The Quest (Novels of Ancient Egypt) Page 14

  ‘Then how do you propose to draw within range without being scried by her mysterious eye?’

  ‘As she is, so am I a savant. I throw no aura for her to read.’

  Nefer Seti was becoming angry. He had been a god long enough to resent any check or restraint. His voice rose: ‘I am no longer a child for you to baffle with your esoteric cant. You are too quick to point out the flaws in my plans,’ he said. ‘Learned Magus, be kind and gracious enough to propose an alternative so that I may have the pleasure of treating it as you have treated mine.’

  ‘You are the pharaoh, you are Egypt. You must not walk into the web she weaves. Your duty is here with your people, with Mintaka and your children, to protect them if I should fail.’

  ‘You are a devious and crafty rogue, Tata. I know where this is moving. You would leave me here in Thebes, killing toads, while you and Meren set out on another adventure. Am I to be left cowering in my own harem like a woman?’ he asked bitterly.

  ‘Nay, Majesty, like a proud pharaoh on the throne, ready to defend the Two Kingdoms with your life.’

  Nefer Seti placed his clenched fists on his hips and glared. ‘I should not listen to your siren song. You spin a web with as strong a thread as any witch.’ Then he spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. ‘Sing on, Tata, and I perforce will listen.’

  ‘You might consider giving Meren a small force to command, not more than a hundred picked warriors. They will travel fast, living off the land without recourse to a lumbering supply train. Numbers alone are no threat to the witch. She will not be concerned by a contingent of this size. As Meren projects no complex psychic aura to arouse her suspicions, she will scry him as a bluff, simple soldier. I will go with him. She will recognize me from afar, but by coming to her I am playing into her hands. In order to take from me the knowledge and power she desires, she must let me come close to her.’

  Nefer Seti growled and muttered under his breath as he stamped up and down. Finally he confronted Taita again: ‘It is hard for me to accept that I should not lead the expedition. However, your arguments, convoluted though they are, have swayed me from my good sense.’ His glowering features cleared a little. ‘Above all men in Egypt, I trust you and Meren Cambyses.’ He turned to Meren. ‘You shall have the rank of colonel. Choose your hundred, and I will give you my royal Hawk Seal so that you can equip them from the state armouries and remount stations anywhere in my dominions.’ The Hawk Seal delegated Pharaoh’s royal power to the bearer. ‘I want you ready to ride with the new moon at the latest. Be guided in all things by Taita. Return safely and bring me the witch’s head.’

  When word got out that he was recruiting a flying column of élite cavalry, Meren was besieged by volunteers. He chose as his captains three hardy veterans, Hilto-bar-Hilto, Shabako and Tonka. None had ridden and fought with him during the civil war – they were too young for that – but their fathers had, and their grandfathers had all been companions of the Red Road.

  ‘The warrior blood breeds true,’ Meren explained to Taita. His fourth choice was Habari, whom he had come to like and trust. He offered him the command of one of his four platoons.

  He mustered all four captains, confirmed their selection and questioned them closely: ‘Have you a wife or woman? We travel light. There will be no place with us for camp-followers.’ Traditionally Egyptian armies travelled with their women.

  ‘I have a wife,’ Habari said, ‘but I will be pleased to escape from her scolding for five years, or ten, even longer if you require it, Colonel.’ The other three agreed with this sensible view.

  ‘Colonel, if we are to live off the land, then we will take our women where we find them,’ said Hilto-bar-Hilto, the son of old Hilto, now long dead. He had been the Best of Ten Thousand and had worn the Gold of Praise at his throat, awarded to him by Pharaoh after the battle at Ismalia when they had overthrown the false pharaoh.

  ‘Spoken like a true legionary.’ Meren laughed. He delegated to the chosen four the selection of the troopers to fill their platoons. Within less than ten days they had assembled a hundred of the finest warriors in the entire Egyptian army. Each man was equipped, armed and sent to the remount station to pick out two chargers and a pack mule. As Pharaoh had commanded, they were ready to march from Thebes on the night of the new moon.

  Two days before the departure, Taita crossed the river and rode to the Palace of Memnon to take his leave of Queen Mintaka. He found her thinner, wan and cast down. The reason for this she confided to him within the first few minutes of their meeting.

  ‘Oh, Tata, dear Tata. The most dreadful thing has transpired. Soe has vanished. He has gone without taking leave of me. He disappeared three days after you saw him in my audience chamber.’

  Taita was not surprised. That had been the day of Demeter’s gruesome death.

  ‘I have sent messengers to find him in every possible place. Taita, I know you will be as distressed as I am. You knew and admired him. We both saw in him the salvation of Egypt. Can you not use your special powers to find him for me, and bring him back to me? Now that he has gone I will never see my dead babies again. Egypt and Nefer will remain in perpetual agony. The Nile will never flow.’

  Taita did his best to console her. He could see that her health was deteriorating, and her proud spirit was on the point of breaking under the weight of her despair. He cursed Eos and her works while he did all in his power to calm Mintaka, and give her hope. ‘Meren and I are setting out on an expedition beyond the southern borders. I will make it my first duty to search for and make enquiry for Soe at every point along our way. In the meantime I divine that he is alive and unharmed. Unexpected circumstances and events forced him to depart hurriedly, without taking leave of Your Majesty. However, he intends to return to Thebes at the first opportunity to continue his mission in the name of the new nameless goddess.’ All of which were reasonable assumptions, Taita told himself. ‘Now I must bid you farewell. I shall hold you always in my thoughts and my dutiful love.’

  The Nile was no longer navigable so they took the wagon road south along the bank of the dying river. Pharaoh rode the first mile at Taita’s side, belabouring him with commands and instructions. Before he turned back, he addressed the troopers of the column in an exhortation and rallying call: ‘I expect each of you to do his duty,’ he ended, and embraced Taita in front of them. As he rode away, they cheered him out of sight.

  Taita had planned the stages of the journey to bring them each evening to one of the many temples situated along the banks of the Nile in the Upper Kingdom. At each his reputation had preceded him. The high priest came out to offer him and his men shelter. Their welcome was sincere because Meren carried the king’s Hawk Seal, which allowed him to draw additional food from the quarter-masters of the military forts that guarded each town. The priests expected their own meagre rations to be augmented by this windfall.

  Each evening, after a frugal meal in the refectory, Taita retired to the inner sanctuary of the temple. Devotions and prayers had been said in these precincts for hundreds or even thousands of years. The passion of the worshippers had built spiritual fortifications that even Eos would have the greatest difficulty in penetrating. For a while he would be protected from her overlooking. He could appeal to his own gods without fear of intervention by evil wraiths sent by the witch to deceive him. He prayed to the god to whom each temple was dedicated for strength and guidance in his looming conflict with the witch. In the calm and serenity of such surroundings he could meditate and marshal his physical and spiritual strength.

  The temples were the centre of each community and the repositories of learning. Although many of the priests were dull creatures, some were erudite and educated, aware of all that was happening in their nomes and in tune with the mood of their flock. They were a reliable source of information and intelligence. Taita spent hours conferring with them, interrogating them keenly. One question he put to them all: ‘Have you heard of strangers moving covertly among your people, preaching a
new religion?’

  Each one replied that they had. ‘They preach that the old gods are failing, that they are no longer able to protect this very Egypt. They preach of a new goddess who will descend among us and lift the curse from the river and the land. When she comes she will bid the plagues cease and Mother Nile once more to flood and deliver to Egypt her bounty. They tell the people that Pharaoh and his family are secret adherents of the new goddess, that soon Nefer Seti will renounce the old gods, and declare his allegiance to her.’ Then, worried, they demanded, ‘Tell us, great Magus, is this true? Will Pharaoh declare for the alien goddess?’

  ‘Before that happens the stars will fall from the sky like raindrops. Pharaoh is devoted to Horus, heart and soul,’ he assured them. ‘But tell me, do the people hearken to these charlatans?’

  ‘They are only human. Their children are starving and they are in the depths of despair. They will follow anyone who offers them surcease from their misery.’

  ‘Have you met any of these preachers?’

  None had. ‘They are secretive and elusive,’ said one. ‘Although I have sent messengers to them, inviting them to explain their beliefs to me, none has come forward.’

  ‘Have you learnt the names of any?’

  ‘It seems they all use the same name.’

  ‘Is it Soe?’ Taita asked.

  ‘Yes, Magus, that is the name they use. Perhaps it is a title rather than a name.’

  ‘Are they Egyptians or foreigners? Do they speak our language as though born to it?’

  ‘I have heard that they do and that they claim to be of our blood.’

  The man he was conversing with on this occasion was Sanepi, the high priest of the temple of Khum at Iunyt, in the third nome of Upper Egypt. When Taita had heard all he had to offer on this matter, he moved on to more mundane topics: ‘As an adept of the natural laws, have you tried to find some way in which to render the red waters of the river fit for human use?’

  The urbane and devout man was appalled at the suggestion. ‘The river is cursed. No one dare bathe in it, let alone drink it. The kine that do so waste away and die within days. The river has become the abode of gigantic carrion-eating toads, such as have never been seen before in Egypt or any other land. They defend the stinking pools ferociously, and attack anyone who approaches. I would rather die of thirst than drink that poison,’ Sanepi replied, his features twisted in an expression of disgust. ‘Even the temple novices believe, as I do, that the river has been desecrated by some malevolent god.’

  So it was that Taita took it upon himself to conduct a series of experiments to ascertain the true nature of the red tide, and to find some method of purifying the Nile waters. Meren was pushing the column southwards at a punishing pace and he knew that, unless he could find some means of augmenting their water supply, the horses would soon die of thirst. Pharaoh’s newly dug wells were situated at long intervals, and their yield was not nearly sufficient for the needs of three hundred hard-driven horses. This was the easiest stage of the journey. Above the white water of the first cataract, the river road ran thousands of leagues through hard, forbidding deserts where there were no wells. It rained there once in a hundred years and was the haunt of scorpions and wild animals such as the oryx, which could survive without surface water in the domain of the tyrannical sun. Unless he could find some reliable source of water, the expedition would perish in those scorching wastes, never to reach the confluence of the Nile, let alone its source.

  At every overnight camp, Taita spent hours on his experiments, aided by four of Meren’s youngest troopers who had volunteered to assist him. They were honoured to work side by side with the mighty magus: it was a tale they would tell their grandchildren. When he presided over them they had no fear of demons and curses, for all had a blind faith in Taita’s ability to protect them. They laboured night after night without complaint, but even the magus’s genius could find no way to sweeten the stinking waters.

  Seventeen days after they had set out from Karnak they reached the large temple complex dedicated to the goddess Hathor on the riverbank at Kom Ombo. The high priestess extended the usual warm welcome to the celebrated magus. As soon as Taita had seen his helpers put copper pots upon the fires to boil the Nile water, he left them to it and went to the inner sanctuary of the temple.

  No sooner had he entered it than he became aware of a benevolent influence. He went to the image of the cow goddess, and sat cross-legged before it. Since Demeter had warned him that the images of Lostris he was receiving were almost certainly untrustworthy, conjured by the witch to deceive and confuse him, he had not dared to invoke her presence. However, in this place he felt he had the protection of Hathor, one of the most powerful goddesses in the pantheon. As patroness of all women, surely she would shield Lostris in her sanctuary.

  He prepared himself mentally by reciting aloud three times the rites of approach to a deity, then opened his Inner Eye and waited quietly in the shadowy silences. Gradually the silence was broken by his own pulse beating in his ears, the harbinger of a spiritual presence drawing near to him. It grew stronger and he waited for the sensation of cold to envelop him, prepared to break off the contact at the first touch of frost in the air. The sanctuary remained quiet and pleasantly warm. His sense of security and peace increased and he drifted towards sleep. He closed his eyes and beheld a vision of limpid water, then heard a sweet, childlike voice call his name: ‘Taita, I am coming to you!’ He saw something flash in the depths of the water, and thought a silver fish was rising to the surface. Then he saw that he had been mistaken: it was the slim white body of a child swimming towards him. A head broke the surface, and he saw that she was a girl of about twelve. Her long sodden hair streamed down over her face and tiny breasts in a golden veil.

  ‘I heard you call.’ The laughter was a happy sound, and he laughed in sympathy. The child swam towards him, reached a white sandbank just below the surface and stood up. She was a girl: although her hips had not yet taken on feminine curves, and the outline of her ribs was all that adorned her torso, there was a tiny hairless crease between her thighs.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked. With a toss of her head she threw back her hair to reveal her face. His heart swelled until it hampered his breathing. It was Lostris.

  ‘Fie on you that you do not know me, for I am Fenn,’ she said. The name meant Moon Fish.

  ‘I knew you all along,’ Taita told her. ‘You are exactly as you were when first I met you. I could never forget your eyes. They were then and still are the greenest and prettiest in all Egypt.’

  ‘You lie, Taita. You did not recognize me.’ She stuck out a pointed pink tongue.

  ‘I taught you not to do that.’

  ‘Then you did not teach me very well.’

  ‘Fenn was your baby name,’ he reminded her. ‘When you showed your first red moon, the priests changed it to your woman’s name.’

  ‘Daughter of the Waters.’ She grimaced at him. ‘I never liked it. “Lostris” sounds so silly and stuffy. I much prefer “Fenn”.’

  ‘Then Fenn you shall be,’ he told her.

  ‘I will be waiting for you,’ she promised. ‘I came with a gift for you, but now I must go back. They are calling me.’ She dived gracefully, deep under the surface, her arms along her flanks, kicking with her slim legs to drive herself deeper. Her hair billowed behind her like a golden flag.

  ‘Come back!’ he called after her. ‘You must tell me where you will wait for me.’ But she was gone, and only a faint echo of laughter floated back to him.

  When he woke he knew it was late for the temple lamps were guttering. He felt refreshed and exhilarated. He became aware that he was clutching something in his right hand. He opened his fist carefully and saw that he held a handful of white powder. He wondered if this was Fenn’s gift. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed it cautiously.

  ‘Lime!’ he exclaimed. Every village along the river had a primitive kiln in which the peasants burned lumps of limestone to thi
s powder. They painted the walls of their huts and granaries with it: the white coating reflected the sun’s rays, and kept the interiors cooler. He was about to throw it away, but restrained himself. ‘The gift of a goddess should be treated with respect.’ He smiled at his folly. He folded and knotted the handful of lime into the hem of his tunic and went out.

  Meren was waiting for him at the doors to the sanctuary. ‘Your men have prepared the river water for you, but they have waited long for you to come to them. They are tired from the journey and need to sleep.’ There was a gentle rebuke in Meren’s tone. He took care of his own men. ‘I hope that you do not plan to stay up all night over your stinking water-pots. I will come to fetch you before midnight, for I will not allow it.’

  Taita ignored the threat and asked, ‘Does Shofar have to hand the potions I prepared to treat the waters?’

  Meren laughed. ‘As he remarked, they stink worse than the red waters.’ He led Taita to where the four pots bubbled and steamed. His helpers, who had been squatting around the fires, scrambled to their feet, thrust long poles through the handles of the pots and lifted them off the flames. Taita waited for the water to cool sufficiently, then went along the row of pots adding his potions to them. Shofar stirred each one with a wooden paddle. As he was about to treat the final pot Taita paused. ‘The gift of Fenn,’ he murmured, and untied the knot in the hem of his tunic. He poured the lime into the last pot. For good measure he made a pass with the golden Periapt of Lostris over the mixture, and intoned a word of power: ‘Ncube!’

  The four helpers exchanged an awed glance.

  ‘Leave the pots to cool until morning,’ Taita ordered, ‘and go to your rest. You have done well. I thank you.’

  The minute Taita stretched out on his sleeping mat he fell into a deathlike slumber, untroubled by dreams or even Meren’s snores. At dawn when they awoke Shofar was at the door with a huge grin on his face. ‘Come swiftly, mighty Magus. We have something for your comfort.’