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innumerable cats.
At the end of the awesome court we climbed up steps of black marble. Down another corridor, this one
lined with small statues of various gods bearing heads of animals: a hawk, a jackal, a lion, even an
anteater. At the end of the corridor a giant statue stood in a special niche, its head almost touching the
ceiling.
"There is Ptah," said Nefertu, almost in a whisper.
The god's statue loomed before us, almost as huge as the colossi of Ramesses outside the temple. A
skylight in the roof far above us cast a shaft of sunlight along the length of the statue's white stone. I saw a
man's face, his body wrapped in windings like a mummy, except that his hands were free and clasping a
long, elaborately worked staff. A skullcap covered his head, and a small beard dangled from his chin.
The face looked uncannily like that of the slim, sarcastic Hermes I had last seen when I had briefly
transported Joshua to the Creators' realm.
Nefertu stopped at the foot of the giant statue, where incense smoldered in a pair of braziers. He bowed
three times, then took a pinch of something from the golden pan between the braziers and threw it onto
the embers at his left. The stuff made a small burst of flame and sent white smoke spiraling toward the
distant ceiling.
"You must offer a sacrifice, also, Orion," he whispered to me.
Straight-faced, I went to the railing and tossed a pinch of incense onto the brazier to my right. Its smoke
was black. Turning back to Nefertu, I saw his eyes following the dark billow. His face was not pleased at
all.
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.
"No," he said, his eyes still on the drifting smoke. "But sacred Ptah is apparently not entirely happy with
your offering."
I shrugged.
As he led me down a narrower corridor, past another pair of golden-armored guards and to a massive
door of ebony set into a deep, stone doorway, Nefertu seemed distinctly nervous, filled with an anxiety
he could not hide. Was he apprehensive about meeting Nekoptah, or was it something I had done? Or
had failed to do?
Another guard stood before the door. Without a word he opened it for Nefertu.
We stepped through the doorway into a sizable room. Morning sunlight slanted through three windows
on our right. The room was absolutely bare of decorations: the stone walls were as blank as a prison
cell's. The floor was empty and uncovered. Far at the other end of the room, next to its only other door,
was a long table heaped with rolled-up writing scrolls. Two huge silver candlesticks stood at each end of
the table, the candles in them unlit.
Behind the desk sat an enormously fat man, his head shaved bald, his huge globulous body covered with
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a gray sleeveless robe that went to the floor. His arms, flabby, thick, hairless, and pink as a baby pig,
rested on the polished wood of the table. Every finger and both his thumbs bore jeweled rings, some of
them so buried in flesh that they could not have been taken off in years. His jowls were so huge that they
cascaded down onto his chest and shoulders. I could barely make out a pair of eyes embedded in that
grossly corpulent face, studying us as we crossed the long empty chamber to stand before his desk. His
face was painted: eyes lined with black kohl and daubed with green shadow above and below them, his
cheeks pink with rouge, his lips deep red.
Nefertu threw himself onto the floor and pressed his forehead against the bare tiles. I remained standing,
although I bowed slightly from the waist to show my respect.
"O great Nekoptah," intoned Nefertu, from the floor, "high priest of dreaded Ptah, right hand of mighty
Merneptah, guide of the people, guardian of the Two Lands, I bring you the barbarian Orion, as you
commanded."
The high priest's fleshy painted lips curled in what might have been a smile. "You may rise, Nefertu my
servant. You have done well." His voice was a clear sweet tenor. It sounded strange, such a lovely voice
coming from such a gross, ugly face. Then I realized that Nekoptah was a eunuch, one who had been
dedicated to the god's service in childhood.
Nefertu slowly climbed to his feet and stood beside me. His face was red, whether from pressing it
against the floor or from embarrassment at having done so, I could not tell.
"And you, barbarian..."
"My name is Orion," I said.
Nefertu gasped at my effrontery. Nekoptah merely grunted.
"Orion, then," he granted. "My general Raseth tells me that your two dozen Hittites will make a passable
addition to our all-conquering army."
"They are fine men."
"I am not so easily satisfied, however," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Raseth is of an age where he
dwells in the past. I must look toward the future, if I am to protect and guide our great king."
He eyed me carefully as he spoke, waiting for a reaction from me. I remained silent.
"Therefore," he went on, "I have thought of a test that these recruits can undertake."
Again he waited for a reply. Again I said nothing.
"You, Orion, will lead your men to the delta country, where the barbarian Sea Peoples are raiding our
coastal cities once again. One particularly troublesome set of raiders flies a lion's-head emblem on their
sails. You will find them and destroy them, so that they will trouble the Lower Kingdom no longer."
Menalaos, I realized. Searching for Helen and ravaging the coastal cities, looting as much as possible
while he searches. Possibly with Agamemnon alongside him.
"How many of these ships have been seen?" I asked.
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Nekoptah seemed delighted that I had finally spoken. "Reports vary. At least ten, possibly as many as
two dozen."
"And you expect two dozen soldiers to conquer two dozen shiploads of Achaians?"
"You will have other soldiers with you. I will see to that."
I shook my head. "With all respect, my lord..."
"Your holiness," Nefertu whispered.
It took an effort to get the words past my gag reflex. "With all respect your holiness I did not intend
to stay with the Hittites once they were accepted into your army."
"Your intentions are of little interest," said Nekoptah. "The needs of the kingdom are paramount."
Ignoring that, I continued, "I came here as escort to the Queen of Sparta, the lady Helen..."
"Escort?" He smirked. "Or consort?"
I could feel the blood rising in me. With a deliberate effort I calmed myself, constricted capillaries that
would have colored my face.
Softly, I said, "So someone was spying on us in our rooms."
Nekoptah threw his head back and laughed. "Orion, do you think the king's chief minister will allow
strangers into the palace without keeping watch on them? Every breath you take has been
observed even the dagger you carry hidden beneath your kilt was seen and reported to me." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]