Out of the Black Land - By Kerry Greenwood Page 0,182

Great Royal Wife into marrying you,’ I exclaimed in disgust. ‘I have even made her stop screaming. She has given me a few presents in token of her affection and soon you will have everything she owns.’

‘She will agree?’ he asked, eagerly.

‘I think so, if you leave her alone. Don’t try to see her and especially don’t remind her of the good old days at Amarna. That will not work on this royal child of Akhnaten.’

‘You have been of some use after all, daughter,’ he admitted. Then he extracted a pair of earrings from my bag—commission, perhaps, or because he could not help himself—and let me go on my way.

I commended the Great Royal Wife’s decision in my heart as I went unmolested out of the palace and into the street, to talk to the Singer of Isis about two new pupils.

The next visitor who graced my house was General Khaemdua. I found him sitting in the chair of state, condescending to sip a little of the very best wine and eat a few crumbs of Wab’s special date bread. He was immaculate, as ever; very bored, as ever; and elaborately simple in his clothes, as ever.

I bowed to him and he waved a distracted hand.

‘Mistress of the House, I am trespassing on your hospitality. I need a translation of a clay tablet, and there are no scribes free in the house of archives.’

‘General, I and my household are at your service as always,’ I responded correctly, and found my basket of scribe’s tools. He gave me a tablet and I sat down to construe it.

‘This is in Assyrian,’ I noted. ‘My knowledge of that language is not perfect, but this is what I believe it says. It is from Suppiluliumas for an Egyptian woman called Ankhati, and he says:

Why should I send you my son? Never has it been heard of that an Egyptian princess married out of her own land.”

Isis protect us!’ I added, staring at the square writing. I read it again. That is certainly what it said.

‘Have you any idea who the traitor Ankhati might be?’ he asked with his affected laziness, allowing Wab to pour him some more wine.

‘Oh, I know who it is, and I have just solved this problem! I thought she looked guilty when I mentioned that she could not marry out of Egypt.’ I explained what was to become of the Great Royal Wife of Tutankhamen-Osiris, and General Khaemdua almost smiled.

‘Well, then, as long as someone intercepts Suppiluliumas’ son—the king has one hundred and seventeen sons, so he will probably send one—then no harm is done. That’s the trouble with young women, they are impulsive.

‘And since I now do not have to rush off and invade Assyria, I will have some more of that very pleasant date cake,’ he said, and Wab cut him another slice.

Ptah-hotep

The late king was on his funeral trip, and the new King Ay had been crowned, though without the actual presence of the Queen Ankhesenamen. She and one of her maidens had slipped undetected out of the palace on the night of the funeral, dressed in servant’s clothes. No one could find the Great Royal Wife but her written consent to the marriage was on record and I was forced to suffer the sight of Divine Father Ay crowned Lord of the Two Lands. His Great Royal Spouse was the crone Tey. They both looked indescribable in the pomp of state, but such sights need not be remembered.

The trouble began when Pharaoh Ay found out how much he was spending on the army.

‘It costs a fortune to keep all these soldiers in the field,’ he protested, and would not be dissuaded from sending most of the standing army home.

Without gifts-of-valour or severance allowances to which they were entitled, he disbanded regiment after regiment. They laid their standards in the hall of warriors and went home to the land which the government had given them.

Reports soon came in from all of the borders, crying for help. The combined Great Royal Scribe Khety and Hanufer came to me almost in tears, relating letters received from garrisons who were going under, besieged villages which would shortly be destroyed—and there was nothing that I could advise. Though I was interested in a letter from the King of Assyria, demanding to know the fate of his son. It had been sent to a lady called Ankhati, but there was no one in the palace of that name and I replied to

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