Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,131

when I was shoved to my knees before a throne and went down into the full ‘kiss earth’ before my lord, the Pharaoh Akhnaten, Sole and Only One of the Sun Disc Aten, Favoured Child of the Unknowable God, Aten.

It struck me as unfair that I was about to go to my death without once more seeing his face. I had served him to the best of my ability. He could at least look at me as he ordered my death.

‘Ptah-hotep, great honour has come to you,’ said the voice of the King. I saw through wet eyes and blinked, and my tears dropped upon gold.

‘Lord, you have already conferred on me honours beyond my worth,’ I replied in the correct form.

‘I have yet another for you, favoured son of the Lord of the Two Lands,’ he continued. His voice echoed in the great space. I beat down a surge of wild hope.

‘Rise,’ he ordered, and I got to my feet, leaving my palette on the golden floor.

My lord Akhnaten was standing on the dais, looking out into the courtyard.

‘See!’ he cried, flinging up an arm, and I saw men constructing what looked like a bonfire out of logs of sandalwood and acacia. More servants were approaching, carrying armloads of cinnamon bark. I could smell the sweetness of the spices.

‘Lord, I see,’ I replied cautiously. The strange face of the king was almost beautiful, disproportionate and odd but alight with divine purpose. ‘Soon the royal women of my father will depart to their new husbands. Tomorrow the miracle will happen.’

‘Miracle, lord?’ I asked. The feeling of threat had eased a little but I still did not see what he wanted. However, that was often the case.

‘The Phoenix will return,’ he said. ‘My astronomers have confirmed it.’

I bet they had. I seemed to recall that the period of renewal of the Phoenix was more than twelve hundred years, and I also seemed to recall that I had read a scroll no older than five hundred years which stated that the Phoenix had flown to Heliopolis, landing on the altar of the temple of the sun to leave the ball of myrrh and seed which would hatch into itself before it flew off to its palm tree or Bennu pillar to burn in its nest of spices…

My stomach dropped, my breath left me as though I had been speared in the solar plexus. I looked at the bonfire again. It was made of perfumed wood and in it I could discern the Phoenix’s spices, cinnamon and cassia and acacia, sandalwood and cedarwood and whole branches of the frankincense tree. The pile of wood in the courtyard of the temple would have bought the whole produce of a Nome. It probably was the proceeds of the taxes of a Nome. Was this the reason why I had not received any reports? Were all the farmers in Egypt starving so that the King could commit human sacrifice, an unthinkable atrocity, a terrible return to the time before Egypt had gods?

And who was the sacrifice? Was it I?

I wondered how long it would take to burn to death. To destroy the body was to destroy the ka, the spirit-double. There would be no afterlife for me, no explanation of my life to the Divine Judges. I would not persist, I would not live, have flesh, speak again to my loved ones in the Field of Reeds and after they in their turn died they would never be able to find me. I would be nothing. I would burn like a candle and go out like a candle. There would be nothing left of me, Ptah-hotep, who had been diligent and loving, except a handful of ash which would blow away in the wind. The King was not just going to kill me. He was going to obliterate me, make me as nothing.

Made things are unmade, as Neferti had prophesied.

I was drenched in fear as if I had been in cold water. I had been prepared for death, resigned to it. If the King wished to kill me I could not stop him. But he was not only going to kill my life, but my soul as well.

I was craven, not brave. My bowels loosened and threatened to disgrace me. My knees weakened. I dared not speak, for my voice would quaver. If I unlocked my tongue I knew I would beg; yes, grovel and slaver and beg for my life; offer him my body, anything—as