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Authors: Paul Doherty
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gods?’
‘True,’ the Veiled One murmured. ‘For the time being true.’ He cocked his head slightly. ‘Do you believe in magic, Mahu?’
‘I know some tricks,’ I replied.
The Veiled One giggled, fingers covering his mouth. ‘Well, you’d best go.’ His hand fell away. He stretched across and ran a finger around my lips. ‘I have met you and wish you peace Mahu, Baboon of the South. One day we shall meet again.’
‘Your son has acted for you.
The Great Ones tremble
when they see your sword.’
(Spell 174: The Book of the Dead )
Chapter 2
My encounter with the Veiled One was brief but startling. I wondered if something might happen but no reference was made to my secret visit nor did I receive any message from the Silent Pavilion. My encounter also coincided with ‘the children of the Kap ’ (though we were young men now) being more included in the life of the Malkata Palace, as Crown Prince Tuthmosis matured. What the Veiled One had told me quickened my interest in his parents whom I’d glimpsed from afar; now I listened avidly to the gossip. Old Weni, who was growing more and more dependent on the beer jar, was an excellent source of stories, if he kept sober. Not content with the henket or barley beer, he had moved on to the sernet , rich dark beer which would soon bring you into the presence of Hathor, Lady of Drunkenness.
I would often join him in the shade of an olive grove near a rather dank pool where the leaves were thick and lush. He’d lounge back against a tree, a basket of garlic sausage or grilled chicken covered with celery sauce on his lap.
‘Oh yes,’ he’d slurp, tapping his fleshy nose and winking at me. ‘The Magnificent One is truly blessed by Amun. He had a harem.’ Weni stumbled over the words Per Khe Nret ‘The House of Women’. ‘Princesses from every nation under the sun.’ He smacked his lips. ‘Mitanni, Hittites, Babylonians, Nubians, Libyans, the fairest of the field to satisfy his every whim.’ He’d slump closer, eyes glazed, breath thick with the smell of beer. ‘But the real power, I’ll tell you the real power. It’s his wife, the Great Queen, Mistress of the House, the Divine One Tiye.’
‘Where’s she from?’ I asked.
‘She’s not a foreign princess.’ Weni squinted up at the sky. ‘Pharaohs have always married foreign princesses but the Magnificent One was captivated by her since the days of his youth. Tiye the Beautiful.’ He shook his head. ‘And she was exquisite, Mahu. Oh,’ he caught himself, ‘she still is, small but perfectly formed, with strange red hair and those almond-shaped eyes. If she was a cat they’d glow in the dark.’
I lifted my hand for silence. Strange, isn’t it, how the relationship between teacher and pupil can change? Weni was becoming more and more dependent on me. The rest would tease or taunt him but I would talk to him and use the gifts I had received from Aunt Isithia to buy him a jug of beer. I’d do errands for him, fetching this or fetching that. I was growing as cunning as a mongoose and intended to use him to learn more about the Malkata. Horemheb had once said a strange thing to me. I’d made some funny remark about an official at the court. Horemheb was tying up his sandal and chose to do it close to me.
‘Watch what you say, Baboon of the South,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Around here, even the trees hear.’
I had taken the warning to heart but that olive grove, as always, seemed deserted. If anyone approached, the undergrowth and leaves would betray him.
‘Lady Tiye?’ I prompted.
‘Lady Tiye.’ Weni shook his head drunkenly. ‘Generous with favours, Great King’s wife, Beloved of Nekhbet. She’s from Akhmin, hundreds of miles to the North, in the Ninth Nome of Egypt where they worship Min the God of Male Fertility. Lady Tiye was a priestess there. They say,’ his face came closer, ‘she knows more about the art of love than a legion of courtesans.’
‘And the harem?’ I
‘True,’ the Veiled One murmured. ‘For the time being true.’ He cocked his head slightly. ‘Do you believe in magic, Mahu?’
‘I know some tricks,’ I replied.
The Veiled One giggled, fingers covering his mouth. ‘Well, you’d best go.’ His hand fell away. He stretched across and ran a finger around my lips. ‘I have met you and wish you peace Mahu, Baboon of the South. One day we shall meet again.’
‘Your son has acted for you.
The Great Ones tremble
when they see your sword.’
(Spell 174: The Book of the Dead )
Chapter 2
My encounter with the Veiled One was brief but startling. I wondered if something might happen but no reference was made to my secret visit nor did I receive any message from the Silent Pavilion. My encounter also coincided with ‘the children of the Kap ’ (though we were young men now) being more included in the life of the Malkata Palace, as Crown Prince Tuthmosis matured. What the Veiled One had told me quickened my interest in his parents whom I’d glimpsed from afar; now I listened avidly to the gossip. Old Weni, who was growing more and more dependent on the beer jar, was an excellent source of stories, if he kept sober. Not content with the henket or barley beer, he had moved on to the sernet , rich dark beer which would soon bring you into the presence of Hathor, Lady of Drunkenness.
I would often join him in the shade of an olive grove near a rather dank pool where the leaves were thick and lush. He’d lounge back against a tree, a basket of garlic sausage or grilled chicken covered with celery sauce on his lap.
‘Oh yes,’ he’d slurp, tapping his fleshy nose and winking at me. ‘The Magnificent One is truly blessed by Amun. He had a harem.’ Weni stumbled over the words Per Khe Nret ‘The House of Women’. ‘Princesses from every nation under the sun.’ He smacked his lips. ‘Mitanni, Hittites, Babylonians, Nubians, Libyans, the fairest of the field to satisfy his every whim.’ He’d slump closer, eyes glazed, breath thick with the smell of beer. ‘But the real power, I’ll tell you the real power. It’s his wife, the Great Queen, Mistress of the House, the Divine One Tiye.’
‘Where’s she from?’ I asked.
‘She’s not a foreign princess.’ Weni squinted up at the sky. ‘Pharaohs have always married foreign princesses but the Magnificent One was captivated by her since the days of his youth. Tiye the Beautiful.’ He shook his head. ‘And she was exquisite, Mahu. Oh,’ he caught himself, ‘she still is, small but perfectly formed, with strange red hair and those almond-shaped eyes. If she was a cat they’d glow in the dark.’
I lifted my hand for silence. Strange, isn’t it, how the relationship between teacher and pupil can change? Weni was becoming more and more dependent on me. The rest would tease or taunt him but I would talk to him and use the gifts I had received from Aunt Isithia to buy him a jug of beer. I’d do errands for him, fetching this or fetching that. I was growing as cunning as a mongoose and intended to use him to learn more about the Malkata. Horemheb had once said a strange thing to me. I’d made some funny remark about an official at the court. Horemheb was tying up his sandal and chose to do it close to me.
‘Watch what you say, Baboon of the South,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Around here, even the trees hear.’
I had taken the warning to heart but that olive grove, as always, seemed deserted. If anyone approached, the undergrowth and leaves would betray him.
‘Lady Tiye?’ I prompted.
‘Lady Tiye.’ Weni shook his head drunkenly. ‘Generous with favours, Great King’s wife, Beloved of Nekhbet. She’s from Akhmin, hundreds of miles to the North, in the Ninth Nome of Egypt where they worship Min the God of Male Fertility. Lady Tiye was a priestess there. They say,’ his face came closer, ‘she knows more about the art of love than a legion of courtesans.’
‘And the harem?’ I
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