Nick Drake - Tutankhamun - The Book of Shadows

‘“ Live your ka …” an enigmatic, but beautiful phrase. I hear you once wrote verse yourself. What do you think it means?’ he asked.

‘The ka is the mysterious force of life in all things, in each of us…’

‘It is that which differentiates us from the dead, and from dead things. But what does it mean to live it fully, in truth?’

I pondered.

‘I suppose it is an invocation to each person to live according to that truth, and in so doing, if we are to believe the poem, to gain happiness, which is to say eternal happiness. “ Millions of years… ”’

He smiled, revealing his perfect little teeth.

‘It is indeed a great mystery. I, for instance, feel at this moment I am finally, truly living my ka . This journey and this hunt are my destiny. But perhaps you do not believe in the sentiments the poem expresses?’ he asked.

‘I struggle with the word happiness . I am a Medjay officer. I don’t get to behold much happiness. But perhaps I am looking in the wrong places,’ I replied carefully.

‘You see the world as a harsh, dangerous place.’

‘I do,’ I admitted.

‘You have reason on your side,’ he replied. ‘But I still believe it can be otherwise.’

Then he sat down in the only chair in the room. Like everything else, it was no ordinary chair, but a small throne made from ebony, partly covered with gold foil, and inlaid with geometric patterns of glass and coloured stones. I was surprised to glimpse, just before he sat down, at the top, the disc of the Aten-the symbol of his father’s reign and power, now long banned. He adjusted his slippers upon the inlaid footrest and its picture of Egypt’s enemies, the bound captives, and gazed at me with his strange intensity.

‘You are puzzled by this throne?’

‘It is a beautiful object.’

‘It was made for me in the time of my father.’

The monkey jumped up on his lap, and watched me with its nervous, moist eyes. He stroked its tiny head, and it chattered to him briefly. He fed it a nut. He fingered a beautiful protection amulet on a gold chain around his neck.

‘But the symbolism is no longer permitted,’ I commented carefully.

‘No. It is forbidden. But not everything about my father’s enlightenment was wrong. I feel I can speak of this to you of all people, isn’t that strange? I was raised in his religion, and perhaps for that reason in spirit, if not in the letter, it feels true to me; as rightful as one’s true heart.’

‘But you led its banishment, lord.’

‘I had no choice. The tide of time turned against us. I was merely a child. Ay prevailed, and at the time, he was right-for how else could we have restored order to the Two Lands? But in the privacy of my heart and soul, I still worship the one God, the God of Light and Truth. And I know I am not alone.’

The implications of this were astounding. Here was the King, confessing his attachment to the outlawed religion, despite the destruction of its icons and the estrangement of its priests in his own name. I wondered if Ankhesenamun was implicated in this, too.

‘Let me confess to you, Rahotep, while I know it is the duty of a king to be seen to conquer and kill the lion, most noble of the beasts, in truth I have no personal wish to do such a thing. Why would I kill such a wonderful creature, with his wild spirit? I would rather observe his power and his grace, and learn from his example. Sometimes, in my dreams, I have the powerful body of a lion, and the wise head of Thoth to think with. But then I awake, and I remember that I am myself. And only a moment later do I remember I am, and must be, King.’

He gazed at his own limbs as if they were strangers.

‘A powerful body is meaningless without a powerful mind.’

He smiled, almost sweetly, as if he appreciated my clumsy attempt at flattery. I suddenly had a strange idea that he might like me.

‘Tell me about my father,’ he said, gesturing to a low stool where I could sit at his royal feet.

He had caught me by surprise again. His mind moved oddly, suddenly and unexpectedly sideways, by association, like a crab.

‘What do you wish to know?’ I replied.

‘My memory of him is diminishing every day. I hold on tightly to certain images but they are like an old piece of embroidered linen: the colour is fading, and the threads are frayed, and soon I fear his memory will be lost to me.’

‘I think he was a great man with a new vision of the world. What he did took great personal courage and political will. But I think he had too high an opinion of the capacity of human beings to perfect themselves. And that was the flaw in his great enlightenment,’ I said.

‘You do not believe in perfection, either?’

I shook my head.

‘Not in this life. Man is half-god, but he is also half-beast.’

‘Yours is a sceptical view. The Gods have made many attempts to create a perfect humanity, but each time they have been dissatisfied, and have thrown their work away, and abandoned the world to chaos. I believe that is what befell my father. But it was not the end of the story. Do you remember it? The God Ra, with his silver bones and gold skin, and hair and teeth of lapis lazuli, and his eye from whose vision humanity was born, understood the treachery in the hearts of men, and sent down Hathor, in her form of Sekhmet the Vengeful, to slaughter those who plotted against him. But in his heart Ra felt pity for his creatures. And so he changed his mind. And he tricked the Goddess; he created the red beer of the Gods, and she became drunk with its delight, and did not realize it was not humanity’s blood that stained the desert; and that is how we survived her revenge, by the compassion of Ra.’

He stroked the monkey as if it was humanity, and he was Ra.

‘You are wondering why I have told you this tale,’ he said, quietly.

‘I wonder if perhaps it is because you are not your father. And perhaps you told me because although he desired perfection, he brought this world to the brink of a terrible catastrophe. And perhaps because in your compassion you wish to save the world from disaster,’ I said.

He gazed at me.

‘Perhaps that is what I was thinking. But what of Hathor and her taste for blood?’

‘I do not know,’ I replied, honestly enough.

‘I believe there is a pattern of retribution to events. A crime begets a crime begets a crime, and so on until the end of everything. So how can we escape this pattern, this labyrinth of revenge and suffering? Only by an act of exceptional forgiveness…But are human beings capable of such compassion? No. I have not yet been forgiven for the crimes of my father. Perhaps I will never be forgiven. And if that is so, then I will have to prove myself better than him. And here we are, travelling in darkness, surrounded by fear, so that I can bring back a wild lion in triumph. Perhaps then I will establish myself as King in my own name; not as my father’s son. It is a strange world. And here you are, to protect me from it, like the Eye of Ra.’

He reached into his robe, and took from it a ring, adorned with a small, but very fine, protective Eye. He gave it to me. I slipped it on my finger and bowed in thanks.

‘I give you this all-seeing Eye so that your vision may be as powerful as Ra’s. Our enemies travel as fast as shadows. They are with us always. You must see them. You must learn to see in the dark.’

The strong current drew us onwards, ever northwards, towards Memphis. Simut and his guard kept watch at all hours. I was restless, unable to sleep, and I felt trapped on the water. Whenever the King took the air, which was not often, we made sure we were away from the villages. Even so, every field and every grove of palm trees presented the possibility of danger, for we made an extravagant target. From our point of view, I saw dirt-poor villages huddled beneath the shade of the date palms, where naked children and dogs swarmed the narrow, crooked mud streets, and families lived crowded on top of each other with their animals in one-room dwellings that were little more than stables. In the fields, women in miraculously bright, clean robes tilled the immaculate green and gold rows of barley and wheat, onions and cabbages. It all looked idyllic and peaceful, but nothing is as it seems: these women would toil from dawn until dusk just to pay the grain taxes to work the land, which they probably leased from one elite family, who lived comfortably inside their richly furnished and luxurious property in Thebes.