Egypt Page 22

  Nakht’s face was dark. He was thinking.

  ‘It seems to me we have one chance left to save ourselves,’ he said eventually.

  ‘And what’s that?’ asked Simut.

  ‘Inanna’s interest in Rahotep. She likes you. So we must consider how to play the throw of the dice to our best advantage, for it may make the difference between success and failure. Between life and death.’

  ‘You’re asking me to seduce her?’ I said, astonished.

  ‘Not asking. Ordering.’

  Simut guffawed with amazement at the idea. But Nakht was staring at me seriously, coldly.

  ‘You know my wife. You know my family. You cannot ask me to do such a thing… It would be a betrayal of all I hold dear,’ I stammered.

  ‘I am not ordering you to sleep with her. But her attraction to you is a prime vulnerability. We must exploit it. You must find out anything you can about her plans for us. Above all, it would give you a chance to persuade her of the advantage of doing a deal with Egypt for our safe return. She is avaricious. She wants only the best return for her possessions. She might be persuaded to take a better deal than Aziru–if he is alive–could offer. But be quick. Whether Aziru or Horemheb, or some other, as yet unknown person, is behind our kidnapping, they will soon be arriving to claim the prize,’ he said. ‘And either way, at that point I believe we will be killed.’

  30

  I called out Inanna’s name all afternoon, and I was taken to her for the first time that night. Soon after dark, her henchmen came, kicked Simut and Nakht aside, and dragged me to my feet. I was stripped, doused with water, washed by two women, and thrown a tunic to wear. My hands were tied behind my back, and I was led to a place in the centre of a chamber, and left to wait.

  Oil lamps had been lit, creating a low light that was almost romantic. Incense burned somewhere in the shadows. A strange assembly of divine statues from different lands had been arranged around the walls. And then the woman who killed men, rode a stallion, cut faces with knives, and licked blood, entered, wearing a fine red linen tunic. Down her back fell an ornate cloak of feathers, like the wings of a strange bird. The tunic dipped at the front: her breasts were naked. Her wild curly hair had been braided and coiled with gold thread into a kind of crown. Gold bangles glistened on her wrists and ankles. She walked around me, assessing me, smiling almost coyly. I felt like a slave for sale. She cut the ropes that bound my hands, and motioned for me to sit on a stool. Then she sat down on a golden throne and set her feet upon two carved, beautifully inlaid, wooden lions. To either side of her were two large statues of birds with round faces, alert eyes, and sharp beaks–much like our human-headed bird, our ba spirit. I sat before her like a worshipper. A servant wafted an ostrich-feather fan over her.

  The trays before us were piled high with roasted meats, vegetables, bunches of superb grapes and pomegranates. She cut a leg from a roasted bird and offered it to me on the end of her knife. I was ravenous, and although I was disgusted to be eating with her, I had to do it. Time was running out. I accepted the meat, and tried 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 t
wo 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.

  We rode out together on a pair of magnificent horses into the fresh morning. Her henchmen watched me antagonistically, and then turned their backs, muttering quietly to each other, as if they knew something I didn’t.

  The sun blazed in the clear sky, adding a fine warmth to the cool, clear air. From time to time, Inanna glanced at me; we had been intimate, and yet now we were as distant as strangers. I felt like a stranger to myself; the world of my real life seemed far away. My friends were prisoners of this woman, and here I was, riding out with her as if I were her lover. The golden bliss of the drug still lingered inside me, but I felt as if I were trapped in a nightmare of betrayal from which I could not wake.

  We rode along a busy way, passing between the fields that climbed the slopes of the wide valley. Above us, the grey and silver mountains glinted in the powerful morning light. The sloping opium fields were busy, full of men and teenage boys, their heads shrouded in cloths to protect them from the sun, working backwards through the crops, scraping the night’s sticky harvest from the seed-heads into containers hanging from their necks, while younger children were set to weeding among the plants. Some workers were seeding newly ploughed fields. In others, the poppy plants bore new white flowers.

  ‘Each crop comes to fruit in four moons. The Goddess rewards us,’ Inanna said proudly.

  She showed me a seed-head ready for scoring; it was dark green, and the crown, which had held the petals, was standing straight out. She produced the three-bladed knife with which she had cut Zannanza, and deftly pulled it upwards across the skin of the seed-head. It made only the shallowest of incisions, but instantly white tears of pungent sap appeared.

  ‘The tears of joy,’ she said.

  ‘You need many hundreds of labourers to harvest the crop…’

  ‘Everyone here belongs to me. This is my kingdom.’

  ‘And they have no idea that each of them is harvesting something that could earn them fortunes beyond their dreams, in the cities of Egypt, and no doubt elsewhere?’ I said.

  She turned to me.

  ‘And what would they do with such knowledge, or with such fortunes? I give them all they need, all they desire.’

  ‘Surely some of your men know the value of the opium?’ I suggested.

  ‘They get their share. And besides, they would not dare to confront me,’ she replied.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I would kill them,’ she said, and spurred her horse forward.

  We rode on until we reached a small collection of simple shacks surrounding an open area, and a mud-brick storehouse. Farmers had come to exchange their harvest of opium sap for food and grain, some lengths of cloth, and primitive tools. Poppy seeds were raked out in large areas in the sun to dry. Big cauldrons were boiling over open fires. Inside these, I saw to my astonishment, the opium sap was being cooked. I watched as a cauldron was skimmed of leaves and debris, and then the liquid strained through a cloth. What emerged was a steaming brown broth, which was heated again, until it thickened into a dark-brown paste that was shaped into bricks. She offered me one to hold; I turned it over in my hands, fascinated. It was sticky, but dry and relatively light–and above all, far more easily transportable than its liquid form, which required heavy clay jars.

  We went into the storehouse. Shelf upon shelf held hundreds of blocks of the brown resin. At last I knew how the Theban gang had been able to supply such quantities of opium, and transport it across such distances.

  ‘You are amazed!’ she cried, delighted by the look on my face, and slipped her arm through mine.

  ‘You are as rich as a goddess,’ I said.

  She nodded happily.

  ‘Where do you sell it?’ I said, nodding at the stacked shelves.

  ‘Why do you ask so many questions?’ she said. ‘Why do you need to know such things?’

  I had to be careful. If all of this were to save us, I had to remember Nakht’s command. I knew I must take my chance, so I kissed her, and held her in my arms. She gazed at me warily, and finally allowed a wide smile to appear on her face. Her blue eyes shone. I kissed her again. Who was this traitor, who was doing these things? What was this feeling inside him? How could it be pleasure?

  She led me out of the building, running with excitement. We cantered quickly away, and then followed a path, bordered with fruit trees and wild flowers, higher and higher, until we turned, and looked down at the valley, illuminated in the midday sun.

  And then she pulled a jug of wine from her saddle and, arching her head back so that the red wine flowed expertly from jug to mouth, drank deeply. She wiped her lips, and passed it to me.

  We sat on the grass in the sun, and looked down at the great valley of her extraordinary domain. Lying back, the echo of the opium’s golden bliss still alive in my veins, I confess I suddenly felt a terrible temptation to let the weight of my old life fall away, as if into the earth and stones beneath me; all I would need to do would be to allow this strange, golden light in my body to enter my soul.

  Suddenly Inanna was astride me, her magnificent hair glowing around her shadowed face as she gazed down. I reached up and held her breasts, then ran my hands down her body. She leaned down to kiss me lightly, her hair brushing my face.

  ‘What do you see?’ she asked.

  ‘I see you,�
� I replied.

  ‘You please me,’ she said. And then she laughed, an open, honest laugh of delight. She offered me her hand. I took it, and we rose to our feet. But then she stopped me, and gazed intently into my eyes.

  ‘But I do not yet trust you. The shadows of the past are still alive in you. I see it. But they will fade, as shadows do. You are here, now. You have awoken to a new world and a new life. You cannot go back.’

  I assumed I would be returned to the cell, and to my friends. As we cantered into the stronghold, Inanna leapt from her horse, and shouted orders to her men. I jumped down from my own horse, but even as my feet touched the ground, I was surrounded, and my hands bound with cord. I was pushed into a different cell, and left there for the rest of the day. I shouted out to Nakht and Simut as loudly as I could, but received no reply. I sat with my head in my hands, in remorse at what I had done. The golden bliss had gone, and instead I felt gripped by a terrible new darkness. My body was wretched with tension. I paced the cell, trapped, desperate to be freed, kicking at the walls, trying to think what I could do to save us all, before it was too late.

  As the evening light began to fade, the guards came for me; I was bathed once more by the women. The fresh water brought me to my senses. When the women’s backs were turned to me, I grabbed my tunic and slipped away. I ran silently into the passageway, and then across the open ground of the forecourt. I made it most of the way to the cells before the men noticed me. They gave chase, and before I could get to my friends I was tackled to the ground, bound at the feet and wrists, and carried back towards Inanna’s chamber.

  Inanna was waiting for me. She seemed unconcerned by my attempt to defy her. She simply melted more opium over the oil lamp, and offered it to me. I refused, but I confess this time my blood cried out for it. Inanna summoned her guards, and they held me down. As soon as the golden calm, the slow bliss, the annihilation of all pain and anger hit me, I felt myself falling with a horrifying gratitude and relief into its beautiful embrace.