problematic exercise in politics and appearances. I should have realized nothing would be simple. There had been confidential meetings, with arguments and correspondence back and forth, between the offices of the King, the security division, and almost every other department of government, about everything from the distraction of the King from the business and appearance of rule, to lengthy disputations between different ministries regarding the passenger list, the supplies, the necessary furniture and the official timetable. Everything had been an issue. But Ay had taken charge of the chaos. I had not seen him since the proclamation in the temple, but he seemed to support the idea of the hunt. It had also been decided that Ankhesenamun would remain in Thebes to represent the King’s affairs in the business of government. Ay would also remain. Nothing he had done so far suggested he was other than supportive of the King’s proclamation.
I was worried, too, about the boy; Nakht told me his progress was very slow, and that I should expect no better. ‘Accept the worst, be appeased by anything better, and treat success as an impostor,’ he had advised me sententiously, when I had stopped at his city house to check on the boy’s condition. The boy looked almost mummified in the splints and linen bandages with which my old friend was attempting to heal his terrible injuries. I had noticed the stitch marks around his face were, gratifyingly, scabbed and beginning to heal. Of course, he could not see, but when I spoke to him, I saw recognition in his face.
‘Do you remember me?’ I asked quietly.
He nodded.
‘I have to go away, but I am leaving you in the care of this gentleman. His name is Nakht. He will care for you until I return. Don’t be afraid. He is a good man. And when I return, you and I will talk. Do you understand me?’
And eventually he had nodded once more, slowly. There was nothing more I could do, but hope against hope he was still alive when I returned to Thebes.
I was brought back from this memory by the crying, bleating and indignant calling of the ducks, chickens and goats as they were brought forth, stirred and panicked, to be loaded, alive, on to the ships. Teams of slaves carried trunk after trunk of provisions, already butchered, in crates and boxes, under salt. They carried on whole carcasses, white bones opaque in soft, dark slabs of meat. Storehouses of fruits and vegetables, sacks of grain, silver plates, fine linen cloths, goblets and cups…It seemed we were leaving for a visit to eternity. An overseer supervised, striding imperiously through the teams of workers, ticking items on a long papyrus where everything that might possibly be needed was carefully listed. I introduced myself, and asked him to explain to me everything that was being loaded. He nodded and gestured me to follow him towards the storerooms.
‘These provisions are just for the King and his entourage-those for the troops and the battalion of attendants are being stored on another transport ship which will go ahead of the royal ships, and prepare each night for the King’s arrival and his necessities,’ he said.
He turned suddenly between two guards, and entered a storeroom piled high.
‘And this is the royal equipment.’
He stood with his hands on his hips, surveying everything with a knowledgeable eye. Servants entered silently, and with his permission and instruction they began to move everything out.
There were four chariots, and a vast array of weapons-gold-and wood-inlaid cases of arrows, bows, spears, daggers, throwing sticks, whips. Also the necessities of royal comfort: fans, chairs, travelling stools, beds, boxes, thrones, canopies, alabaster lanterns, alabaster drinking cups, gold goblets, wardrobes of official robes, hunting outfits, ceremonial linens, jewellery, collars, make-up, unguents and oils. Everything was decorated with the richest of materials, or fashioned from the finest woods. But here, piled on the quayside, in the dark, lit only by the torches shivering now in the cool night breeze from the Red Land, it looked more like the paraphernalia of a homeless god. So much
I let them get on with their work. I returned to the ship, to see the King’s tame young lion being led aboard by its chain, sniffing the unfamiliar night air, and straining against its short leash. It was a splendid animal, its shoulders and head lolling sinuously as it padded silently along the deck to the prepared comfort of its luxurious cage at the stern. It settled there, licking its soft paws, and glancing with grave eyes at the wide world of the night, so close, and yet unattainable beyond the impassable bars. Then it yawned, as if accepting the fate of its comfortable prison, and settled its head to doze.
But then its ears pricked up, and it turned to look at a small commotion along the quay. A brief trumpet blast followed. The King’s slight, elegant figure appeared before a retinue of officials and guards. Ankhesenamun followed behind him, her head covered. They exchanged farewells, politely and publicly, and I saw Ay bending to whisper something into the King’s ear. Khay stood attentively to one side, as if he hoped he would be needed. Then Simut, in full military costume, invited the King to board the ship. Accompanied by his little golden monkey, Tutankhamun stepped carefully and elegantly up the gangplank, slim and wary in his white robes like an ibis wading in the reed marshes. When he stepped on to the ship’s deck, he turned, and made a gesture to those people still on dry land. It was a strange moment, as if he intended to make a speech, or to wave like a child. Everyone stood in silence, anticipating something. Then, as if he could not think of anything else, he simply nodded, and quickly disappeared into the cabin.
Ankhesenamun beckoned me over, while Ay was engaged in discussions with the captain of the ship.
‘Take care of him,’ she said quietly, as she turned the gold rings on her delicate and perfectly manicured fingers incessantly.
‘I am concerned for your own safety here in the palace. With Ay…’
She glanced at me.
‘I am used to being alone. And Ay appears to have decided to support what he could not oppose,’ she murmured.
‘Really?’
‘Of course, I do not trust him any more than I would trust a cobra. It is almost more disconcerting to have him as an apparent ally than as a clear foe. But he has brought with him the cooperation of the ministries, and the support of the priests. I suppose he believes he can still manage us according to his own grand designs.’
‘He is nothing if not pragmatic. He would have understood at once that opposition would have made things more difficult than collaboration. But he still has great powers…’ I said carefully.
She nodded.
‘I will not make the mistake of underestimating him, or of trusting him. But now there is a balance. His public operation of his powers has to be mediated through the King. And besides, he and I have a common enemy.’
‘Horemheb?’
‘Precisely. The King remains naive about the general. I am sure, wherever he may be, he will be plotting the next stage of his campaign for power. So take care in Memphis, for it is his city, not ours.’
I was about to reply when Ay, with his perfect ability to appear when least desired, interrupted us.
‘You have your authorizations and papers?’ he said, in his peremptory fashion.
I nodded.
‘The King has made his great proclamation, and those closest to him have supported him in his ambition. Now, the royal hunt must be seen to be accomplished. There would be grave disappointment should he fail to return with a lion as his trophy,’ he continued, more confidentially. His tone was dry as sand.
‘I know nothing about hunting lions. My responsibility is to keep him safe and well, and to return him here, and to a secure future,’ I said.
‘You will do exactly as you are ordered. And if you fail, the cost will be personally high.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There can be no question of misunderstanding, surely?’ he replied, as if surprised by the innocence of the question.
And then, with no more words, he bowed, and proposed to Ankhesenamun that they prepare for the ship’s departure.
The sixty or so oarsmen took up their oars through the gunwales and with a series of great efforts, to the beat of the drum, they began to row the great ship away from the dock. Across the slowly widening distance I saw Ankhesenamun watching us leave, with Ay. Then without a wave, like a pale figure returning to the underworld, she disappeared into the dark palace. Ay remained watching until we vanished from sight. I looked down at the black water, which swirled and eddied in secret currents, as if some sorcerer were stirring up strange fortunes and
