Read Online Day of the False King by Brad Geagley - Free Book Online Page A

I’m Pharaoh’s envoy. Tell them I’m a merchant seeking spices, or
some such thing, and that I can’t speak Babylonian. I need to explore
the city on my own before any officials know I’m here.”
    He had decided not to announce his arrival
to Babylon’s new king until he had completed his own mission. Only then
would he begin negotiations to bring Bel-Marduk’s idol back to Egypt.
In the meantime, he meant to work far away from the attention of great
ones, for he had begun to suspect, given the Elamites’ weakened
position, that if the native Babylonians knew he was close to Kutir
more doors would close to him than open.
    Marduk did not answer him, but merely
averted his head, and began to follow a few steps behind, cringing and
gawking like a simpleton. Semerket smiled to himself, marveling at
Marduk’s endless mutability. He was a true shape-shifter, able to blend
into any crowd, enact any role.
    However, when they came to the Elamite
immigration clerks and tax gatherers, Marduk remained silent, still
affecting his empty gaze. He hung his head and seemed confused and
intimidated by the Elamites’ sharp questions.
    “What’s the matter with you?” Semerket said
in Egyptian. “Answer them.”
    But Marduk only peeped dully at the men from
behind Semerket. Drool began to string from his mouth. The customs
clerk turned his head away in disgust and addressed all his questions
to Semerket, refusing even to look at Marduk.
    In the end, Semerket had to declare himself
to the authorities, for they had searched his pack and found the
tablets bearing his name. They then exclaimed and bowed low before him,
showing him a list of expected foreign dignitaries, with his own name
placed among the most prominent. Instantly, a palace clerk appeared to
usher Semerket and Marduk away from the others and into a private room
located within the gate itself.
    “You are most welcome, Great Lord,” gushed
the clerk in precise Babylonian. “We will send a courier to inform the
palace that you have at last arrived.”
    Semerket was appalled. “But I don’t want
that!” he blurted out before thinking.
    The Elamite clerk stared at him, taken
aback. “But…but what will I say to the king when he asks why you don’t
present your credentials?”
    Semerket hastily improvised, with no help
from Marduk. “You may inform the king, of course, of my arrival. But
tell him…tell him that before I present myself at court, I must first
purify myself through prayer, to thank the Egyptian gods for my safe
arrival.”
    Semerket knew that the Mesopotamians
regarded Egyptians as religion-mad, and hoped the Elamites would accept
his excuse, suspicious as it was. The clerk looked doubtful and began
to shake his head.
    “Or perhaps I should return to Egypt?”
Semerket asked darkly.
    “Oh no, sir!” The clerk held up his hands in
a supplicating manner. “King Kutir would be extremely disappointed —
angry, in fact — if you were to depart from Babylon now. His troops
would find you, in any case, for he is anxious to hear Pharaoh’s
greeting from your own lips.”
    Semerket considered quickly. Either Kutir
must possess a formidable network of spies, or Pharaoh’s instructions
to Ambassador Menef had been extremely thorough. Either way, he had to
find a way to gain some time.
    “Before I kneel before his throne,” he
continued to insist, “I must first kneel to my gods.”
    The clerk’s voice was weak. “When do you
think you will be content to present yourself at the palace?”
    Semerket answered obliquely. “I will give
sufficient warning before I come. Meanwhile, my slave and I will look
for accommodations in the Egyptian Quarter.” Semerket shouldered his
pack decisively.
    “But rooms are waiting for you at
Bel-Marduk’s temple hostel, Great Lord! It will be my pleasure to
escort you there myself.”
    “The rooms won’t be necessary.”
    The clerk’s face succumbed to his anxiety at
last, crumpling into a mask of abject fear. He