Tutankhamun: The Book of Shadows

‘But you have had many opportunities.’

‘Only because Nakht has taught me about things no one else would…’

‘And she is a spectacular student,’ he added proudly.

‘But it seems to me because I’m a girl, I’ve had fewer opportunities than boys, because everything in our society is about the priority of the man over the woman. And that’s ridiculous. This is the modern world. Just because I’ve got breasts now doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind.’

My father coughed suddenly, as if something had gone down the wrong way. Nakht patted him on his back, but he coughed and coughed, tears in his eyes. I knew they were tears of mirth; but he did not want to embarrass Sekhmet. I winked at him.

‘You are quite right,’ I said. ‘If you decide you are going to achieve something, you have to be determined.’

‘I have decided. I don’t want to marry yet. I want to study more. I want to be a physician.’

She glanced across at her mother. I knew at once they had discussed this. I looked at Tanefert, and she gazed back at me with a silent plea to please be considerate.

‘But, my dearly beloved daughter…’ I said, wishing Nakht would say something to support me in my tenuous position.

‘Yes, my dearly beloved father?’

I struggled to find the best words.

‘Women don’t become physicians.’

‘They do, actually,’ said Nakht, unhelpfully.

‘What difference does it make whether they haven’t in the past? It’s what I want to do. There’s so much suffering in this world, and I want to change that. And there’s too much ignorance as well. Knowledge can alleviate suffering and ignorance. And anyway, why did you call me Sekhmet if you didn’t want me to become a physician?’

‘Why did you call her Sekhmet?’ enquired Nedjmet, sensing her opportunity to get in on the conversation.

‘Because it means she who is powerful,’ said Tanefert.

‘Sekhmet the Lion Goddess can send illnesses, but she can also recall them,’ said Sekhmet herself.

‘I see you have learned much from your clever godfather,’ I said.

‘I’ve been discussing things with him.’

For some reason, I felt like the only piece on the game board that has not moved beyond the first square.

Suddenly my father spoke from the other end of the table.

‘She’ll make a wonderful physician. She’s calm and methodical and beautiful to look at. Unlike those smelly and cantankerous old men who shake a few burning herbs in the air and make you drink your own urine. I’d certainly trust her to look after me when I get old and sick.’

Sekhmet looked at me, and smiled victoriously.

‘So you are guaranteed your first patient,’ I said. ‘But do you realize what this means?’

She nodded sagely.

‘It means years of study, and I’ll have to do twice as well as everyone else because I’ll be the only girl among all the boys. And I’ll have to endure the opposition of the establishment and the small-minded insults of the old- fashioned teachers. But I’ll survive.’

I could not think of how to oppose her wish, and in truth I was proud of her determination. All that stopped me from supporting her wholeheartedly was the knowledge of the struggle to come-that, and the likelihood of failure-not from any weakness in herself, but from the refusal of the hierarchies to accept her.

I was about to say something when Thoth suddenly barked in the yard. An abrupt knocking on the door silenced us all. I rose and went to the door. A tall, thickset, unfriendly man in the formal dress of the Palace Guard was waiting there. Behind him were guards with swords shining in the light of the oil lamp in its niche beside the doorway.

‘I know why you’re here,’ I said quietly, before he could speak. ‘Give me a few moments, please.’

I turned back into the room. My family were staring at me.

Tanefert says there is always a choice. But sometimes she is wrong. I asked Khety to accompany me, and Nakht to stay and continue the celebrations. Sekhmet came through to the kitchen with me. She peered at the guards waiting outside, and nodded.

‘Don’t worry, Father. Work is important. What you do is important. I understand. And we’ll all be here when you return.’

And she grinned, and kissed me on the cheek.

14

As we crossed the Great River once again-Khety sitting opposite me, and Thoth crouched down at my feet, for he mistrusts the treachery of boats and water-I gazed up at the black ocean of the night that glittered vastly with mysterious stars. I thought of an old saying my grandfather had told me: that what was important was not the uncountable stars, but the glorious darkness between them. The faded old papyrus scrolls Nakht had shown me that afternoon, with their columns and signs, seemed only the crudest human rendering of this greatest of mysteries.

The oarsmen expertly guided us to the palace jetty, and the black water slapped gently against the moon- silvered stones. Khay was waiting. In the shimmering firelight of the hammered copper bowls his bony face was transformed by an anxiety it struggled to restrain. I introduced Khety as my assistant. He remained at a respectful distance, his head bowed. Khay considered him, and nodded.

‘His conduct and security are your responsibility,’ he said.

I have heard of people who return in dreams to the same situations and dilemmas. The tormenting images of their fears and horrors are repeated night after night: nightmare chases down endless tunnels; or the swift rippling of crocodiles unseen but sensed in deep, black water; or glimpsing the beloved dead, unreachable in a vast grey crowd. And then the haunted dreamer wakes sweating and weeping uncontrollably for something or someone lost over and over again to that Otherworld of visions. This palace, with its long corridors, and many shut doors, and hushed antechambers, reminded me now of something like that. I imagined each closed chamber might contain a different dream, a different nightmare. And yet I did not feel fear; excitement had me once again in its monstrous and glorious grasp. Something unexpected had happened. And so I was as happy as I could ever be.

We passed through the guard station, and entered the royal quarters. Somewhere, a door slammed in the dark, and a young man’s light voice called out a tremulous command. Lowered voices, insistent and persuasive, tried to calm him. Another slam of a door, and all returned to the tomb-like silence. Khay, alert to the meaning of these signs and wonders, hurried forward on his costly and immaculate sandals, until we arrived once more at the great double doors into Ankhesenamun’s chamber. Khety glanced at me, his eyebrows raised, amused at the situation in which we found ourselves. Then the doors suddenly opened to admit us.

Inside, nothing had changed. The lights burned in the same places. The doors remained opened to the courtyard and its garden. Ankhesenamun, guarded by a soldier, was sitting very still, staring at a small, closed wooden box that was set on a low tray on the far side of the room, as if she was mesmerized. When we entered, she turned slowly to look at us; her hands gripped each other tightly, her eyes glittered.

The box was no bigger than that which might contain a wig. It was tied with a cord knotted to a complex, interwoven design. Interestingly, it seemed more like a magical knot than a practical one. The conundrum of it-the maker’s fascination with frustrating, perhaps demented puzzles-seemed alarmingly all of a piece with the strange mysteries of the last days. Instead of unknotting the cord-for it was evidence, and the meaning of its design might be recognized by Nakht-I cut it. I lowered my head to the lid of the box, and caught the faintest of sounds; within, something was moving, toiling almost, on the very edge of the audible, even in the hush of the chamber. I glanced at Khety and Khay, and then very carefully lifted off the lid. The sweet stench of rotting meat billowed into the