The ancient gates of the city of Aleppo opened at dawn, and we joined the throng of labourers going to the fields and of merchants and tradesmen setting off to work. We were glad to leave, for the second Prince of the Hittites, Viceroy of the City, had accommodated us with ill will. There was no brotherly love between him and Zannanza, for whom he displayed only a sneering condescension. Here also we had reached the border of Hittite- dominated territory. The Hittite guard, which had accompanied us from Hattusa, across the arid plains to the north, down through the poor villages and border towns, over the curling tracks of the cold mountain passes, dense with dark pines, and then across the plains towards Aleppo itself, would now turn back. They followed us a little way out of the city, suddenly stopped, stood to attention, offered a modest salute, and then simply rode away, as if relieved of a worrisome, distasteful responsibility. During the whole journey they had not exchanged one word, or one sign of friendliness with us.
Finally we were on our own. What lay ahead of us were unknown, uncertain wastelands, which for the last thirty years had been fought over, and for much longer had been extremely perilous to all travellers. Nakht had decided to take the trade road to Hamah, about five days to the south of Aleppo, and from there turn west, to rejoin the Way of the Sea at Byblos. The Hittite Crown Prince had arranged for us to be accommodated in fort-towns along the way, and given us documents to that effect.
It was a beautiful day. We set off into the unknown, our guards jogging before and behind. The road was lined with meadows, the dew was still heavy upon the fields, and birds sang in the branches of the trees and swooped along the trickling water courses. For the first time in many days, despite the perils that lay ahead, we all felt a weight lift from us. Even Prince Zannanza seemed to be touched by the beauty and the freshness of the early morning. Nakht said something politely to him, and he nodded, and almost smiled. For the whole journey up to this point he had been sunk in a profound, speechless depression; he had barely eaten, he had drunk little, and lack of sleep circled his elegant eyes with dark rings.
We rode together, Prince Zannanza in the middle, Nakht and I on either side, Simut and his guards before and behind. Nakht tried once again to engage the Prince in conversation.
‘Queen Ankhesenamun’s beauty is remarkable. Isn’t that so? Rahotep, I was just failing to find the words to describe her grace and her intelligence. She is quick-witted, and delightful in conversation.’
‘So why has she had to beg for a husband from her greatest enemy?’ Prince Zannanza asked quietly, in perfect-if accented-Egyptian.
Nakht began to answer him, but the Prince interrupted.
‘I am not a fool. I know what families will do for power and glory. My father has sold me; I am merely a commodity, bartered for political gain. And when I am no longer useful, I know I will be disposed of without a second thought.’
‘That is not so, Your Majesty. As long as I live I will serve you, and protect your life with my own,’ replied Nakht earnestly.
Prince Zannanza gazed at him.
‘And how long can I hope to survive in your Egyptian royal court, which is so notoriously full of assassins and betrayers?’ he replied. ‘And who are you?’ he said, turning to me unexpectedly.
‘Life, prosperity, health, Your Majesty. I am Rahotep.’
‘Tell me about yourself,’ commanded the Prince.
I could hear Simut coughing with amusement behind me.
‘What would Your Majesty care to know?’
‘You are not a noble, yet you are not a guard. Why are you here?’
I glanced at Nakht, who was following the unexpected progress of this conversation carefully.
‘The Queen of Egypt commanded my presence,’ I said. ‘I am a Seeker of Mysteries and worked for the Thebes Medjay.’
‘She must value your loyalty highly,’ he replied.
I could think of nothing to say to that. He gazed at me.
‘I see something else in your eyes. You carry a dark anger in your heart, don’t you, Rahotep, Seeker of Mysteries?’
I was taken aback.
‘I recognize the signs all too well. I, too, was not made for the darkness of men’s cruelty. But the Gods make fools of us all,’ he continued. And then he spurred his horse, and cantered forward a little, to return to his solitude.
Simut winked, and clapped me on the shoulder, whispering into my ear: ‘I think the Prince has taken a liking to you. “The Gods make fools of us all…”’
‘You’re just jealous,’ I replied.
We both laughed. Nakht was not amused.
The sun rose quickly as we travelled onwards, and soon the land began to simmer with heat. Later, up ahead, in the dazzle and shimmer of the afternoon, one of the reconnaissance guards suddenly stopped and whistled a warning. Simut and I cantered up to join him on a slight rise in the terrain. He gestured for silence, and pointed from his eyes to a square mud-brick building in the distance. It was hard to make it out in the glare of the light. ‘It’s an outpost. That’s a water cistern in the middle,’ he said.
‘So where is everyone?’ I asked.
There seemed to be no watchmen, nor any soldiers moving about on duty. In fact, the place was eerily silent, as if it had been abandoned. Wiping the sweat from our brows, we scanned the parched, empty terrain.
Simut and I dismounted and, taking two of his guards with us, made our way slowly and quietly towards the fort. There was nowhere for us to hide if we came under attack. The guards held their bows at the ready. The desert land was utterly silent all around us, and we made no sound either. I examined the dusty ground, step by step; it was heavily marked with the prints of horses’ hooves, and sandals, and bare feet, running crazily in all directions. As we came closer to the fort itself, spots, arcs and trails of dried black blood decorated the dirt. It was the diagram of a battle. But where were the dead?
Simut scanned the place, then motioned the two guards to cover us, their bows aimed at the walls; then, swift and silent as shadows, Simut and I ran across the dangerous open ground until we had our backs against the wall of the gatehouse. I wiped away the sweat dripping from my forehead; we listened for any sound within the fort. Still there was nothing. All I could hear was the buzzing of flies. Simut instructed the guards to position themselves directly before the gateway, and then, with a nod, he and I burst through into the inner court, our weapons raised.
Instantly we were overcome by an appalling stench, and we pulled our linens to our noses. We were confronted by the scene of a massacre: a platoon of Egyptian soldiers had been slaughtered, their limbs, hands and feet indiscriminately severed with crude blows from their torsos. The bodies had begun to putrefy in the intense heat. This was a recent event. And then it struck me.
‘There are no heads,’ I whispered to Simut.
‘So where are they?’ he answered.
We searched the fort. Everything was destroyed: the crude wooden benches were smashed, the storage jars and bowls were shattered, and the straw sleeping pallets were slashed open. There were smears and pools of blood on the floor and across the walls.
I held up my hand for silence. Something was bothering me; a remote buzzing sound. I approached the small circular water cistern. With the tip of my dagger I lifted the lid. Instantly, a black cloud of flies swarmed out. I stepped back quickly, waving them away. When they had settled again, with my linens wound around my face and head, I pushed open the cistern lid and glanced inside. Crammed into the dark, dank well of the water hole was a platoon’s-worth of severed heads, staring sightlessly up at me, still dripping with blood, poisoning the once-fresh water below.
27
Simut sent out his men to reconnoitre the land around the fort. They found nothing in the immediate vicinity, having followed the horse tracks for some distance, heading away to the west. So he posted the lookout guards,
