a good vantage spot to observe whatever happened next.
‘At what hour does he usually proceed?’
‘Always the same time, unless it’s a Festival day. He chooses to greet the sun in private, and then proceeds when it has risen to the height of the ninth hour. So the light is exactly right. And after his audiences, at the twelfth hour, Ra will be directly overhead, and he proceeds to the court of the Great House. The ceremony for Meryra will probably take place between those hours.’
‘So if we wait here, and he feels like it, he will pass?’
Khety nodded. ‘Of course, it will be unusual for the Queen to be absent. She drives her own chariot. Sometimes the princesses accompany them in their own small chariots. People seem to love it. The family. Perhaps today he will not come.’
So we waited. Ra rose in his blinding chariot at his own speed, far too slow for me, higher into the ever-blue sky. I passed the frustrating time observing the people going about their apparently vital business, and dreaming casually about food. Then, finally, up along the Royal Road, we heard a rumbling, a commotion of activity. Anyone walking on the road was quickly pushed aside as an advance guard, blasting loudly on their trumpets, cleared a path-although in fact almost no-one was standing anywhere near. Rather, as if by a conjuring hand, crowds of people appeared from the side streets, jostling and pushing to take up positions as close as possible, calling, crying out enthusiastically, extending their hands imploringly towards the chariot which now came into view, protected before and after by running footsoldiers. As Akhenaten himself passed in pure white, crowned, on the high dais of his carriage, motionless and unresponsive among the roar and music of the occasion, the cries rose to a pitch of frenzy and the reaching hands became more urgent. He did indeed look like the King of the World. Yet I remembered the man I had met in private, wincing with pain.
The level of security prominently displayed by this parade of power was high. Nubian, Syrian and Libyan archers held longbows, their arrows pointed at the rooflines or down into the adoring crowds. Bare-chested soldiers wore military kilts and carried ox-hide shields and axes, all polished and dazzling. At the turn into the Great Palace, phalanxes of guards created an impenetrable fence between Akhenaten and the people. The retinue turned quickly under the pylons and vanished into the court, and the armed guards fell in swiftly to protect the entrance. It was an impressive, carefully drilled, perfectly executed display of might-no motley, casual recruits here. And as soon as the King had passed, the gates were shut tight, and silence returned. But what Khety had said was true: people noticed the Queen’s absence. Meaningful glances, comments whispered into companions’ ears, responded to with questioning looks or nods of agreement.
At least we had found him. I made my way through the throng, and Khety followed, trying to keep up. We walked along the perimeter wall of the palace. There seemed to be no other entrances, but finally, around the back, we found one: a small doorway, a trade and staff entry and exit, with a little window set into the wall beside it. A porter was barely contained within, as in a box outgrown by its bulging contents.
‘Let us pass.’
The porter slowly turned his head, as solid, battered and implacable as a rock, to consider me.
‘It’s important. Here are my authorities.’
I pressed the papyri to the bars on the window. He motioned me to pass them through, which I did, and he read them slowly, breathing heavily, his finger leading his frustratingly slow progress.
‘You have full authorities. And yet you want to enter the palace through my door.’
‘Yes.’
He considered me. ‘No.’
Khety pushed his way to the window. ‘He’s chief detective with the Medjay. I’m assistant to Mahu, chief of police. Stop asking stupid questions and let us in.’
The porter slowly lowered his massive eyebrows again and, breathing more heavily now, pushed the authorities back through the grate. I pulled the papers from his sweaty grasp and hurried through the door he had opened.
We walked up some wide steps and found ourselves in a large kitchen yard. Ducks huddled in the dust, and mounds of vegetables lay in corners. We moved through the kitchen offices, past men chopping fast at tables or watching over great pans boiling on open fires, into a servery, and then a high-ceilinged and silent state dining room set with tables and stands. Carrying on with a confidence we had to show but did not feel, we passed through double doors and found ourselves in a vast, high, central-pillared hall. Massive slabs of burnished sunlight lay across the highly polished floors. Doors gave off this hall to many smaller rooms. The silence seemed rich with power. From ducks in a yard to the polished halls of authority in a few moments: such was the strange adjacency of things in this place.
Then through a closed door I heard Akhenaten’s voice raised in anger, and a second voice, powerful but quiet, as if calming a child, but with an undertow of menace. I knew the voice, but could not place it. We edged closer to try to overhear the conversation. Akhenaten’s voice came again, insistent, demanding, uncompromising; the other sounded like he was asking for something impossible, or something, at least, that Akhenaten could or would not assent to. I just about made out ‘challenging my authority…public humiliation’, then a word I could not catch-‘weakness’ perhaps? Then ‘intelligence reports indicate…opportunity we need to shut down now,’ and then a tense silence, as if the conversation was now being whispered. Finally, a door slammed shut.
Khety looked at me. He had heard these fragments too. After a moment or so of total silence the door slammed open again and the magisterial figure of Ramose in fine, impressive clothes swept out. He walked away fast, obviously furious.
Suddenly we were surrounded. Guards appeared from between the columns and threw us down on the ground with excessive force, shouting for us not to move. I heard the footsteps stop, turn and approach me. Ramose’s feet halted at my face, which was pressed to the cold stone of the floor. His long feet were blue-veined and gnarled in their gold and leather sandals.
‘What are you doing here? How did you get past security? Let him stand.’
The guards backed off at once. I stood and brushed myself down.
‘It wasn’t difficult. I mentioned before that the security here seems inadequate.’
His expression turned thunderous. Something about this man made me want to rile him, even though I knew it was a foolish impulse.
‘That is fine advice from a man who disappeared on a
Then another voice spoke. Light and clear. ‘Please look into the ease with which he managed to find his way in here. What are things coming to in this land? Come,’ Akhenaten said to me, dismissing all others, including Ramose, who still looked furious, with a light wave.
We walked into a private room, and the doors closed softly behind us. But he quickly turned on me.
‘Such was the silence and lack of progress I assumed you were indeed dead. Which you might as well be. Speak.’
‘It does seem someone else here would prefer me to be dead.’
He stared at me. Then he beckoned me to follow him quickly out through an archway into a walled garden. We walked a little way down the path until we were some distance from the building.
‘The palace was built to guard me, but it is also a listening device. One notices the slightest thread of cool air from time to time, seeming to come from nowhere-and that tells me there is a tiny gap in the wall so slight as to be invisible yet so powerful that words and information pour away into the world. Words are very powerful, but also very dangerous.’
We sat opposite each other on two wooden chairs, our knees almost touching. The heat was shocking. Sweat burst out of me. He looked as comfortable as a lizard.
I informed him of the identity of the dead girl. I pointed out that this identification was a major discovery with several important implications, not least that it suggested the Queen was not dead. To this he gave little reaction other than a quick sideways nod of the head. I described the horror of Tjenry’s murder, then the hunt and the attempt on my life, but held back from naming Mahu directly. I left him to deduce that information. But I made it clear there were forces within his city that were hunting me down. He was suddenly, mercurially, annoyed.
‘The days are passing like water through your hands, and you sit here telling me nothing. All you have achieved so far is to make enemies. And you have told me nothing certain about the whereabouts or fate of the Queen, or who has taken her.’
I let him simmer for a moment, then I said, ‘I am closer to solving the mystery than before. But I need further
