clearly been alive when all this was done to him. Everything pointed to an experience of slow, excruciating and terrifying agony. I looked up and saw the grim instruments of mummification hanging in the shadows on their hooks. I steeled myself and looked inside the canopic jar. His brain, mangled, torn and already tinged blue with decay, the organ usually thrown away, lay within, topped by his eyes on their bloody, torn strings.
I could barely believe it. Someone had bound him down, and while he was alive had removed his brain through his nostrils, as if he were already dead and ready for burial, using the iron hooks hanging innocently on the wall. It had been done meticulously, expertly. It had been done during the time we were at the reception, eating and drinking and talking. It had been done in this room.
I struggled to keep control of my feelings. I had seen bad things in my time. I’d smelled the sweet stench of human bone burning, and the steam from just-dead viscera rising from a gutted belly. But I had never seen anything like this inhuman enactment with its barbaric precision.
There was nothing now I could do for him. No prayers from the Book of the Dead would guard against the horror of this. I remembered that I had ordered him to remain behind. And now he was dead. I closed his delicate, cold eyelids over his strange, bright glass eyes. Khety and I left the room, with its appalling chill, and stood outside. The dawn was breaking. Birds were singing.
15
I commanded Khety to return to the Medjay headquarters to report the murder, while I waited. I needed time alone, before the shouting and the noise. I needed to think, even though my mind was emptier and more haunted than the Red Land. The images of what had been done to this promising young man stopped every thought in its tracks.
I watched the street wake up. An old man shuffled out of his dark doorway carrying a jug of water, which he poured tenderly around the roots of a sapling that had taken root in the earth. He seemed to have all the time in the world to accomplish his task. Then he picked up some of the broken rubbish from around the tree and threw it further into the street, and shuffled back into the darkness of his accommodation. Then the sun came up, and more people appeared, leaving their homes and going about their daily business.
Rage swept through me then-at myself for having let this young man die, at the waste of life, at the disgusting futility of this city, at the refined cruelty that had committed this crime. I knew, of course, that this act was aimed at me. It was as purposeful as the arrow on the boat. Whoever committed the crime wanted me to know they knew everything I was doing. They wanted me to know I was being watched closely. Also, they wanted me to know they could inflict worse things upon me if they so chose. There was something mocking in it, taunting. They were slowly and meticulously destroying the ground of authority under my feet. Soon I would be marooned on a tiny island of complete uncertainty. I had come to the city to investigate a missing person. Now I was investigating murders as well.
Mahu arrived, of course. He barely acknowledged me as he entered the chamber. When he came out, he inflicted the best of his fury on me. It was shaming, of course, in front of the other men, but I felt strangely immune. The facts of Tjenry’s death made his noise and anger irrelevant and futile. Then he was gone again, with dire warnings and threats. He would inform Akhenaten. I hardly cared. I wanted to track down and trap this man, or woman. I had my own private revenge to drive me now. I needed to know what kind of human being could do such a thing to another. Was this person a monster, or did he or she have a heart and soul, blood and emotions, like the rest of us?
When everyone had gone, Khety and I sat together for a little while, not speaking.
‘This is the worst thing I’ve seen in my life,’ said Khety eventually.
‘We’ve had two barbaric murders in the space of a few days. There’s no reason to suppose they will stop here. There’s every reason to suppose they are directly connected to our investigation. We’re being followed.’
He nodded. ‘And they’re leaving no clues.’
‘That’s not exactly right. The manner of the deaths is telling a story. We have to work out what it is. And the next step is to trace the dead girl. I have an idea. We should ask in the artisans’ village.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because if she was a person of importance, her disappearance would have been noticed, maybe reported, by now. Someone in the city might have connected her to the murder victim. And we need to stop off on the way. I need to see the maid, Senet.’
The house was quiet when we arrived. The guards admitted us and we waited for Senet to appear. She bowed low to me.
‘Can we go somewhere private?’
She showed us into an antechamber. As before, she was immaculately dressed, her hair covered, her hands in the little yellow gloves.
‘I want to show you something. Please don’t say anything. Just nod if you recognize it. Yes?’
She nodded. I opened my hand and showed her the scarab. Horror, rather than sorrow, descended on her face. Her hands trembled with shock.
‘It is not quite what you think.’ Her big eyes lifted, suddenly hopeful.
‘Why did you not tell me the truth?’
‘About what?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘That this scarab was missing from the Queen’s jewellery?’
She tried to think quickly. ‘Forgive me, but I did not know who you were. I mean, who you truly were.’
‘You mean you did not know whether I could be trusted? As a Medjay?’
She nodded, grateful that I had said what she could not.
‘I need to know if you have anything to say about this scarab.’
She looked at it. ‘Please tell me, how did you come by it?’
‘Someone else was wearing it. Another woman.’
She looked astonished. ‘How could that possibly be?’ she said, turning it over in her hands.
‘I don’t know. But I will tell you this. The woman who was wearing this once looked very like the Queen.’
She struggled to take in what I was saying. ‘Once?’
‘She is dead. I cannot identify her. Do you have anything you wish to tell me now?’
She suddenly looked away. ‘This place is full of darkness.’ She spoke the words with a new passion.
‘Meaning?’
‘People are animals, don’t you think? The Queen says most people have good hearts. But I see their faces when they smile, when they say clever things, when they laugh at others’ misfortune. I think the tongue is the monster in us all.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because words have more power to wound and kill than knives.’
I left the thought to rest between us.
‘Tell me more about this scarab.’
She held the thing in her delicate palm, tilting it this way and that. ‘I see the possibility of new life. Proclaimed in eternal gold. The scarab beetle, least of all life forms, constantly renewing itself. Resurrection from the basest things of this world. I see the sun, from whom comes all creation, pushed back into new life in the claws of the beetle. I see the mystery of Ra’s power contained in the dot at its centre. Like a child in the womb. I see a woman, the complete equal of the sun god in all things. I see this worn as a sign of hope. I feel it lying on warm skin, over a good heart.’
Suddenly she buckled, as if from a bolt of dreadful grief, and sobbed, her body racked with overwhelming emotion. Khety and I looked at each other, surprised. Then her agony passed, and she calmed herself. The little lapping sounds of the river meeting the terrace stones filled in the gap of silence between us. She waited for me to respond, her head bowed.
‘You have spoken well,’ I said. ‘Nothing will be forgotten.’
