There was a shocked silence, then a murmur of sorrow, and little gasps of grief from around the room. I looked up now at the other women, six in all. Suddenly I too felt as if the world had lost its balance. As I looked from face to face, gathered now in the flickering light of the lamps, it seemed I had wandered by mistake into a room of living mirrors. For these women, though different from each other in slight details, looked more or less identical. In their poise and their profiles, they could all pass for the same person. The Queen.
Eventually Anath spoke. ‘We are raised here, sometimes from girlhood, in this harem within the Harem, because we were all born with one gift. There are other offices in the Harem Palace serving different purposes, but here, the spirit of the Queen’s perfection is reflected, however dimly, in each one of us, and we labour and struggle to bring those elements of ourselves-our eyes or our noses, the length of our legs or the sound of our laughter-that are not quite like her into a closer harmony. This is a great purpose, wouldn’t you agree?’
I did not know what to say. ‘But why?’
‘To protect her. To pass for her when she needs us.’
I looked at them all, unbelieving. ‘Is she here among you now? Is the Queen one of you? If she is hiding here, please come forward. I will bring you safely home. I swear.’
I looked around the silent faces in the still light of the candles. I was desperate, in truth, to recognize her, for her to step forward and say, ‘You have found the Queen. Your search is over.’ But no-one moved. I realized they were all terrified. They looked anxiously at Anath, who looked confused.
‘Why would she be among us?’ she said.
‘Because she has vanished. I have been sent for to find her and return her to safety.’
The silence in the room became more concentrated.
‘Please, tell me: what happened the night Seshat disappeared?’
‘Three nights ago,’ Anath began, ‘a sealed message came from the Queen. There were detailed instructions. It was imperative that no-one, including ourselves, should know of their contents.’
A second woman spoke: ‘We thought nothing of it. It was not unusual to receive such a command from the Queen.’
‘The instructions were particularly for Seshat,’ Anath continued.
‘And who brought the message?’
They looked at each other, and Anath shrugged. ‘We do not know. From the moment we walk through the door, all is secret. Of course we can describe everything to each other afterwards, when we return. But not this time. For Seshat never returned.’
When I described the scarab amulet, they knew nothing of it. It did not seem to have belonged to Seshat. I was still glad I had given it to her grieving family.
‘What sort of men would destroy our sister with such terrible brutality?’ asked one of the women.
Another voice spoke up angrily from the back: ‘What sort of men would want our Queen herself murdered?’
‘That is what I am trying to discover.’
‘Some sort of monster,’ said one.
‘No,’ said another, ‘there are no monsters. Only men.’
I bade farewell to the hall of strange women. Anath took me by the arm and led me out along a dark avenue of sycamore figs to the furthest edge of a garden lit by the moon, and by many lamps. At the head of a pool was a statue of Nefertiti. She stared, all-seeing, all-knowing, across the dark water at her feet. We sat down for a moment on a bench, listening to a solitary night bird.
‘Where I live, within the Harem, we have little contact with the outside world,’ Anath said after a short while. ‘I know people think the Harem is a place of desire and mystery, and perhaps for some it is. Perhaps they imagine the things they would like to find in the secret world of women. But it is not like that for those of us who live here. We have our dedications, our daily rituals, our tasks. Sometimes I have felt like a bowl of silence, untouched, undisturbed by the outside world. But your news has destroyed my tranquillity. That bowl is cracked now. What an illusion it all was, that this world is kind and good.’
What could I say to her? There was no purpose in telling her that in my experience violence was buried deep within each one of us, a potential written into our very bones, something we shared even with the gods.
‘I don’t know what will become of us if the Queen too is dead,’ she continued. ‘If someone would murder the Queen herself, then what will they do to us? What good would we be to anyone? Who would want us? We would be nothing more than pale reflections of the dead. We will be spirits trapped in life.’
‘I do not think the Queen is dead,’ I said. ‘I believe she lives.’
‘May the gods prove you right.’ She sounded relieved to hear my words. She turned my hand over in hers so that the palm faced upwards. ‘I think I see something here.’
I felt myself seizing up inside. I cannot abide the nonsense of fortune-telling and horoscopes, all that silly business of spells and potions and mumbo-jumbo. Seeing patterns and meanings where none exist. It goes against my training and my instincts.
She must have sensed this at once, for she smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, I am not going to tell your fortune like a market-place prophetess. All I want is to say what I feel. That you are a good man. That you want to get home.’
I felt like a piece of faience that has suddenly been caught by sunlight. Ridiculous. The white statue of Nefertiti, still meditating on the black pool at her feet, ignored us. ‘May she protect you on your journey,’ she said, quietly, as if she knew already that I would have to travel into much darker places before I could finally, if ever, reach that longed-for place that seemed to recede with every step and every day.
‘I won’t forget you,’ I said.
She smiled ruefully, then opened the doorway back into the main Harem building. I stepped through it. The ghost of her scent stayed with me for a moment, then disappeared.
19
Khety was waiting for me on the other side. I asked him to take me to the house of Nakht, the noble. We arrived there without being seen. The street, in the south suburb, was shadowy and silent, the dark villas and estates secure and hidden behind their high walls. The air was thick with heat. Nothing stirred. I knocked quietly on the door. Quickly, it was unlocked, and Nakht’s kind face, not the porter’s, appeared. He looked tremendously relieved.
‘It’s the middle of the night and you open your own door,’ I said.
He gestured for us to enter, and we passed through into the sanctuary of his house without speaking.
We sat in his garden, around a single lamp. The scents of strange flowers hung richly in the warm night air.
‘Can anyone observe us?’ I asked.
‘No. I built this place for privacy.’
The walls were high, and the frogs around the pool talked louder than we did. He poured some wine.
‘I’m honoured to offer you some sanctuary.’
‘It will just be for one night.’
He inclined his head. ‘So you survived Mahu’s hunt. Apparently you were the intended duck.’
‘Is my demise the talk of the town?’
‘It is indeed. It has contributed to the feeling that no-one is in control any more. First Nefertiti. Then the young Medjay officer. Now you. Everyone is convinced she has been murdered. And the city is obviously still unprepared for this ill-conceived Festival. The entourages are arriving to find unfinished accommodations, inadequate supplies and a King without a Queen. It all seems to be escalating into chaos.’
‘Someone is in control of this, but it is not Akhenaten,’ I said.
‘Nor is it Mahu, if that is what you are thinking. Whatever else he is, he’s famous for his loyalty, and he’s not so stupid as to have you killed at his own party.’
‘So who, then?’
Nakht shook his head. ‘I don’t know. But you must be getting warm to earn this kind of attention.’