'We will be here in the hour after sunrise,' Taita assured her.
A they rode out through the gates of the Palace of Memnon Taita checked the height of the afternoon sun. There remained several .hours of daylight. On an impulse he ordered the sergeant of his escort not to take the direct road to Thebes, but instead to make a detour along the funereal way towards the western hills and the great royal necropolis, which was hidden in one of the rugged rock valleys. They rode past the temple in which Taita had supervised the embalming of the earthly body of his beloved Lostris. It had taken place seventy years before, but time had not dimmed the memory of that harrowing ceremony. He touched the Periapt, which contained the lock of her hair that he had snipped from her head. They climbed up through the foothills past the temple of Hathor, an impressive edifice that sat atop a pyramid of stone terraces. Taita recognized a priestess who was strolling along the bottom terrace accompanied by two of her novices, and turned aside to speak to her.
'May the divine Hathor protect you, Mother,' he greeted her, as he
I
dismounted. Hathor was the patroness of all women, so the high priest was female.
'I had heard that you had returned from your travels, Magus.' She hurried to embrace him. 'We all hoped that you would visit us, and tell us of your adventures.'
'Indeed, I have much to relate that I hope will interest you. I have brought papyrus maps of Mesopotamia and Ecbatana, and the mountainous lands crossed by the Khorasan highway beyond Babylon.'
'Much will be new to us.' The high priestess smiled eagerly. 'Have you brought them with you?'
'Alas, no! I am on another errand and did not expect to meet you here. I left the scrolls in Thebes. However, I will bring them to you at the first opportunity.'
'That cannot be too soon,' the high priestess assured him. 'You are welcome here at any time. We are grateful for the information you have already provided. I am certain that what you have now is even more fascinating.'
'Then I will trespass upon your kindness. May I ask a favour?'
'Any favour that is mine to bestow is already yours. You have only to name it.'
'I have conceived a pressing interest in volcanoes.'
'Which ones? They are legion, and situated in many lands.'
'All those that arise close to the sea, perhaps on an island, or on the banks of a lake or a great river. I need a list, Mother.'
'That is not a burdensome request,' she assured him. 'Brother Nubank, our most senior cartographer, has always had a consuming interest in volcanoes and other subterranean sources of heat, such as thermal springs and geysers. He will be delighted to compile your list, but expect it to be over-detailed and exhaustive. Nubank is meticulous to a fault. 1 will set him to work on it at once.'
'How long will it take him?'
'Will you visit us in ten days' time, revered Magus?' she suggested.
Taita took his leave and rode on another league to the gates of the necropolis.
A extensive military fort guarded the entrance to the necropolis that housed the royal tombs. Each one comprised a subterranean complex of chambers that had been excavated from the solid rock. At the centre was the burial chamber in which stood the magnificent royal sarcophagus containing the mummified body of a pharaoh.
Laid out around this chamber were the storerooms and depositories crammed with the greatest mass of treasure the world had ever known. It aroused the greed of every thief and grave robber in the two kingdoms, and in countries beyond their borders. They were persistent and cunning in their efforts to break into the sacred enclosure. Keeping them out required the perpetual vigilance of a small army.
Taita left his escort beside the well in the central courtyard of the fort to water the horses and refresh themselves, while he continued into the burial ground on foot. He knew the way to the tomb of Queen Lostris, as well he might: he had designed its layout and supervised its excavation.
Lostris was the only one of all the queens of Egypt to be interred in this section of the cemetery, which was usually reserved for reigning pharaohs.
Taita had inveigled her eldest son into granting this dispensation when he had succeeded to the throne.
He passed the site where the tomb of Pharaoh Nefer Seti was being excavated in anticipation of his departure from this world and his ascension to the next. It was thronged with stonemasons driving the main entrance passage into the rock. The rubble was carried out by chains of workers in baskets balanced on their heads. They were coated thickly with the floury white dust that hung in the air. A small group of architects and slave masters stood on the heights above, looking down on the furious activity below. The valley echoed to the ring of chisels, adzes and picks on the rock.
Unobtrusively Taita made his way up the funereal path until the valley narrowed and branched into two separate gullies. He took the left hand fork. Within fifty paces he had turned a corner and the entrance to Lostris's tomb lay directly ahead, set into the cliff face. The entrance was surrounded by impressive granite pillars, and sealed with a wall of stone blocks, which had been plastered over, then decorated with a beautifully painted mural. Scenes from the queen's life were arranged round her cartouche: Lostris in domestic bliss with her husband and children, driving her chariot, fishing in the waters of the Nile, hunting the gazelle
and the waterbirds, commanding her armies against the hordes of Hyksos invaders, leading her people in a flotilla of ships down the cataracts of the Nile and bringing them home out of exile after the final defeat of the Hyksos. It was seventy years since Taita had painted these scenes with his own hand, but the colours were still fresh.
Another mourner stood at the entrance to the tomb, swathed from head to ankles in the black robes of a priestess of the goddess Isis. She knelt quietly in an attitude of adoration facing the mural. Taita resigned himself to the delay. He turned aside and settled down to wait in the shade at the foot of the cliff. The face of Lostris in the paintings set in train a series of happy memories. It was quiet in this part of the valley: the rock walls muffled the din made by the workmen lower down. For a while he forgot the presence of the priestess at the tomb, but then she came to her feet and his attention switched back to her.
Her back was still towards him when she reached into the sleeve of her robe and brought out a small metal tool, perhaps a chisel or a knife.
