He crossed the chamber and saw that Aya was still asleep, so he climbed up the ramp and stepped up the footrests inside the tunnel to get a view of the world into which they would soon be escaping.
The Great and Majestic Necropolis of the Millions of Years of the Pharaoh: that was what they called the small cleft between hills on which he gazed. The name was larger than the valley itself! And yet scores of kings were buried here, along with enough gold to fill a hundred ships.
Intef turned around to admire the natural backdrop for the sacred valley: a tall peak in the poetical shape of a pyramid. It ensconced the unmarked tombs in its mystical shelter, concealing them from would-be thieves. The area was further safeguarded by a small army of guards—the legendary Medjay—two of whom were currently running down the valley towards a column of smoke.
Intef craned his neck to get a better view. There appeared to be a fire some way down the valley. He turned to discover two more guards only a few cubits away from where he stood. They, too, were making their way towards the blaze.
He ducked back into the tunnel, his heart beating. The guards had not seen him, but only because of the boulders all around the site of the hole. It was an incredible stroke of fortune that they had dug the tunnel where they did. Just a few cubits to either side, and it would have been exposed. They would have surely been discovered by now.
Thank the gods that Aya had insisted on digging the tunnel where they had.
He returned to the false chamber and Aya was finally stirring beneath the bed sheet. ‘Good morning, Sister,’ he said, following the customary greeting for a lover.
‘Good morning, Brother.’ She pulled down the sheet and flashed him a sleepy grin.
All at once he understood why men wrote poetry and built monuments. All those elaborate toilings on papyrus and stone were simply an effort to honour moments like these, when beauty appeared unbidden, making the world seem wondrous and alive and utterly worth living.
And soon he was going to have to say goodbye to it all. He was going to have to say goodbye to her.
‘There is a fire down the valley.’
She sat up in alarm.
‘It is quite far away—nothing to worry about. It may even help us. Perhaps there will be fewer guards when we leave at sunset.’
‘Must we wait until sunset?’
An innocent question, but it needled his heart. Was she so eager to sever their bond? The answer was, yes, of course she was. She had always been.
‘I doubt we will be ready before then,’ he said. ‘Besides, the cover of darkness will help protect us from detection.’
It was in that moment that the quality of the light inside the chamber shifted. It became darker, as if a cloud had just passed over the sun. He could no longer read her expression.
‘What is it, Aya? What is the matter?’
‘Intef, there is a man behind you.’ She rose. ‘A very large man.’
‘It appears your help has arrived,’ said a familiar voice. Intef turned to discover Ranofer, who was gazing at Aya and shaking his head.
‘You naughty rogue, Intef! Where on earth did you find her?’ Ranofer peered around the chamber, as if he might find his answer somewhere among the murals. He turned and called up the ramp, ‘Come quickly, Brothers. You are not going to believe this!’
Another large man with a short, goat-like beard stumbled into the false chamber. ‘What is this?’ he said. ‘Has our beetle found a bird?’ He took a step towards Aya.
‘Stay away from her, Den!’ shouted Intef.
‘All right, all right, Brother, calm yourself,’ said Ranofer. He opened out his arms. ‘By the gods, are you not happy to see us?’
The fourth member of their party came stumbling down the ramp, carrying a load of sacks. He noticed Aya, his eyes growing as big as plates.
‘Say nothing, Huni,’ warned Intef. ‘There will be no more comments from any of you.’
Intef glanced behind him at Aya. She had gathered the bed sheet tightly around her nudity. Her face was as still as a stone.
‘You were not supposed to arrive until the ninth day,’ said Intef. ‘At night.’
‘Today is the ninth day,’ remarked Den, stroking his beard. ‘We are right on time.’
Intef shook his head. Where had the days gone? ‘We made a little fire down the valley.’ Ranofer displayed his ash-stained hands. ‘A little distraction for the guards.’
Intef nodded. He should have guessed the reason for the smoke. Why had he not guessed?
‘We bring news from above,’ said Huni, setting down his sacks. ‘The High Priest has amassed an army in the desert south of here. General Setnakht’s army is gathering to face him. The winner of the battle will take the double crown.’
Intef felt a pang of hope. ‘Does the General no longer require our services, then?’
The three men laughed. ‘The mercenaries merely await their payment,’ said Huni.
‘How much payment?’ asked Intef.
‘There are hundreds of mercenaries,’ said Ranofer. ‘We must take as much treasure as we can carry. We must give them a reason to fight.’
Intef heard Aya gasp. She was stumbling backwards. She bumped against the wall of the false shrine. She looked as if she had just been hit by an arrow.
He rushed to her side and helped ease her down to the floor. She made no resistance, apparently too stunned to even push him away.
‘Where in Great Egypt did you find her, Intef?’ asked Ranofer.
‘Do kings buried in these hills still keep their own harems?’ jested Huni.
Intef tried to meet Aya’s gaze, but she would not look at him. She was gazing somewhere beyond all the men, her expression lifeless.
‘Well, Intef, who is she?’ Ranofer asked.
Intef willed himself to speak. ‘She is... Sobek. Daughter of Ankhu,’ he lied. ‘She stumbled into the tunnel yesterday, lost and starving.’
Aya kept her gaze on the distant wall as Ranofer squatted to study her face. ‘Where did you come from, my sweet?’ he muttered. ‘And how did you end up here?’
‘She came from Aswan,’ Intef said. ‘She has a dying mother and four starving brothers there. Robbing a tomb is her last hope to save them.’
Intef felt vaguely ill. It was the very lie he had told Aya the day they had met.
‘There is Libyan in her,’ said Ranofer. ‘Are we sure she has not been sent by an enemy tribe?’
‘Her father was Libyan,’ Intef answered. ‘Her mother was Egyptian.’
‘Why not let her speak for herself!’ snapped Ranofer. He placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘Tell me about your owner, pretty Sobek,’ he cooed.
Her lips were trembling. ‘Deceased,’ she whispered.
‘Your family is starving, eh? But you look rather hale to me. Perhaps that is what you say to all your fellow tomb raiders?’ He nudged Aya in the ribs.
‘Do not touch her,’ growled Intef. ‘She is mine.’
The words seemed to shock Aya into waking and she turned to meet Intef’s gaze. ‘How could you?’
Ranofer returned to standing. ‘Did you not tell her we were coming, Brother?’
She jumped to her feet and stepped away from the two men. There were tears in her eyes. ‘I belong to no man! I am not yours and I never will be.’
‘A spirited little heifer,’ remarked Den. He glanced at her bare arms. ‘She can certainly help us with the haul.’
Ranofer nodded thoughtfully. ‘What do you think, Sobek? Will you help us bear the riches from this tomb? In return, you may have a share of them.’ Ranofer held out his hand.
Take it, thought Intef. Play the part.
If Ranofer even suspected that Aya was a servant of the late Pharaoh, he would consider her a threat. At the very least, she would be bound and silenced.
‘How much?’ she asked. Intef exhaled.
‘Enough to save that poor, ailing family you claim to have,’ Ranofer said. ‘If you do not wish to help us, however, you may leave now and hope the guards do not catch you.’
Aya accepted Ranofer’s hand and shook it.
‘A reasonable woman!’ remarked Ranofer. He squatted to strike flint, then lit a torch. ‘Come now, Intef,’ he said. ‘Lead us to the riches.’
Aya collapsed to the floor as Intef and the three men disappeared down the corridor. She lay upon the cool tiles, waiting for the tears to come. When none did, she sat up and looked around the chamber, blinking.
Everything around her seemed changed. The magnificent images of the gods that adorned the columns seemed smaller somehow, their colours less vivid. The splendid murals seemed to lack lustre in the hazy daylight.
She gazed up at the starry ceiling. Days ago, when Intef had first flashed his torchlight upon it, the stars had seemed otherworldly, as if they had been plucked from the very sky.
Now they appeared clumsy and false, as if they had been painted on haphazardly by a careless workman.
She smiled desolately, remembering the moment Intef had told her about his bereft family. The lie had been there all along, as obvious as the bumps of a crocodile, yet Aya had allowed his sparkling eyes and gallant grin to divert her attention from it.
It had been more than just his handsome face, however. There had also been his gentle nature and funny wit. There had been the compromises he had made for her and the way he had listened to her ideas and let them change his mind. In the small space of the tomb, he held much more power than she, yet he had given much of that power away. He had treated her as an equal.
It had surprised her how much she wanted him. It had surprised her even more that he had wanted her.
It was not simply the hunger they shared for one another. It was not the gentle way they pleased each other, or the music that seemed to play when their bodies intertwined. It was something else—something otherworldly, as if their union had been fated by the gods.
But it had all been a ruse.
She sat patiently, waiting for the tears to come. Nothing. The situation was too incredible to believe. How could a man who had worked so hard to help her have betrayed her so completely?
More importantly, how could she have allowed it to happen?
It was as if he had placed her beneath a kind of spell. He had impressed her with his good deeds and placed the smoke of lust beneath her nose and soon had her begging for his attentions.
She had been so thoroughly swept up in his magic that she had even convinced herself of his goodness.
Such an honourable man he is! she had told herself. To risk so much to save his family!
The Goodly Thief she had even named her bow. The Goodly Thief!
Ah, what a fool she had been.
There had been clues all along, after all. If he had really been such a respected archer in Tausret’s army, she would have heard of him. The Sons of Ra—what kind of company was that? His self-proclaimed status as the kingdom’s best archer did not mix with his savage criticism of its ruler.
And then there had been his keen interest in the identity of the heir. Of course he would be interested. General Setnakht would want the heir dead even more than the High Priest did.
She untangled herself from the bed sheet, but could not gather the energy to fetch her clothes. She gazed down at her naked body and laughed bitterly.
As if any man could ever want her—a hardened woman long past her prime, a cold Libyan crone with a strange face and soulless stare. She had wanted what she could not have instead of being satisfied with what she had always possessed: Pharaoh’s love.
It was the only true thing in her life and it was enough. It was more than enough. It was more real than any sunrise and richer than any tomb. In her pursuit of life, she had forgotten her life’s purpose. She would never err like that again.
She heard clanging somewhere near and quickly donned her sheath. The men were in the weapons room, carrying out their wicked work. Soon they would have all the golden daggers gathered. They would pile up the spears and pluck the jewels from the chariots’ reins. There was no way that Aya would be able to replace it all.
How could she stop them? She could not defeat the four large men on her own. Even armed with her bow, she would not be able to pin them to any surface. If she tried to injure them, she felt certain they would simply slit her throat.
There was one way to stop them. She gazed up at the shaft of light shining down from above. She could sneak away. Right then, she could escape out the tunnel and run down the valley to where the guards had gathered around the fire. ‘Come with me!’ she could tell them. ‘You have been tricked!’
In no time, she could have Intef and his three co-conspirators standing beneath executioners’ spears.
Pharaoh would be avenged and Aya redeemed.
And Intef would be dead.
Finally, the tears began to fall. She could not do it. He had lied to her, he had betrayed her body and soul, yet she could not bear the thought of his death. She hated him and she never wished to see him again, but she did not wish to live in a world without him.
It was like watching a pack of hyenas eviscerating a fresh carcase. Intef stood at the entrance to the first unfinished chamber watching his fellow tomb raiders begin their pillaging in earnest. They prowled about the room in a kind of frenzy, seizing upon the treasures and tossing them into piles.
‘Look at this slingshot!’ Huni remarked, gazing in wonder at the solid gold weapon. ‘It looks as though it should be adorning some rich woman’s hair!’
‘Give me that,’ said Den, grabbing the object and shoving it beneath his kilt. ‘I do far more hunting than you do.’
‘Let us not forget our purpose, Brothers,’ Intef uttered, though for the moment even he could not remember quite what that was.
Intef saw Ranofer admiring himself in a shining copper shield. ‘It is so clear,’ Ranofer said.
Intef gazed into the polished copper and drew a breath. The image of himself was the clearest he had ever seen, yet had somehow never been murkier.
What had happened to the handsome youth with the luminous eyes and hopeful grin? He was gone—replaced by this mirthless wrinkled man, whose lips stretched into a soulless frown.
Intef adjusted the angle of the shield, hoping to catch the sparkle in his eyes, but they remained dull and crooked, for they were the eyes of a thief and a liar. A man who betrayed the ones he cared about the most.
He handed the shield back to Ranofer. ‘It will be worth dozens of deben melted down,’ he said.
‘Melted down? I plan to keep it,’ Ranofer remarked.
Intef sat on the floor of the unfinished chamber, glad that Aya was nowhere near. When he had left her inside the false chamber, he feared he might never see her again. He had also prayed for it.
His stomach felt hollow, as if a hole had opened up inside it.
‘A golden hilt, by the gods!’ Den shouted.
Intef imagined Aya scrambling up the tunnel and out into the daylight. Which way would she run? Would she disappear into the hills, or would she run directly to the guards and tell them that they had been tricked?
‘Look at this saddle,’ remarked Huni. ‘It is as red as the desert.’
If the latter, then the guards would soon be upon them and Intef and his fellow tomb raiders would have nothing to do but to await their own deaths.
‘Ha!’ Intef laughed and Den shot him a look.
‘What is so funny?’
‘Everything.’
‘It is true, then,’ mused Den. ‘Nine days inside the tomb has driven you mad.’
‘Five days, Den! Only five!’ shouted Intef madly.
Den and Huni exchanged a look.
Intef laughed. Perhaps he was mad. He certainly could no longer count properly, nor did it seem was he in control of his fate. That was in Aya’s hands and he prayed that she would have mercy. Still, he would accept whatever punishment she delivered, for she had been right about him from the beginning: he was a dirty, miserable thief.
The hole was growing larger. He needed to find something to fill it. ‘I will return shortly,’ he told his fellow thieves, grabbing his torch.
He headed for the main chamber and turned into the first storage room, searching for an amphora of beer. He lunged towards the shelves, stumbling on one of the chests.
His leg hit hard against the wood and he slammed down on to the ground. Pain ripped through him and he laughed bitterly.
Good. He wanted it to hurt. He touched the wound on his leg to discover it wet with blood. Even better. He wanted to bleed until all that was left of him was a heap of drained flesh.
He reached out and grabbed the closest amphora he could find. He ripped off the seal and took a long draught, only to discover he had opened the sacred wine. He closed his eyes. His betrayal of her could not be any worse. He could not be any more loathsome.
Yes, he could.
He tilted the amphora to his lips and drank until he could drink no more. He could feel the liquid spilling down his cheeks. Wine was much more potent than beer and thank the gods for that, for his mood was already improving.
Still, he could not seem to get her last words out of his mind. ‘I am not yours and I never will be.’
Well, what had he expected? He had not only betrayed her, he had done so to her face.
He took another long gulp of wine. If he had only kept better track of the days, he could have got her out of the tomb before the men had arrived.
Perhaps he had not wanted time to pass. Maybe he had wanted more hours with her and simply wished them into existence. Whatever the reason, he had been a fool. Now not only would they be parted, but she would loathe him for ever.
‘I am not yours and I never will be.’