Finally, the door scraped open again-the new wood has expanded in the frame; how absurd this affected display of power, and a door that sticks! — and the secretary bid me enter. I gave him a nod of the head, meant to be ironic, and walked forward into the next stage of the mystery. The doors closed behind me.
6
I found myself in a large, open, well-lit room. A great desk, its polished surface of some gorgeous hardwood unfamiliar to me, dominated. On it were a few objects of fine workmanship: a vase of blue lotus flowers, a statuette of Akhenaten, an alabaster decanter delicately formed in the shape of a bird rising from water, a collection of goblets, and two wooden trays. There was a strange panting sound coming from beneath the desk where a large man sat considering a document he had taken from the first tray. He ignored my presence. Mahu.
He was stocky, powerfully muscled, middle-aged. His seniority and power were evident in the manner and proportions of his body and the distinctively brutal, almost hewn shape of his head, with its strong grey hair cut close to the scalp; as well as in the elegant clothing of that body, which was rich and luxurious in every way. He wore an extraordinary collar. I had time to observe it. Six rows of rings carried a multitude of smaller gold rings strung on cords, held together by a heavy clasp decorated with a winged scarab and sun discs, and inlaid with lapis lazuli. He also wore a sleeved tunic of finest white linen and sandals.
But more interesting than all this theatrical regalia were his eyes. When he finally deigned to look up I saw that they were unusual, not in their topaz colouring, but in the way they shimmered with hunger. As cruel and apparently casual as a lion or a god. I felt he could gaze through to my very bones, to the weaknesses and vulnerabilities and destinies hidden within them. I wondered whether he ate breakfast; whether he had children, a wife, friends; whether his was a life in which such power can be harnessed to tenderness and care; or whether all humanity, all its dreams and ambitions and vanities of the heart, was so clear to him that he had no more feeling for it than a god has for the foolish mortals whom time wipes out in a moment, like a cloth across a speckled and misty mirror.
I returned his stare. He rose from the desk and moved towards me, accompanied by a slathering black dog- the source of the odd panting.
‘I see you are interested in my collar,’ he said. ‘A gift from Akhenaten. It is important to dress as one believes oneself to be, don’t you think?’
‘Your attire is magnificent,’ I acknowledged, hoping my slight irony would hit home. But his fastidious appraisal of my own rather travel-worn clothing seemed to indicate that any irony on my part would be cancelled out by the evident inadequacy, and therefore lack of self-belief, of my own appearance.
We waited a moment, considering what could be said next. I used to talk and talk; now I wait in silence for them to make the first move. But he seemed entirely undaunted by my poor ploy. As if reading my thoughts, he gestured to the couch. I had no choice but to sit while he remained standing. I still have a lot to learn about these games of power.
He stared down at me, and rubbed his chin. The silence was discomforting.
‘So, you are chosen to investigate the mystery.’
‘I have that honour.’
‘What do you suppose you have done to deserve it?’
‘I suppose nothing. Whatever gifts I have are in the service of our Lord.’ I winced as I listened to these feeble platitudes.
‘And your family…?’
‘My father was a scribe in the Office of Construction.’
My lack of elite status hung in the air between us.
‘I am prepared to learn the nature of the mystery,’ I added.
‘Akhenaten himself wishes to apprise you of its known elements. He has granted me the task to introduce you to our new world here, to assist you as may seem appropriate, and above all to keep an eye on you.’
He paused meaningfully. I waited.
‘Also we have assigned two of our best officers, one senior, one more junior but promising, to guide you as required, at all hours of the day and night. To help you to find your way around the place.’
Watchdogs running at my heels. A nuisance, and deliberately so.
‘I’m sorry to say I do not support the choice of you,’ he continued. ‘You may as well know this now. Why bring in an outside man? A man who knows nothing of how things work here? A man whose experience of the real world consists of petty thieves and whores, whose
And those topaz eyes gazed right through me for a long moment.
‘But please remember: I am here to help. Let me offer my hand in professional respect, Medjay to Medjay. I am the man with the keys to this city. I know it stone by stone. I know where the stones are from, and who placed them in their positions, and why.’
I maintained a level gaze throughout this soliloquy. And since it seemed we were making speeches to each other, after a respectful pause I stood up and began my reply.
‘I agree with your assessment of the situation. And I gratefully accept your offer of professional support. But since Akhenaten himself has chosen me, I hope I can earn the unqualified support of all his servants. I believe he would wish it to be so. And if I fail, there will be no question of my fate.’
He inclined his head very slightly, and held my gaze for a little too long. ‘We understand each other perfectly.’ He then turned back to his desk, briefly scanned the papyrus document, looked up at me with an enigmatic expression somewhere between a smile and a warning, and almost negligently let the document drift back down into the empty tray on his desk. ‘Your interview is destined for sunset,’ he said, before sitting down and turning his attention to the window.
I walked out of the room with the feeling he was watching me through the back of that cruel skull, and closed the door behind me. I had to give it a little shove to close it fully, and the squeak and bang alerted the guards, the nasty little secretary and the assistant. The latter came forward and said, ‘I will show you your accommodation. And then bring you to your appointment.’ So he already knew all about it. I felt like an animal being prepared for the offering table.
Sunset, indeed. The hour of death.
7
I can do nothing but wait, and waiting is torture to me. I would rather eat sand. I have been given an office, with a couch and a desk, in a construction behind the main temples and the Medjay barracks. It looks on to an empty pool, with a fountain that does not work. It is surrounded by a terrace, and beyond that there is a view of a rock-strewn, red-earth plot. Someone has hurriedly tried to make the terrace look less derelict by placing some uncertain plants and little acacia bushes in pots. And a bench, as if I might have the leisure to sit in the shade and think of pleasure and poetry. But otherwise the building seems uninhabited. Above the head of the couch is a niche containing an icon of Akhenaten himself, the Great King into whose presence I am shortly to be ushered. Well, I will then be able to gauge the differences between the strange fellow in this niche, with his long neck, sagging belly and large sloping eyes, somewhere between a mule and a mother-in-law, and the reality of the divine incarnation.
I drank water from the jug. It was unusually sweet and clear. Then I tested the couch for softness and was surprised by how comfortable it seemed, especially after the spine-bending experience of the ship’s hammock. Too comfortable as it turned out. I awoke, suddenly, to banging. It was late, and someone was knocking on the door. I
