Egypt Page 14

  He seemed breathless. I was determined to keep him talking.

  ‘Shall we continue?’ I suggested. He nodded.

  ‘I asked you about opium because I believe there is a black market trading in it, which is connected to the new kind of gang in Thebes,’ I said. ‘You have confirmed the black star is the sign of the Army of Chaos. Now I need to know how they transport the opium, where they get it, and how it is sold into Egypt.’

  Paser stopped dead in his tracks.

  ‘Let me warn you, Rahotep, friend to friend. Opium is the worst of trades, and the most violent. No one who enters it lives long.’

  ‘As my friend Khety discovered to his cost. Do you know how they butchered him?’ I asked. My hands were suddenly sweaty and shaking. I wiped them against my robe.

  ‘I do not, nor do I wish to hear it,’ he replied.

  We arrived at the sea wall itself and climbed the hewn steps, smoothed by innumerable feet over the ages, in silence, until we stood, shading our eyes, admiring the beauty of the coastline, green with trees and fields, grey where it was rocky, and beyond it the great spectacle of the open, ever-changing sea.

  ‘I will not seek revenge for Khety’s death while on this journey. I know I have my job to do. But I have to know. If I don’t know, I can’t live with myself,’ I said.

  Paser glanced at me and sighed.

  ‘I will tell you something, but it must remain absolutely between ourselves. Is that understood?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I promised.

  ‘Everything is upside down in these strange days. Everything is in flux, and that is good for those who would do evil, and make their fortunes from chaos. These long wars have had strange consequences: they have created unreliable borders; they have allowed local conflicts to develop into shifting and unreliable allegiances that in turn have adversely affected the great empires. The balance of power is no longer certain. Chieftains are able to play off kings for their allegiance. No matter what they promise and swear about loyalty and long-established political alliances and so on, every one of them is motivated by selfish imperatives; and in the case of the small kingdoms that means not only taking every advantage of the usual markets of international trade, but also of the opportunities of the black market. Do you understand?’ he said.

  I nodded. ‘The wars have opened up the black markets to the gangs, and now they have power, while Egypt is losing control…’ I said.

  ‘Quite so. And in addition, Egypt has become arrogant. It has assumed its absolute superiority without doing the necessary political work to ensure its respect in the world. It has committed injustices against the peoples of this region. It has too often ignored its vassals and its allies, and where it has not ignored them it has treated them with contempt. I say this as a loyal Egyptian, but I see the negative consequences everywhere here, on the ground.’

  Paser leaned in closer to me.

  ‘Of course, no one wants to hear this. Not even Nakht. But I fear Egypt sowing the seeds of its own disaster. This war has produced the best possible conditions for the success of a different kind of crime: one that extends beyond these newly permeable borders. The black market is now bigger and more powerful than it has ever been. In its scale and its scope it could one day even challenge the financial might of Egypt herself. So you see, your question goes to the heart of the matter.’

  I thought about this.

  ‘And opium has become one of the most lucrative of all the black market commodities?’

  He looked around and waited until a group of strolling sightseers had passed, so that no one might overhear us.

  ‘It is the most lucrative. And therefore the most dangerous.’

  ‘Is it for sale, here?’

  ‘Of course it is. But I trust you are not so naive as to think you can single-handedly trace it to its source, and destroy it. It is a many-headed serpent. Certainly, you might find it here, being offered to you by a child on the street. That boy is only the lowest-level seller. You would most likely not find the man behind the deal, but if you did you would certainly not find the man behind that man, and so on, and so on. These men are not merchants. These are not domestic, petty criminals. We Egyptians are a people who admire order. We worship the Goddess Maat, Keeper of Justice and Harmony–in the seasons, the stars, and the relations between the Gods and mortals! But she is not the only God of power. There is Seth, God of Chaos and Confusion, patron of deserts and wild places, abhorred creature, part-dog, part-donkey, with his forked tail, he who confronts and blinds Horus, he who murdered Osiris himself, he who would be ruler of the Earth!’

  He wiped his brow, and laughed a little.

  ‘I thought we were talking of men, not Gods,’ I said.

  ‘Indeed. But I will tell you something. I have my ear to the ground, and there are those who are saying Seth is here again, walking unseen among the living. They say his time has come again. They say there is a man come forth in our day who will be Seth the Destroyer.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘It does not take a seer to imagine who might be the first candidate for such a role. I imagine Aziru, from what you said last night, would relish it,’ I said. ‘Does this mysterious man have a name?’

  ‘If he does, I do not know it,’ replied Paser, carefully.

  ‘Have you heard the name Obsidian at any point?’

  Paser glanced at me.

  ‘No, I have not. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I have heard this name spoken in connection with the opium trade in Thebes.’

  The shouts and noise of the marketplace below us suddenly seemed far away.

  ‘My friend Khety was killed by a mysterious new cartel in Thebes. Now you have confirmed that the papyrus left in his mouth is the sign of the Army of Chaos. And they probably have a connection with Aziru, who is, most likely, allied with the Hittites. Does there not seem to you to be a chain of connections between my beheaded friend in Thebes and where we are standing now?’

  Paser blew out his cheeks, as if he was about to say something, but chose to remain silent. We gazed out in silence at the incongruously glorious vision of glittering water, of beautiful, busy ships, and the great panorama of the trade of the world. I turned around to gaze at the vast city. The mountains in the far distance were capped with dazzling snow. I tried another tack.

  ‘Let’s assume the supply chain runs along the course of the Great River, and along the trade routes, via Bubastis and the other eastern delta towns. Let’s suppose local officials, motivated by greed or fear, each take their place in the process, to maximize efficiency and minimize risk. Let’s imagine the chain ranges from low-level street dealers, through the gangs, and the middlemen, up to the top level: gangsters whose corrupt influence reaches into the heart of the empire’s power. But it all starts with the crop. Where does it come from? Where is it grown? And how could such quantities be smuggled all the way to Egypt’s cities, even if corruption were able to control everything?’

  Paser nodded at the forbidding range of mountains in the distance.

  ‘Beyond those mountains, to the south-east, are remote, high valleys–wild, barbaric, extremely dangerous places. Hidden away inaccessibly, the highest, most remote valley is secret, and closely guarded. No one who goes there ever returns. They say it is long and narrow, green and lush in the south, drier and harsher in the north. The summers are long and dry. And they say it is a perfect paradise, for any seed you drop on the earth will grow…’ he said.

  ‘So that is where your glorious wine comes from?’ I said. Paser nodded. But then I realized the other connection. ‘And it is also the perfect land for the cultivation of opium.’

  ‘I did not say so,’ he replied. ‘And you must not let the royal envoy know we have talked about anything but wine. Wine is safe, at least.’

  ‘Our conversation is private. But if it is so dangerous there, how do you acquire that glorious wine?’ I asked.

  ‘Almost all of the wine I acquire and sell comes from this si
de of the mountains. But very occasionally a consignment from that valley comes on to the market, privately. I know how to acquire it, of course for a very high price, for my most discerning customers.’

  ‘And have you been there yourself?’

  He laughed briefly.

  ‘Of course not! Do you think I do not value my life?’

  ‘But if I wanted to go there, do you have contacts who could guide me?’ I asked.

  His hands flew up in frustration. I had pushed him too far.

  ‘Have you listened to a single word I have said? You must swear to me to put aside all such thoughts! You could never survive there. It is a place of terrible poverty and extreme tribal violence.’ He was sweating hard now. ‘I will tell you a story. They say the reason the wine is so perfect, so dark and complex, is because the vines are fed with human blood. The gang that runs this garden paradise is the Army of Chaos. That valley is their homeland.’

  Part Three

  May you flow forth who comes in darkness and enters furtively…

  Spell for the protection of a child

  18

  We sailed out of the harbour of Ugarit aboard a Hittite merchant vessel fully loaded with Egyptian grain, and turned north once more. The sparse coastline of the land to our east remained always in view, because, for all sailors, the open seas of this voyage were notorious for their perils: pirates from the island of Alishiya, who could ram, board, rob and murder; and perhaps even worse, sudden disastrous storms that could wreck a ship in moments. But we were lucky with the weather, for the sky remained clear and the wind reliably strong. However, the boat struggled with the contradictory waves, and the rolling rise and fall affected everyone; for the first few days I felt sick, and could only find relief on deck, in the open air, with my eyes set upon the horizon. Nakht suffered greatly; he remained confined to his pallet in the airless cabin of the ship, where he lay sweating, unable to eat or move, his eyes closed, in silent surrender to the unrelenting power of the waters.

  But under the protection of Ra, after four days at sea, we safely reached the port of Ura in sparkling sunlight. A wide green plain spread around the port and its extensive domains. Not even pausing for one night of rest, we set off immediately in a long caravan towards the Hittite heartlands. Ambassador Hattusa took command of the journey from this point; he seemed impatient to return to his home again.

  We passed through small, carefully cultivated fields and meadows; I saw several kinds of wheat and barley, together with beans and peas, carrots, leeks, garlic and herbs. Their olive trees were gnarled with age, and their neat orchards dense with unfamiliar fruits. Every house or shack raised its own pig, hens, sheep, goats and, perhaps, if they were unusually affluent, a cow. Smiling children came to barter respectfully, with figs and apricots, pomegranates, tamarisk, honey and cheeses. We replenished the food cart for the journey ahead.

  Then we left this verdant plain behind us, and began to trek up winding routes of grey, dusty, well-maintained tracks that rose through stony valleys. Dense stands of thin silver trees with rustling green leaves in the shape of hearts grew beside rushing waters, which tumbled down impassable crevasses. By bridges and at crossroads, we came upon little shrines to the deities of the place: crudely carved statues of shapeless females, which Nakht pronounced fertility Goddesses, and offerings of wild flowers left in cracked jars. As we ascended higher, strange mists gathered and drifted among the sharp green angles of the forests, resolved into sudden, light rains that refreshed our faces, then vanished again into sunlight. When we rested, we gazed back down at the vast empty valleys below us–wildernesses of forest and rock and barren brown land, under blue skies and drifting temples of pure white clouds.

  Finally, after three days of climbing, we found ourselves on a high, windswept plateau. It was liberally scattered, as if by a careless builder-god, with handfuls of huge, spare rocks and the rubble of innumerable leftover stones. Richly scented, woody herbs grew in every nook and cranny in dense, thorny bushes, throwing up intensely bright red and white blooms on bristling stems; unseen streams argued their way through narrow declivities, and the muscular, buffeting wind carried a sharp, chilling freshness. We camped for the night near an escarpment, and in the grey light of the next day’s dawn we stood together, gazing in astonishment at an ocean of fog and mist that had risen up in silence in the darkness, and now covered the world below; it moved slowly in massive divisions that swept over our heads, but had no power to harm us at all. I looked at us: a band of weary Egyptian travellers, strangers in a strange world.

  We moved on into a lost, high land, yellow and brown and grey under blue skies, where the wind swept its great hands over and through the wild grasses in huge waves. We passed large flocks of sheep and herds of cattle being driven to the higher pastures by shepherds, their wrinkled faces tanned by the sun and wind; they whistled to their capable, intelligent dogs, who accomplished dizzyingly complex manoeuvres to corral the animals. We passed outcrops of red and grey rocks jutting out of green slanting fields; and we paused to stare at misty valleys falling away to the left or the right, into sunlight or shade. Wild horses, nut-brown and silver-grey, grazed on the gold and silver grasses, flicking their tails and ignoring us unless we came too close–and then they cantered away, kicking and tossing their manes, and rising up on their hind legs. We came upon a lake of dark, cold water, still as a bronze mirror, cupped in the huge rocky hand of a mountain God, his head far, far away in the sky, crowned with the whiteness of snow.

  And then, one afternoon, as we crossed a vast dry plain of gold grasses, up ahead through the heat haze we saw a strange cloud of dust; Hattusa raised his hand and pointed. His bodyguards cantered forwards, away around a curve in the way, and disappeared. We waited in silence. Simut and his guards were on alert, and swiftly took up positions, their weapons flashing in the sunlight. I stood close to Nakht, my dagger and a long spear ready in my hands. We listened intently; we heard the whispering of the wind through the sea of grasses, and the singing of unseen tiny birds, high in the clear sky. But there was something else too: a faint, distant murmur, as of many animals, sighing and moving.

  Then the Hittite guards reappeared, and signalled us forward. Simut’s guards maintained their alert, and I insisted on riding before Nakht. But as we rounded the corner, instead of a long train of animals on their way to pasture, we saw a multitude of the most dismal, desolate people: long columns of foreign captives, men, women and children, taken from plundered and besieged towns and cities, and now being driven like cattle to Hattusa. They stumbled, groaned and shuffled, goaded and pushed ever onwards by Hittite soldiers.

  ‘These are booty people,’ said Nakht, quietly. ‘They are being taken to a life of indentured labour in the Hittite homeland.’

  ‘If they survive,’ I added.

  Even as we passed, an emaciated woman collapsed, and was simply left where she fell, as carrion for the menacing dark hawks that continually hovered and swooped in the blue sky. The booty people turned away from us instinctively; none were permitted to look in our direction. I glanced at Hattusa, who rode ahead, apparently impervious to this spectacle of misery.

  ‘What sort of people treat their prisoners in this way?’ I said quietly to Nakht.

  ‘With so many able-bodied men at the wars, they are always short of manual labourers. These people will live out their lives as best they can,’ he replied.

  ‘But there’s something inhuman about this–look at them. They’re less than animals.’

  ‘We are not here to criticize the practices of the Hittites,’ he replied. ‘But I admit, the sight is distressing. The Hittites are not perhaps as advanced as we are in their treatment of slaves.’

  Suddenly, one of the captives surged out of the column of men, and caught my foot in his grasp. He was younger than I, and something about his features, and his black hair, however dirty with dust, reminded me of Khety. I realized his eyes were the same colour as Khety’s, and they were staring at me desp
erately. He uttered some words in a language I could not understand, but I knew they were pleas for help. He gripped my leg again, as if to pull me from my horse. Instinctively, in shock, and determined to protect Nakht against any danger, I kicked back against him, but he held on with the strength of despair. All at once, he was enraged, calling upon the other men close to him to join him; but to his despair they merely gazed on in a kind of apathy. A young woman, presumably his wife, clutching a bundle that must have held a baby, began to scream; and then very quickly his captors closed in on him, and one clubbed the man’s skull, and he loosened his grip, and with a low moan fell away from me, into the dust.

  ‘Don’t look back,’ commanded Nakht, but I felt that man’s desperate eyes on me every step of the way. What could I have done? I asked myself, over and over. I told myself, nothing. And yet he haunted me, and his face blurred with Khety’s. I could have saved Khety, too, if I had listened to him more carefully.

  The landscape ahead seemed to mirror my dark mood, for the open plateau now gave way to dense, endless forests of dark trees with sharp, viridian needles. Their strange angular shadows fell across the way, creating worrying unseen hiding places, where birds and creatures rustled, and sudden crickets let off their alarms. Everything made me nervous now; such forests could easily disguise bandits or enemies waiting in ambush. And then, one morning, as we rode, suddenly we were surrounded by a group of men on horseback. They appeared out of the forests, before and then behind us, shouting orders in an incomprehensible language. Simut’s guards immediately deployed into a defensive cordon around Nakht, and I raised my spear in readiness. My heart was beating fast. I looked around for any possible route of escape, but all I saw were the impossible depths of the dark trees.

  But the ambassador called out in his own language, and raised his hand in salute, and the leading horseman of the group responded with the same gesture. Then the ambassador turned to Nakht.