Part 31 (1/2)

He reached for Helen's hand and brought it to his lips. She kept herself from cringing, but just barely.

Nekoptah clapped his hands once, and a servant immediately came from the farther door with a tray of wine goblets.

We had barely tasted the wine, a sweetish red that Nekoptah said was imported from Crete, when the hall door opened again and a guard announced: ”His royal majesty, King of the Two Lands, beloved of Ptah, guardian of the people, son of the Nile.”

Instead of the king, though, six priests in gray robes entered the room, bearing copper censers that filled the room with smoky, pungent incense. They chanted in an ancient tongue and made a mini-procession around the table three times, praising Ptah and his servant on Earth, Merneptah. As they left, six guards in golden armor marched in and lined themselves along the wall, three on each side of the doorway, and froze into blank-faced immobility. Each of them held a spear that almost touched the ceiling. Then came two harpists and four beautiful young women bearing peac.o.c.k-plume fans. In their midst walked the King of Egypt, Merneptah.

He was a man of middle years, his hair still dark. Slim of body and small in stature, he walked slightly bent over, as if stooped with age or cares-or pain. He wore a sleeveless robe of white decorated with gold embroidery around its border. His skin was much lighter than any Egyptian I had met. Unlike his chief minister, the king wore no adornments except for a small golden medallion bearing the symbol of Ptah on a slim chain about his neck, and copper bracelets on his wrists.

It was his eyes that troubled me. They seemed clouded, unsteady, almost unseeing. As if his thoughts were turned almost totally inward. As if the world around him was not important, an annoyance, an impediment to what he considered truly important.

I glanced down at Helen, standing beside me. She had caught it too.

The two harpers and the fan-bearing women bowed low to their king and left the room. One of the guards out in the hall closed the door and we were alone, except for the six guards lining the wall like statues. I knew that I would be seated with my back to them, and that did not please me.

Introductions were polite but perfunctory. Helen curtsied prettily for the king, who seemed completely indifferent to her beauty-even to her presence. I bowed and he mumbled something to me about the barbarians from the sea.

We sat at table and servants brought us a cold soup and platters offish. The king ate almost nothing. Nekoptah ate enough for all four of us.

Conversation was desultory. Nekoptah did most of the talking, and most of it was about how the wors.h.i.+p of Ptah was being resisted by fanatics who were trying to reinstate the madness of Akhenaten.

”Especially in Menefer,” complained Nekoptah, while gobbling a morsel of fish. ”The priests there are trying to bring back the wors.h.i.+p of Aten.”

”I thought it was Amon they glorified,” I said, ”rather than Aten.”

”Yes,” said Helen. ”We saw the Eye of Amon on the great pyramid there.”

Nekoptah frowned. ”They say it is Amon they reverence, but secretly they are trying to bring back Akhenaten's heresies. If they are not stopped, and stopped soon, they will plunge the Two Lands into turmoil once again.”

The king nodded absently, picking at his food.

With me translating for her, Helen tried to engage him in conversation, asking about his wife and children. The king merely stared past her.

”His majesty's wife died last year in childbirth,” said Nekoptah.

”Oh, I'm sorry...”

”The baby died also.”

”How awful!”

The king seemed to make an effort to focus his eyes on her. ”I have one son,” he muttered.

”Prince Aramset,” interjected Nekoptah. ”A comely lad. He will make a fine king, one day.” But his face clouded, and he added, ”Of course, his royal majesty has many other fine sons by his royal concubines, as well.”

Merneptah lapsed into silence again. Helen glared at the fat priest.

And so it went through the whole supper. At last it was finished and the king bade us good night and left. I noticed that Nekoptah barely bowed to his king; not that he could have gotten far, as fat as he was.

As the guards escorted us back to our quarters, I asked Helen, ”Do you think the king is ill?”

Her face showed how troubled she felt. ”No, Orion. He is drugged. I have seen it before. That fat beast is keeping him drugged so that he can control the kingdom for himself.”

I was glad that she spoke only Achaian and the guards could not understand her. At least, I hoped that they could not.

The situation was painfully clear to me. Nekoptah was in control of the capital and the king. He was using me to set up a deal that would trade Helen for the security of the delta country against the Sea Peoples. For good measure, he was going to remove the chief priest of Amon and tighten his hold on the entire kingdom.

To guarantee that I do as he wished, Nekoptah would hold Helen hostage in the capital, not realizing that I knew he intended to hand her back to Menalaos.

And the Golden One had made a fortress for himself inside the great pyramid.

It all looked hopelessly snarled. Until I saw that with one stroke I could cut the knot. Like a message sent by some G.o.d, a plan took shape in my mind. By the time Helen and I had returned to our apartments, I knew what I had to do.

Chapter 39.

I had not expected the prince of the realm to join our expedition downriver. As Lukka and his men marched aboard the boat that would take us to the Lower Kingdom, a sedan chair flanked by a guard of honor was carried by six sweating Nubians slowly down the stone pier and stopped at our gangplank. A young man pushed the curtains aside and stepped lithely from the chair, slim, well muscled, and as light of skin as Merneptah and the priests I had seen.

His name was Aramset: the only legitimate son of the king. He was barely old enough to have a bit of down fuzzing his chin. He was a handsome lad, a good indication of what his father must have looked like as a teenager. He seemed eager to take part in a war.

The nominal leader of our expedition, the limping, overweight General Raseth, bowed low to the prince and then introduced me to him.

”We're going to slaughter the barbarians,” Aramset said, laughing. ”My father wants me to learn the arts of war, so that I will understand them when I rule.”

He seemed pleasant enough. But inwardly I knew that Nekoptah had arranged this royal addition to our expedition. If the prince happened to get himself killed in battle, and there was no other legitimate heir to the throne, it strengthened his grip on the power of the kingdom even further.

Again I had to admire Nekoptah's cunning.

I had taken leave of Helen that morning, trusting her safety to the care of Nefertu. She did not fully understand all the machinations swirling around us, but she sensed that schemes within schemes were taking me away from her.

”Menalaos still seeks me,” she said, as I held her in my arms.

”He is hundreds of miles away,” I said.

She leaned her golden head against my chest. ”Orion, sometimes I think that it is my destiny to return to him. No matter what I do, he still pursues me, like the hounds of fate.”

I said nothing.

”He will kill you if you do battle against him,” she said.

”No, I don't think so. And I don't really want to kill him, either.”

She pushed away from me slightly and gazed up into my eyes. ”Will I ever see you again, my protector?”

”Of course.”

But she shook her head. ”No. I don't think so. I think this is our final farewell, Orion.” There were tears in her eyes.