Pharaoh. Уилбур Смит

was gathered behind him and they burst into yet another lively and spirited hymn of praise and worship to the divine Pharaoh, so that my protests were rendered inaudible. By the time my guards and I had reached the stone wharf, the dense crowds of spectators had turned away to follow the band and the procession of treasure wagons up the road to the main gates of the city.

      As soon as we were alone Captain Weneg gave orders to his men and they bound my wrists together at the small of my back with rawhide ropes, while others of their party brought up four war chariots. When they had me trussed up securely they pushed me up on to the footplate of the leading chariot. The whips cracked and we set off at a canter, not following the bands and the treasure train up the hill towards the main city gates, but taking one of the subsidiary tracks that bypassed the city, and then branched off towards the rocky hills beyond. The track was little used; in fact it was assiduously avoided by most of the citizenry. This was not extraordinary when its final destination was taken into consideration. Less than five leagues beyond the royal palace and the main city walls rose a low line of hills; and sitting astride their summit was a sombre edifice of chiselled native rock, a sullen shade of blue in colour and unambiguous in design. This was the royal prison, which also housed the gallows yard and the state torture chambers.

      We had to cross a small stream of water to reach the slopes of the hills. The bridge was narrow and the hooves of the horses hammered loudly on it; to my heated imagination they sounded almost like the drumbeat of the Death March. My escort and I were not accosted until we reached the appropriately named Gates of Torment and Sorrow, which gave access through the massive masonry wall into the bowels of the prison. Captain Weneg jumped down from the footplate of our vehicle and hammered on the doors with the hilt of his sword. Almost immediately a black-clad warder appeared on the bridge of the portcullis high above us. His head was enclosed in a hood of the same colour and it hid his features entirely except for his eyes and mouth.

      ‘Who seeks entry here?’ he bellowed down at us.

      ‘Prisoner and escort!’ Weneg replied.

      ‘Enter at your peril,’ the warder warned us. ‘But know ye, all enemies of Pharaoh and Egypt are eternally doomed once they are within these walls!’ Then the portcullis was raised ponderously and we drove through. We were the only vehicle to enter. The other three of our escort remained outside the walls when the portcullis rumbled closed once again.

      The interior walls of the first courtyard were decorated by rows of niches that rose tier upon tier to such a height that I had to throw my head right back to see the tiny square of blue sky high above.

      In each niche grinned a human skull: hundreds upon hundreds of them. It was not the first time I had passed this way. On occasion I had visited other unfortunates who had been incarcerated within these walls, to offer them what little help and comfort was in my gift. However, my spirit never failed to quail and my skin to crawl at the presence of death in such dire abundance; more so now that the threat was so personal and particular to me.

      ‘This is as far as I can take you, Lord Taita,’ Weneg said quietly. ‘Please understand that I am merely following my orders. There is nothing personal in what I have to do, and I take no pleasure in it.’

      ‘I understand your predicament, Captain,’ I replied. ‘I hope that our next meeting will be more pleasurable for both of us.’

      Weneg helped me down from the footplate of the chariot and then severed the bonds at my wrists with a sweep of his dagger. Swiftly he went through the formality of handing me over to the prison warders, and delivering to them my scroll of impeachment. I recognized Pharaoh Utteric’s hieroglyph at the foot of this document. Then Weneg saluted me and turned away. I watched him jump back on to his vehicle, seize the reins and wheel his team to face the gateway. As soon as the portcullis was raised high enough he ducked under it and without a backwards glance drove out into the daylight.

      There were four prison warders to receive me. As soon as Weneg had left the courtyard one of these lifted off his black headdress and confronted me with a derisive grin. He was a grossly obese creature, with garlands of fat drooping down from his jowls on to his chest.

      ‘We are honoured by your presence, my lord. It is not often that we get the opportunity to play host to such an illustrious personage, a man of the highest reputation and most fabulous wealth – after Pharaoh himself, of course. I am determined not to give you short measure. First let me introduce myself. My name is Doog.’ He bowed his great bald head, which was covered with obscene tattoos of stick figures doing repulsive things to each other, but he went on speaking: ‘A man of your erudition and learning will realize at once that Doog is Good spelled backwards, and he will know then what to expect of me. Those who know me well often refer to me as Doog the Terrible.’ Doog had a nervous twitch, which caused him to blink his right eye rapidly at the end of each sentence he uttered. I could not resist the temptation, so I winked back at him.

      He stopped grinning. ‘I see that you like your little jokes, my lord? In due course I will give you jokes that will cause you to die laughing,’ he promised. ‘But we must defer that pleasure for a short while longer. Pharaoh has arrested you for high treason, but not yet tried you nor found you guilty. However, that time will come, and I shall be ready for it, I assure you.’

      He started to circle me, but I turned at the same speed to keep facing him. ‘Hold him still!’ he snarled at his henchmen, and they seized both my arms and twisted them to bring me down to my knees.

      ‘You have beautiful clothes, my lord,’ Doog commended me. ‘I have seldom seen such splendid garments.’ This was true, for I had been expecting to address Pharaoh and his state council when I delivered to him the Hyksos treasure. I was wearing the golden helmet I had captured from a Hyksos general on another battlefield a long time ago; it was a masterpiece in gold and silver. Around my shoulders hung the Gold of Valour and the Gold of Praise, equally magnificent chains which had been awarded to me by the hand of Pharaoh Tamose himself for the service and sacrifice I had given to him. I knew that, adorned thus, I was a wondrous sight to behold.

      ‘We must not let such lovely garments become dirtied or damaged. You must remove them at once. I will take them into my safekeeping,’ Doog explained. ‘But I assure you that I will return them to you as soon as you are found innocent of the charges against you and are released from custody.’ I regarded him silently, not giving him the pleasure of hearing my protests or entreaties. ‘My men will help you to undress,’ Doog ended his little speech, which I was certain that he had also addressed to all of the men who were now but skulls in the niches of the walls above me.

      He nodded at his henchmen and they ripped the helmet from my head and the gold chains from around my neck; then they tore away the lovely garments that covered my body, leaving me naked except for a brief loin-cloth. Finally they dragged me back on to my feet and forced me to walk to the doors in the back wall of the courtyard.

      Doog lumbered along beside me. ‘All of us who work here within the prison walls are so excited and happy about the ascension of Pharaoh Utteric Turo to the throne.’ He winked four or five times to express his excitement, his head bobbing in time to the blinking of his eyes. ‘Pharaoh has changed our lives and made us some of the most important citizens in this very Egypt. During Pharaoh Tamose’s reign we hardly ever drew blood from one week to the next. But now his eldest son keeps us busy from morning until night. If we aren’t chopping off heads we are drawing the entrails out of men and women; or twisting off their arms; or hanging them by their necks or their testicles; or peeling off their skins with the hot irons.’ He chuckled merrily. ‘My brothers and my five sons were all out of work only a year ago, but now they are full-time executioners and tormentors, as I am. We are invited by Pharaoh Utteric Turo nearly every few weeks to the royal palace in Luxor. He likes to watch us carrying out our duties. Of course he never comes to visit us here. He is convinced that there is a curse on these walls. The only persons who ever come here do so to die; and we are the chosen few who help them to do it. But Pharaoh particularly loves to see me work on the young girls, especially if they are pregnant. So we take them down to the palace to do so. One of my little foibles is to hang them from the scaffold on bronze hooks through their tits, and then I use other hooks to rip the living foetus out of their wombs.’