Tutankhamun: The Book of Shadows

spells of special protection, would be secreted within the folds and layers of the fine linens, with utterances and spells to accompany each action-for every action had to adhere precisely to the traditions if it were to have value in the afterlife. Finally, the death mask would be fitted, so that this last face of gold could identify the dead man, and allow his ka and ba spirits to reunite with his body in the tomb.

The Controller of the Mysteries stood at the foot of the embalming table, looking down at the King’s body. Everything was ready for the work of purification to begin. Then he turned his gaze on me. I could see the white of his hidden eyes through the elegant holes in the black of his mask. In the close silence, all his assistants turned to stare at me. It was time to leave.

36

I knocked on the door to Khay’s office. After a moment his assistant answered. He glanced anxiously at me.

‘My master is occupied,’ he said urgently, trying to get between me and the door to the inner chamber.

‘I am sure he can spare me a few moments of his precious time.’

I walked through the antechamber, and into Khay’s office. His bony face was flushed. He was taken aback, and was not sober enough to cover it well.

‘The great Seeker of Mysteries makes his grand entrance…’

I saw he had a full cup of wine upon his low table, and there was a small amphora on its stand beside it.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour. I thought you might be at home, with your family. Do you have a home and a family?’

He squinted at me.

‘What do you want, Rahotep? I’m busy…’

‘So I see.’

‘At least some of us are committed to a certain level of competence in our work.’

I ignored him.

‘I’ve discovered a very curious thing.’

‘Good to hear our Seeker of Mysteries has discovered something…’

His mouth seemed to be working slightly in advance of his brain.

‘Mutnodjmet resides within the walls of this palace.’

His chin was now raised, his eyes suddenly wary.

‘What bearing could that have upon your business here?’

‘She is Horemheb’s wife, and aunt to Ankhesenamun.’

He clapped his hands together, his face a caricature.

‘Such meticulous research into the family tree!’

But he was nervous, behind the irony.

‘So can you confirm she is being held within the palace?’

‘As I said, the subject has no bearing on the matter at hand.’

I moved closer. Tiny broken veins were pulsing delicately in the puffy, crinkled skin around his eyes. He was subsiding fast into middle age. The stress of his elevated position would not help, and he would not be the first to take to wine as a consolation.

‘I have a different opinion of the matter, and so please answer the question.’

‘I am not here to be interrogated by you.’

His feathers were up now.

‘As you know, I have the authority of the King and Queen to pursue my inquiries wherever they may take me, and I cannot comprehend why there should be such an issue about answering a very simple question,’ I replied.

He blinked at me, wavering slightly. Eventually he answered:

‘She is not being held, as you put it. She lives out her life in her own wing of accommodation within the comforts and security of the royal quarters.’

‘That is not what I have heard.’

‘Well, people do talk such rubbish.’

‘If it is all so nice and easy, why has no one told me about this?’

‘Ha! You are desperate for some direction in your futile investigation of the mystery. But it has now become quite pointless, and I would advise you against pursuing this line of inquiry.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it will prove a dead end.’

‘Why are you so sure?’

‘She is a poor lunatic who has not left her quarters for many years. What can she possibly have to do with all of this…?’

He turned away. His hands quivered slightly as he raised the wine cup and drank a deep draught.

‘Take me to see her. Now.’

He put down his cup too quickly, and some of the wine splashed on his hand. He looked incensed by this, and instead of wiping it away, he licked it off.

‘You have no grounds for such an interview.’

‘Should I trouble Ay or the Queen with this request?’

He wavered.

‘When there is so much else of really vital importance going on, it really is too ridiculous, but I suppose if you insist…’

‘Let us go, then.’

‘It is late. The Princess will have retired. Tomorrow.’

‘No. Now. Who knows what hours lunatics keep?’

We set off down the corridors. I hoped to keep a bird’s view of our progress, like a plan inscribed on the papyrus of my memory, because I wanted to be able to locate her quarters exactly, and find them again if I needed to. But it was not a simple matter, for corridors dwindled to passageways, and became more crooked and narrow. Beautiful wall paintings of papyrus marshes, and images of rivers full of perfect fish beneath our feet, gave way to mundane plainly painted plaster walls and dried-mud floors. The finely wrought oil lamps that lined the main passageways became more ordinary, such as one might find in any reasonably comfortable home.

Finally we came to a simple doorway. No insignia decorated the lintel. No guards stood before it. It could have been the doorway to a storeroom. The bolts were tied together, and sealed. Khay was perspiring; tiny beads of sweat gathered on his noble forehead. I nodded. He knocked, not very confidently. We listened, but there was no sign of movement.

‘She must have retired for the night.’

He relaxed visibly, and turned to leave.

‘Knock harder,’ I suggested.

He hesitated, so I did it myself, with my fist.

More silence. Perhaps this was a useless chase, after all.

And then I heard footsteps, very quiet, moving across the floor. The faintest glow of light appeared under the door. Someone was definitely there. A tiny star of light appeared in the door, at eye level. Whoever it was observed us through a peephole.

And then the door rattled with a mad fury.

Khay jumped back.

I broke the seal myself, quickly untied the knots of the cord that bound the bolts, and threw open the doors.