‘Did I say just God’s Father Ay?’ She smiled, opening her eyes. ‘Or me? No.’ She shook her head. ‘Rahmose was also being courted by his former friends Generals Horemheb and Rameses. They, too, have been busy on their own business.’
I put down the wine cup and placed my face in my hands. What Ankhesenamun had told me made sense. The Royal Circle was breaking apart; the only clasp was Tutankhamun. If he died there would be three factions: the generals, led by Horemheb and Rameses; the great nobles and officials, Ay, Huy, Maya and possibly myself; finally the Atenists, led by Meryre. Each would try and suborn the others. Alliances would be fluid as people changed groups or decided to jump from one camp to another. Nothing was distinct. Horemheb and Rameses had the Memphis regiments, but Ay had Nakhtimin’s troops and the mercenaries around Thebes. Which way would Huy and Maya go? Not to mention Pentju and Sobeck? The latter controlled the gangs of Thebes and would be useful in any attempted coup.
‘So the Shabtis are a figment of your imagination?’
‘Yes. I portrayed them as fanatics deeply loyal to my father’s memory, acting on their own or controlled by one of the factions in the Royal Circle. I promised Meryre that I would discover if anyone else was involved.’ She blinked prettily. ‘Apart from you.’
‘And what else have you offered?’ I demanded.
‘That you will eventually surrender the Prince into his care.’ Ankhesenamun tapped me on the cheek. ‘Don’t be foolish, Mahu, the only thing I have offered is myself. Meryre nearly choked in his excitement.’
‘And now the Shabtis will disappear?’
‘Naturally. I’ve caused enough chaos. The gardener served his purpose. Meryre believes I am estranged from God’s Father Ay and looking for other allies.’
‘Has he mentioned anything about the Usurper in the Delta?’
She shook her head. ‘Only hints. Once, in his cups, Meryre mused on what would happen if my father returned, but that’s as much as he said. Now, Mahu, you are going to ask why I am telling you this. I have heard the decision of the Royal Circle. You and Meryre are to be sent north to negotiate.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Now, Mahu, I only promised to tell you part of the truth. I’ve shared my little secret so that you will be safe. I’m warning you. Now you know some of what I know, you’ll be wary of Meryre. Be vigilant; you must do whatever you have to.’
‘Of course,’ I whispered. ‘If something happens to me, Tutankhamun becomes more vulnerable, and the more vulnerable he becomes …’
Ankhesenamun pressed her fingers against my forehead. ‘You and I, Mahu, are closely linked to my half-brother. You are the one man my father trusted, even when his brain became fevered and his wits wandered. He entrusted Tutankhamun to you, and in doing so, entrusted me. Of all the hyaenas you are the most loyal. You have no ambition.’ She took her hand away and laughed. ‘Or at least, I think you don’t.’
‘How can you be so sure,’ I demanded, ‘that the Usurper is a liar?’
‘I could say I know because I know.’ She paused and shivered slightly in the breeze seeping through the window. ‘I hate the darkness, Mahu. My father used to sit in the dark; he would glower at me and my sister, Meritaten. He would often challenge us: could he trust us? We’d reply that we were his daughters and his wives, but he’d shake his head. Sometimes he would shout abuse or just sit cradling a wine cup, muttering under his breath. Meritaten was weak, often terrified and deeply disgusted that she was her father’s own wife.’ She picked up my wine cup and thrust it back into my hands. ‘Eventually, I was banished from my father’s presence; only Meritaten remained, then Mother came back. After Akenhaten disappeared and Nefertiti had proclaimed herself his co-regent, Meritaten confessed … I don’t know whether she told the truth …’ Ankhesenamun’s eyes held mine. ‘Meritaten confessed,’ she whispered, ‘that Akenhaten had not disappeared! He was murdered by our mother, and his body still lies concealed in the City of the Aten.’
She clucked under her tongue and the cheetah padded across and crouched by her. Ankhesenamun gently scratched between its ears, and the cat purred deeply in its throat.
‘You are surprised, Mahu?’
‘Not that Akenhaten was murdered,’ I responded, ‘but that Nefertiti was responsible.’
‘Their love had turned to hate.’
I pulled a face. ‘I find that difficult to accept. How did Meritaten know all this?’
‘Because Nefertiti told her.’
‘But she produced no proof?’
‘None at all.’
‘And did she say where the body was buried?’
‘Nefertiti claimed that those mercenaries, the same ones you destroyed when you ousted her from power, prepared the body and hid it away in a cave under the eastern cliffs.’
I stared at the cat, eyes mere slits, purring with pleasure. During his stay at the City of the Aten, Akenhaten had ordered tombs to be dug in the limestone cliffs which overlooked the city. One such sepulchre had been prepared for him but never finished. Now these caves and caverns held a host of caskets and coffers of those who had died at Akenhaten’s court: some by natural causes, others hastily buried when the great pestilence had struck.
‘I often asked Meritaten,’ Ankhesenamun continued, ‘if my mother was lying. Meritaten was easy to frighten; I wonder if my mother was quietly threatening her with a similar fate if she didn’t co-operate.’
‘But Nefertiti never told you?’
I started as the beaded curtains shifted in the light breeze.
‘Never once.’ Ankhesenamun rubbed her hands together and, leaning over, gently whispered at the cheetah, caressing the side of its face. The cat yawned, stretched and padded back to its corner. Ankhesenamun rose to her feet clasping her wine cup and moved across to the window.
‘So, Mahu, we are united in this!’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘It is foolish of you to go north with Meryre, though I know the reason. You must take care. Think carefully before you trust yourself to that treacherous snake and whatever he has plotted.’ She turned away, a sign that the meeting was over. I rose, bowed and left.
Amedeta was waiting in the antechamber, sitting on a divan, head resting back against the wall. I wondered how much she knew and how much she could be trusted. She glanced at me from under her eyelids and raised a hand slowly in mock salutation. I responded and returned to my own quarters. Djarka was already in the House of Adoration. Sobeck had returned to the courtyard, where one of the mercenaries was now singing a low mournful song. I retired to my chamber.
For a while I sat in my chair, going over the events of the day. That was how it was in the Malkata Palace at that time. Time would travel smoothly, events would pass, one day into the next, week after week, month after month, like the river flowing between the banks, until something happened to shatter the serenity, to make the hairs on the nape of your neck curl as you realised events were taking a more dangerous twist. So it was then. The Royal Circle, which had remained united in a state of self-preservation after Nefertiti’s death, was now breaking up. Ankhesenamun was dabbling and I had to decide whether she was doing it of her own accord or at her grandfather’s bidding. The real reason she had confided in me was not because of any trust — at the court of the Malkata Palace trust was as rare as water in the Red Lands — but more because I was the Prince’s protector and guardian. As Tutankhamun matured, my importance would grow. I would become his eyes and ears; after all, the bonds fashioned in childhood are often the strongest.
I dozed for a while, regretting slightly that I had given my word to join Meryre’s embassy to the north. A servant came in and asked if I wanted something to eat. I replied that I didn’t. I heard him clucking under his tongue, muttering about how the laundry woman had left a basket of laundry unpacked. I was so tired I ignored the remark until I abruptly remembered how, earlier that day, before the Royal Circle met, I’d seen two women unload clean linen from their basket.