at the stars flowing across the sky. Yes, the gods were always watching, every fool knew that. He trembled under the weight of those glittering eyes.

  A grand destiny lay ahead of him, if those higher powers were willing, and tonight he would take his first step along that road to glory.

  The eerie barking they had heard on the climb echoed again, closer this time, and his heart hammered.

  Hui looked around the jagged teeth of the rocks on the hills where he had followed the old desert wanderers’ tracks, to the undulating waves of the desert sands to the west. Squinting towards the east, he could make out the faintest glimmer of the Great River mirroring that sweep of twinkling stars overhead.

  That otherworldly yowling rang out again, almost at his elbow this time, and Hui jumped to his feet.

  ‘What is that?’ Kyky whined. He grabbed Hui’s shoulder, his eyes widening.

  Hui let out what he hoped was a comforting laugh. ‘Stay strong, my friend.’

  ‘You dragged us to this lonely place, far from the safety of our homes, and now you tell me not to be afraid?’ Kyky jabbered. ‘The old men on the benches by the walls say the hills are haunted. Demons walk here.’

  Hui choked back his scorn as Kyky reached out a trembling finger. A silhouette was rising behind a rib of brown rock. Twin horns stabbed up from the head. Coldly glimmering eyes stared at them. That mournful barking rolled out again.

  Kyky clutched his face and whimpered, ‘Oh, Hui, you have doomed us.’

  Hui stiffened. He would stand his ground, even though his legs were shaking, for that is what great leaders did.

  The silhouette eased up further until the moonlight burned the darkness from it, and Hui sagged with relief. Those horns were long, pointed ears, the narrow face and almond eyes feline. It was a desert cat. He’d seen one only once before, but he’d heard they barked like dogs instead of purring or hissing.

  Slapping his hands on his thighs, Hui convulsed with laughter, then hurled a stone to frighten the cat away.

  ‘We are jumping at shadows,’ he chuckled.

  ‘And can you blame us?’

  ‘This is a night for momentous things—’

  ‘A night where fools get their comeuppance, more like.’ Kyky kicked up a whirl of sand in defiance. ‘We are more likely to get our throats slit and be left as a feast for the vultures.’

  Hui couldn’t argue with that. But he showed a cheerful face for his friend’s sake.

  ‘You’ll sing a different song when we return with a gift from the gods.’

  ‘If we return.’

  ‘Courage, little monkey!’ Hui said, clapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders. ‘Let the fire in your belly roar! This night your life will change.’ When he saw Kyky screw up his nose, he added with
haste, ‘For the better, of course. Girls will fall to their knees before you, begging you to take them. The bullies who’ve tormented you all your life will bow their heads in deference. You will be a king amongst men. Embrace this moment.’

  Kyky shook his head. ‘It is too dangerous. We should turn back.’

  Hui smiled to hide his frustration. He had more persuading to do.

  ‘And lose a prize beyond all value?’ He scrambled onto a boulder and pointed towards the stars. ‘“A fire blazing across the sky” – that’s what the old desert wanderer said. Where it crashed upon the earth, the sand was turned to glass and at the centre of a wide crater was a black stone. The Ka Stone, the desert wanderer called it. Not the Ka Stones that are left in the tombs, no. One filled with the essence of the gods. Why, he told me himself it had magical powers. Some say it could make a man fly with the birds, if he utters the right prayers. Others that it raises the phantoms of those denied a place in the afterlife—’

  ‘Some say, some say.’ Kyky paced impatiently. ‘And why did that old desert wanderer not benefit from this magic himself? Because it was stolen from him – dragged from dead fingers when every man who walked beside him was slaughtered.’ Kyky threw his hands into the air. ‘Stolen by the Shrikes! The most bloodthirsty bandits in all Egypt. And now you want to steal the stone back from them. Madness. Why did I ever listen to you?’

  Hui turned away, pretending to search for the track through the jumble of rock and dust. Kyky was tired and irritable from the trek, but there was truth in his words. Hui couldn’t deny he’d been swallowing his own apprehension that now fluttered in his belly like a small bird. For all his bravado, he knew the risks. To rob a robber, that was one thing. To sneak into the camp of the Shrikes and steal their most prized possession . . . well, Kyky was right for once. That was lunacy.

  Stay calm, Hui thought. You are brave.

  Hui raised his eyes to the heavens again and searched the constellations until he found the Four Sons of Horus – there, just as his father had pointed out to him when he was a boy. His guide. His destiny. He felt comforted.

  He thought back to the white walls of Lahun, when he had met the lone desert wanderer begging for bread to fill his empty stomach. Wrapped in black robes, with a scarf tied around his head, the man had a face as wind-blasted and sunburned as the wastes through which those habiru travelled. In exchange for a dry crust, he’d told Hui of the Ka Stone and the attack on his caravan. Hui’s eyes had lit up when he heard the potential in the story. It could be nothing, of course. Those tribes of wanderers loved their tales. But if true, the gods had presented Hui with a chance to seize something greater than he had ever known – for himself, for his father and family, for Lahun.

  He didn’t dare speak of it widely. His father, Khawy, would have banished him to his room – the dangers were too great. The bandits had left trails of blood across all of Egypt. Yet he imagined the Shrikes’ camp in the hills, swollen by captured girls to be sold into slavery, and vast tents filled with unimaginable booty from their raids along the Nile’s fringe south of Dahshur. The bandits would no doubt be drunk, celebrating their great success and basking in the certainty that they were the ones who would be blessed by the gods. Drunk, and sleeping it off, and too stupefied to notice little rats scurrying amongst their tents to relieve them of their great prize.

  Hui leaped from his rock. ‘Nothing great was ever gained by timid hearts. But if you wish to turn back, I cannot stand in your way.’

  Kyky looked down the hillside to the empty wastes.

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Or you could follow me towards a great destiny. Think – a gift from the gods themselves. What eminence would be heaped upon the man who brought that back to Lahun? Why, even Pharaoh himself would shine his magnificence upon such a hero. Or heroes.’

  Kyky bowed his head, undecided. ‘I am content with my lot. Hero sounds like a dangerous title. No, tell me once more what we stand to gain by risking our necks? Something I can hold in my hands.’

  ‘Riches beyond your wildest imaginings. Something so blessed, so rare, will be coveted by great and powerful men everywhere. They will pay anything to possess it. That is why the desert wanderers first took it. That is why the Shrikes stole it from them. Seize this moment, Kyky, and we will be the wealthiest, most honourable men in all Lahun. You will never want for anything again. There is no prize more valuable in all the world.’

  Before Kyky could make his choice, Hui heard footsteps crunching towards them. He whipped out his short-bladed knife from the folds of his kilt. He had no idea how to use it to defend himself, had never been in a fight in his life. He prayed the glint of moonlight on the copper would be enough of a deterrent.

  Kyky let out a quavering moan.

  A figure loomed out of the night, and with a shudder of relief, Hui saw that it was Qen.

  ‘Brother!’ he hailed. ‘Are you trying to frighten the ghost out of us both?’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Qen snapped.

  When the new arrival skidded to a halt in front of them, Hui saw his elder brother’s eyes were darting around, wide with fear. He’d been scouting the path ahead now that they were closing on the bandit camp.

  ‘What is it?’ Hui asked.

  Qen gripped his arm. ‘We must turn back.’

  ‘Are the Shrikes coming? Do they know of our plan? Are they going to gut us and leave us out for the vultures?’ Kyky’s panic edged his words.

  ‘Come with me.’

  Qen spun on his heel and raced back across the stones, this time keeping low.

  Hui felt that knot of apprehension inside him grow tighter. Qen was taller than he was, and as thin as a needle, with hollow cheeks that made him look as if he hadn’t eaten a good meal in days. But when he grinned, his face lit up and everyone around him felt bathed in joy. They had the same father, but different mothers. Khawy had taken Qen’s mother Isetnofret first, an arrangement for political reasons, and she had also provided him with a daughter, Ipwet. Hui loved her dearly. But Khawy had fallen in love with Kiya, Hui’s mother, who had died giving birth to him. That explained why the two brothers looked so unalike. But they were different in character, too. Qen was as hard as the jutting rocks on that hillside, unyielding when he desired something. And his slim frame hid a powerful strength. When they were younger, Hui had witnessed him beat two bullies, smashing one of the youths’ heads repeatedly into the wall of their father’s house until the nose was broken, the lips turned to pulp and half the teeth were knocked out. Qen had courage, too. Whatever troubled him, it would be wise to take heed.

  Hui and Kyky set off after Qen, the three of them running together as they had done since they were boys. These were the ones Hui trusted more than any in the world, the only men he’d been prepared to tell about this great adventure. They’d barely spent a day apart all their lives. Once they’d raced through the streets of the Upper City with their whip-tops, and bickered over skittles. Now they were would-be thieves and heroes. How right it felt that they were here together this night.

  Ahead, Qen slowed his pace and came to a halt at the beginning of a track along a gully between two towering rocks. He looked up.

  Hui followed Qen’s gaze. Silhouetted against that starry sky, shapes hovered, six of them, seemingly floating above the ground. They fluttered in the wind blasting across the high land.

  At first, Hui struggled to understand what he was seeing. Kyky, though, released another strangled moan. He glanced up at that sight, as if praying he had been mistaken, before wrenching his head away in horror.

  Hui edged forward beside his brother. Bonded in silence, they stared.

  Six bodies hung on a rope strung between the two rocks. The buzzards and kites had already feasted on the soft flesh of the faces. Picked clean, the cheekbones and jaws gleamed in the moonlight, and rows of yellowing teeth grimaced. But it was those hollow sockets, deep and black as the pits of Duat, looking down upon them, judging them unworthy, that filled the
m with dread.

  Kyky slumped to his knees and wrung his hands.

  ‘The Shrikes have little regard for the souls of their victims,’ Qen muttered.

  He was staring into the shadowed sockets of the nearest vision of torment.

  ‘A warning,’ Hui replied.

  And the message was clear. For strangers, only death lay ahead.

  Golden sparks swirled towards the twinkling constellations in the sky. Though the night wind whipped up the campfire in one final roar, the flames were beginning to die down, the embers glowing red in waves of grey ash. In the wavering amber light, a jumble of tall, square tents billowed. Sobbing was heard from amongst them, no doubt from one of the girl captives, stifled as suddenly as it began.

  Under the lamp of the full moon, the camp of the Shrikes was slumbering.

  Hui’s eyes watered from a stray wisp of smoke. He could taste the sweet fragrance of the sheep dung and straw that provided the fire’s fuel. How long had he been lying on his belly on this slab of rock, scrutinizing the bandit camp, with Kyky and Qen barely daring to breathe beside him? An age, it seemed. But the time had to be right, even though his ribs were sore, and his knees and elbows ached from sliding across the hard ground like vipers to avoid being picked out by the moonlight.

  Egypt had once been the greatest empire on earth, Hui had overheard his father, the governor, telling one of the visiting dignitaries. But now it was besieged by jackals on all sides, and the good folk lived in constant fear. Their king lacked an heir and the strength to hold the Great House of Egypt together, and in the chaos, a false pharaoh had arisen as challenger in the lower reaches of the Nile. His soldiers dominated there. In the west, the Libyans held sway along with the desert wanderers, the habiru, rogues and cut-throats all. Foreigners, not Egyptians. They had no standing in this land and never would. And in the east the barbarians, the Hyksos, tested the resolve of Egypt’s defenders with their bloody war bands. Hui had heard many stories of those terrifying warriors. He prayed he would never meet one.