The Eye of the Pharaoh Read online

  The Eye of the Pharaoh

  Roger Hurn

  © Roger Hurn 2012

  Roger Hurn has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act,

  1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published 2012 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

  Chapter One

  The sun blazed down like a yellow fist onto the scorched land, yet inside the Temple, the air was as chill as the touch of a dead hand. Pharaoh Ramenha the Third shivered slightly as he eyed the crowd who filled the space before his throne. In his hands he clutched a crook and a flail - the symbols of his power – and he hoped nobody noticed the tremor.

  It was unlikely, for the eyes of the crowd who stood before him were focussed on the old man at the side of the throne - Theoman, High Priest of Amon-Ra. Everyone was waiting for him to speak. Theoman’s tongue flicked lizard-like over his thin lips then, in a voice that was surprisingly rich and powerful, he began to chant:

  ‘Until the sun grows cold

  Until the stars grow old

  May the line of the Kings unfold.

  Bring forth the sacred jewel

  Bring forth the Eye of the Pharaoh.’

  As Theoman’s words rang out, an acolyte emerged from a door concealed by a curtain at the back of the chamber and slowly made his way towards the throne. Silently, the crowd parted to let the man pass, their gaze fixed on the box made of black wood that he carried in front of him.

  When the acolyte reached the throne he bowed low to the Pharaoh then held out the box to Theoman. The High Priest opened the lid and reached inside. A pulse of excitement ran through the crowd as Theoman withdrew his bony hand and they saw that he clutched a huge red jewel. An unearthly light was imprisoned deep inside it.

  Theoman thrust the jewel above his head and its fiery brilliance flooded the room staining everything blood red. Then, once more, Theoman’s deep voice rang out:

  ‘There is a force inside this stone

  Which binds both Pharaoh and the throne

  And though life is brief and often sour

  Save when sweetened by the taste of power

  Possession of this jewel ensures

  The reign of Ramenha endures.

  Behold the Eye of the Pharaoh!’

  A tremendous clash of cymbals spilt the air. The crowd fell back and a group of temple dancers and musicians began to perform in the eerie glow of the crimson light. For a few moments the dancers writhed and swayed in time to the harsh and strident music then, as the music reached its crescendo, they threw themselves to the floor at Ramenha’s feet. At the same instant, in a choreographed motion, Theoman swiftly placed the ruby in its box and slammed the lid shut. The torches that blazed in sconces on the walls suddenly failed and the temple was plunged into darkness.

  Someone screamed but then Ramenha roared: ‘I command the living light to return!’

  The torches burst into flame to reveal Theoman holding the jewel above Ramenha’s head. The ruby emitted luminous beams of dazzling radiance into the air. The crowd gasped, each person convinced that they were in the presence of something greater than themselves.

  Then Theoman intoned in a voice that could be heard even by those at the back of the chamber. ‘It is done. The Eye of the Pharaoh has held your image, Ramenha. It has filled you with the power of kingship. Truly, you are Lord of all Egypt.’

  As soon as these words were spoken, the crowd gave a great sigh and shouted, ‘We salute you, Lord.’

  Ramenha nodded. ‘So be it. Return the jewel to the Tomb of the Kings and let it remain there until the year has run its course and we will be in need of its power once again.’

  Theoman raised the box to Ramenha who touched it with the crook and flail. A curious half smile touched the High Priest’s lips for a second then he turned and, leading a procession of priests, acolytes, musicians and dancers, left the Temple.

  Chapter Two

  After Theoman, Ramenha and The Eye of the Pharaoh had departed, the crowd of courtiers and commoners drifted away in search of entertainment elsewhere. However, a large, totally bald man with the face of a baby and the eyes of a cobra with indigestion moved purposefully towards the stooped back of Theoman’s chief acolyte. When he reached the acolyte the man stopped and cleared his throat in a way designed to attract the attention of even the deafest of listeners.

  The gesture had no effect whatsoever on the acolyte who continued to mumble to himself and to stare with unseeing eyes at an intricate wall painting. The bald man who was, in fact, the Pharaoh’s uncle Ahketnan, grew visibly impatient and decided to take a rather more direct approach to starting the conversation. He gripped the chief acolyte firmly by the shoulder and spun him around.

  Spittle flew from the startled man’s mouth and a flash of pure malice sparked across his hooded eyes as he glared up at Ahketnan. Then his thin face took on the kind of look that scorpions spend their whole lives perfecting, but it singularly failed to wipe the oily smile from Ahketnan’s face. Indeed, Ahketnan brought his round face down until it was no-more than a digit’s length from the acolyte’s and said in a honeyed voice lightly seasoned with acid, ‘I say Salen, old chap, a word in your shell-like ear if I may.’

  Salen’s eyes narrowed as he replied sharply. ‘Well, Ahketnan, what do you want with me?’

  Ahketnan beamed at Salen like a demented cherub for a moment then he glanced furtively round the chamber before he leaned even closer to Salen and murmured, ‘Just between ourselves old friend, err … what do you think of all this mumbo-jumbo, sacred jewel nonsense that your high priest and my dear nephew set so much store by?’

  Salen’s face twisted into a sneer of profound contempt. ‘It’s not nonsense. The jewel has a power beyond your understanding, Ahketnan. A power only a true believer can fathom. If I had it in my possession, what secrets would not be revealed to me? What magic and sorceries would I not be able to conjure?

  As he spoke a look of crazed longing crept stealthily across his face making it appear both terrifying and pathetic at the same time. Ahketnan drew back from Salen, then, recovering his composure, he forced his lips into a vague impression of a smile.

  ‘Quite so…but my interest in the jewel’s power is more down-to-earth, I’m afraid. I was just wondering, what would have happened if the Eye of the Pharaoh had been missing when the illustrious Theoman called it forth just now. I mean, do you think it would have caused a slight panic if he had opened up the casket and, heaven forbid, found it empty?’

  Salen gulped like a man trying to swallow a Nile perch whole. ‘A slight panic? It would have meant the end for both Ramenha and Theoman.’

  He gripped Ahketnan’s gorgeous gown with his claw-like hands and pulled him closer. Ahketnan made a mental note to tell Salen’s cook to cut down on the garlic.

  ‘Don’t you see? Your nephew would have been forced to abdicate in your favour and Theoman to surrender his position as High Priest to me. For it is written if the Eye is lost then so is the Pharaoh.’

  Ahketnan carefully disengaged Salen’s hands from the exquisite cloth of his robe. He looked as if he wished he were wearing gloves.

  ‘I thought that might be the case. Still, it’s an ill wind…as they say.’ His eyes had suddenly become very dreamy. Salen’s eyes on the other hand were as hard as a moneylender’s heart.

  ‘What exactly are you plotting, Ahketnan?’ he inquired sourly.

  Instantly the dreamy look vanished from Ahketnan’s eyes and the cherubic smile was firmly back in place.

  ‘Me plotting?! How could you even think such a thing, Salen?’ He chuckled lightly. ‘Why, I’m a loyal subject of my nephew, Ramenha the Third, and a devout supporter of Theoman, our delightfully old-fashion
ed High Priest.’ He paused to allow an expression of gentle regret to pass like a small summer cloud over his smooth features then he continued wistfully. ‘It’s just that I can’t help thinking that the title “Ahketnan the First, Lord of all Egypt” has a pleasant sort of ring to it and that you would make a much more modern High Priest than poor old Theoman.’ He treated Salen to a close up of his perfect teeth then asked artlessly, ‘What do you think?’

  Salen’s hooded eyes were inscrutable but his voice throbbed with a curious intensity when he replied. ‘I think you’re a fool, Ahketnan. No-one but Theoman knows the exact hiding-place of the jewel, and he is certainly not going to tell you where it is just because you want to be Pharaoh.’

  Ahketnan’s smile thought about climbing up from his mouth to his eyes but decided against it. Instead, he pursed his lips and said, ‘Perhaps, but there is more than one way to open a tomb

  –if you follow my meaning.

  Salen snorted with derision. ‘I have absolutely no intention of following your meaning.’

  Ahketnan raised his exquisitely manicured eyebrows. ‘Oh, but I think you do. You see my intelligence, charm and influence at court coupled with your inside knowledge of the sacred mysteries, plus the undoubted fact that we would both sell our grandmothers in order to get what we want, makes us the perfect partners in crime.’

  Salen’s face was like a mask carved from stone.

  ‘Even if I was remotely interested in helping you become Pharaoh,’ he said, ‘why should I trust an unbeliever like you?’

  A hurt look passed over Ahketnan’s plump face. He shook his head sadly. ‘It’s precisely because I am an unbeliever, as you so bluntly put it, that you can trust me. You see, I want to be Pharaoh and I don’t give a camel driver’s cuss about who’s High Priest so, if you help me, the job’s yours with my blessing.’ He shrugged. ‘Also I’ve hatched a little scheme that will only work with your help so, not to put too fine a point on it, I need you.’

  ‘Really?’ murmured Salen. Hard little points of light were dancing in Salen’s eyes as he stared up at Ahketnan. ‘How do I know your plan will succeed? The Eye’s kept hidden away in a locked casket in the Tomb of the Kings. So, even if we found the hiding place, we don’t have the key. It’s hanging on a chain round Theoman’s scrawny neck.’

  Ahketnan sucked on his teeth. ‘A scrawny neck that you would love to wring like a chicken’s if I’m not mistaken.’

  Salen shrugged. ‘It’s true that Theoman and I do have religious differences, but I’m not saying that I want him dead.’

  Ahketnan smirked. ‘And I’m not asking you to kill him. All I want is for you to help me liberate the key and gently persuade Theoman to reveal the exact location of the jewel. Trust me, Salen, my plan’s foolproof.’

  Ahketnan put his thick arm around Salen’s sharp, bony shoulders but Salen slipped out from under Ahketnan’s embrace. ‘Ah, that’s the problem, Ahketnan. I’m not persuaded your plan is foolproof.’

  Ahketnan tilted his head to one side and gazed at the little priest. ‘Well, that’s up to you of course, but if you want to be High Priest anytime soon I suggest you’ve no choice but to join me in this little enterprise.’

  Salen nostrils flared. ‘I don’t want to be High Priest.’

  Ahketnan blinked in surprise. ‘Really?’

  Salen shook his head. ‘No, it’s the gods who want me to be High Priest.’ His voice had the steely certainty of the fanatic. ‘You see, Theoman doesn’t know the first thing about how they wish to be worshiped. Only I understand what they need.’

  Ahketnan gave him a calculating look. ‘Ah… right. Well, we can’t deny the gods what they need now, can we? Theoman must go.’

  ‘He must.’

  Ahketnan grinned wolfishly. ‘So it’s all agreed then. We work together from now on.’

  Salen hesitated for a moment then, biting his bottom lip so hard that it bled, he nodded his head. ‘Yes, it’s agreed. But remember this, Ahketnan, once we have stolen the jewel it is mine alone.’

  Ahketnan waved his hands airily. ‘By all means my good fellow.’

  Salen stared at him like a hungry snake who has just spotted a particularly plump rat. ‘You swear this by all you hold sacred?’

  Ahketnan sighed deeply. ‘You have my word on it. After all, it is only a trinket.’ He turned on his brightest smile. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I must be going. These ceremonial robes were no doubt all the rage a hundred years ago, but I confess I find them more than a trifle uncomfortable. Still, I suppose that’s the price one pays for tradition.’ His face darkened and he smiled a smile that was as cold as frost on an icicle. ‘Though I’m afraid that it’s a tradition that is about to come to a sudden end.’

  Ahketnan swept regally towards the door where he paused dramatically. ‘You’ll be hearing from me soon,’ he said in a stage whisper to Salen who stared blankly back at him. Then, with a swirl of his robe, Ahketnan was gone.

  Salen spat on the floor and then muttered to himself. ‘So, he calls the Eye of the Pharaoh “a trinket”, does he? How little he knows of true power. But no matter. Once the jewel is mine, I shall work such magic with it that the world will shake in fear and trembling. No mere Pharaoh will be able to stand against me. For he who holds the jewel can summon Sebek, a demon lord of destruction, and Sebek will do my bidding.’ He rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘So strut on, my foppish friend, for your reign as Ahketnan the First may be much shorter than you think.’

  Salen began to giggle and the blood from his bitten lips trickled down his chin and dripped silently to the floor.

  Chapter Three

  The following day the scorching sun had barely warmed the sands after the chill desert night when Pharaoh Ramenha, trailed by a cloud of still yawning servants, strode into his throne room. He bounced onto the throne and then swept his bright, hawk-like gaze around the room. What he saw did not fill him with joy. Bleary eyed courtiers scratched their bodies in a desultory fashion and two were even surreptitiously cramming the last morsels of their breakfast into their already overstuffed mouths. Ramenha shook his head then turned to a young man who was simultaneously yawning, scratching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his free hand.

  ‘Kaheb, fetch me the plans for the irrigation ditches. I have need of them.’

  The young man snapped to attention and answered crisply enough. ‘At once my Lord.’ Then he hurried away.

  However, no sooner had he gone than one of the dozing nobles woke up sufficiently to say, ‘Irrigation ditches?’ as if the two words were totally unfamiliar to him. His obvious puzzlement was shared by several other courtiers who chorused in shrill, querulous voices, ‘What irrigation ditches are these, Lord?’

  Ramenha sighed deeply then favoured them all with a smile that was dazzling in its intensity.

  ‘Why the irrigation ditches I’m planning to construct in the areas where the waters of the Nile do not reach. The people who live there are desperate for water and I feel this scheme of mine will be of great benefit to them.’

  At this point, Kaheb returned with the plans. He unrolled them with a theatrical flourish.

  ‘Well,’ said Ramenha, his voice filled with pride. ‘What do you think of them?’

  There was an embarrassed silence before the first noble cleared his throat and said, ‘Very nice, I’m sure, your highness.’

  There followed a long moment during which the entire assembled nobility shuffled their feet and looked at one another out of the corners of their eyes. Then a lord with a slightly more adventurous temperament cleared his throat and said, ‘They’re very impressive, but forgive me for saying so, I always thought Pharaohs built pyramids, not irrigation ditches.’

  There was a great deal of nodding by the other nobles and this emboldened the courtier to add by way of justification, ‘I mean they always have in the past.’

  Ramenha smiled gravely before replying, ‘The past is the past. We must look to the future.’
r />   He was about to continue when a suave and cultured voice filled the room. Ramenha’s uncle Ahketnan was making his contribution to the debate.

  ‘I do so agree, my dear nephew, but these gentlemen have a point. Irrigation ditches are somewhat beneath one’s dignity if one is a Pharaoh. I mean, if you must build something functional, why not a hanging garden? I’m told they have a most exquisite example of one in Babylon.’

  There were nods and murmurs of agreement all round the room but Ramenha was not to be discouraged.

  ‘Listen to me, uncle,’ he said in a gentle voice rather like a kindly school master explaining something of great importance to a class of dim-witted children. It was a voice that grated on Ahketnan’s nerves like nails on a chalk board. ‘As Pharaoh, I hold all Egypt in trust for my people. If I squander its wealth on building a pyramid whose only purpose is to house my bones when I am dead, I would deserve their hatred and scorn. The gods have not given me such great power so that I can waste it doing selfish things.’

  Ahketnan stroked his hairless chin. ‘Hmmm…I hear what you’re saying, nephew, but …’

  Ramenha didn’t let him finish. ‘Look, I willbuild a garden, Ahketnan, but not a hanging garden that can be enjoyed by only a few. My irrigation ditches will turn all of Egypt into a garden and then we will enter a golden age that will endure long after the pyramids have crumbled into dust.’

  No sooner had he finished than Theoman spoke in a voice choked with emotion. ‘The Eye of the Pharaoh has filled you with wisdom, Lord, for surely it has inspired these dreams.’

  Ramenha turned to the elderly priest. His eyes glowed with enthusiasm. ‘It is my strength, Theoman. Without it I am nothing.’

  A profound silence filled the hall as Ramenha’s words sank into the minds of even the most bone-headed of the courtiers. But that silence was disturbed by Ahketnan’s silky tones.