Aya heard the men’s voices close. They were dragging a horde of weapons into the false chamber atop one of Pharaoh’s larger bed sheets. The cache was so heavy that they had to pause several times to rest as they dragged it to the base of the ramp.
‘What is the matter, Sobek?’ asked Den. ‘Did you not expect you would have to share?’
Aya wiped her tears. ‘Not at all.’
Ranofer gave Aya a gentle pat on the head. ‘You will not come away with everything you wished for, but we are not unreasonable men. If you carry your load, you will have your share. Come, see if you can lift this pile of daggers.’
Aya did not respond. It was one thing to witness the robbery of Pharaoh’s tomb, it was another to aid in its plunder.
‘I suppose you are right,’ said Ranofer, chuckling. ‘If we can hardly drag it down the hall, how could you possibly do it?’
The men departed, returning with another sheet filled with goods. Where was Intef? Aya dared not ask. Soon all the most valuable contents of both unfinished chambers lay on sheets at the base of the ramp.
‘We are going to need to fashion a litter for all this,’ Huni observed.
‘I think I saw a bed we can use for the rails,’ said Den.
‘Come, Sobek,’ Ranofer said, motioning to her. ‘Let us find a load that might be suitable for you.’
Arriving in the main chamber, the men began opening Pharaoh’s garment chests one by one. ‘Well, look here!’ Ranofer exclaimed, holding up Tausret’s finest beaded net dress. ‘Is this not golden thread?’
He handed the garment to Aya and she remembered the last time Pharaoh had worn the dress. It had been at the last Festival of Min. Tausret had entered the open courtyard at nighttime and the torches made the delicate threads of the net sparkle as she walked, like sun glinting off a spider’s golden web.
Aya clutched the dress to her chest, as if the memory itself depended on her preserving the garment.
‘And look at this belt!’ Ranofer exclaimed, holding up a carnelian-studded belt of the finest white leather. He draped it over Aya’s hands.
He continued in that manner until all of Pharaoh’s most expensive garments were hanging over Aya’s arms. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.
‘Come, I know the royal jewellery is somewhere near.’ They crossed to another storage room and soon Ranofer and the others were rifling through several nested boxes. Aya looked away as the men lifted the golden beaded pectorals and elaborate rings and armbands from Pharaoh’s most sacred stores. She felt the urge to vomit.
‘What is wrong, Sobek?’ asked Ranofer.
‘I find myself in need of a drink,’ replied Aya.
‘As do I,’ Den seconded.
The men packed up their newfound jewels and the four crossed to the sustenance room, nearly stumbling upon Intef, who lay against one of the crates. His eyes were closed, his legs splayed, and there was a large amphora settled on his stomach.
‘Intef!’ Aya shouted. He startled awake.
‘Brothers! What are you doing here?’ he slurred.
‘You are drunk,’ said Ranofer. ‘Where is the wine?’
‘There is no wine inside this tomb.’
Ranofer snatched the amphora from Intef’s hands and pushed it up to his nose. ‘This is wine!’
Intef’s laugh was thin and metallic. ‘You have discovered me, Brothers! It is just there on the bottom shelf.’
Aya watched in horror as the men unsealed the three separate containers of sacred wine and began to drink.
Intef looked away from her. It was as if he did not even know her, as if all that they had shared had been a fatuous vision that had disappeared with the daylight. Was this the true Intef, at last?
Of course it was and shame on Aya for ever believing otherwise. What she had not anticipated was the degree of his depravity. To think that all along he had known about the terrible plundering that was going to take place. Such elaborate lies he had told her! His bereft mother and dying brothers, his newfound admiration for Tausret, his promise to help her find the heir to the throne—all of it nonsense!
No wonder he was drinking.
‘Drink up, men,’ said Ranofer, ‘for the most difficult task lies before us.’ And so it was that four of Pharaoh’s six irreplaceable amphorae of wine were unceremoniously drunk right before her eyes.
Yet the stolen wine and pilfered jewellery were small indiscretions compared to what happened next. Had Aya known the task to which Ranofer had been referring, she might have seized her bow and arrows right then and killed them all. As it was, she only watched with suspicion as the men finished their bread and wine and stepped back into the main chamber.
‘Intef, bring your chisel,’ Ranofer called and Intef staggered to his feet and appeared with the other men standing around Pharaoh’s sacred shrine.
Aya caught Ranofer’s gaze. ‘You do not intend to open the shrine?’
‘Does a clam-digger not open the clam?’ returned Ranofer.
‘But—’ Aya took a breath. ‘For what purpose?’
‘You are not much of a tomb raider, are you, Sobek?’ Ranofer remarked. ‘Watch now and learn.’ Ranofer wedged the chisel in the seam of the shrine and landed a blow.
Soon the four men were peeling back the walls of the shrine, revealing the inner shrine. ‘And so it goes,’ said Ranofer. He chiselled through the second gilded box, then the third, until finally they were staring at Pharaoh Tausret’s giant pink granite sarcophagus.
Aya might have screamed her rage to the heavens, but she found she could not speak. She could hardly even breathe.
‘Do you see now why there are four of us, Sobek?’ asked Ranofer, as if he were a teacher giving a lesson in letters. The men took their places around the lid of the sarcophagus. ‘All together now,’ said Ranofer. ‘One, two, three.’
Intef and the other three men heaved. As they lifted the massive granite lid off of Tausret’s sarcophagus, Intef braved a glance at Aya. She was standing near the entrance to the main chamber, as if any moment she might make her escape. A part of him hoped she would.
She seemed to be frozen in place, however. She was gazing at the granite lid that had been propped against the sarcophagus as if to better apprehend its features. They were roughly those of a woman’s face.
Huni gazed down at the first of the nested coffins and Den clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Do not look so worried, Brother. Remember that she was just a woman.’
‘And what of her ba—her winged personality?’ asked Huni.
‘It flew out of this tomb the moment it smelled your stinking breath!’
The men laughed and gathered around the lid of the second coffin and Ranofer began the count. ‘One, two—’
‘What are you doing?’ Aya interrupted.
Do not speak, thought Intef, willing her to stay silent.
‘What does it look like we are doing?’ Ranofer replied.
Intef could see that she had composed her expression carefully, but she was barely concealing the quiver in her lip. ‘What value is there in exposing the mummy?’ she asked.
The three men exchanged glances, as if sharing a private jest. ‘Let us see if you can guess,’ said Ranofer, ‘as part of your education.’
The men lifted the gilded wooden lid and placed it on the ground, then lifted another lid of solid gold.
Ranofer held up his torch and the three men peered down into the coffin that contained Tausret’s mummy. Huni gasped. Den shook his head. ‘It is lovelier than I imagined.’
Ranofer gestured to Aya. ‘Come, Sobek, you must see this.’
Aya stood frozen in the doorway to the chamber. Intef could not tell if she was on the verge of tears or murder.
‘You will never see anything more magnificent in all your life,’ goaded Ranofer.
‘Leave her be, Ranofer,’ said Intef. ‘Can you not see she fears Tausret’s ka?’
The men stared down at the solid gold death mask staring back at them with jewel-encrusted eyes.
‘I do not understand,’ said Huni. ‘I thought Sobek would be delighted to behold such a treasure. Do women not love such things?’
‘You have hit upon the very problem,’ mused Den. ‘She is a woman and thus as inconstant as a cloud.’
‘That she is a woman has nothing to do with it,’ snapped Intef. He hardly recognised his own voice.
The men set the death mask on the floor and returned their attention to Tausret’s unmasked mummy.
There she was. The Powerful One. Her cheeks were brown and sunken, her linen-wrapped limbs barely thicker than bones. Still, somehow, Intef could see her greatness.
Ranofer began probing beneath her wraps with his thick fingers. ‘What are you doing?’ asked Intef.
‘Looking for amulets, of course,’ he said. ‘They can be quite valuable.’
Intef was feeling a powerful urge to consume more wine.
‘Surely we have enough treasure now with all the jewellery,’ he said, but Ranofer turned to Den and Huni.
‘Will you not help me search, Brothers?’ Soon Den and Huni had joined him. Intef gazed at the deceased woman, searching for some excuse to stop them from desecrating her completely.
It was then he spotted the scroll. It was lying inside Tausret’s desiccated hand, as if she had been embalmed with it in her grip. Intef gently lifted it and began to read.
I, Tausret, Daughter of Merneptah and Takhat, Granddaughter of Rameses the Great Ancestor, do hereby swear before Thoth that my daughter, Aya, born of my flesh, is the last of the Rameses bloodline.
She bears the sacred mark upon her neck, drawn there by the High Priestess of Isis in her third year, and the records of her birth can be found in the Isis Temple at Pi-Rameses.
Let it be known that the blood of Rameses flows on.
At the bottom of the scroll was Tausret’s royal cartouche in the form of a wax stamp along with a familiar symbol: a triangle inside a circle.
‘What is it?’ asked Den. He was gazing over Intef’s shoulder. ‘What does it say?’
‘It is...a curse,’ Intef lied. ‘It is addressed to anyone who might open the coffin and harm the deceased.’
‘Read it,’ said Huni.
‘Do not read it!’ cried Den.
Intef rolled the scroll and placed it beneath his belt. ‘Den is right,’ he said. ‘We should not read it.’
‘We should destroy it!’ cried Den.
‘And risk unleashing the spirit of the curse?’ Intef shook his head. ‘I will take it to a temple and have it neutralised by a priest. Now let us finish gathering our haul. We leave tonight.’
By the time the men had finished ransacking the main chamber, all of their bags were filled and they spent the rest of the afternoon in the false chamber constructing their litter.
As soon as they were settled in their work, Aya padded quietly back down the corridor. When she arrived at the threshold to the main chamber and saw Intef sitting beside the shrine, her heart skipped. A part of her wanted to rush into his arms.
The foolish part of her.
Without acknowledging him, she stepped before the open sarcophagus and gazed down at her beloved Pharaoh.
‘I must move the lids back into place. I must return her to her rest.’ She was trying her best to maintain her composure, though the sight of Tausret’s unmasked face filled her with a despair so sharp she nearly choked.
‘I know. I will help you do it.’
‘I do not want any more of your help.’ Still, she knew he would not leave until the burial was restored. He was obviously desperate to make himself feel better about what he had done.
She would not let him.
‘You did not just betray me. You betrayed her!’ He moved to stand, but she motioned him away. ‘Stay away from her!’
He sank back down beside the sarcophagus. Here they were, alone together in the main chamber, just as they had been when they first met. Still enemies.
‘Why, Intef?’
‘General Setnakht requested the death mask. The men were merely following orders.’
‘You know that is not what I mean.’
‘Everything I do is for the good of Egypt,’ he said.
She laughed bitterly and looked around the chamber. Several of the chests lay broken on the floor. Clothes were strewn about, along with several emptied amphorae and the splinters of the bed frame the men had violently disassembled.
‘How can this be for the good of Egypt?’ She really wanted to know. She prayed he could convince her, for just then she felt as though not only had Tausret’s afterlife been destroyed, but that all her Pharaoh’s efforts in this life had been, too.
‘Tausret’s treasure will pay for mercenaries in General Setnakht’s army.’
‘So your plunder will pay for more killing.’
She fought her tears, but they came anyway, falling on Tausret’s resin-stained bandages, which had been tugged and loosened by Intef’s careless partners.
‘You could have stopped all this.’
Aya did her best to settle the cloths back into place. Without her death mask Tausret seemed so small and fragile. Even her elegant embroidered robe could not conceal her hollow ribcage and the wretched concavity of her stomach.
‘I cannot stop anything now,’ said Intef. ‘The moment the tunnel was complete, the tomb was lost. You must understand this.’
‘I thought you were an honourable man.’
‘It is possible that the number of mercenaries we purchase will prevent a battle with the High Priest. It is why I am here.’
‘To prevent a battle?’
‘I am tired of fighting, Aya.’
‘Then why have you spent all these years in Setnakht’s army?’
‘I just want someone to prevail. I do not care who.’
Aya wiped her tears. ‘Now it is I who no longer believes your words,’ she said, for if she did believe them, then she could not blame him. If he was speaking the truth, then the reasons for his actions were honourable. And she did not wish to believe him honourable—not right now.
‘It is the only way to ensure a peaceful succession. I wanted to tell you. I—’
‘Do you really think the High Priest will concede without a fight?’ asked Aya.
‘If General Setnakht can overwhelm him with the size of his army, then, yes. Everything depends on the mercenaries.’
She shook her head. ‘You do not know the High Priest.’
Aya gazed down at Tausret, catching a glint of silver. There were two small silver objects wedged just behind her Pharaoh’s leg. She reached down and touched the cool metal and sensed a memory hovering at the edges of her mind. They were a pair of silver gloves—too small for anyone but a child.
Where had she seen the gloves before?
She stepped back and studied Tausret’s face one last time, then bent to kiss her cheek. ‘I will not rest until your legacy is restored,’ she whispered. She was going to say more, but she sensed Intef moving around the sarcophagus and looked up.
He was placing something inside Tausret’s coffin. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Ah...’
Aya strode towards him and seized the object: a scroll with a broken wax seal. She opened it and began to read. ‘“I, Tausret, Daughter of Merneptah and Takhat, Granddaughter of Rameses the Great Ancestor...”’
When she’d finished, she felt the room begin to spin. She gripped the side of the sarcophagus.
‘I am the heir,’ she whispered. ‘I am Tausret’s daughter.’
She reached for one of the silver gloves. She remembered them now. Tausret had given them to her as a gift when she was young. They were decorations—not meant to be worn—but Aya had been too young to know it. She had pulled them from a shelf and had tried to wear them on her hands. Tausret had laughed and lifted Aya into the air, then hugged her with great affection.
Aya had tucked the memory away, for it had been rare for Tausret even to smile, let alone embrace anyone.
Like a mother would have embraced a daughter.
‘Why did you seek to hide this from me?’ Aya demanded.
‘I tried to tell you, but you did not believe me.’
‘But the scroll is proof!’
‘Yes, and proof changes everything,’ he said. He gave her a significant look and she slowly absorbed the meaning of his words.
It did change everything. Now there was irrefutable evidence of her birth. As Tausret’s proven daughter, she had the Great Ancestor’s blood running through her veins. She was part divine and could confer legitimacy upon whichever pretender she chose. She had just become a kingmaker.
Intef plucked the scroll from Aya’s grasp and tucked it back into the coffin. ‘Nobody needs to know.’
Aya’s mind raced. ‘If the heir were female, we could avoid a war,’ she echoed. ‘You said that to me only days ago.’
‘I was only speaking theoretically.’
‘Do you not wish to avoid a war?’ she asked. She placed the silver glove back into the coffin and pulled the scroll out again.
‘It is not worth sacrificing your life. Did you not say that Tausret wished for you to live?’ Intef asked.
Aya could hardly think. Outside, armies were gathering. She alone had the ability to stop them. ‘Was Tausret foolish in her alliance with the King of the Hittites?’ she asked Intef.
‘I believe she was.’
‘But many lives were saved through that alliance.’
‘Except Tausret’s own,’ said Intef. He bowed his head. ‘May she live on for ever in the Fields of Paradise.’
‘There is no choice, Intef. It is my life or thousands of lives.’
He moved towards her, then seemed to stop himself. ‘Please do not do this, Aya. Do not give away the rest of your life. You have served Great Egypt nobly. Now it is time to live.’
‘If I married Setnakht’s son, or even Setnakht himself, I would still be living.’
‘You would become a royal brood mare, just like Tausret. Your mother kept you secret all her life just so she could avoid that fate for you.’
‘And my mother worked her whole life trying to save Egyptian lives.’
He was shaking his head. ‘This is all my fault. We should have escaped the night after you tunnelled through. I would have had you out of here sooner if we had not...’ He paused.
‘If we had not made love?’ She smiled sadly. ‘I know you do not love me, Intef. You made that very clear. Nor do I love you.’ She felt a pinch in her chest, as though she was betraying some piece of her heart. ‘Though I respect your intentions, I cannot trust you and I know I will never be able to again. There is no need for you to protect me, or feel obliged to me any longer. We both seek what is best for the people of Egypt. I will give myself to Setnakht and his son Rameses and lives will be saved. There are many ways to honour Pharaoh’s memory, but this is the best.’