Tutankhamun: The Book of Shadows

‘Our symbol is a black circle. It is the symbol of what we call the night sun.’

At last I had found the answer to that enigma. I quoted back his own words to him: ‘The Sun at rest in Osiris, Osiris at rest in the Sun.’

He looked askance.

‘My friend. I must ask you this. When I described the carving with the sun disc destroyed, and when I asked you about the eclipse, and we went to the astronomical archives, you must have recognized the connection. Is that not the truth?’

He nodded, miserably.

I let him dangle on the sharp hook of his own guilt for a little while.

‘What does it mean?’ I said, eventually.

‘In the simplest form, it means that in the darkest hour of the night, the soul of Ra is reunited with the body and soul of Osiris. This allows Osiris, and indeed all the dead of the Two Lands, to be reborn. It is the holiest, most profound moment in all creation. But it has never been witnessed by any mortal. It is the greatest of all the Mysteries.’

He was silent for a moment, unwilling to meet my eye.

‘I asked you about this before. And you did not tell me this most crucial detail. I might have identified Sobek much more quickly. I might have saved lives.’

He was frustrated again.

‘We are a secret society! The relevant word is “secret”! And at the time I did not see any truly compelling reason to betray the sacred oaths I took.’

‘And, as it turned out, you were wrong,’ I replied.

To his credit, he nodded and looked appalled.

‘The consequences of our slightest deeds seem never to be in our power. I try to control my life, but I see now, life controls me. And at moments like this, I feel I have the blood of innocent people on my conscience.’

‘No, you don’t. But if you are feeling in need of moral redemption, then help me now. Please.’

He nodded.

‘I suppose, logically, Sobek is working for either Ay or Horemheb, most likely the latter, for he benefits greatly from the King’s death.’

‘And if that is so, then catching him before he can wreak any more chaos is imperative. Horemheb’s ship of state is moored by the Malkata Palace. He has proposed to Ankhesenamun. She is considering his offer.’

‘May the Gods preserve us from that destiny. Tell me your plan,’ he said quietly.

‘I believe Sobek is obsessed with visions. I also believe he is fascinated by hallucinogenic mysteries and substances. He seems to be also fascinated by what happens in the moment between life and death. I think that is why he drugs his victims and watches closely as they die. He is searching for something in that moment. This might bear comparison with the interests of your secret society-the moment of darkness and renewal?’

Nakht nodded.

‘Now, Pentu, the King’s physician, mentioned to me that there is said to be another, very rare, fungus reputed to give the power of immortal vision; he said all that was known of it is that it grows only in the far boreal regions of the world. Do you know anything about this?’

Nakht nodded.

‘Certainly. It is mentioned in the secret books. I can give you a much more detailed account. It is said to be a red-capped fungus, which only thrives in remote forests of silver trees with golden leaves. Its existence is highly speculative. No one has ever held such a thing in his hand. Anyway, it is said to be a means by which its priests die to the world, experience a vision of the Gods themselves, and then return to life. They also say that, used incorrectly, it is a powerful poison, and results in madness. I always considered it a kind of esoteric fable of spiritual enlightenment rather than something that existed in the real world.’

‘What matters now is that it might exist, and that if one had such a fungus, it would be an object of obsessive fascination to such a man as Sobek. A vision is sometimes far more powerful than reality itself…’ I said.

Nakht shook his head doubtfully.

‘Your plan depends upon something that does not exist.’

‘Sobek has used the power of the imagination against us himself. And so there’s a kind of poetic justice in using it against him, isn’t there?’

‘What a strange world this is,’ he replied, ‘Medjay detectives describing their work in terms of poetry and justice.’

I ignored his quip.

‘In any case, the person who will pretend to have obtained the mysterious, magical fungus is you,’ I replied quickly.

He looked aghast.

‘Me?’

‘Who else? I cannot very well present myself at your secret society, can I?’

He shrugged, realizing he was trapped.

‘We’ll need to concoct a good story about how you obtained it,’ I continued. ‘Where do you get your seeds from, the rare ones in the gardens?’

‘They are sent to me by merchants from all over the kingdom. Let me think. Ah! There’s one in the town of Carchemish on the Mittani border. He supplies me with very rare and interesting seeds and bulbs which come from the north.’

‘Excellent. A connection like that will bear investigation. You could say he obtained the hallucinogen from a dealer with contacts along a new trade route,’ I suggested.

‘That is just about plausible; to the east of the great inland sea beyond the northern borders of the Hatti kingdom there is a fabled and impassable mountain range where snow reigns permanently, and no traveller can survive. But it is also said that there is a secret route through those mountains, leading to another realm beyond, of endless forests and desolate plains, frozen in ice, white as the purest limestone, where primitive peoples, pale and straw-haired and blue-eyed, wearing the furs of beasts and the feathers of golden birds, live in palaces of ice.’

‘It sounds horrible,’ I said.

I had put Nakht in a dangerous situation. But he knew I had no other choice. If, as I believed, our man was obsessed with dreams and visions, and since I knew he was a member of the secret society, then this was the best lure.

‘So all you need to do now is send a discreet message in your no-doubt secret language, proposing to your secret-holding fellows that you will bring the hallucinogen to a meeting tomorrow night, so that they can inspect and experiment with this mysterious marvel of visions. Perhaps you could even offer the temptation of a live experiment.’

‘On whom, may I ask?’ he said nervously.

‘I am sure Khety will be willing to represent the victim, given what is at stake.’

‘Well, a message is not necessary. Tomorrow night we celebrate the last night of the Mysteries of Osiris. I suppose you do not know that the last month of the inundation is the time of his festival? As the flood waters recede, so we celebrate the rites of resurrection. Following the days and nights of lamentation, we celebrate the triumph of the God. Tomorrow night, in fact.’

44

I was desperate to return to my home, to check that all was well, and that the guard I had ordered Khety to organize was in place. I could afford to take no chances with my family. But as I turned a corner in the riddle of the lanes of the oldest part of the city, I saw a shape whirring through the air, and felt a blow, spreading with something like painful warmth across the side of my head, and then all was darkness.

I came to my senses on the filthy floor of the lane. Thoth was nuzzling my face with his wet muzzle. The shadows of four men stood over me. They were wearing the kilt of the army. One of them tried to kick Thoth, but