Pharaoh

The words she wrote touched me so intimately that I cannot bring myself to repeat them to another living soul.

On the third morning after leaving our moorings below the city of Luxor our flotilla had reached a point only twenty leagues upstream of the Hyksos stronghold of Memphis, which stood on both banks of the Nile. There we beached our galleys, and we unloaded the chariots. The grooms drove up the horses and sorted them into their teams, and the charioteers buckled them into the traces.

The three of us held a final war council aboard the flagship of the Lacedaemon fleet, during which we once again ran over our plans in minute detail, covering every possible contingency that we might encounter during the assault on Memphis, then I embraced both Hui and Hurotas quickly but fervently and called down the blessing and favours of all the gods upon each of them before we parted company. I set off with my team of chariots for the head of the Red Sea to block the Hyksos escape route from Egypt, while the others continued their voyage northwards until they were in a position to launch their final assault on the stronghold of the Hyksos chieftain, Khamudi.

When Hurotas and Hui reached the harbour below the city of Memphis they found that Khamudi had already abandoned it and set fire to the shipping moored within its stone jetties. The pall of black smoke from the burning vessels was visible even to me and my charioteers waiting on the border of Egypt at Suez many leagues distant. However, Hurotas and Hui arrived in time to save nearly thirty of the Hyksos galleys from the flames, but of course we had not enough crews to man these valuable ships.

This is where my squadron of chariots came into play. Within only hours of taking up our stations along the border of Egypt with Suez and the Sinai we were hard at work rounding up the hundreds of refugees who were fleeing from the doomed city of Memphis. Of course each one of them was laden down with their valuables.

These captives were sorted carefully. The elderly and infirm were first relieved of all their possessions and then allowed to wander away into the Sinai Desert, after being charged never again to return to Egypt. The young and strong were roped together in gangs of ten, and then I started them back towards Memphis and the Nile still carrying their possessions and those of their compatriots who had been allowed to proceed. In the case of the men these captives, no matter how illustrious their rank, were destined to a short life chained on the rowing benches of our galleys, or labouring like beasts of burden in the fields on the banks of the Nile; whereas the younger women – those who were not too grotesquely ugly – would be sent to do service in the public brothels, and the rest of them would find employment in the kitchens or the dungeons of the great mansions of our very Egypt. The roles had been completely reversed, and they would receive the same treatment as they had dealt out to us Egyptians when they had us in their power.

When we reached the city of Memphis with these doleful lines of captives marching ahead of our chariots we found it under siege by Hurotas’ legions. However, chariots are not the most effective means of siege-breaking, so my dashing charioteers were dismounted and set to tunnelling beneath the walls to excavate a series of breaches to enable us to winkle out Khamudi and his rogues from their sullen lurking within the city.

Like all sieges this was a dreary and time-consuming exercise. Our army was forced to encamp outside the walls of Memphis for almost six months before, with a rumble and a roar, and a column of dust that was visible for many leagues around, the entire ramparts of the eastern section of the city collapsed upon themselves and our men could pour through the breaches.

The sack of the city went on for many more days for it was spread on both banks of the river. However, our victorious troops were at last able to apprehend Khamudi, where he and his family were found cowering in their hiding place deep in the dungeons beneath his palace. It was most fortuitous that they were sitting on a vast treasure of silver and gold bars, as well as innumerable large chests of jewellery that had taken him and his predecessors almost a century to collect from the enslaved Egyptian populace. This brood of royal rogues and rascals was escorted down to the harbour on the Nile by Hurotas’ troops, where to the accompaniment of music and laughter they were drowned one after another, beginning with the youngest members of the family.

These were a pair of twin girls of about two or three years of age. Contrary to what I had come to expect of the tribe they were not really repulsive to look at; in fact they were pretty little mites. Their father Khamudi wept as they were plunged into the Nile and held beneath the surface of the river. I was not prepared for that either. Somehow I had come to believe that, like all the brute animals, the Hyksos were incapable of loving and grieving.

The dreaded Khamudi himself was reserved for last on the execution roster. When his turn came he was accorded a more elaborate departure from this world than the others of his family. This began with skinning him alive using knives that were heated to a glowing red in charcoal braziers; followed by drawing and quartering, which evoked further merriment from the spectators. It seemed that Hurotas’ men have a particularly robust sense of humour.

I managed to maintain a neutral countenance during these proceedings. I would have much preferred to have taken no part in them, but had I absented myself it would have been seen as a display of weakness by my men. Appearances are vital, and reputations ephemeral.

Hurotas, Hui and I were subdued on our return to the Memphis palace. However, we soon became our usual cheerful and lively selves when we began counting and cataloguing the contents of the cellars beneath the palace of Khamudi. I find it truly remarkable how when all else in life has lost its flavour, gold alone retains its full fascination and appeal.

Even though we had fifty of Hurotas’ most trusted men to assist us, it took us several days to lay out all of this treasure. When at last we turned our lanterns upon this mass of precious metal and coloured stones the reflected light was strong enough to dazzle us. We stared at it in awe and astonishment.

‘Do you recall the Cretan treasure we captured at the fortress of Tamiat?’ Hurotas asked me in hushed tones.

‘When you were still a young captain of legionaries, and your name was Zaras? I will never forget it. I thought that there was not that much silver and gold in the whole wide world.’

‘That was not even one-tenth part of what we have here and now,’ Hurotas pointed out.

‘This is just as well,’ I replied

Both Hurotas and Hui looked at me askance. ‘How is that, Taita?’

‘That is because we have to share it at least four ways,’ I explained, and when they were still uncomprehending I went on: ‘You and Hui; me and Utteric Turo.’

‘You don’t mean Utteric, that utter prick, do you?’ Hurotas looked aghast.

‘Exactly!’ I confirmed, ‘Utteric the Great, the Pharaoh of Egypt. This treasure was originally stolen from his ancestors.’

They considered what I had said in silence for a while and then Hurotas asked tactfully, ‘So then it seems that you intend to remain in Utteric Turo’s realm?’

‘Naturally!’ I was taken aback by the question. ‘I am an Egyptian nobleman. I possess vast estates in this country. Where else would I go?’

‘Do you trust him?’

‘Who?’

‘Utteric the Utter Prick; who else?’ Hurotas demanded of me.

‘He is my Pharaoh. Of course I trust him.’

‘Where was your Pharaoh at the battle of Luxor?’ Hurotas asked remorselessly. ‘Where was he when we stormed these battlements of Memphis?’

‘Poor Utteric is not a warrior. He is a gentle soul.’ I tried to make excuses for him. ‘However, his father, Tamose, was a fine and furious warrior.’

‘We are discussing the son, not the father,’ Hurotas pointed out.

I was silent again while I contemplated the implication of his words; finally I asked, ‘May I take it, then, that you will not return with me to Luxor when I go to make my report to Pharaoh Utteric Turo?’

He shook his head. ‘My heart lies in Lacedaemon with the lovely woman who is my queen, and with our daughter. My business in Luxor is finished. Besides which, there are people in that city who still remember me as young Zaras. I have only met your Pharaoh Utteric Turo once, and he gave me no good reason to like or trust him. I think I would rather return to my own citadel where I have control of the situation.’ He came to me and clapped me on my shoulder. ‘My old friend, if you are as wise as we all believe you to be, you will give your share of this splendid treasure to me, to keep it safely for you until you call upon me to return it to you. In that case no harm will have been done. However, if I am correct in my suspicions you will have good reason to be thankful to me.’

‘I will think on it,’ I muttered unhappily.

Hurotas and Hui lingered another ten days while they loaded their ships with the slaves and other booty they had captured in Memphis, including my share of the Hyksos treasure which I had reluctantly agreed to place in Hurotas’ care. Then they sent their chariots and horses on board and we said our farewells standing on the stone jetty on the west bank of the Nile.

Four of Hui’s sons by Princess Bekatha were with us at Memphis. Each of them commanded a squadron of chariots. There had been little opportunity for me to become acquainted with them; however, it seemed they took after their father and their royal mother, and that meant to me that they were fine young men, and brave and skilful charioteers. The eldest was named Huisson for obvious reasons; and the other three were Sostratus, Palmys and Leo. Barbaric Greek names, to be sure, but they embraced me and called me ‘Revered and illustrious Uncle’ which endorsed my high opinion of them. They promised to convey my loving duty to their mother and their aunt immediately on their return to Lacedaemon.

Hurotas had written out the sailing orders for a voyage from the Nile Delta to the island of Lacedaemon; and this, together with a receipt for my share of the treasure of Memphis, he pressed into my hands. ‘Now you will have no excuse for failing to visit us at the very first opportunity that presents itself to you,’ he told me, his voice gruff as he tried to mask his distress at this our second significant parting.

On the other hand I had written a papyrus scroll for each of my two beloved princesses, Tehuti and Bekatha, for their husbands to deliver to them as soon as they reached their homes. I could not trust those two amiable ruffians to deliver verbatim my precious words to their spouses. These were expressions of such poetic beauty that, even after all these years repeating them silently to myself, can reduce me to tears.

Then all of them went aboard their galleys and pushed off from the pier. The drums beat the cadence for the rowers; the long oars dipped and swung and dipped again. In line ahead they unwound like some mighty sea dragon awakening, and with the Nile current urging them onwards they disappeared around the first bend in the river, heading for the delta where the river debouched into the great Middle Sea.

I was left alone and pining.

Three days later I went aboard my own galley and we headed southwards, homeward bound for the golden city of Luxor. But my heart was still heavy and my thoughts were travelling in the opposite direction to that in which the wind and the banks of oars were carrying me.

When we reached the port of Luxor below the city it seemed that the news of our magnificent victory at Memphis had been carried ahead of us by carrier pigeon to Pharaoh Utteric’s palace. Three of his senior ministers were waiting on the river wharf at the head of what appeared to be the entire population of Upper Egypt. In the background of this multitude there stood at least twenty wagons, each of them drawn by a team of twelve oxen. I presumed these were to carry the Hyksos treasure up to the city of Luxor where Pharaoh’s treasury, no doubt, stood ready and eager to receive it. A massed band of harps, flutes, lyres, trumpets, tambourines and drums were roaring out a spirited rendition of the new anthem to the glory of Pharaoh Utteric Turo, which it was rumoured he had composed himself. The Egyptian populace seemed to have stripped every palm tree in the land of its fronds which they waved enthusiastically as they chanted along with the bands.

When my flagship docked at the main wharf I was prepared to acknowledge the praise and grateful thanks of Pharaoh Utteric Turo and all the people of Egypt for ridding them of the menace of Khamudi and his ghastly tribe for all time and for returning to them such a fabulous treasure from the enemy coffers.

Utteric’s Chief Minister was a beautiful young man who had made a great fortune in the slave trade. His name was Lord Mennakt. He was a bosom companion of Pharaoh, and possibly much closer to him in the other more intimate parts of the flesh than merely the bosom; for I had heard it rumoured that they shared the same prurient predilections. A scribe must have written out his speech on a papyrus scroll, for he read it in a dreary monotone, stumbling over words of more than one syllable. I could have forgiven this lack of stagecraft, but what irked me at once was that he made no mention of my part in the final brilliant campaign which I had led against the Hyksos. In fact he did not mention my name at all. He spoke only of his patron Pharaoh Utteric Turo, and of the loyal and brave legions he was supposed to have commanded in battle. He extolled the leadership and courage of Pharaoh and his wisdom and sheer genius in liberating our very Egypt from a century of slavery and foreign domination. He pointed out that the five Pharaohs who had immediately preceded him, including his own father, Tamose, had been dolefully unsuccessful in their attempts to achieve the same conclusive results. He ended his tribute by pointing out that this magnificent victory had surely earned Pharaoh Utteric Turo a prominent place alongside Horus, Isis, Osiris and Hathor in the pantheon of our fatherland. For this reason, Mennakt explained, the main part of the treasure that Pharaoh Utteric had won from the Hyksos at Memphis would be used to build a temple to celebrate his rise above the mere human state to that of the celestial and immortal.

While Lord Mennakt was regaling and enlightening us with this speech my crew was unloading the treasure that we had carried with us and piling it on the wharf. It made a magnificent display, which completely diverted the attention of the assembled multitudes away from Mennakt’s wit and mastery of the spoken word.

When Mennakt finally stumbled into silence, the order was given and the wagons rolled forward and the sweating slaves loaded the treasure chests into them. Then the drivers cracked their long whips and an escort of heavily armed palace guards immediately surrounded them and they started up the causeway towards the main gates of the city of Luxor.

All this took me completely by surprise. I had presumed that it would be my honour to lead this procession and to make the formal offering of the treasure to Pharaoh. When he accepted my gift Pharaoh would be obliged to accord me his full recognition and approval. I started forward to make my protest to Lord Mennakt and demand my rightful place at the head of the treasure train.

What I had not been aware of in the press of bodies all around me and the exigencies of the moment was that six more high-ranking officers of the palace guards had come aboard my flagship from the crowd on the wharf. Without any fuss or outcry they had managed to surround me with a cocoon of armour and drawn weapons.

‘My Lord Taita, in accordance with Pharaoh’s express command I place you under arrest for high treason. Please come with me.’ The leader of this contingent spoke quietly but firmly in my ear. I turned and stared at him in astonishment. It took me a moment to realize that he was Captain Weneg for whom I had such a high regard.

‘What nonsense is this, Captain Weneg? I am probably Pharaoh’s most loyal subject,’ I protested indignantly. He ignored my outburst and nodded to his henchmen. Immediately they crowded me so closely that I could not struggle. I felt one of the men behind me slip my sword from its scabbard, and then I was being hustled to the gangplank. At the same time Lord Mennakt gestured to the band that was gathered behind him and they burst into yet another lively and spirited hymn of praise and worship to the divine Pharaoh, so that my protests were rendered inaudible. By the time my guards and I had reached the stone wharf, the dense crowds of spectators had turned away to follow the band and the procession of treasure wagons up the road to the main gates of the city.

As soon as we were alone Captain Weneg gave orders to his men and they bound my wrists together at the small of my back with rawhide ropes, while others of their party brought up four war chariots. When they had me trussed up securely they pushed me up on to the footplate of the leading chariot. The whips cracked and we set off at a canter, not following the bands and the treasure train up the hill towards the main city gates, but taking one of the subsidiary tracks that bypassed the city, and then branched off towards the rocky hills beyond. The track was little used; in fact it was assiduously avoided by most of the citizenry. This was not extraordinary when its final destination was taken into consideration. Less than five leagues beyond the royal palace and the main city walls rose a low line of hills; and sitting astride their summit was a sombre edifice of chiselled native rock, a sullen shade of blue in colour and unambiguous in design. This was the royal prison, which also housed the gallows yard and the state torture chambers.

We had to cross a small stream of water to reach the slopes of the hills. The bridge was narrow and the hooves of the horses hammered loudly on it; to my heated imagination they sounded almost like the drumbeat of the Death March. My escort and I were not accosted until we reached the appropriately named Gates of Torment and Sorrow, which gave access through the massive masonry wall into the bowels of the prison. Captain Weneg jumped down from the footplate of our vehicle and hammered on the doors with the hilt of his sword. Almost immediately a black-clad warder appeared on the bridge of the portcullis high above us. His head was enclosed in a hood of the same colour and it hid his features entirely except for his eyes and mouth.

‘Who seeks entry here?’ he bellowed down at us.

‘Prisoner and escort!’ Weneg replied.

‘Enter at your peril,’ the warder warned us. ‘But know ye, all enemies of Pharaoh and Egypt are eternally doomed once they are within these walls!’ Then the portcullis was raised ponderously and we drove through. We were the only vehicle to enter. The other three of our escort remained outside the walls when the portcullis rumbled closed once again.

The interior walls of the first courtyard were decorated by rows of niches that rose tier upon tier to such a height that I had to throw my head right back to see the tiny square of blue sky high above.

In each niche grinned a human skull: hundreds upon hundreds of them. It was not the first time I had passed this way. On occasion I had visited other unfortunates who had been incarcerated within these walls, to offer them what little help and comfort was in my gift. However, my spirit never failed to quail and my skin to crawl at the presence of death in such dire abundance; more so now that the threat was so personal and particular to me.

‘This is as far as I can take you, Lord Taita,’ Weneg said quietly. ‘Please understand that I am merely following my orders. There is nothing personal in what I have to do, and I take no pleasure in it.’

‘I understand your predicament, Captain,’ I replied. ‘I hope that our next meeting will be more pleasurable for both of us.’

Weneg helped me down from the footplate of the chariot and then severed the bonds at my wrists with a sweep of his dagger. Swiftly he went through the formality of handing me over to the prison warders, and delivering to them my scroll of impeachment. I recognized Pharaoh Utteric’s hieroglyph at the foot of this document. Then Weneg saluted me and turned away. I watched him jump back on to his vehicle, seize the reins and wheel his team to face the gateway. As soon as the portcullis was raised high enough he ducked under it and without a backwards glance drove out into the daylight.

There were four prison warders to receive me. As soon as Weneg had left the courtyard one of these lifted off his black headdress and confronted me with a derisive grin. He was a grossly obese creature, with garlands of fat drooping down from his jowls on to his chest.

‘We are honoured by your presence, my lord. It is not often that we get the opportunity to play host to such an illustrious personage, a man of the highest reputation and most fabulous wealth – after Pharaoh himself, of course. I am determined not to give you short measure. First let me introduce myself. My name is Doog.’ He bowed his great bald head, which was covered with obscene tattoos of stick figures doing repulsive things to each other, but he went on speaking: ‘A man of your erudition and learning will realize at once that Doog is Good spelled backwards, and he will know then what to expect of me. Those who know me well often refer to me as Doog the Terrible.’ Doog had a nervous twitch, which caused him to blink his right eye rapidly at the end of each sentence he uttered. I could not resist the temptation, so I winked back at him.

He stopped grinning. ‘I see that you like your little jokes, my lord? In due course I will give you jokes that will cause you to die laughing,’ he promised. ‘But we must defer that pleasure for a short while longer. Pharaoh has arrested you for high treason, but not yet tried you nor found you guilty. However, that time will come, and I shall be ready for it, I assure you.’

He started to circle me, but I turned at the same speed to keep facing him. ‘Hold him still!’ he snarled at his henchmen, and they seized both my arms and twisted them to bring me down to my knees.

‘You have beautiful clothes, my lord,’ Doog commended me. ‘I have seldom seen such splendid garments.’ This was true, for I had been expecting to address Pharaoh and his state council when I delivered to him the Hyksos treasure. I was wearing the golden helmet I had captured from a Hyksos general on another battlefield a long time ago; it was a masterpiece in gold and silver. Around my shoulders hung the Gold of Valour and the Gold of Praise, equally magnificent chains which had been awarded to me by the hand of Pharaoh Tamose himself for the service and sacrifice I had given to him. I knew that, adorned thus, I was a wondrous sight to behold.

‘We must not let such lovely garments become dirtied or damaged. You must remove them at once. I will take them into my safekeeping,’ Doog explained. ‘But I assure you that I will return them to you as soon as you are found innocent of the charges against you and are released from custody.’ I regarded him silently, not giving him the pleasure of hearing my protests or entreaties. ‘My men will help you to undress,’ Doog ended his little speech, which I was certain that he had also addressed to all of the men who were now but skulls in the niches of the walls above me.

He nodded at his henchmen and they ripped the helmet from my head and the gold chains from around my neck; then they tore away the lovely garments that covered my body, leaving me naked except for a brief loin-cloth. Finally they dragged me back on to my feet and forced me to walk to the doors in the back wall of the courtyard.

Doog lumbered along beside me. ‘All of us who work here within the prison walls are so excited and happy about the ascension of Pharaoh Utteric Turo to the throne.’ He winked four or five times to express his excitement, his head bobbing in time to the blinking of his eyes. ‘Pharaoh has changed our lives and made us some of the most important citizens in this very Egypt. During Pharaoh Tamose’s reign we hardly ever drew blood from one week to the next. But now his eldest son keeps us busy from morning until night. If we aren’t chopping off heads we are drawing the entrails out of men and women; or twisting off their arms; or hanging them by their necks or their testicles; or peeling off their skins with the hot irons.’ He chuckled merrily. ‘My brothers and my five sons were all out of work only a year ago, but now they are full-time executioners and tormentors, as I am. We are invited by Pharaoh Utteric Turo nearly every few weeks to the royal palace in Luxor. He likes to watch us carrying out our duties. Of course he never comes to visit us here. He is convinced that there is a curse on these walls. The only persons who ever come here do so to die; and we are the chosen few who help them to do it. But Pharaoh particularly loves to see me work on the young girls, especially if they are pregnant. So we take them down to the palace to do so. One of my little foibles is to hang them from the scaffold on bronze hooks through their tits, and then I use other hooks to rip the living foetus out of their wombs.’ Doog salivated like a hungry animal at his own description. I felt my gorge rise to have to listen to such obscenities.

‘I will let you watch while you are waiting for your own turn. I usually charge a fee, but you have let me have your helmet and gold chains for which I am so grateful …’ He was one of the most repulsive persons I have ever encountered. The black hood and cloak he wore were obviously meant to disguise the blood of his victims, but this close to him I could see that some of the stains were still damp, and the ones that had dried had begun to rot the fabric, so the stink of putrefaction and death hung over him like a dank miasma over a swamp.

His assistants dragged me on through this human abattoir where their colleagues were going about their grisly business. The screams of their victims echoed against the bare stone walls, and blended with the cracking of the whips and the jovial laughter of these professional tormentors. The smell of fresh blood and human excrement was so overpowering that I found myself choking and gasping for breath.

Eventually we descended a narrow flight of stone steps to reach a tiny, windowless underground cell. It was lit by a single candle, but otherwise it was bare. There was just enough room for me to sit on the floor, if I kept my knees up under my chin. My captors shoved me into it.

‘Your trial by Pharaoh is set for three days from today. We will come to fetch you for it. Otherwise we will not bother you again,’ Doog assured me.

‘But I need food and fresh water to drink and wash myself,’ I protested. ‘And I will also need clean clothes to wear for my trial.’

‘Prisoners make their own arrangements for such luxuries. We are busy men. You cannot expect us to be bothered by such trifles.’ Doog sniggered as he blew out the candle flame and thrust the stump into a pocket of his cloak. Then he slammed the door to my cell, and I heard his keys rattle in the outside of the lock. Three more days without water in this airless and sultry stone cell would be bitterly hard to bear, and I was not certain that I could survive it.

‘I will pay you.’ I heard my own voice rising with desperation as I shouted.

‘You have nothing with which to pay me,’ Doog’s voice carried back to me, even through the thick door, but then the footfalls of my captors receded into silence and my cell into utter darkness.

In particular circumstances I am able to weave a spell of protection over myself which serves me in the same fashion as does the cocoon of certain insects. I am able to retreat to a secure place deep within my own self. This is what I did now.

Early on the morning of the third day of my incarceration Doog and his henchmen had great difficulty summoning me back from the distant place in my mind to which I had retreated. I could hear their voices faint and faraway and gradually I became aware of their hands pummelling and shaking me, and their boots kicking me. But it was only when I felt the splash of a bucket of water thrown into my face that I recovered my full consciousness. I seized the bucket in both hands and poured what remained of the water down my throat and swallowed it, despite the efforts of three of the tormentors to rescue it from my clutches. That draught of filthy lukewarm water was my salvation; I could feel the power and energy flowing back into my parched body and the bastions of my soul being replenished. I was hardly aware of the lash of Doog’s whip across my naked back as they hustled me up the staircase into the light and the sweet airs of day. Indeed, the noxious odours of that prison were like the nectar of roses compared to the cell from which I was being dragged.

They hauled me back to the Courtyard of Skulls where I found Captain Weneg waiting beside his chariot. After a single glance Weneg averted his shocked gaze from my battered face and my desiccated frame, and he busied himself in making his hieroglyph at the foot of the scroll which Doog demanded that he sign for my release. Then his charioteers helped me aboard the vehicle. Although I tried not to show it, I was still weak and reeling on my feet.