Pentju sneered in reply.
‘I can produce a physician from the House of Life who will corroborate my story. If I had murdered the boy, his corpse would have been consigned to the crocodile pool, I would have denied meeting him.’
‘You have the corpse?’ Pentju exclaimed.
‘Your son’s body was hastily embalmed in the wabet, the Pure Place in the Temple of Anubis, and buried according to the rites in the Valley of the Kings.’
‘Did he suffer?’ Pentju asked. ‘Did he talk or ask about me?’
‘He was well treated,’ Ay whispered. ‘I would have taken Nakhtimin’s head if he hadn’t been. True, his face was hidden by a mask, but that was for his own safety. He was placed in the House of Residence and shown every courtesy.’ Ay sighed. ‘He truly believed he was the son of a Mitanni nobleman, that his parents had died when he was a boy. He was training,’ Ay paused, ‘strange, he was training to be a soldier, but he confessed he had a deep interest in medicine.’
‘What did you tell the Mitanni?’ I asked.
‘Quite simple. I told them he might be my son,’ Ay smiled, ‘and that, either way, he would receive good training in our barracks and the House of Life.’
Pentju, head bowed, was sobbing quietly.
‘I made a mistake,’ Ay confessed. ‘The young man was used to the clean air of the highlands of Canaan. The Nile has its infections and often claims its victims, you know that, Pentju. He fell suddenly ill and slipped into a fever. No one could save him. So, Pentju, I have your son’s blood on my hands, I recognise that, as I do that you are my enemy. I realise that if the opportunity ever presents itself, you will kill me.’
‘I’ve always been your enemy,’ Pentju answered. He raised his tearful face. ‘Lord Ay, one day, if I can, I shall kill you.’
Ay blinked and looked away. He was a mongoose of a man, but I was convinced he was not lying, nor was he alarmed by Pentju’s threats.
‘I am not frightened,’ Ay replied, his face now only a few inches from Pentju’s. ‘The only difference between you, Pentju, and the rest is that you have been honest.’
‘So why not kill us?’ I asked. ‘Why not now?’
Ay leaned back. ‘For the same reason I didn’t years ago. You have powerful friends. Meryre, Tutu and the rest deserved their fate, but Horemheb and the others would baulk at murder, at the illegal execution of two old comrades, former Children of the Kap.’
‘Secondly?’ I insisted. ‘There is a second reason?’
‘The Divine One himself, when in his right mind, would have objected, and thirdly,’ Ay coolly added, ‘I need you to protect him, to see if you can do something to bring his mind out of the darkness.’
‘Where is my son?’ Pentju demanded.
‘He is in a cave, isn’t he?’ I asked. ‘One of those secret ones you’ve quarried in the Valley of the Kings?’
‘To house the dead from the City of the Aten,’ Ay agreed, ‘as well as for eventualities such as this. You will be taken there, I assure you.’
Pentju put his face in his hands.
‘And now,’ Ay placed his hands together, ‘what shall we do with our Pharaoh, who has the body of a young man and, sometimes, the mind of a babbling infant? You must help him, Mahu, as much as possible.’
‘Why?’
‘To put it bluntly, my granddaughter, Ankhesenamun, must conceive a son by him before it is too late.’
‘Is he capable of that?’
‘Oh yes.’ Ay put a finger round his lips. ‘My granddaughter can conceive.’
‘Or is she your daughter?’ Pentju taunted.
‘My granddaughter,’ Ay replied evenly.
‘And if Tutankhamun doesn’t beget an heir?’ I asked. ‘If he dies childless, where will the Kingdom of the Two Lands go?’
I shall never forget Ay’s reply, in that chamber on that darkest night, for it brought to an end a period of my life. At first he didn’t reply, but just sat, head bowed.
‘So?’ I repeated the question. ‘To whom would Egypt go?’
‘Why, Mahu, Baboon of the South, Egypt will go to the strongest.’
Metut ent Maat
(Ancient Egyptian for ‘Words of Truth’)