‘Join my men in their raid,’ Khin said, enjoying Piay’s discomfort.

  ‘I’ll wait here. Let them do what they want and then we can move on.’

  ‘If you don’t join them, you can’t eat.’

  Piay felt his belly growl. It had been a very long time since his last decent meal, but he’d made enough moral compromises for one day. He wasn’t backing down on this.

  Khin tugged at his oiled beard, pleased with himself.

  ‘Suit yourself. We’ll see how long it takes for hunger to change your mind.’

  He clapped his hands to gain the attention of the Shrikes and then, with a whistle, he flicked his fingers towards the farm.

  Like ravenous beasts, the cut-throats dropped low as they prowled forward, with knives and axes in their hands. Piay felt sickened by the cruel glee on their filthy faces.

  As the last man moved away, Khin called to him, whispering something in his ear before sending him on his way.

  ‘This will be over in no time,’ he said to Piay. ‘These farmers have no idea how to defend themselves.’

  The Shrikes disappeared into the wheat field and crept unseen towards their prey along irrigation ditches and through the waist-high crops. For a while the farmland looked as peaceful as when Piay had first seen it, but then he glimpsed a distant figure crawl up to the neat white walls of the farm. The lone Shrike waited there, sniffing the air and listening. Then, when he was sure, he raised one arm and waved.

  With a great roar, the Shrikes burst from the field, racing across a dusty track and flooding through the gates. From within the walls, screams rang out, drowned out in an instant by the howls of delight of the attacking men.

  ‘Don’t punish yourself.’ Hannu stood at Piay’s elbow, his voice low.

  ‘Is this who we are? Standing by watching while innocent farmers are attacked . . . just to get what we want? Have I betrayed Taita?’

  Hannu had no answer. Piay watched, refusing to tear his eyes away from the unfolding scene. Bearing witness was the least he could do. The memory would remain with him for life: his punishment, and, perhaps, his lesson.

  Soon a plume of smoke curled up into the clear blue sky, and then flames licked up through the roof of the farm. The crackle turned into a roar as everything the farm-folk had worked for was consumed by fire.

  Then the Shrikes surged back out of the gates, jeering and whooping, their arms filled with bread, cheese and whatever other supplies they had raided from the kitchens. Behind them, a few of their number were herding three huddled figures away from the burning building. Piay saw a man in a grey kilt, a woman wearing a drab brown dress and a girl. At least that family had not been slaughtered in their home, but why were the Shrikes bringing them to their master?

  Piay sensed that Khin was watching him intently, but he refused to meet the Hyksos commander’s eyes.

  The Shrikes carved paths through the field, not caring who saw them now. When they reached their master, they offered up their booty. Khin had his guards take some bread, olives and wine, and then flicked his hand to the rest of his men to divide their spoils among themselves.

  As the Shrikes fell upon the stolen food, Khin beckoned for the farmer, his wife and daughter to approach him. The two women juddered with sobs, tears streaming down their cheeks, but the farmer kept his eyes down, sullen. He knew, as did Piay, that they had been brought here for a reason.

  Khin tore off a chunk of flatbread and swallowed it, then stood and looked across at his feasting men.

  ‘You have done well, brothers,’ he called. ‘Another great victory.’

  He turned his gaze to Piay and his lips widened into a smile of contempt.

  ‘But you!’ Khin boomed, so the Shrikes could hear. ‘You think you are a better man than us, just doing all we can to survive in this harsh world. Do you think you are better?’ Khin pressed. ‘Better than me, perhaps, the great and powerful Akh-Seth?’

  ‘That’s not for me to decide,’ Piay said. ‘I only have my own code – that men should not prey on the weak, the defenceless. Those who do that aren’t strong, they’re weak and cowardly and the gods will surely judge them.’

  Piay half-expected Hannu to be nudging him to hold his tongue, but when he glanced at his assistant, Hannu’s face was hard with defiance, too.

  Khin nodded. ‘Your code, eh? All right, then, let’s see you live by it.’ He wagged his finger at the three captives. ‘One of these three must die, so that all who live in these parts will fear the Shrikes and cower when we visit them.’

  After an instant of shock, the women’s wails erupted like the sound of keening birds. They pressed their hands together and shook them in desperate pleas for mercy. The father stared at the ground, the blood draining from his face.

  ‘Choose this one,’ Khin said, pointing at the father. ‘The one who works the land from dawn to dusk to ensure his wife and daughter do not starve. The one who provides. Or choose this one . . .’

  Khin shifted his finger to indicate the mother.

  ‘The one who offers comfort and care, so the father is free to labour and so her daughter is guided into a good life where she can survive and thrive. Or this one . . .’

  Khin wagged his finger at the daughter.

  ‘The hope for the future. Choose her, and her father and mother will be condemned to a life of bleak days and a joyless tramp towards the grave. Choose now. Their fate is on your head.’

  Piay looked past the captives towards the burning farm, refusing to engage.

  ‘And if you do not choose one, all three will die,’ Khin added with a smirk.

  The father stepped forward.

  ‘Take me.’

  ‘No!’ The wife wrenched the man back. ‘My husband can care for my daughter. I have no value here!’

  ‘Mother! Father! Stop!’ the daughter wailed. She thrust herself forward so that her desperate face filled Piay’s vision. ‘Save them, I beg of you,’ she pleaded. ‘I could not live knowing that I had cost one of them their life.’

  Piay looked at the three faces and then turned to Khin.

  ‘All three of these good people are better than you. Better by far.’ He looked across the group of feasting Shrikes and boomed, ‘Better than all of you!’

  ‘Which one?’ Khin laughed.

  Suddenly his feelings of guilt overwhelmed Piay and he said, ‘Forget them. Kill me in their place.’

  Khin just laughed. ‘What – and lose my best chance of becoming a god among men? Oh no, I need you. And you need to choose. One dies, or all die.’

  So here he was, the son following in his father’s footsteps, obliged to do something unforgivable because the alternative was even worse.

  Piay looked at the family, his voice breaking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  The mother, who was calmer now, as people often are when their own death is very near, said, ‘It is not your fault. We understand.’

  Her forgiveness only made it harder for Piay to forgive himself. He closed his eyes, unable to look at the poor, defenceless people in front of him as he said, ‘Take the father.’

  Piay opened his eyes and made himself watch as the father was marched a few paces away from his family and forced to his knees. He listened as the condemned man offered up his last prayers to the gods. Then he saw the curved blade of the Hyksos swords cut so deeply into the front of his throat that his head flopped backwards, his eyes staring blindly at the darkening sky.

  And as the woman and her daughter rushed to the dead body, Piay realised that there was only one way in which he could begin to make amends for his part in this murder. He had allowed himself to be so carried away by his passion for Myssa that he had forgotten the mission with which Taita, his master, had entrusted him.

  It was his sworn duty to follow the clues left by Imhotep and solve the Riddle of the Stars. He therefore had to rescue Myssa, not for the sake of his love for her, but because she was essential to the success of his quest.

  For a moment, Piay almost felt grateful to Khin for leading him to this new-found commitment to his proper cause.

  But not so grateful, he thought, that I won’t happily kill you, or anyone like you, in order to get what I want.

  T

  here was barely any light in the sky, but from the ridge where Piay and Hannu were standing, along with Khin and his two Hyksos bodyguards, it was still just possible to see the ancient city of Khem away in the distance.

  ‘What do you think?’ Piay asked Hannu. ‘Does that look like half a day’s march away?’

  ‘Maybe a little more, but it’s about right.’

  ‘I think so, too.’

  Piay did his best to sound casual, but the truth was that his guts were as tight as a clenched fist. This was the point of maximum risk. Once he gave Khin the location that Myssa had whispered in his ear, he was revealing the secret that had ensured his survival up to this point. There were reasons for keeping him alive a while longer, but Khin might not agree.

  He’s been wanting to do it from the moment we met, Piay thought. He might not be inclined to put it off any longer. But if I don’t tell him, it’s a certainty that he kills me. So . . .

  He turned to Khin.

  ‘Myssa told me that she would lead Akkan to a point half a day’s march south of Khem. That point would be close to the location of the next clue, but not actually there. I guess she was thinking that she could delay Akkan a little longer.’

  ‘That is not very precise,’ Khin said. ‘Everything we see before us is south of Khem.’

  ‘Just what I said,’ Hannu piped up.

  ‘Yes,’ Piay agreed, ‘and I will repeat what I said to Hannu. Akkan and his men will be leaving a trail. If scouts are sent out from here, there is a good chance that at least one of them will find that trail and follow it to wherever Akkan is spending the night.’

  ‘If they do not,’ Khin said, ‘I will take that as proof that you lied to me. And you know what will happen then.’

  Five of Khin’s best men were dispatched. The moon journeyed more than halfway across the starry sky as one by one they returned. None brought any news. Piay and Hannu tried to keep their spirits up by sharing funny memories of their adventures together, but the threat of imminent death loomed ever closer. At last Piay heard the faint whisper of approaching feet and saw a shadowy figure emerging from the darkness.

  Piay took a deep breath. ‘Here we go,’ he whispered to Hannu.

  The fifth scout looked around, spotted Khin, ran straight to him and spoke his news into his master’s ear.

  ‘Get ready to run,’ Hannu said, and then, ‘By the gods, I wish we had our swords.’

  ‘Well, they never took my little friend,’ Piay said. ‘So that’s a start.’

  Piay watched Khin whisper an order to one of his guards, which was instantly passed down the line. The Shrikes melted away into the field on the other side of the track.

  Khin gestured to Piay. ‘You told me the truth, so you live . . . for now.’

  ‘Can we have our swords back?’

  ‘And what is there to stop you from sticking them in my back?’

  ‘No more than stops you doing the same to me. We are about to take on Akkan and his men. Both of us will have better things to do than fight each other. And if we each get what we want, then we can go our separate ways – for good.’

  Khin considered what Piay had said for a second, then told one of the two guards to fetch the swords. Emboldened by his success, Piay asked, ‘Do you have a plan of attack?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And . . .?’

  ‘I will send all of my men against all of my brother’s men, like a flood, wave after wave. His men are better, but there are more of mine. Meanwhile, you with your friend and me with my two friends’ – Khin emphasised the ‘two’, by way of a reminder that a double-cross was inadvisable – ‘can go looking for my brother, your woman and that venomous priest.’

  ‘Won’t Akkan be fighting with his men?’

  Khin laughed. ‘And risk the Eye of Horus? No, he will hold back, just as he did that night outside Thebes, ready to disappear again if things go badly.’

  ‘Except that you will take him by surprise before he can do that.’

  ‘Exactly . . . and you can go after your woman.’

  Piay knew – as Khin surely did, too – that there was no chance of the two of them simply clasping hands and bidding each other a fond farewell if the battle went as planned. Each would want what the other had. But that fight could not happen unless the first fight, against Akkan, was won.

  For now, at least, they would be allies.

  A

  kkan’s camp was not far away. Half an hour’s brisk marching brought them within striking distance. The main force was sent off to launch their attack from the west. Khin, his bodyguards, Piay and Hannu would come in from the east – the river side.

  The Nile was not far away now, and Piay could smell the water. After a little while, he heard the faint rumble of voices. Light spilled through a wall of acacia bushes.

  Khin beckoned Piay to come forward to join him.

  Piay dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the acacias. He could smell the pitch from the torches and hear the gentle gurgle of the river as it eddied along the banks on its journey to the sea.

  The voices, too, were clearer. Two of them were having a debate about diving into the depths. Piay could not make out what depths those might be, but he was sure he could hear an edge of frustration in those voices.

  ‘I thought you said your woman wasn’t bringing Akkan to the site of the clue,’ Khin whispered.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, either she lied, or he forced her, because I reckon they’re looking for it right here.’

  Piay strained to hear Myssa’s voice, but all those speaking were men. He told himself that was no cause for concern, but still a part of him began to worry.

  Khin gave a short jab of his forefinger and they both pushed further into the shrubs to get a better look. Piay pressed down a branch just enough to get a clear view. The torches sizzled at the heart of a small camp. Some tents had been erected on the far side of what looked like a hole in the ground. More Hyksos were gathered in front of the tents, eating, drinking, talking, and occasionally casting glances towards their half-dozen comrades gathered around the hole.

  Some of those men stood with hands on hips, peering into its depths. Others were squatting on the ground. Two of the men wore robes, rather than military tunics and breastplates. Piay remembered seeing robes like that at the necropolis. They must be priests of some kind, acolytes of the Cobra.

  Piay recognised other faces he had seen that night, but he could not spot Akkan or Myssa, nor hear their voices. He prayed the Shrikes did not attack until he had discovered where his love might be, and taken her to safety.

  There was still no sign of the Shrikes, either, though Piay knew that they must be lurking in the fields, ditches and undergrowth, no more than fifty paces – if that – from the camp. As chaotic as they might be in some aspects of soldiering, their capacity for stealth was remarkable.

  ‘Do we drag him out?’ one of the Hyksos warriors was saying.

  He leaned forward and looked into the hole, though it must surely have been too dark to see anything.

  Another warrior shrugged. ‘Might as well. What’s the point of waiting?’

  The first warrior grunted and said, ‘Give me a hand, then.’

  As they stooped, Piay noticed a hide rope running into the hole, anchored by a bronze peg hammered into the earth. The two warriors grasped the rope, braced themselves and heaved.

  The other men clustered closer, peering into the depths. Their bodies formed a wall, so Piay could not see the activities of the two men hauling on the rope, but from their grunting he could tell that whatever it was on the other end was heavy, and from the time it took them to complete their task, that the hole was deep.

  Piay was gripped by the activity. Surely a hole that deep so close to the river would be full of water. How, then, could they drag him out?

  Finally the other warriors moved away as whoever was emerging neared the top. Heaving on the rope, the two labourers stepped back until they were almost inside one of the tents.

  Then, with a sudden jolt and a slapping of wet skin on the muddy earth, a body emerged out of the hole. The two warriors hauled on the rope until the remains were fully out, face down in the soil. Dead. Without a doubt.

  Squinting, Piay scrutinised the poor soul, trying to draw out details in the fading light. He was not one of the Hyksos, Piay was sure of it. The shaven head and the filthy, sodden kilt told him it was one of the farmers from the nearby fields. Why had they killed him in such a bizarre way? Was it some kind of punishment, or torture?

  ‘Look – something’s attacked him,’ one of the men said, pointing.

  The dead man’s left foot was missing, the ankle gnawed.

  ‘Crocodile,’ another said, emphatically.

  Piay glanced at Khin, who was frowning at the scene. He shook his head, baffled. When Piay looked towards Hannu, he looked equally bemused.

  Folding his arms, one of the warriors stared down at the body and shrugged.

  ‘Nothing for it but to throw him with the others.’

  The others? Piay furrowed his brow. Why are Akkan’s men drowning farmers in a hole?

  Whatever he had expected when he found these treasure-hunters, it was not this.

  Khin tapped Piay on the shoulder. He mouthed, as much as spoke, ‘Akkan’s not here. Going to find him.’

  He and his guards disappeared, but as they left, one of the guards stepped on a twig that broke under his weight. The little crack was enough to get the attention of one of the Hyksos warriors.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked, looking almost exactly towards the bushes where Piay and Hannu were now lying flat on the ground with their heads down.

  ‘Probably just a rat, or a fox,’ one of his comrades said.