Then, as the name of Akkan entered the man’s mind, so the Child-Killer entered the tavern. The slave girl saw him and hid behind the counter. The innkeeper asked Akkan what he required and received no reply. Then Akkan saw the man and smiled, broadly.

  Now he is congratulating himself, the man thought. He has decided that it was not his god that led him here but his own astuteness. Well . . . wrong on both counts.

  As Akkan walked across the room, his brute physical strength was evident. So, too, was the sharp, predatory glint in his eye. This was a very powerful piece in the game, the man thought. One who might go all the way to the end of the quest. But perhaps his strength itself, and the degree to which he both took it and the power of his god for granted, might be his greatest weakness.

  Fear could prevent a man from taking unnecessary risks, and a sense of his own vulnerability would cause him to enlist the help of others. This man was never afraid; nor were other people anything to him, apart from tools to be used and thrown away. But still, Akkan was as powerful as any man he’d ever seen, the man thought. He was not to be underestimated.

  Akkan walked up to the table. He saw the man, and this time, when the scarf fell away, it was entirely deliberate.

  For a second, even the mighty Akkan flinched. His right hand grasped the hilt of his sword. He was about to give an order, accompanied by a threat, but the man saw no need to go through that charade; it would draw too much attention to them both. He simply replaced the scarf, then got to his feet and started walking very calmly past Akkan, towards the door. And beneath the linen fabric that covered his mouth there was the merest hint of a smile.

  N

  ow Akkan cast his eyes around the farmyard. He saw the desperation with which his men were fighting. But to what end? He had been sold a dream of a glorious victory, and now all he saw was a petty skirmish at the tail end of a terrible disaster. How in the name of all the gods could this have possibly happened?

  The Hyksos advance on Thebes had gone perfectly to plan. On the very eve of the final battle came the finest news of all. Pharaoh Tamose, venturing out from his tent to inspect his troops, had strayed too close to the Hyksos lines. A volley of arrows had been loosed and Tamose had been struck by one. Some even said he had died. But whether wounded or slain, his loss seemed like the final blow to Egyptian hopes. The victory of the Hyksos was now a foregone conclusion.

  Then the unthinkable had happened. The mighty forces of the Hyksos had clashed with the tattered remnants of Egypt’s army, and the battle had gone exactly as King Khamudi had planned. Victory was within the Hyksos’ grasp and then, at the very last moment, the cursed Egyptians had suddenly found allies – a whole army of scarlet-cloaked Spartans, and a monstrous troop of huge grey beasts with fearsome curved tusks, who charged through the ranks of the Hyksos, smashing their once-invincible chariots into kindling for Egyptian campfires.

  Akkan and his men had played no part in the battle. Their duty was best served by keeping their captive alive and in their hands. They could only watch as triumph became disaster, and with Thebes still firmly in enemy hands, Akkan was forced to close his eyes and seek his master’s guidance. Through his divine providence they had been led to this farm, well away from the main line of the Hyksos retreat and the advance of the Egyptians.

  The farmer, his family and his slaves had put up no resistance. Akkan had ordered the farmhouse to be set on fire, so that in the unlikely event of any forces from either side passing by, they would assume that it had already been looted and not stop to ravage it themselves.

  That task completed, Akkan took his men, their chariots, their horses and their captive to a grove of date palms, out of sight of the track that ran past the farm. They would spend the night there, Akkan decided, and then, when dawn came, he would formulate a new plan of action.

  The Egyptians had arrived out of nowhere, a company of them, emerging out of the night and coming directly to the grove.

  They found us as easily as I found the tattooed man, Akkan thought.

  But he was immediately too busy fighting to take that realisation, and its implications, any further. Now, for all the Egyptians he had killed, and for all his men’s skill and bravery, Akkan knew that this little skirmish was about to be lost, just as the great battle had been lost.

  Akkan closed his eyes and called to Seth. He knew he was quite safe to lower his guard, for no matter how long he spent with the god, no time ever passed in the land of men.

  Each man who could look upon the gods did so in his own unique way. Whenever Akkan gazed upon Seth, the deity came to him with the body, voice and language of a man, but with the head of a jackal. Now Seth spoke in a voice so deep and so powerful that Akkan could feel his very bones vibrate, giving instructions about what would happen and what had to be done, both now and in the days to come.

  Akkan gave thanks to Seth, praised him and swore eternal obedience. Then he opened his eyes. Sure enough, it was as if he had done no more than blink. He stepped away from the fighting and walked quickly back to where the captive lay with his hands and legs bound and his head covered by a leather hood. He had not wanted any strangers to see his all-too-memorable face, and Akkan knew that his men preferred it to be hidden, too – they believed that the tattooed man was a demon in human form.

  Akkan, however, knew the difference between a demon and a man, and he felt strengthened and reassured by all that Seth had told him. He was quite calm as he squatted down beside the hooded figure.

  ‘I’ve come to a decision,’ Akkan said, pulling out a knife. He put it to the captive’s throat, pressing down until a bead of blood appeared at the tip of the blade. ‘It’s time for me to disappear . . . but I won’t be far away. I will be watching you, wherever you go, and I will, in the end, uncover the secret that you are hiding.’

  Akkan paused for a second, then in one swift movement he cut the drawstring that secured the hood around the captive’s neck. The confident, all-seeing eyes that lived within that death’s head looked back at him as he pulled the leather up and over the man’s shaven skull. Amid the chaos all around him, the tattooed man seemed absolutely at peace.

  Standing, Akkan took one last look around the grove. The Egyptians were on the point of overpowering his men. One or two of the Hyksos were throwing down their swords and pleading for mercy.

  Akkan made sure that no eyes were pointed in his direction, then he vanished from the scene, as if he had never existed at all.

  O

  utside the great walls of Thebes, at the furthest, quietest point of the victorious army’s encampment, close by the banks of the life-giving Nile, a slender grey cat with cool green eyes was strolling with calm self-assurance between the elephants gathered for the night within a hastily constructed wooden enclosure. The huge animals were exhausted after the battle – the deafening noise, the frantic movement and the war-stench of men’s sweat and blood.

  The elephants stamped their feet on the ground, flapped their ears and shook their heads, sweeping their tusks, whose creamy ivory was still stained with Hyksos blood, from side to side.

  The cat, however, seemed entirely untroubled by the possibility that her slender, sinuous body might at any moment be crushed by the great beasts. She walked with her head held high and her tail proudly erect. And as she passed among the elephants, they seemed to be calmed by her presence and they lowered their heads, one by one, as she went by.

  A tall, graceful woman with night-black skin was watching every step of the cat’s progress. Her willowy figure was both covered and shown off by the azure dress that hung from a bronze clasp at her shoulder. Now she clapped her hands in delight.

  ‘You see, my darling,’ she said, her eyes sparkling as she turned her head to the young Egyptian man who stood by her side. ‘I was right, Bast has been blessed by the goddess. Even the elephants bow down in her presence.’

  ‘Ha!’ laughed Piay, the spy and adventurer, who loved Myssa the Kushite with all his warrior heart. ‘Those elephants are exhausted . . . It’s a wonder that they aren’t on their knees as she goes past!’

  Myssa aimed a playful slap at Piay’s chest and he responded by wrapping both arms around her and pulling her closer. He lowered his head towards hers, fully intending to kiss her soft, full lips.

  ‘I’ve spent the entire day and most of this evening risking my neck,’ Piay said, ‘first in that battle, and then rescuing you from that evil bastard Sakir. So, now I want a hearty meal, a river of strong drink and . . . above all, my love, my goddess . . . I want you.’

  ‘No,’ Myssa said, placing her fingertips on his mouth to stop its advance. ‘We have a serious theological matter to settle first . . . And then maybe . . . just maybe . . . you will get all you desire.’

  ‘Very well then, speak.’

  ‘First, that cat bears the name of the lioness goddess, Bast—’

  ‘Only because you named her so.’

  ‘I named her because I could feel her power. And Bast can perform miracles. You can’t deny it, because you’ve seen it yourself. She can leave us one day in one place, and we then go somewhere else, far away, without her . . . and a short while later she’ll just reappear and walk up to us as if she’d been with us all the time. How does she do that . . .? Come on, then, answer me that?’

  Piay shrugged. ‘I admit, I’ve seen that . . . and I can’t explain how she does it.’

  ‘So, I win. And all you have to do to get everything you want tonight . . .’ Myssa got up on tiptoes, put her mouth close to Piay’s ear and lowered her voice to a soft, deep purr that sent the blood hammering through his entire body. ‘Absolutely everything you can imagine and more besides.’

  ‘Yes?’ Piay said gruffly, using every last scrap of his willpower to hold himself back from throwing Myssa to the ground and having his way with her there and then. ‘What must I do?’

  ‘Just say, “Myssa, you are right, as always. Your cat is touched by the gods.”’

  Piay hesitated. His lust said, Speak! But his pride said, No!

  ‘Say it!’ Myssa repeated.

  Piay gave a great sigh of defeat. ‘Myssa, you are right . . . as you are most of the time . . .’

  ‘Be careful now . . . Think what you might be missing.’

  ‘As always . . .’ Piay conceded. Then a wicked smile played at the edges of his mouth. His hand began to stroke Myssa’s thigh, his fingers going higher and higher, and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

  Myssa giggled, all pretence at sternness gone, and she might have given herself to him right there, were it not for a rough male voice calling out, ‘Give it a break, you two, and get on with saying goodbye. There won’t be a drop of beer left in the whole of Thebes if you carry on like this.’

  Piay and Myssa reluctantly untangled their bodies.

  ‘Yes, of course, sorry, Hannu,’ Myssa said, reaching up to tidy the mass of curly black hair that had sprung from the blue ribbon that exactly matched her dress.

  ‘At last . . .’ Hannu muttered. He was a retired soldier, discharged from the elite Blue Crocodile Guards, when the limp he had acquired from a Hyksos sword, slashed across his right leg, had left him unfit for service. He’d been reduced to begging in a dusty street when Piay first met him.

  Whenever Piay described what had happened next, he would say that he had taken pity on Hannu’s wretched condition and offered him work, food and shelter. Hannu told a different story: that it was he, Hannu, who had taken pity on this raw young man and had decided to guide him on his path in life. Each was happy to let the other persist in his delusion.

  The elephants and the Tumisi tribe would be heading south in the morning. For the next few minutes, the humans said their farewells to the men who had been their loyal, courageous companions and the animals they had come to think of as friends. They had travelled together, all the way to Thebes from the furthest depths of the land of Kush, far to the south, beyond even the source of the Nile itself.

  Hannu lingered longest with Mero, the senior male of the herd. The elephant was massive. Hannu was short and stocky, with a thick, simian mat of wiry black and grey hair across his back and his chest. They were as unalike physically as two creatures could possibly be, and yet the bond between them was undeniable.

  ‘They’re two of a kind,’ Myssa said. ‘A pair of grumpy old men, who’d rather die than admit that they have sweet, brave, loyal souls underneath all that bad temper.’

  ‘Two grumpy old men that I’d rather have beside me in battle than any other man or beast in the world,’ Piay agreed.

  ‘Well, you’d better let Hannu get to his beer if you want him by your side when the next battle comes along.’

  ‘I’ve had my fill of battles,’ Piay said. ‘I just want a nice quiet life on a farm with you. I told Taita that, just now. You heard me say it.’

  ‘Yes, and I also heard him say that he wouldn’t allow you that life because you’d regret it in the end.’

  ‘What does Taita know?’ Piay asked, and then couldn’t help laughing at the sheer absurdity of the statement.

  ‘Everything!’ Myssa replied, also laughing, for Taita had been Piay’s teacher and surrogate father, and was now his commander. Despite being both a slave and a eunuch – neither a free man, nor a complete one – Taita’s unmatched gifts of wisdom and insight had made him the indispensable advisor and confidant to a succession of pharaohs. And his skills in both warfare and diplomacy had won Egypt its victory this day.

  Piay gave Myssa a kiss, a tender, gentle sign of his love, and she responded in kind, knowing how much more passionate their embrace would be when they finally found their way to their lodgings.

  When their lips finally parted, Myssa looked around and asked, ‘Where’s Hannu?’

  ‘Where do you think?’ Piay replied. ‘Come on, let’s go into the city and have some fun of our own!’

  P

  iay and Myssa made their way, arm in arm, through the camp towards the city’s River Gate. Bast was nestled in her owner’s arms, contentedly observing all that was going on around them.

  Here, the flames came not from burning farmhouses, but crackling fires, surrounded by warriors, who slaked their thirst with flagons of beer and bellowed rousing songs of lives well lived and battles hard fought. Egyptian soldiers, bare-chested, their once-white kilts now filthy with dirt, sweat and blood, moved among their crimson-cloaked Spartan allies, slapping backs and joining in the revelry.

  Dotted in between the men were the brightly painted faces and underdressed bodies of Theban courtesans, who had left the city’s brothels to ply their trade among men who were only too keen to be their customers. And having settled on their price, neither the women nor the men had any qualms about conducting their business.

  ‘How long, do you think, before the men start fighting over the women?’ Myssa asked.

  Piay laughed. ‘Not long! But don’t worry, those girls know just how to deal with drunken soldiers . . . and they’ll be very happy when they empty their purses in the morning.’

  ‘Hmm . . .’ Myssa murmured in acknowledgement of Piay’s words.

  They passed through the gateway, with its sturdy guard towers on either side, and into Thebes. The presence of the Hyksos armies to the north and the threat they had posed for so long had cast a deep pall upon the pharaoh’s capital. But now a heavy burden had been lifted from the city. She watched a boy, no older than ten, and his mother hugging a soldier as the man kissed the boy on his neck, his forehead and then on the top of his head.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  She gave him a gentle smile. ‘No . . . I was thinking of us, and the one big thing that you and I both have in common.’

  ‘Apart from wanting to be together all the time?’

  ‘No, I mean, something that has happened separately to each of us in our lives.’

  Piay frowned, then sighed as he realised what Myssa meant. ‘We’re alone in the world. Both of us have lost our families.’

  Myssa nodded. ‘Yes . . . but at least I was old enough to look after myself when the slavers came to destroy my world. I could understand what was happening. You were so young . . .’

  It seemed strange to Piay that he and Myssa should be having a serious conversation at such a moment. He wanted to say, ‘Let’s talk about this another time’, but he knew Myssa well enough to realise that he would be wasting his breath. This was a subject that she wanted to discuss. It would be better and quicker to just let her get it over and done with.

  ‘I was just a normal little boy,’ Piay said. ‘My parents weren’t rich or powerful and we didn’t have many possessions, but that didn’t matter to me. I didn’t know any other sort of life.’

  Myssa nodded. ‘I was just the same. All I knew was my village.’

  ‘Then one day,’ Piay went on, ‘my father told me that we were going on a journey, to meet the wisest man in all Egypt. Of course, they were talking about Taita. I thought that we were just visiting and that I’d go home afterwards with my parents. It never crossed my mind that they would leave me there. But then they went away, and they didn’t take me with them.’

  They were passing a tavern, not far from the pharaoh’s palace. It had wooden tables and benches outside. While Myssa found them somewhere to sit, Piay went in and bought a flagon of beer, some bread and a bowl of spicy goat stew. He had not eaten all day, nor drunk anything but brackish water from a leather flask. No sooner had he sat down, and shared out the food between them, than the stew was gone and the flagon empty.

  ‘By Ra, I needed that,’ he said, placing the stew bowl on the ground, so that Bast could lick it clean.

  ‘Me too,’ Myssa said, and then added, ‘So, why did your parents hand you over to Taita, do you think?’

  ‘I wish I knew,’ Piay said as Bast hopped back up onto Myssa’s lap.

  ‘Maybe they thought they were doing the best thing for you – giving you a life that they could never provide. They were handing over their only child. It must have been a terrible loss for them.’