Nick Drake - Tutankhamun - The Book of Shadows

I gazed down at the boy. He was my only hope. I wondered what he could say to me, and whether, in a month, it would all be far, far too late.

‘So what do we do now?’ asked Khety quietly, as we stood outside Nakht’s house. He looked shocked.

‘Have you got a lead on Neferet’s place of work?’

‘I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of places. We should visit them,’ he replied.

He showed me a list of establishments.

‘Fine. When?’

‘After sunset would be best. When they get busy.’

I nodded.

‘Meet me at the first one. Bring that with you,’ I said, meaning the face which he had replaced in its leather bag.

‘What are you going to do now?’ he asked.

‘I feel like going home and drinking a bottle of decent red wine, and feeding my son his dinner. But I have to return to the palace. The interviews of all those who have priority access to the royal quarters took place this afternoon. I should have been there.’

I glanced up at the afternoon sun, which was now descending to the west. I might already have missed everything.

‘Do you want me to come, too?’

I shook my head.

‘I want you to go back to the boy’s family and explain we’re taking care of him. Tell them he’s alive, and we have good hopes. And above all make arrangements for the boy to be guarded. Set a pair of guards inside the entrance to Nakht’s house at all hours. We don’t want anyone to hurt the boy any more. We can’t risk losing him.’

‘What happens if he dies?’ asked Khety quietly.

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘Pray to the Gods he lives.’

‘You don’t believe in Gods,’ he replied.

‘This is an emergency. Suddenly I am reconsidering my point of view.’

I tried to stop myself breaking into a run as I made my way, by memory now, towards the royal quarters. By day, I noticed more people: groups of officials, foreign ministers, delegates and potentates being entertained in various chambers. I showed my permissions to the guards, who scrutinized them carefully before allowing me to pass. At least the security had improved.

‘Take me to Simut. At once,’ I commanded.

He and Khay were waiting in Khay’s office. As I entered, they both looked at me sourly.

‘I am sorry. I had another emergency.’

‘What emergency could possibly be greater than this one?’ wondered Khay, airily.

Simut silently handed me a papyrus scroll. I glanced down the list of no more than ten names: the chiefs of the royal domain; viziers of the north and south; Huy, Chancellor; the Chief Steward; the Chamberlain; the Fan Bearer of the King’s Right Hand…

‘All of those who have entered the royal quarters in the last three days, I have called together and interviewed. It is a pity you could not be there. They didn’t like being kept waiting, and they didn’t like being questioned. It is contributing to the feeling of uncertainty within the palace. I’m afraid I could find no evidence against any of them,’ he said.

‘You mean they all claim to have alibis?’ I asked, irritated by him and by my own anxiety at the lack of progress. He was right. I should have been there. He nodded.

‘Of course, we are now in the process of checking these, and I will have another report for you in the morning.’

‘But where are they now?’

‘I asked them to remain here until you could speak to them. What else would you have me do? It is now dark, and they are angry not to be able to return to their homes and their families. Already they claim they are imprisoned in the royal quarters.’ He snorted.

‘Well, given what is at stake, that is the least of our concerns. Who are these men? I mean, where do their loyalties lie?’

Khay pounced on me at once.

‘Their loyalties lie with the King, and with the Two Lands. And how dare you suggest otherwise?’

‘Yes, that’s the official version, I know. But which of these are Ay’s men?’

They exchanged an uncertain glance. But it was Simut who replied:

‘All of them.’

As I entered, the great men of the royal domain all turned as one from their discussion to gaze at me with frank hostility, but remained seated in a gesture of contempt. I saw abundant wine and food had been laid on for them. Khay as usual made a fussy introduction, and I interrupted him as soon as I could.

‘It is no longer a secret that, somehow, someone is leaving objects within the royal quarters whose aim is to alarm and threaten the King and the Queen. We have come to the conclusion that the only way these objects could be left inside the palace, despite the excellence of the palace security, is if someone with a high level of clearance is delivering them. And I’m afraid, lords, that means one of you.’

There was a moment of icy silence, and then suddenly they were all up on their feet, bellowing in indignation at me, at Khay and at Simut. Khay patted at the turbulent air with his diplomatic hands, as if calming children.

‘Lords, please. Remember that this man has the public acclaim of the King himself. He is merely pursuing his duties in the name of the King. And as you may recall, he has permission to follow his investigation, and I quote the royal words: “regardless of where it may lead him.”’

This was effective.

‘I am sorry to inconvenience you in this way. I realize you all have busy lives, and very important roles to fulfil, and no doubt anxious families at home…’ I continued.

‘Been spared that at least,’ huffed one of them.

‘And I would like to be able to say the time has come for me to thank you and open the door for you to leave. Alas, that is not the case. Regrettably, I will now need to speak to each one of you individually, and I will also need to interview all the officers and staff who are in any way connected to your work here at the palace…’

Another roar of indignation greeted that, during which I gradually became aware of a loud knocking on the door to the chamber. This had the effect of gradually silencing everyone again. I strode over to the door, furious at being interrupted, and saw, to my shock, Ankhesenamun standing there, holding a small object in the palm of her hand.

The magical figurine, no bigger than the span of my hand, had been wrapped in a linen cloth and dropped outside the King’s chamber. It might almost have been possible to mistake it for a toy, except for the vile air of malevolence that emanated from it. Fashioned from dark wax into a shape that represented a human figure, it lacked all character or detail, like a half-formed foetus from the Otherworld. Copper needles had been driven through the head from ear to ear, and back to front through the eyes, as well as through the mouth, and directly downward into the centre of the skull. None pierced the body itself, as if the curse was intended only for the head, the seat of thought, imagination and fear. A few strands of black human hair had been inserted into the navel to transfer the essence of the intended victim into the inert matter of the figurine. I wondered if it was the King’s own hair, because otherwise it would not be magically effective. On the back, the names and titles of the King had been precisely inscribed in the wax. The ritual of execration would call down the curse of death upon the person and his names, so that the destruction of the spirit extended to the afterlife. Such figurines were powerful, ancient magic to those who believed in their authority. It was another attempt to terrify; but it was a much more intimate threat than any of the others, even the death mask; for this was a great curse on the immortality of the King’s spirit.

At the back of the figurine a slip of papyrus had been worked into the wax. I prised it out and unrolled it carefully; tiny signs had been written there in red ink, like those that had been carved into the rim of the box that contained the death mask. Of course, they might just be nonsense, for curses are often expressed in such a way, but then again they might well be an authentic magical language.