Vengeance of Orion Read online

  "Merneptah and Nekoptah," I asked as we entered, at last, the cool shade of the temple, "are they related by blood?"

  Nefertu smiled tightly, almost grimly, I thought. "Yes. And they both revere Ptah as their guardian and guide."

  "Not Amon?"

  "They revere Amon and all the gods, Orion. But Ptah is their special patron. The city of Menefer was Ptah's special city. Merneptah has brought his worship here, to the capital. Nekoptah is the chief priest of Ptah."

  "Is there a statue of Ptah that I can see? What does he look like?"

  "You will see soon enough." He said it almost crossly, as though irritated by my questions, or fearful of something I did not understand.

  We were striding through a vast hallway of tremendous columns, so tall that the roof above us was lost in shadows. The floor was marble, the gigantic columns themselves granite, as wide around as the mightiest tree. Guards in gleaming gold armor stood spaced every few yards, but it seemed to me they were there for ceremony and grandeur. There had been no need for armed men in this temple for a thousand years. This huge chamber had been designed to dwarf human scale, to overpower mere mortal men with its grandeur and immensity. It was a ploy that haughty, powerful men used up and down the ages: utilizing architecture to bend men's souls, to fill them with wonder, and admiration, and fear of the power that had raised these mighty pillars.

  A pair of glittering eyes stared at me from the deep shadows. I almost laughed. Another of the palace's 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 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.

  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 brea
th you take has been observed—even the dagger you carry hidden beneath your kilt was seen and reported to me."

  I nodded acquiescence of the fact, knowing that there were armed guards standing on the other side of the door behind the priest's desk, ready to defend their master or slay us at the slightest word from him. Yet there was one thing that Nekoptah did not know, for he had never observed me in action: I could tear out his throat before the guards could open that door. And I could kill three or four armed men, too, if I had to.

  "I've been carrying it for so long now that it seems a part of my body," I said meekly. "I'm sorry if it causes offense."

  Nekoptah waved a fleshy hand, the rings on his fingers glittering in the morning sunlight. "The chief priest of almighty Ptah is not afraid of a dagger," he said grandly.

  Nefertu shuffled his feet nervously, as if he wished he were somewhere else.

  "As I was saying," I resumed, "I came here as escort to the lady Helen, Queen of Sparta, princess of the fallen Troy. She wishes to reside in the Kingdom of the Two Lands. She has wealth enough so that she would not be a burden on the state . . ."

  Nekoptah waggled a fat hand impatiently, a movement hard enough to make his mountainous jowls quiver like ripples in a lake.

  "Spare me the dull recitation of facts I already know," he said impatiently.

  Again I struggled to keep my anger from showing.

  Pointing a stubby thick finger at me, Nekoptah said, "This is what the king wishes you to do, Orion. You will take your men downriver to the delta, seek out these barbarian raiders, and destroy them. That is the price for accepting your Queen of Sparta into our city."

  Kill Helen's husband in return for her safety in Egypt's capital. I thought it over for a moment, then asked: "And who will protect the lady while I am away?"

  "She will be under the protection of the all-seeing Ptah, Architect of the Universe, Lord of the Sky and Stars."

  "And mighty Ptah's representative here among mortals is yourself, is it not?" I asked.

  He dipped his chins in acknowledgment.

  "Will the lady be allowed to meet the king? Will she live in his house, protected by his servants?"

  "She will live in my house," Nekoptah said, "protected by me. Surely you don't fear my intentions toward your—queen."

  "I promised to deliver her to the King of Egypt," I insisted, "not the king's chief minister."

  Again Nefertu drew in his breath, as if expecting an explosion. But Nekoptah merely said mildly, "Do you not trust me, Orion?"

  I replied, "You wish me to lead troops against the Achaian invaders of your land. I wish my lady to meet the king and dwell under his protection."

  "You speak as if you had some power of bargaining. You have none. You will do as you are told. If you please the king, your request will be granted."

  "If I please the king," I said, "it will be because the king's chief minister tells him to be pleased."

  A wide, smug smile spread across Nekoptah's painted face. "Precisely, Orion. We understand one another."

  I tacitly acknowledged defeat. For the moment. "Will the lady Helen be permitted to see the king, as she wishes?"

  His smile even broader, Nekoptah answered, "Of course. His royal majesty expects to sup with the Queen of Sparta this very evening. You yourself may be invited—if we are in complete agreement."

  For Helen's sake I bowed my head slightly. "We are," I said.

  "Good!" His voice could not boom, it was too high. But it rang off the stone walls of the audience chamber, nonetheless.

  I glanced at Nefertu out of the corner of my eye. He seemed immensely relieved.

  "You may go," said Nekoptah. "A messenger will bring you your invitation to supper, Orion."

  We started to turn toward the door.

  But the high priest said, "One thing more. A small detail. On your way back from crushing the invaders, you must stop at Menefer and bring me the chief priest of Amon."

  Nefertu paled. His voice quavered. "The chief priest of Amon?"

  Almost jovially, Nekoptah replied, "The very same. Bring him here. To me." His smile remained fixed on his fleshy lips, but both his hands had squeezed themselves into fists.

  I asked, "How will he know that we represent you?"

  Laughing, he answered, "He will have no doubt of it, never fear. But—to convince the temple troops who guard his worthless carcass . . ."

  He wormed a massive gold ring off his left thumb. It was set with a blood-red carnelian that bore a miniature carving of Ptah. "Here. This will convince any doubters that you act by my command."

  The ring felt heavy and hot in my hand. Nefertu stared at it as if it were someone's death warrant.

  Chapter 38

  Obviously, Nefertu had been shaken by our meeting with the king's chief minister. He was silent as we were escorted back to my apartment, far across the complex of temples and palaces that made up the capitol.

  I remained silent, also, trying to piece together the parts of the puzzle. Like it or not, I was in the middle of some sort of convoluted palace conspiracy; Nekoptah was using me for his own purposes, and I doubted that they coincided with the best interests of the Kingdom of the Two Lands.

  One glance at Nefertu told me he would offer no hint of explanation. He was ashen-faced as we walked between the gold-armored guards down the long corridors and lofty colonnaded courts of the capitol, with their cats skulking in the shadows. His hands trembled at his sides. His mouth was a thin line, lips pressed together so hard that they were white.

  We reached my apartment and I invited him inside.

  He shook his head. "I'm afraid there are other matters I must attend to."

  "Just for a moment," I said. "There's something I want to show you. Please."

  He dismissed the guards and entered my room, his eyes showing fear, not curiosity.

  I knew we were being watched. Somewhere along the walls there was a cunningly contrived peephole, and a spy in the employ of the chief priest of Ptah observing us. I took Nefertu out onto the terrace, where a pair of rope-sling chairs overlooked the busy courtyard and rustling palm trees.

  I needed to know what Nefertu knew, what was in his mind. He would not tell me willingly, I could see that. So I had to pry into his mind whether he wanted me to or not. Perhaps somewhere beneath the surface of his rigid self-control I could reach the part of his mind that was searching for an ally against whatever it was that was frightening him.

  The poor man sat on the front inch of his chair, his back ramrod straight, his hands clasped on his knees. I pulled my chair up close to his and put my hand across his thin shoulder. I could feel the tenseness in the tendons of his neck.

  "Try to relax," I said softly, keeping my voice low so that whoever was watching could not hear.

  I kneaded the back of his neck with one hand while staring deeply into his eyes. "We have known each other for many weeks, Nefertu. I have come to admire and respect you. I want you to think of me as your friend."

  His chin dipped slightly. "You are my friend," he agreed.

  "You know me well enough to realize that I will not harm you. Nor will I knowingly harm your people, the people of the Two Lands."

  "Yes," he said drowsily. "I know."

  "You can trust me."

  "I can trust you."

  Slowly, slowly I forced his body and his mind to relax. He was almost asleep, even though his eyes were open and he could speak to me. His conscious mind, his willpower, were allayed. He was a frightened man, and he badly needed a friend he could trust. I convinced him not only that he could trust me, but that he must tell me what it was that was frightening him.

  "That's the only way I can help you, my friend."

  His eyes closed briefly. "I understand, friend Orion."

  Gradually I got him to talk, in a low monotone that I hoped could not be overheard by Nekoptah's spies. The story he unfolded was as convoluted as I had feared. And it spelled danger. Not merely for me: I was inured to danger
and it held no real terror over me. But Helen had inadvertently stepped into a trap that Nekoptah had cunningly devised. Loathe him though I did, I had to admire the quick adroitness of his mind, and respect the strength and speed with which he moved.

  It had been whispered up and down the length of the kingdom—so Nefertu told me—that King Merneptah was dying. Some said it was the wasting disease; others whispered that he was being poisoned. Be that as it may, the true power of the throne was being wielded by the king's chief minister, the obese Nekoptah.

  The army was loyal to the king, not a priest of Ptah. But the army itself was weak and divided. Its days of glory under Ramesses II were long gone. Merneptah had allowed the army to erode to the point where most of the troops were foreigners and most of the generals were pompous old windbags living on-past victories. Where the army had slaughtered the Sea Peoples who raided the delta in Ramesses's time, now the barbarians sacked cities and terrified the Lower Kingdom, and the army seemed unable to stop them.

  Nekoptah did not want a strong army. It would be an obstacle to his control of the king and the kingdom. Yet he could not allow the Sea Peoples to continually raid the delta country; the Lower Kingdom would rise up against him if he could not defend them adequately. So the chief priest of Ptah hit upon a brilliant plan: send the newly arrived Hittite contingent against the Sea Peoples, as part of a new army expedition to the delta. Let the barbarian leaders see that the man who stole Helen from the Achaian victors at Troy was now in Egypt. Let them know that, just as they suspected, Helen was under the protection of the Kingdom of the Two Lands.

  And let them know, by secret messenger, that Helen would be returned to them—if they stopped their raids on the delta. Even more: Nekoptah was prepared to offer Menalaos and his Achaians a part of the rich delta country as their own, if they would guard the Lower Kingdom against attacks from other Peoples of the Sea.

  But first Menalaos had to be certain that Helen actually was in Egypt. For that, Orion and his Hittites would be sent into the delta as sacrificial lambs, to be slaughtered by the barbarians.