Nick Drake - Tutankhamun - The Book of Shadows

‘I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour. I thought you might be at home, with your family. Do you have a home and a family?’

He squinted at me.

‘What do you want, Rahotep? I’m busy…’

‘So I see.’

‘At least some of us are committed to a certain level of competence in our work.’

I ignored him.

‘I’ve discovered a very curious thing.’

‘Good to hear our Seeker of Mysteries has discovered something …’

His mouth seemed to be working slightly in advance of his brain.

‘Mutnodjmet resides within the walls of this palace.’

His chin was now raised, his eyes suddenly wary.

‘What bearing could that have upon your business here?’

‘She is Horemheb’s wife, and aunt to Ankhesenamun.’

He clapped his hands together, his face a caricature.

‘Such meticulous research into the family tree!’

But he was nervous, behind the irony.

‘So can you confirm she is being held within the palace?’

‘As I said, the subject has no bearing on the matter at hand.’

I moved closer. Tiny broken veins were pulsing delicately in the puffy, crinkled skin around his eyes. He was subsiding fast into middle age. The stress of his elevated position would not help, and he would not be the first to take to wine as a consolation.

‘I have a different opinion of the matter, and so please answer the question.’

‘I am not here to be interrogated by you.’

His feathers were up now.

‘As you know, I have the authority of the King and Queen to pursue my inquiries wherever they may take me, and I cannot comprehend why there should be such an issue about answering a very simple question,’ I replied.

He blinked at me, wavering slightly. Eventually he answered:

‘She is not being held, as you put it. She lives out her life in her own wing of accommodation within the comforts and security of the royal quarters.’

‘That is not what I have heard.’

‘Well, people do talk such rubbish .’

‘If it is all so nice and easy, why has no one told me about this?’

‘Ha! You are desperate for some direction in your futile investigation of the mystery. But it has now become quite pointless, and I would advise you against pursuing this line of inquiry.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it will prove a dead end.’

‘Why are you so sure?’

‘She is a poor lunatic who has not left her quarters for many years. What can she possibly have to do with all of this…?’

He turned away. His hands quivered slightly as he raised the wine cup and drank a deep draught.

‘Take me to see her. Now.’

He put down his cup too quickly, and some of the wine splashed on his hand. He looked incensed by this, and instead of wiping it away, he licked it off.

‘You have no grounds for such an interview.’

‘Should I trouble Ay or the Queen with this request?’

He wavered.

‘When there is so much else of really vital importance going on, it really is too ridiculous, but I suppose if you insist…’

‘Let us go, then.’

‘It is late. The Princess will have retired. Tomorrow.’

‘No. Now. Who knows what hours lunatics keep?’

We set off down the corridors. I hoped to keep a bird’s view of our progress, like a plan inscribed on the papyrus of my memory, because I wanted to be able to locate her quarters exactly, and find them again if I needed to. But it was not a simple matter, for corridors dwindled to passageways, and became more crooked and narrow. Beautiful wall paintings of papyrus marshes, and images of rivers full of perfect fish beneath our feet, gave way to mundane plainly painted plaster walls and dried-mud floors. The finely wrought oil lamps that lined the main passageways became more ordinary, such as one might find in any reasonably comfortable home.

Finally we came to a simple doorway. No insignia decorated the lintel. No guards stood before it. It could have been the doorway to a storeroom. The bolts were tied together, and sealed. Khay was perspiring; tiny beads of sweat gathered on his noble forehead. I nodded. He knocked, not very confidently. We listened, but there was no sign of movement.

‘She must have retired for the night.’

He relaxed visibly, and turned to leave.

‘Knock harder,’ I suggested.

He hesitated, so I did it myself, with my fist.

More silence. Perhaps this was a useless chase, after all.

And then I heard footsteps, very quiet, moving across the floor. The faintest glow of light appeared under the door. Someone was definitely there. A tiny star of light appeared in the door, at eye level. Whoever it was observed us through a peephole.

And then the door rattled with a mad fury.

Khay jumped back.

I broke the seal myself, quickly untied the knots of the cord that bound the bolts, and threw open the doors.

The chamber was dreary, lit by the oil lamp she carried, and niches in the wall where cheap candles burned with an oily, smoky light, casting a dismal light on everything. Mutnodjmet, sister of Nefertiti, wife of Horemheb, was very thin; her sunless skin clung to her elegant bones, which were painfully obvious through the folds of her plain robe. Her skull was shaved. She wore no wig. Her shoulders were rounded. Her face, which carried the same high cheekbones as her sister’s but had none of its poise, was somehow inert, and her eyes would have been sorrowful were they not also apathetic. She was a hollow thing. She gave off a desperate, sad, unanswerable neediness. But I also knew I could not trust her in any way, for despite her lassitude, need was coiled inside her, like a cobra, poised.

A dwarf stood on either side of her. They wore good-quality, matching clothes and jewellery, and matching daggers, indicating they were of prestigious rank. This was not unusual, for many men of such stature and appearance had made their way into responsible positions within the royal courts of the past. Unusually, however, they were identical. They did not look happy to be disturbed.

Mutnodjmet continued to stare at me uncomprehendingly, her head lowered, her mouth slack. She seemed unable to make sense of who I might be, or what we might be doing there.

‘Why have you brought me nothing?’ she mewed, in a tone that was much deeper than disappointment.

‘What should I bring you?’ I asked.

She considered me with her dull eyes, suddenly yelled a remarkable set of abuses at me, then shuffled off into another chamber. The dwarfs continued to gaze at us, with unfriendly expressions on their faces. I assumed they knew how to use their daggers. Perhaps their small stature would give them an advantage; after all, I thought ruefully, plenty of damage can be inflicted below the waistline.

‘What are your names?’

They exchanged a brief look, as if to say: ‘Who is this idiot?’

Khay intervened.

‘We are here only briefly to visit the Princess.’

‘She receives no visitors,’ said one of the dwarfs in an unexpectedly resonant voice.

‘None?’ I asked.

‘Why do you want to see her?’ said the other one, in an identical voice.

It was like talking to two faces with one mind. There was something comical about it all.

I smiled.

They were not amused, and their little hands went to their daggers’ handles. Khay began to prevaricate, but he was interrupted.

‘Oh just let them in,’ she shrieked, from the other chamber. ‘I want company. Anything, to make a change from you two.’

We moved down the hallway, off which I noticed several more or less empty rooms for storage, and a cooking area equipped with shelves and storage pots and jars, and came to a larger salon. We sat on stools, while she reclined on a bed. The room was basic, and somehow underfurnished, as if she had inherited a few second-rate leftovers from the family mansion. She watched us with her jaded eyes, circled with excessive and inaccurately applied lines of kohl. She looked Khay over like a fish that had gone off.