Egypt

to eat slowly.

‘They say I was born with a knife between my teeth. I made my first kill when I was ten years old,’ she said quietly.

‘And what did you kill?’ I asked, assuming she meant animals on a hunt.

‘Sometimes travellers and merchants risked the paths into our valley. So I waited, and soon enough, along came a caravan. They thought I was just a child. They were stupid. They didn’t take me seriously. I took a merchant hostage, with my blade to his throat, and I made the others give me gold and a horse in exchange for their master’s life.’

‘And then?’

‘And then I slit his throat,’ she said calmly, and took another careful bite of her meat.

I said nothing. I wanted her to talk.

‘Men always assumed they could beat me, and abuse me. And when I was too young to know how to take revenge, they did. Often. But as soon as I learned to defend myself, I began to kill them with my knife. And from then they learned to take me seriously.’

She let that hang in the air.

‘Revenge is important,’ I said.

Her eyes scrutinized mine. I made myself hold her gaze for as long as possible.

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked.

‘Because a great friend of mine was murdered. I live with the hunger for revenge every day of my life.’

‘You might yet have the opportunity to satisfy your hunger,’ she said mysteriously.

‘I desire that greatly,’ I replied.

‘Then you must please me greatly,’ she said.

I tried to return her look. I knew I must try to do as Nakht had commanded me.

‘How many men have you killed?’ I asked.

‘Why? Are you impressed by blood?’

‘I am impressed by you,’ I replied. And it was almost true. For all her barbarity, there was something compelling about her. She pretended to be defiantly scornful of my praise, but I saw I had touched on something. And then I realized: she was lonely.

‘Men love fear,’ she said. ‘It makes them feel alive. But you are different. Perhaps you have passed beyond fear because of the power of your desire for revenge.’

The light from the oil wicks quivered. The walls of the room wavered with shifting shadows.

‘The Hittite Prince in your cell is an extremely valuable prize. His father would pay handsomely for his return.’

She didn’t reply, but merely poured new wine from an especially finely wrought jug. I tried again.

‘Egypt has all the gold in the world. Negotiate with Thebes for his release. You will be handsomely rewarded.’

She passed one of the goblets to me.

‘If Egypt and Hatti both value that pretty boy so much, perhaps I should have him write two letters, and then cut off his hands, and send them one each, holding his plea, as proof he is alive and in my possession.’

I noticed how she tested the bouquet of the wine, and drank thoughtfully.

‘I do not care to know why the son of the Hittite King is travelling by such a route, in such secrecy, to the Egyptian court. Nor do I care why high-ranking Egyptian officials accompany him. Nor why the man who commissioned your kidnapping wants you all dead by his own hand. It is of no consequence to me.’

‘It is of consequence to me,’ I replied.

Our shadows wavered against the walls. She clasped her ringed fingers together and regarded me carefully. Her beauty sometimes shimmered to the surface, and sometimes vanished into a cold mask of anger.

‘There is nothing you can do to save your friends or this Hittite Prince. They are already dead. But you can make another choice for yourself.’

‘I would never choose my own survival at the price of my friends’ death,’ I replied.

‘Of course you could. I might offer you a new life. If you joined me here, you would enjoy the best fruits of this world, and the next. By my side.’

What could I say?

‘I am honoured by your offer…’ I said. ‘Give me time to consider it…’

‘You will not refuse me,’ she said quietly. ‘You must choose. Death, or life.’

Our eyes held each other’s gaze again, and this time I did not look away.

She clapped her hands, and a servant hurried in, carrying a beautifully inlaid wooden box, a silver dish on long, elegant legs, and a candle. She opened the lid, and took out a small piece of something dark brown, and sticky. She placed it in the dish, and let it heat and melt over the candle flame. Then, as it began to fume, she earnestly chanted a short prayer.

‘To which God are you praying?’ I said.

‘To no god! To my Goddess. The Queen of the Underworld. To Ishtar.’

‘She is unknown to me,’ I said, recalling how the Babylonian Queen in Hatti had identified the symbol of the black star.

‘She is the Goddess of Love and War. She has wings of many colours. Her feet are the talons of an eagle. She stands on the back of two lions. In her hands she holds the rod and ring of justice. She is all-powerful.’

Then she offered me her bejewelled hand.

‘Come,’ she said simply. ‘It is time to meet her. It is time to dream.’

31

The time contained in a drop of water is infinite. As I stared at it, gathering itself into itself in its own time, I knew a thousand years was held in the swelling beauty of the water drop. A golden tranquillity flowed through me, and it was the warmth and light of Ra himself. My hands and feet were heavy with calm, and very far away. I could, if I desired, raise my right hand and gather the stars like jewels from the sky, or carefully pick the moon from the vast dark and hold it in my palm, delicate as a moth. The walls of the chamber swam like clear water. The flames of the lamps moved freely, like fish, through the passing of time, through the insubstantial reigns of gods and kings. That which was near was also far away. Everything was illuminated with beauty and a calm glory. I was dreaming, but more awake than I had ever felt in my life, which all now seemed a dream; the pains and fears of the past diminished to tiny figures on reed boats set to sail on the sunlit ocean of the Otherworld. I was part of the endless sparkling glory of its waters. I moved forward, sweeping the lights with my hands, holding the glitter up to my face, going deeper and deeper into the endless delight of the light…

Very slowly I rose up from the depths of the dream. I felt I had been with the Gods. But I felt inexplicably saddened to awake to the world, to the chamber, to the couch. Inanna was beside me, still lost in her own dream. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes flickered under her eyelids. We were both naked. Her skin was warm and soft against mine. Sudden fear gripped my heart in its fist. I moved quickly away from her and stood in the dark, the chamber spinning around me. What had happened? What had I done? I struggled to remember the events of the night. I recalled the invitation to partake of the drug; then wanting to vomit; but next being overcome by a slow, golden sensation of tranquillity and bliss. And then I remembered Inanna chanting to her Goddess, and stripping naked before me-and I had been dazzled.

My mouth was dry. Panic danced through my body. I tried to breathe slowly, but Inanna stirred, and rolled over, stretching like a cat. And she saw me, and smiled, and reached for me. And then I knew exactly what I had done.

Before she could see the look on my face, I bent to the washbowl, and cupped water in my shaking hands, and splashed the water on my face. I had to bring myself back. I had experienced a kind of bliss, but now all I felt was torment. I had to get away from her. I moved silently to the doors, but when I opened them, two guards stood facing me, and waved me back into the chamber. Inanna beckoned to me.