Ay arrived later that day, accompanied by his mercenary Captains.
‘I thought you were with us, Mahu?’
‘God’s Father Ay, of course I am.’
‘Then where is the boy?’
‘He is safe.’
Ay peered over my shoulder. ‘Where are Pentju and Djarka?’
‘They are safe too.’
Ay whistled through his teeth. ‘Where is the Prince Tutankhaten?’ he repeated.
The Captain of his mercenaries drew his sword.
‘He is safe,’ I repeated. ‘In the gardens outside, God’s Father Ay, my mercenaries are also waiting in the shade, bows drawn, arrows notched. Come, friend,’ I added mockingly. ‘I am with you as I was when I rescued Prince Akhenaten from the Temple of Amun.’
My visitor blinked, then glanced away.
‘Moreover,’ I whispered, ‘if I die, God’s Father Ay, so will you. Even if you survive you’ll still never discover where the boy is.’
Ay stepped back, waving a finger in my face.
‘Mahu, the cunning Baboon of the South.’ His hand shot forward in a gesture of friendship.
I clasped it, squeezing just as tight.
‘My friend and my ally.’ He smiled and, spinning on his heel, left the house.
I was never asked again, at least not during that time, the whereabouts of Tutankhaten, Pentju or Djarka. For a few weeks the city was at peace. I was busy collecting my possessions, stowing them away and burning documents. The dance had only just begun. Other children of the Kap visited the City of the Aten. They, too, asked the whereabouts of the Prince and received the same answer. They reminded me of vultures. They arrived, busy men on busy matters, but really they were like desert hyenas picking at a corpse. They were openly astonished by the apparent disappearance of Akhenaten but Rameses’ cynical words summed up the mood of them alclass="underline" ‘He is gone and the gods be thanked! If he returns, we’ll send him straight back.’
On one thing they were all agreed. ‘Nefertiti will never be accepted. She can call herself what she likes,’ Horemheb snarled over a goblet of wine. ‘Smenkhkare-Ankhkeperure! She can proclaim herself to be the Divine Daughter, or even the Son of Horus, but she does not have the Tuthmosid blood in her veins. She is not of the royal line. She and Akhenaten are twin symptoms of the same disease. The army I command will tolerate her for a while and whatever sweet noises she makes to them or the great ones of Thebes but, in the end, she must step down.’
Ay accepted this with equanimity or, at least, appeared to do so. In the first month of the summer season he brought messages to us all, the children of the Kap, that an important meeting of the Royal Circle had been called in the Great Palace of the Aten. He made it clear that all were expected to attend.
I offered my house to Horemheb, Rameses, Maya and Huy, and organised my cooks to prepare a sumptuous meal. I did this at the request of Ay whom I called ‘my guest of honour’. The chefs surpassed themselves, but the meal was eaten in silence. We were all apprehensive of what would happen the next day. Horemheb and Rameses had brought their own retinues, encamped down near the quayside, whilst Maya and Huy had been accompanied on their river journey by two bargeloads of mercenaries. Ay arrived late, face unshaven, dressed in simple robes covered by a dark cloak. I heard the clink of armour as his mercenaries camped outside in the garden. The Viper, all agitated, refused the garland of honour but asked me to shutter the windows and close the doors. We gathered round him. For a while Ay just sat on the cushions, face in his hands and, when he took his fingers away, his cheeks were wet with tears.
‘The Royal Circle,’ he sobbed and rubbed his face as he tried to control his feelings. ‘Tomorrow morning you must not attend the meeting of the Royal Circle. You know the protocol. No one is allowed to carry weapons or bring armed followers to the sacred precincts.’
‘What?’ Rameses rose at a half-crouch.
‘My daughter, Great Queen Nefertiti,’ Ay wetted his lips, ‘has planned your deaths.’
His announcement was met with shocked silence.
‘You have proof?’ Huy murmured.
Ay dug inside his robe and brought out a small scroll of papyrus. ‘You know,’ he added wearily, ‘how she has ordered that Khiya’s name be erased from every monument: even the lady’s tomb is to be ransacked and vilified. She plans to make a clean sweep.’
‘How do you know this?’ Horemheb demanded, clutching Rameses’ shoulder and forcing him to sit down.
Ay rubbed his face. ‘Because she thinks I am her ally. She claims she has the support of Meryre, Tutu and the rest. Above all, the total unswerving loyalty of Manetho and his mercenaries. The council chambers will be locked and guarded. Certain of the Royal Circle, including you, have been marked down for death: to drink poison or lose your heads.’
I snatched up the scroll. ‘It bears the names of those who are going to die,’ Ay explained.
I unrolled the papyrus. I am not too sure if the others heard my groan. All I knew was a deep sense of anguish, a numbing coldness followed by an urge to scream and yell. The names were all listed: Horemheb, Rameses, Maya, Huy, Pentju, Prince Tutankhaten, Sobeck, Djarka and a host of others. What caught my throat like a cold hard hand was that my name headed the rest.
‘She revealed this to me two days ago,’ Ay explained. ‘She intends, as she puts it, to make a clean sweep. She will depict you as the real supporters of Akhenaten then move back in glory with her eldest daughter Meritaten to the Malkata Palace at Thebes. The Aten will become one god amongst many. The city here will be allowed to rot whilst the worship of Amun is restored.’
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why are you betraying your own daughter?’
‘Very simple, Mahu. Because she is betraying Egypt. Oh yes, you can all die but ask Horemheb here — within a month, there will be civil war.’
‘I’ll kill the bitch!’ Rameses snarled, picking up a knife from the table.
Again Horemheb forced him to sit down, ordering him to keep silent.
‘What do you propose, God’s Father Ay?’ Maya demanded.
‘What he thinks is no longer important,’ Horemheb declared quietly. ‘You have soldiers, my lord Ay? So do we. Mahu has his mercenaries. Our troops camp down at the riverside.’ He rose to his feet and walked to a window. ‘Tonight Manetho and his gang will be disarmed. The Lady Meritaten must be put under arrest. She is guilty, my lord Ay?’
God’s Father Ay nodded, biting back a sob.
‘The Lady Meritaten will be invited to take poison,’ Horemheb continued.
No one disagreed. A short discussion took place about Meryre and Tutu. It was agreed they’d be given the chance to purge themselves.
‘And the Lady Nefertiti?’ I asked. I was on the verge of tears. All I could think of was that beautiful face — blue eyes glinting with mischief, red hair falling down, her soft touch and sweet words.
‘She must be confronted with her crimes,’ Huy declared.
‘She must take the poison,’ Maya finished the sentence.
I felt so chilled I started to shiver. Ay was staring at me quizzically but Horemheb came over, picked up a shawl and wrapped it round my shoulders.
‘Are you in agreement, God’s Father?’ I asked.
‘Are we all in agreement?’ Ay replied.
One by one their hands went up; they all sat looking at me.
‘I am sacrificing a daughter and a grand-daughter,’ Ay whispered hoarsely. ‘Those who are not with us are against us. Mahu, what is your answer?’
I was going to refuse but my eye caught that list lying on the table, my name emblazoned on the top, and beneath it Djarka’s, Sobeck’s and Prince Tutankhaten’s. Slowly my hand went up. Horemheb crossed to his belongings and brought back knuckle-bones, clearing the table with one sweep of his hands.
‘We will throw,’ he declared. ‘That’s what we used to do when we were children of the Kap.’
We each threw the knuckle-bones. My score was lowest. They all looked at me grimly.
‘You are the one,’ Horemheb declared, ‘to give her the poison!’