Desert God (44 page)

‘A state barge will come out to this ship at noon tomorrow. It will convey you and the royal brides to the palace where the Supreme Minos will be waiting to welcome them into his family.’

‘Your Supreme Minos is extremely gracious!’ I acknowledged what was in essence a diplomatically worded royal command rather than an invitation.

‘His Majesty has commanded me to assure the royal ladies of his pleasure at their arrival. He has further asked me to present them with these tokens of his royal favour.’ He indicated the heavy silver caskets being carried by the black-attired aides that flanked him. They set the gifts down on the deck and then backed away from me with deep bows.

The meeting was at an end. They returned to the cutter which had brought them. I was learning that the Minoans were a serious people who wasted little time on either ceremony or on polite formalities. Ambassador Toran went ashore with them. At least he gave me a brief smile and a discreet wave as he boarded the cutter.

I hoped that the gifts the Supreme Minos had sent might lighten the deep gloom of my princesses. Indeed they proved worthy of the richest monarch on our world. The gold and silver glimmered, and the precious stones lit the cabin with rays of multi-coloured light. Tehuti and Bekatha examined them listlessly before discarding them and returning to their melancholia.

Up until now I had put in place stern strictures that ensured that neither of my girls had ever enjoyed the solace of the grape, but I recognized that the time had come when dire affliction called for strong remedy. I went down to the ship’s hold and broached one of Ambassador Toran’s amphorae. I half filled three large copper flagons with the luscious red Cyclades wine. Then I topped them up with water, and had the ship’s steward carry them up to the cabin in which my girls were languishing.

‘You want us to drink that poison?’ Tehuti demanded. ‘But you told us that it would make us go bald.’

‘It will do so only if you drink it when you are very young. But now you are all grown up,’ I explained. ‘Look at me. Am I bald?’ Reluctantly they conceded that I was not.

‘You also told us it would make our teeth fall out,’ Bekatha reminded me. In rebuttal I snapped my own perfect set of teeth at her. They considered that in silence for a while.

‘It will make you feel more cheerful and happy,’ I wheedled.

‘I don’t want to feel cheerful and happy.’ Bekatha spoke firmly. ‘I just want to die.’

‘At least you will die happy,’ I reasoned.

‘Perhaps we should make Loxias try it first.’ Tehuti regarded the Minoan girl thoughtfully. Bekatha pushed one of the flagons across the table to her. Loxias sighed with resignation. She had long grown accustomed to being assigned the least pleasant and potentially hazardous tasks. She raised the cup to her lips and took a tiny sip; then she straightened up, holding the wine in her mouth.

‘Swallow it!’ Tehuti ordered her. She obeyed and they watched her carefully; waiting to see if she would shed her hair or her teeth. Loxias smiled.

‘It tastes good.’ She bowed her head over the flagon again.

‘That’s enough! You don’t have to drink all of it,’ Tehuti protested and took the flagon out of her hands. They passed it around their circle, discussing the taste with animation. Bekatha thought it tasted like plums, but Tehuti said that it was definitely ripe pomegranate. Loxias offered no opinion but set about making certain she was not denied her fair share. She was the first one to laugh. The other two stared at her with surprise. Then Bekatha giggled.

Within the hour the three of them had shed all their clothing and decked themselves with the resplendent jewellery that the Supreme Minos had sent them. I was playing one of their favourite dance tunes on my lyre and they were cavorting around the cabin shrieking with laughter. It was after midnight before Bekatha finally collapsed on her bunk, but the other two were not far behind her. I covered them with the bedsheets, kissed each of them goodnight and blew out the lamp. I climbed the companionway to the main deck to savour the night air, feeling well enough pleased with myself.

M
y princesses were dressed in Minoan style and waiting on the main deck when the royal barge emerged from the harbour at noon the following day and rowed towards the
Sacred Bull
. Until they moved there was nothing to suggest that there was a living creature beneath the layers of black cloth and veils that covered them. Ambassador Toran had sent these costumes and accessories across to us in another vessel earlier that morning. It had taken all my guile and ingenuity to induce the girls to don these outlandish costumes. Loxias had been spared the indignity. Although her dress was long and black and her hat was also tall, conical and decked with black ribbons her face and hands at least were uncovered. She was merely a serving wench, and had she gone bare-breasted I am sure nobody would have remarked the fact.

I led them down into the barge to the solemn beat of the drums played by four of the priests from the temple of Cronus who sat in the stern. Then we were rowed into the inner harbour of the port, and I had the opportunity to study more closely the towering edifices that surrounded the basin and crowded down to the edge of the water.

These were built in their entirety from blocks of dun-grey stone which I later learned were quarried in the mountains. There was little to distinguish any one of these buildings from its neighbours. They were all massively ugly. The rooves were flat. The windows were narrow slits that were covered with opaque grey glass.

The largest building stood directly across from the harbour entrance. It did not need the statue of the golden bull of Crete on its rooftop to indicate to us that this was one of the four great palaces of the Supreme Minos.

With practised precision the oarsmen brought the barge to rest against the quay in front of the palace where a phalanx of dignitaries waited to welcome my small party ashore. Every one of them wore the identical full-length black uniforms and the tall conical hats. All their faces were white with chalk, and their eyes were outlined with kohl. A few of them wore gold and silver chains and other decorations over their coats, denoting their superior rank and status.

Even I was dressed in the full-length black robes which Ambassador Toran had sent out to me. But I wore my magnificent gold helmet with its feathered crest, and my face was devoid of chalk or kohl.

The only persons in the entire assembly who were not wearing solid black were the four lithe and very dark-skinned warriors in bright green tunics with leather cross-straps over their upper bodies and leather helmets covering their heads who came forward smartly to meet my princesses as they stepped ashore. They were armed with short swords and daggers. Two of them carried whips, which I hoped were ceremonial rather than functional. They took up positions on each side of my girls.

There was something strangely feminine about these green-clad bodyguards. Their faces were beardless and smooth. Their features were delicate and finely chiselled, as were their hands. They lacked only the protuberances of feminine breasts. They were as flat-chested as any boy. I decided they were some form of hermaphrodite; just another peculiarity among so many I had already encountered in this peculiar land. I put them out of my mind and followed my girls through the doorway into the cavernous vestibule of the palace.

This was crowded shoulder to shoulder with the black-clad, chalky-faced multitudes. However, I saw not a single woman in the entire assembly. We Egyptians are proud of our women and we expect them to play a major and highly visible role in the life of our nation. I found this gender-motivated isolationism unnatural and repugnant.

An open lane had been left down the centre of the marble-paved floor just wide enough for my girls and their green-uniformed escorts to pass along it. It ran straight to another set of doors at the far side of the hall. Our little party started down this lane, but I had not covered more than a dozen paces before somebody stepped out of the crowd and fell in beside me. For a moment I did not realize that it was Ambassador Toran because he also was clad entirely in black and his face was deathly white with cadaverous black eye sockets, but he wore a gold chain that I recognized and even though he spoke in sepulchral tones his voice was unmistakable.

‘Everything is going precisely as planned. The Supreme Minos and his entire council are waiting for us in the throne room beyond those doors ahead.’ He indicated them with a thrust of his chin. ‘Even the Queen Mother is with him. That is a rare honour. You will not be expected to take any part in today’s proceedings, but from tomorrow onwards you will be working closely with the Lord High Admiral and his war council; planning the campaign against the Hyksos.’

‘I am relieved and delighted to hear you say that.’ Even though I kept my voice as low as his, it was the truth. It had taken me years of intense planning and even more intense endeavour to reach this point. We were standing on the threshold of success. ‘However, when will the marriage ceremony take place?’ I asked.

Toran shot me a startled glance through his kohl-ringed eyes, but before he could reply the polished cedar-wood doors with their golden-bull decorations swung soundlessly open ahead of us. To the solemn beat of a single hidden drummer we paced into the throne room, and paused while the doors closed silently behind us.

The interior was so dimly lit. There were no lamps. The few narrow window slits were covered by dark-coloured woollen curtains. The ceiling was so high that it merged into the shadows. However, my eyes adjusted swiftly to their normal acuity so the details of shapes and figures emerged from the gloom.

In the centre of the room was the throne set on a raised podium. A tight knot of men were gathered around the base of the throne. To the left of the throne were gathered the priests of Cronus. They wore long capes and cowls that obscured their features. These garments were a deep russet colour which I learned later from Toran was known as bull’s blood red.

On the opposite side of the throne stood another group of courtiers and nobles. Some of these were wearing the traditional long black robes and high hat.

Facing them were the high-ranking military and naval commanders. Their uniforms were as gaudy and colourful as the dress of the nobles was drab.

The throne itself was massive. It was carved from ebony, and inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Even though the seat was wide enough to accommodate five large men in armour, there were only two figures occupying it at present. One of these was the only woman in the throne room, apart from my princesses and Loxias.

I stared at her in incredulity. She was the most ancient woman I have ever laid eyes upon. She seemed as old as time itself. Her scrawny body and limbs were covered with dusty black lace, but her hands were gloveless. Her fingers were twisted into grotesque shapes with arthritis and age. The backs of her skeletal hands were knotted with bunched blue veins.

Her face was yellow and creased like the skin of a windfall apple which had lain at the foot of the tree for a season in the sun. It no longer seemed human. The sparse and greasy strings of her hair were dyed bright red and plastered to her skull or curled around her ears. Her eyes were sunk in their deep sockets. One eye was black and shiny as polished obsidian. The other was opaque and dribbled tears down her withered cheek. The tears dripped on to the black lace that covered her upper body.

In the silence she hawked and coughed up a lump of green and yellow mucus. When she opened her mouth to spit it on the marble tiles I saw that her teeth were black and ragged as the burned-out stumps of the forest after a fire has swept through it.

‘Pasiphaë, the Queen Mother,’ Toran whispered so softly that only I could hear him.

Beside her towered a gigantic hominoid shape clad in a robe of silver filigree and a breastplate of embossed gold. However, the creature seemed too large to be human. Was it some preternatural beast or being from the Minoan pantheon of the immortals? I wondered.

Its hands were covered by gloves made from furry black skin, which I surmised was wild buffalo. Its lower limbs were covered by high boots of the same material.

The most astonishing feature was the creature’s head. It was completely enclosed by a mask of precious metals. This was fashioned in the shape of a wild aurochs bull’s head with flaring nostrils and a shaggy mane. The massive horns set in the mask were authentic, taken from the carcass of the same animal. They were long, forward curved and murderously pointed. I had seen almost identical specimens amongst the hunting trophies of King Nimrod in Babylon.

The eyeholes in the mask seemed to be black and empty, until I moved slightly to one side. The masked head turned to follow my movement and in doing so altered the angle of the light from the high windows. I could make out the glint and flickering movement of living eyes deep in the sockets. Were they human, bestial or divine? There was no way of knowing.

The hidden drummer gave a double beat and then fell silent. Nothing and nobody moved in the sudden quiet. Then the masked figure on the throne rose to its feet and spread its arms. It let out a bellow like a wild bull with the smell of oestrus in its nostrils. The sound echoed within the creature’s head-mask with such intensity that I realized the Minoan engineers must have devised some means of amplifying it to this extraordinary volume.

In unison the entire congregation including the priests emitted a groan of veneration so deep and intense that it sounded like terror and then they prostrated themselves. The green-clad guards on each side of my girls forced them face-down on the marbled floor.

Ambassador Toran seized my wrist and pulled me down with him. ‘Lie still!’ he hissed at me. ‘On your life don’t look up!’

I obeyed him. I had no inkling what was taking place, but I knew that this was no time to argue or object. I lay still; groaning only when the rest of the congregation groaned; knocking my forehead on the paving only when everyone else did so. The tirade from the throne continued unabated, if anything increasing in volume until my head began to throb.