Amerotke dismissed the captain of the guard. Mareb was clearly nervous. Hatusu sat like some graven image whilst Senenmut leaned against the window.

'Continue, my lord Amerotke,' Hatusu's voice hissed.

'Of all the deaths,' Amerotke began, sitting opposite Mareb, 'the most needless and cruel was that of the poor dancing girl. You took the blow-pipe and darts and tested the poison on sheep and fish, seeing how quickly it worked. Of course you always removed the dart, but a human being? Once again you pretended to be a member of the Mitanni cortège. Wearing that hideous mask, you invited the girl into a garden pavilion. She thought she was earning a few coins, the favour of a powerful man. You killed her to see how quickly the poison would work.'

'For that alone you will die,' Hatusu broke in harshly.

'Did you watch her die?' Amerotke murmured. 'Did you count the heartbeats, collect the barb and disappear? You moved round that temple like a ghost, you were glimpsed both in Anubis and down near the river. You killed Sinuhe the same way, the guard of the sacred pack and, of course, the Mitanni.'

'If I was their friend,' Mareb blurted out, 'their paid assassin, why should I kill them?'

'First, I think you enjoy killing. There is not much difference between you and Weni. But to answer your question: we group the Mitanni together. However, you know, I know, Tushratta knows, as does the lord Senenmut, that Tushratta's council is divided. Wanef, the favourite, leads the peace party. She is as cunning as a fox. She realises the Mitanni desperately need peace but not everyone agrees with her. Tushratta's kingdom is made up of powerful clans: Snefru, Mensu and Hunro were warmongers, yes, my lord Senenmut?'

The Vizier nodded in agreement.

'Now these warriors demanded to be part of the peace delegation, ever looking for a chance to cause chaos and confusion. The theft of the Glory of Anubis, the appropriation of Sinuhe's manuscript would please them, but Tushratta had secret designs against them. You were ordered to kill them. He would be rid of three powerful troublemakers and be able to blame Egypt for the deaths of men he secretly regarded as jackals!'

'But that would be an act of war!' Mareb shouted.

'Would it?' Amerotke asked. 'The Divine Hatusu would be suspected but nothing proved. Lord Senenmut might be depicted as the murderer, or someone in Pharaoh's court who is out of control. Tushratta could act the angry prince and, I am sure, when Lord Senenmut fixes the seals to the treaty, Wanef will be strident in her demands for the most generous compensation for the deaths of these three lords.'

'I should have crushed that fox,' Hatusu murmured.

'Tushratta intends to journey back to his kingdom a happy man,' Amerotke continued. 'He might have to bend the knee, kiss Pharaoh's feet, sign a humiliating treaty, but he'd be laughing behind his hand. He'd achieved a great deal: the Glory of Anubis; Sinuhe's manuscript; the summary dispatch of three troublemakers, as well as a generous hoard of treasure from Egypt's House of Silver in compensation.'

'But Lord Snefru?' Senenmut spoke up. 'His chamber door was locked and bolted, the windows closed and barred.'

'Stay where you are, my lord Senenmut.' Amerotke made a pushing movement with his hand. 'Stay near the window. Do you remember when we found Snefru's corpse? The door was forced. I was there, so was our herald. Mareb went to the window.'

'I remember,' Senenmut interrupted. 'He claimed the shutters were barred.'

'Nothing of the sort,' Amerotke retorted. 'They were simply closed over. Mareb lied. He said they were barred and, of course, he opened them to allow in light and air.' Amerotke snapped his fingers. 'In a mere breath any evidence to the contrary was quickly hidden. Moreover, do you remember how Mareb stood leaning against the windowsill? He was brushing away from both the sill and the floor any marks of hands or feet. You climbed down from the roof, didn't you?' Amerotke demanded. 'The window shutters were open: you simply went through, killed Snefru and left, closing the shutters behind you. When the door was forced, you made it look as if the shutters had been clasped shut, then you leaned against the sill to brush away any signs of entry. I have examined Snefru's room: it would be easy for an athletic man to climb down from the flat roof, slip in and out and inflict the same death as you did the others. You also removed the barb, thus deepening the mystery. Hunro and Mensu's deaths were just as simple. They didn't like the Princess Wanef and went to confide. They thought, being together, that they were protected. They went to the sacred pool and sat on that bench. You followed them: both died fairly instantly. You removed the barbs and tossed both corpses into the water.'

Amerotke got to his feet.

'What do you say, Mareb?' he demanded. 'We can take you to the House of Death and torture you. We can even negotiate with Wanef. She won't protect you. We can search your possessions, your room for the same items you hid in Weni's.'

Mareb had stopped his shaking. He sat, hands on his knees, staring at the floor.

'I was happy once.' He raised his head. 'There was my mother, my father, my brother and myself. They were very proud of me being in the House of Envoys. I was happy.' He stared, white-faced. 'You are right about Weni! I always suspected he had a hand in Hordeth's death and I began to follow him. Do you know, he used to go back to the Temple of Bes and gloat over the corpse? Eventually I found the truth but I decided to bide my time. It was something which would wait, like you do a good vine to come to full flower, before you crush the grapes. I travelled with Weni along the Horus road to the Mitanni kingdom. A blind man would have realised Weni was as treacherous as a snake. He was taking bribes. I thought that was the best way of destroying him: the execution of a traitor is particularly grisly.' He smirked. 'Then Divine Pharaoh died. Chaos and confusion here in Thebes whilst the Mitanni launched their attack across Sinai. My father and brother were officers in the Osiris regiment. They marched north with the rest. Most of them came swaggering back covered in medals and glory, bringing the loot from Tushratta's camp. My father and brother didn't. At first we were told they had been killed.' He glared at Lord Senenmut. 'The war ended and Tushratta demanded peace. I was sent out to meet the Mitanni envoys. Weni, well, as I've said, it was obvious Weni was up for sale, like the whore he'd become. He and I met the Mitanni envoys at the first oasis along the Horus road. We stayed two nights. Wanef arrived. One evening she demanded to see me. When I entered her tent, my father and brother were also there, gagged and bound. I was given a choice. I must work for the princess Wanef or my father and brother would spend the rest of their lives in the slave mines. It was dreadful. All around me was treachery. Weni, the murderer of my friends, buying and selling himself. Egypt not caring whether my father and brother were alive or dead.'

'You should have asked,' Senenmut intervened.

'Should I, my lord, and what would you have done? Would Wanef have confessed?' Mareb sneered. 'When they came to the Oasis of Palms, Wanef brought the little finger cut from my father's hand. She said I hadn't responded quickly enough. I agreed to do what they asked.' He raised his head and breathed in deeply. 'My mother had died, Weni was busy counting his silver. I became Wanef's mouthpiece. They wanted the Glory of Anubis and Sinuhe's manuscript, especially the latter for the routes across the desert. As a herald I was ordered to prepare the Temple of Anubis for the Mitanni arrival. I visited every nook and cranny: the chapel containing the sacred amethyst, the sacred pack of dogs, the garden pavilions. I also listened to the chatter of the temple servants. How Nemrath was lecherous and hot for Ita. The rest was simple. I used to meet Weni secretly. I gave him the knives and told him what was to happen. Princess Wanef provided me with a cartouche, the personal seal of Tushratta. I lured Sinuhe to his death: he was a garrulous, greedy old man. I am sorry about the dancing girl. The Mitanni had given me the blow-pipe and a casket of poisoned darts. I had to discover how quickly death came. The rest is as you've said. I did enjoy killing Weni.' He paused. 'How he must have screamed. I appeased Hordeth's spirit. The Mitanni?' Again the smile. 'I would have killed them all.'

'And me?' Amerotke asked.

'Mensu and Hunro demanded your death.'

'Did they know you were the assassin?' Amerotke asked.

'No, no, Princess Wanef instructed me. My lord, you should give thanks. You were the only one I missed. A mere fraction: you were very brave. You saved my life out in the Red Lands. I told Princess Wanef I would not try again.'

'Why are you confessing?' Amerotke asked. 'Did you really believe the Mitanni would hand your brother and father over?'

'Yes, yes, I did. Either that or I'd flee to Tushratta's court. It's all wickedness,' he added in a whisper. 'The song-writer is correct: men's mouths are stuffed with lies.'

'Death!' Hatusu's voice broke the silence.

She joined her hands over her breasts, adopting the pose of Pharaoh delivering judgement. As she did so, Senenmut and Amerotke fell to their knees. Mareb continued to sit, staring at the wall, lost in his own thoughts.

'I want you dead!' Hatusu declared. 'You took my lord judge out to the Red Lands and would have left him there. This is my sentence. You will be taken there yourself. You shall be buried alive at the very spot you tried to kill my judge. Lord Amerotke, you will personally ensure sentence is carried out!'

Mareb stretched out his hands, a strange choking sound at the back of his throat. Amerotke glanced quickly at him: had the herald taken some poison? Mareb fell to his knees, hands extended in a gesture of mercy.

'Divine One.' Amerotke kept his head down.

'Yes, my lord judge.'

'Mareb is a royal herald. In a sense he was forced. He was not like Weni, he did not sell Egypt for gold and silver but for his own kin's flesh and blood.'

'What are you saying, my lord Amerotke? That we should show him mercy?'

'Only in the manner of his death.'

Amerotke glanced sideways at Senenmut. He hoped that the Chief Vizier would support him.

'Agreed!' The word cracked like the snap of a whip. 'Let Pharaoh's will be done! He is to die now!'

Amerotke bowed out of the room. He was aware of Senenmut shouting. The doors to the antechamber closed behind him. Mareb was surrounded by royal bodyguards. His hands were quickly bound. Senenmut came out and, ignoring Amerotke, had a few whispered words with the captain, who nodded and ordered the captive to be taken away. Amerotke thought Senenmut would invite him back but the Chief Vizier held up his hand.

'You have heard the Divine One's judgement. You are to ensure that sentence is carried out.'

The guards were already marching away. Amerotke half suspected what would happen next. Mareb was taken through corridors, down steps into a dusty courtyard. One side consisted of military barracks, the other three of a soaring curtain wall. In the far corner stood a post driven deep into the ground. Amerotke heard a sound and looked over his shoulder. Shufoy had joined him. The little man stared, mouth open.

'Mareb!' he exclaimed. 'The news is already sweeping the palace!'

The herald was now being lashed to the pole. A group of mercenary archers came tumbling out of the barrack doors. For a while confusion reigned as men were sent back for armour, quivers and bows.

'He is to be shot to death?' Shufoy asked, coming up and slipping his hand into Amerotke's.

'It's better that way,' Amerotke replied. 'If Divine Hatusu had her way, he would be crucified on the walls of Thebes or buried out in the Red Lands.'

The archers were now preparing. There was little question or protest. Under the Divine Hatusu's father, such executions had been quite common. Mareb called Amerotke's name.

'You may ignore him,' the captain of the guard declared. 'My lord Senenmut's orders were quite precise: he is to be dead within the hour.'

Amerotke walked across. He was aware of the heat, the growing stillness, the puffs of dust, hanging in the heat. Mareb's hands were lashed behind the pole, feet likewise. The guards had ripped his robe, baring his chest. Someone had already helped themselves to the pendant round his neck. A bruise had appeared on the corner of the herald's mouth.

'What do you want?' Amerotke asked. 'No more mercy will be shown.'

'No more mercy?' Mareb licked dry lips. 'Couldn't I, just once more, taste wine in my mouth?'

Amerotke lifted his hand and shouted. A soldier brought over an earthenware pitcher and a shallow cracked cup. Amerotke filled this and allowed the herald to sip. Mareb did so hungrily: he breathed out, staring up at the sky.

'Each day,' he murmured, as if he was unaware of Amerotke, 'brings its own terrors.' He coughed and glanced at the judge. 'Will you say a prayer for me, my lord? I mean, once the archers have done their work?' His eyes took on a pleading look. 'For some of the things I have done, I am truly sorry. I ask for one last act of mercy.'

'Your body will receive honourable burial,' Amerotke replied. 'The Divine Hatusu's vengeance does not stretch across the grave.'

'I thank you.' Mareb laughed abruptly. 'You are a strange one, Chief Judge in the Hall of Two Truths. You show mercy for a man who would have killed you.'

Amerotke stared back.

'For that I thank you.' Mareb grinned. 'Now I shall tell you something else. You know the Street of Lamps near the great mooring place on the Nile? Before dusk, go down to a shop owned by a seller of bottles. I have a chamber above it. The seller of bottles is paid very well. In my room, beneath a small cot bed, you will find a hole in the wall. The darts and blow-pipes are hidden within. There is also a roll of papyrus. The lord Senenmut might find that most interesting.'

'Why?' Amerotke asked sharply.

'Just go, my lord. There's something else.'

Mareb cleared his throat and looked hungrily at the cup. Amerotke refilled it: he held it to Mareb's lips, ignoring the shouts of the captain of the guard.

'What else is there?' Amerotke asked.

'The Mitanni, they demand the return of Benia's sarcophagus, yes? The Divine Hatusu,' he smiled wryly at the royal term, 'was concerned that her father might have punished the Mitanni princess before she died. You now know, my lord, how that is untrue. The Divine Tuthmosis was a stern man but he did not make war on women and children.'

The captain of the guard came striding over. Amerotke ordered him back.

'If you go into Thebes,' Mareb continued in a whisper, 'and go round the temples, the Divine Hatusu has made great play about her divine origins. Yes?'

Amerotke nodded. Hatusu laid great emphasis on the now accepted story that she had been conceived in her mother's womb by divine intervention.

'Tell the Divine Hatusu,' Mareb continued with a smile, 'that Benia kept a chronicle of Pharaoh's court. Oh yes.' He caught the warning look in Amerotke's eyes. 'All the tittle-tattle and gossip. Hatusu is seen as either Divine Tuthmosis' daughter or that of a god. According to Benia, the Divine Tuthmosis was impotent.' He laughed and leaned his head back, staring up at the sky. 'Tell the Divine Hatusu to have the sarcophagus carefully examined, particularly the inside walls, for hidden drawers or places. Benia had the chronicle buried with her: that's why the Mitanni want it back.'

Amerotke stared in disbelief. If Mareb was correct, the Mitanni would seize and spread such scurrilous stories gleefully.

'But that is not all,' Mareb added. 'Weni and I were not the only villains in Thebes. Think, Amerotke, reflect on what you have learnt! Other mischief was planned.' He shook his head. 'Though I have little knowledge of it. Go to the Street of Lamps and find my list.' He smiled. 'For the rest, I have nothing to say. Now, I have a long journey to make.'

Amerotke stepped back. The archers advanced in a line. The officer imposed order: the realisation of what was about to happen quietened even those hardened mercenaries. An order was rapped out. The archers strung arrows to the bows. These came up, a range of gleaming white arcs. The officer waited for a while. The courtyard fell silent. Nothing but fierce sunlight, the white dust and the buzz of flies round the cooking pots in front of the barrack doors. Amerotke closed his eyes.

'Loose!'

The order shattered the oppressive atmosphere. A twang of bow strings, like some harpist getting ready to play, then the ominous thud as each arrow hit its target. Amerotke opened his eyes. At least a dozen shafts now pierced Mareb's body, still jerking in its death throes, before sliding down. The officer walked across; his dagger glittered as Mareb's throat was cut.

'We have witnessed the execution,' Amerotke murmured. 'Make sure the corpse is treated properly,' he called over to the captain of the guard. 'Have it embalmed. It is to be taken across to the Necropolis to the Tomb of Strangers.'

'And the bill?' the officer asked cheekily.

'Send it to me at the Temple of Ma'at.'

'Pharaoh's justice has been done!' the officer declared loudly.

'Yes, yes, I think it has,' Amerotke replied, and spinning on his heel, he left the sun-washed courtyard.

Shufoy was also affected by what he had seen. For most of their journey through the busy streets and markets, the dwarf held his peace. Only when they had reached the Street of Lamps did he begin to chant a death poem.

 'Death is to me today,

 Like a sick man's recovery,

 Like going outside the confinement,

 Death, to me today,

 Is like the scent of frankincense,

 Or sitting under a sail

 When the Nile flows free!'

'I much prefer your love poetry,' Amerotke declared.

'I am glad you mentioned that.' Shufoy smiled, grasping his master's hand. 'And what do you think of this?

 'What heaven it would be

 If my own heart's desire came true.

 To love you and set you up

 As mistress of my heart and hearth.'

'Very good!' Amerotke squeezed Shufoy's hand. 'But now we must look for another manuscript.'

They found the seller of bottles' shop: a dark, musty place. The stall outside was covered in different-coloured vases, cups, bowls: some of clay, others of expensive alabaster. The owner came shuffling out. Amerotke bought two vases and handed them to Shufoy.

'Anything else?'

The man screwed up his eyes against the sunlight.

'You want something else, don't you?'

'Yes, I do.' Amerotke stared round the shop. 'Mareb the herald hired a chamber here.'

'I have never heard of him.'

Shufoy dropped both vases on the floor with a smash.

'Why did you do that?' the man wailed.

'You are well paid,' Shufoy retorted. 'This is Lord Amerotke, Chief Judge in the Hall of Two Truths.'

'The chamber's upstairs,' the man gabbled. 'I'll show you there myself. Mareb hired it from me but told me to keep it a secret. He said if he was ever absent for five days in succession, I could help myself.'

'So you can,' Amerotke retorted. 'Mareb won't be coming back, but I have something to collect.'

The upstairs chamber was small and beautifully kept. A cloak and a gown hung on a peg against the wall. A table bore writing instruments but nothing suspicious. Amerotke told the bottle-seller to stay below and moved the bed. He found Mareb's hiding-place and pulled out various items. In the light of what had happened they looked pathetic: a scarab beetle, a bracelet, a throat gorget, some wooden toys.

'Keepsakes of his brother,' Amerotke murmured. 'Ah well, but here we have it.' He drew out the small, dirty papyrus roll and unfolded it. 'It's nothing but a list, done in strange hieroglyphics...'

Amerotke realised what it was.

'There's going to be some heartache in Thebes,' he murmured, 'when the Divine Hatusu sees this.'

'What?' Shufoy demanded.

Amerotke got to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed.

'Do you remember, when Divine Hatusu first seized power, opposition was rife amongst the priests and other officials? Her great victory in the north put an end to all that, but both she and Lord Senenmut were convinced that the Mitanni had agents in Thebes. Most of these have gone into the dark.' He held up the papyrus roll. 'This is a list of those who remain. Mareb had a copy so as to give him help and assistance here in Thebes. For example, the Divine Hatusu intercepted a letter from Wanef...'

'But that was arranged?'

'Yes, but some of the guardians of the gate are in the pay of the Mitanni. No important names, but the lord Senenmut will be pleased to catch them once and for all. It's Mareb's final gift to us.'

Amerotke clapped Shufoy on the shoulder and, making himself comfortable, undid the piece of papyrus and studied it again. The list was long, the writing almost illegible.

'By the serpent's eyes!' Amerotke muttered as one name caught his attention. He glanced up. 'Did you know Belet's name was on this?'

'Impossible!' Shufoy crouched by his master, peering at the list.

'There,' Amerotke pointed out. 'Belet, son of Ineni: that's been crossed out and replaced with Lakhet.' Amerotke leaned his head back against the wall. 'Belet, son of Lakhet,' he repeated. 'But they wrote Ineni.' Amerotke's fingers went to his mouth. 'Mareb said there was other mischief. So, we return to the question you've often asked, Shufoy. Why should Belet be abducted? The answer is because he's a locksmith. True, there are other such craftsmen in Thebes, but Belet is special. He's very good, isn't he? And above all, he's the son of Lakhet.'

'Oh, the turd of a dog!' Shufoy gasped. 'I found a poem in Belet's house: it referred to Ineni, the Great Builder. Lakhet must have worked for him.'

Amerotke clambered to his feet.

'I have never gambled at dice, Shufoy, but I'd do so now. Lakhet fell on hard times. You said Belet came from a good family. If the records are checked, I am sure we'll discover that Lakhet fashioned the keys and locks for the chests and coffers of Tuthmosis' tomb. Ineni the architect would especially have commissioned them. When I was in the Valley of the Kings, Hatusu used a special T-shaped key to unlock Benia's sarcophagus.'

'But Belet doesn't know where the tomb is!' Shufoy declared.

Amerotke closed his eyes. He recalled Hatusu and Senenmut leaving the tomb. How the Pharaoh-Queen had declared that she would return to the Valley of the Kings and put everything back in order.

'We left the valley,' he murmured. 'Hatusu took careful precautions to disguise our journey in and out, but signs would be left.'

'True,' Shufoy agreed. 'I know imperial scouts who can follow the trail of a beetle, but the elements would soon cover such signs up.'

Amerotke felt the nape of his neck prickle with cold.

'What happens, Shufoy, if someone was watching the valley? Someone who had been told that Hatusu would have to go there to remove Benia's sarcophagus?' He rubbed the side of his face.

'But the valley was sealed whilst you were in?'

'Yes, but once we had left, the troops were withdrawn. The watcher would have to wait for no more than an hour. If he entered straight away, I think he'd be cunning enough to pick up the track and even find the entrance.'

Shufoy's mouth gaped. 'That's why they took Belet in a hurry,' he exclaimed. 'He knows those locks. They seized him yesterday so their robbery must be planned for tonight.'

Amerotke's mind raced.

'Who are they?' Shufoy demanded.

'Why, the Mitanni: that's the real reason they demanded Benia's sarcophagus.'

'But they wouldn't soil their hands,' Shufoy scoffed. 'They wouldn't be so stupid!'

'No, they're not,' Amerotke replied. 'But they'd use others for such a crime. That's what Belet's mysterious visitor at the Place of the Hyaenas was talking about: a dangerous place to rob but with no guards. Now, tell me, Shufoy,' Amerotke declared, 'who could organise a group of brigands for such a daring venture? Whom have you recently met who seemed so helpful in telling us about Weni? Who also gave you the most solemn assurances that he was going to leave Thebes as quickly as possible?'

'The Crocodile Man!'

Amerotke grabbed Shufoy's arm.

'He's well named! He hasn't left the river, he's just hunting beneath its surface!'

Anubis: 'Chief of the Divine Pavilion'


Six chariot squadrons from the crack Osiris regiment fanned out in battle line and thundered across the desert. Darkness had fallen but scouts had been dispatched and the route had been plotted with fiery pitch torches fixed on poles driven into the ground. These now danced in the cold night air. The war chariots, too, had torches lashed to their fronts. The horses selected were the swiftest and most war-like in Pharaoh's stables. A magnificent sight, Amerotke thought: the night air was filled with the rumble of hooves and the crash of wheels. Every chariot bore a driver and a warrior, all of them hand-picked from the Nakhtu-aa, the Braves of the King. Each wore a golden bee on his armour, a sign that he'd encountered an enemy in hand-to-hand combat and emerged victorious. Behind the chariots marched troop after troop of Nubian mercenaries. They would reinforce the chariot line as well as protect their sacred Pharaoh-Queen.

Amerotke glanced to his right. Hatusu, armoured like a warrior, stood in the adjoining chariot clutching the rail, head slightly forward, staring into the darkness. To his left Senenmut was similarly armed. Somewhere behind was little Shufoy: Amerotke prayed he'd be safe. The mannikin would be clutching the rail, thrown backwards and forwards by the pace of this wild gallop under the starlit desert sky. The journey was short. They had taken a circuitous route around the Necropolis towards the Valley of the Kings. Eventually the chariot squadrons reined in. Senenmut and the captains clambered down. Maps were produced and, under the light of torches, Senenmut showed how the force would be deployed.

'They'll form a perfect horseshoe,' he ordered. 'Each end resting on the valley entrance.'

Hatusu, who wore the War Crown of Egypt, took this off and gave it to one of her bodyguard. Her face seemed thinner, harder in the light of the torch. So great was her fury that she had bitten her lower lip: a trickle of blood dried on her chin. Dust and dirt marked her paint-free face. She would have urged action but Senenmut held up his hand.

'We must wait, my lady,' he advised. 'Amerotke may be correct, but we could be chasing shadows.'

As if in answer a whistle came out of the darkness. An officer shouted. Amerotke looked up. Dark figures, 'Pharaoh's greyhounds', were making their way through the battle line. They were desert dwellers who now served as scouts for the Egyptian army. Small, lithe and silent, they carried small horn bows and quivers of arrows. They knelt before Senenmut, touching their foreheads against the ground. Amerotke held his breath.

'Well?' Senenmut demanded.

The leading scout lifted his head. 'We cannot be sure...'

'What!' Hatusu shouted.

Down went the scout's head.

'You cannot be sure?' Senenmut said gently. 'But your orders were quite precise.'

'We followed the Divine One's orders.' The scout was now trembling.

'I know my orders,' Hatusu intervened.

Senenmut took her by the arm and escorted her gently away, whispering fiercely to her. Amerotke suspected what he was saying. Pharaoh did not show her face. Her very presence, each word she uttered, would terrify the likes of these scouts, who would regard it as sacrilegious even to gaze on her face. Senenmut had his way. Hatusu strode off into the darkness surrounded by her bodyguards. Senenmut returned to the scouts.

'The Divine One says this,' he began. 'You will eat for the rest of your lives on the softest bread, chew the tenderest meat, drink the sweetest wine. Your children will bless your memory. Pharaoh has turned her face to you and smiled. You will know her pleasure all the days of your life.'

The scouts lifted their heads, eyes gleaming at the prospect of such lavish rewards.

'My lord, we did not penetrate deep into the valley,' their leader replied.

Senenmut nodded. Hatusu had specifically ordered them to find a trail but not alarm any intruders.

'I do not want all of Egypt,' she'd remarked, 'to know where my father is buried.'

'And?' Senenmut asked.

'Undoubtedly,' the leader continued, 'a troop has entered the valley just before dusk. We found dung from a dromedary still warm to the touch.'

Amerotke held his breath for the next question.

'And have they left?'

'No, my lord, all the signs are that they are still there!'

'Where is your fourth?' Senenmut asked.

The man's face broke into a grin. 'They left a sentry.'

'So they must be there,' Amerotke declared.

The man shrugged. 'We did not know who it was in the dark. We were on him before he even knew.'

'How was he dressed?' Amerotke demanded. 'Head and face covered like a sand-wanderer?'

The scout spread his hands. 'Yes. We had no choice. I cut his throat. I left his body beneath some rocks. Our companion took his place.'

'Good! Good!' Senenmut smiled. 'And how many would you say?'

The man gestured with his hands. 'On foot, maybe twenty or thirty, but there were pack animals as well: some could be mounted.'

Senenmut thanked them, slipping a small cube of gold into each of their hands. He beckoned Amerotke and they walked off into the darkness. The royal bodyguard had already set up a pavilion, a small tabernacle for Hatusu and her advisers. She was inside, pacing up and down. She gestured for them to sit on camp stools.

'Well, my lord Amerotke.' Her lips smiled but her eyes didn't. 'You were correct. So, whilst we wait, let me hear your story in full.'

'I was wrong,' Amerotke confessed. 'Tushratta's ambitions were more cunning and vicious than I ever suspected. He declared once, did he not, my lady, that he would burn Thebes and seize the heart of your father?'

'Tushratta boasts a lot,' Hatusu riposted.

'He's a boaster,' Amerotke agreed. 'But, influenced by Wanef, he can be subtle in his plans. He had no choice but to bend the knee before Egypt. He hated that but Wanef offered him a cup of comfort: to steal the Glory of Anubis, seize Sinuhe's map, rid himself of three of his most powerful war leaders, plunder your father's tomb and commit hideous sacrilege. Such a prospect would sweeten the cup of defeat. He could return to his capital and quietly gloat. Every time he handled the Glory of Anubis he would mock Egypt. Sinuhe's maps would be used by his merchants to forge new trade routes and amass more wealth. One day, my lady, Tushratta will go to war against you.'

Hatusu stared coldly back.

'In one respect,' Amerotke continued, 'Tushratta has been successful. I doubt if he will now ask for compensation for the deaths of his war leaders, Lord Snefru and the rest, but he has rid himself of three troublemakers without having their blood on his hands. We will be blamed for that.'

'And my father's tomb?' Hatusu asked.

'Tushratta demanded Benia's sarcophagus back,' Amerotke explained. 'He knew that would vex you, particularly if there were rumours that your father had treated her cruelly.'

'We now know that's not true.'

'But there were other reasons. Benia's sarcophagus contains papyrus manuscripts which include all the scurrilous details of your father's court.' Amerotke smiled grimly. 'On reflection, why should Tushratta desperately seek that? After all, he can make up lie after lie about you. No, his plan went deeper.'

'He must have known,' Senenmut intervened, 'that Tuthmosis' tomb was cloaked in secrecy. My lady, you could wander the valley for years and never find that entrance.'

Hatusu looked at Amerotke, who took up the story.

'Tushratta and Wanef would realise that the only people who could approach that tomb were yourself and your closest advisers, men you could trust. Of course, the Mitanni could have tried bribery but that's too dangerous. They wouldn't know who to approach, and if that person refused...'

'I would know,' Hatusu declared flatly.

'Yes, my lady. So instead they hired a watcher. Someone who kept the Valley of the Kings under close scrutiny. During the day it's a place of scorching heat. In any other circumstances such a watcher would have to endure years of that before you ever approached the tomb.'

Hatusu closed her eyes at the mistake she had made.

'Tushratta and Wanef demanded to take Benia's sarcophagus back with them. Egypt,' Amerotke chose his words carefully, 'fell into the trap.'

'Of course!' Senenmut groaned, head in hands. 'The sarcophagus could have been sent back later.'

'Yes, that's why Tushratta demanded to escort it himself. By doing that, he created an opportunity for his spy: within a short space of time, you, Divine One, would have to enter the Valley of the Kings!'

'But we were careful,' Hatusu declared. 'On our approach and departure, scouts patrolled our flanks and sealed the valley entrance.'

'Tushratta didn't need that.' Amerotke shook his head.

'But we removed all signs,' Hatusu insisted. 'When we left the valley, slaves used dry brushes to wipe away tracks.' She sighed. 'I know what you are going to say: Tushratta didn't need that.'

'The Mitanni king,' Amerotke agreed, 'simply wanted to know that we had entered the valley and left with the sarcophagus. Once you had, the place becomes deserted. No guards patrol there because Egypt does not want to draw attention, and in the end, soldiers, like anyone, can be bribed. Tushratta's spies simply waited until all was quiet. We have scouts, they have scouts. They can hire men who can tell you if a pebble has been overturned. They moved quickly. Once the royal cortège was back in Thebes, they would examine the valley floor very carefully. Some signs would be left: traces of animal dung, the mark of a wheel...'

'And, of course,' Senenmut interrupted, 'the rock face!'

Amerotke stared out into the darkness.

'Given time, a few days,' he continued, 'such signs would disappear, but we left yesterday morning. Later that day Tushratta's scout entered the valley. He would look for signs and, I wager, find the entrance. He would report back to Tushratta's agent in Thebes and they would strike. Last night Belet and Seli were abducted and taken out to a meeting place in the Red Lands. Belet's father, Lakhet, was keysmith to Ineni, architect of your father's tomb. Lakhet was trusted, a powerful court official. He would have fashioned the locks for the tombs and caskets.'

'But he wouldn't know where the tomb was,' Hatusu declared.

'No, my lady, he wouldn't, but his tools, his keys, his knowledge of locks was inherited by his son Belet. In the intervening years Lakhet, remembering the bloodshed which marked the building of your father's tomb, brooded and drank himself to death. He dissipated his wealth. Belet, his son, turned to thievery in an attempt to furnish his parents with a proper tomb. He was caught, disfigured and banished to the village of the Rhinoceri. He'd probably forgotten about his father's achievements, more concerned with his own situation. Belet became law-abiding; he sued for pardon and was granted it.'

'But why was he approached?' Senenmut asked. 'Why couldn't the thieves just break into the tomb, ravage it and leave with their plunder?'

'The Mitanni hoped the Divine One would take them to the tomb, and we did. They also knew that any traps left by Ineni would be sprung by Pharaoh's servants as they entered the tomb and removed Benia's sarcophagus. It would be safer for them. We left in haste,' Amerotke explained. 'In a few days' time I am sure, my lady, you intended to send trusted masons and servants back into the valley.'

'Yes, I did,' Hatusu declared harshly. 'They would ensure all was well and replace the traps Ineni left.'

'Now,' Amerotke continued smoothly. He had considered his theory time and again since leaving the Street of Lamps. 'Tushratta knew that your masons would detect any violent robbery in the tomb. Chests and coffers can be ripped open. However, the thieves have a trained locksmith, someone who has inherited Lakhet's skills: everything can be opened quietly, pillaged and relocked. They will only take small objects, and there are enough of them...'

Senenmut whistled under his breath. Hatusu got to her feet and turned her back. The servants had poured her a goblet of wine. She picked this up. Amerotke saw her hand tremble.

'They will pillage my father's tomb of small precious objects, won't they? They'll violate the caskets. Take out his heart! Tushratta wanted to fulfil his boast, to burn the heart of the great Tuthmosis!'

'We should have trapped them before they reached it,' Senenmut declared.

'There wasn't time,' Amerotke retorted. 'More importantly, they'd have been warned off but would still possess knowledge of the secret entrance. They must all be killed tonight.'

Hatusu stood, shoulders shaking, sipping at the wine. She put it down quietly and returned to her cushion. She was more composed, but tear stains marked her face.

'I have failed,' she confessed. 'I believed Tushratta's request was reasonable. Egypt had often returned the corpses of foreign princesses. I entered the Valley of the Kings, removed the sarcophagus and believed I'd left no sign of my visit. Once matters were settled, I would have returned to ensure all was well.' She chewed her lip. 'And, of course,' she added bitterly, 'Tushratta would realise how Sinuhe's death and the theft of the Glory of Anubis would agitate the court of Egypt.' She pressed her fingers against her forehead. 'I did not think clearly.'

'No one did,' Senenmut reassured her. 'We believed Tushratta was coming to beg for peace. In my pride, I thought he'd wish to fix a seal, humble himself in the dust and leave Egypt as quickly as he could: the only demand he could make was for Benia's corpse.'

'For this I could declare war!' Hatusu whispered. 'I could march on the Oasis of Palms. I'd crucify Tushratta and the rest to the trees and leave their cadavers to the hyaenas!'

Senenmut, alarmed, grasped her hand. 'But listen to Amerotke,' he urged. 'What proof do we have? What real evidence? Mareb is dead. Weni is dead. Any confession forced from our herald would be dismissed as a lie. Tushratta would turn this to mock our promises. The Mitanni would proclaim how we enticed their king to Egypt, broke our oath and slaughtered him.'

'He has not been successful,' Amerotke said. 'And nor will he be tonight. Moreover,' he added, 'we must not betray our belief, even to the robbers, that the Mitanni are behind this. If we do that, our own troops might get to know: it would become public knowledge.'

Amerotke glanced at Senenmut, who nodded in agreement.

'We have our own war party: they, and the army, would demand vengeance.'

'The robbers might escape,' Hatusu retorted.

'With dromedaries and pack animals?' Amerotke declared. 'Their panniers full of treasures? Although they'd only take,' he conceded, 'that which is small, items from the coffers which, you'd think, have remained locked. Only a very careful scrutiny of the seals would reveal sacrilege had taken place.'

Hatusu was looking at Amerotke from under her eyebrows. The judge hid his own feelings. He knew that glance. Was Hatusu blaming him?

'Perhaps I should have known,' he confessed.

He paused at a sound and, looking over his shoulder, saw a guard blocking Shufoy's entrance: the little man was driven away.

'Perhaps,' he repeated, 'I should have known. I failed to realise who Lakhet was. Now it makes sense. The man who approached Belet at the Place of Hyaenas talked of a robbery which would lead to great wealth, dangerous but there'd be no guards. Even when Belet disappeared, I still thought it might be some temple or mansion, or bullion being taken from the mines. When I found Mareb's list mentioning Belet son of Lakhet and the reference to Ineni...' he wiped the sweat from his brow, 'the solution became clearer.' He paused, choosing his words carefully. 'Lakhet fashioned the locks of the coffers and chests of your father's tomb. Belet was abducted to commit great sacrilege. The Mitanni are responsible but the Crocodile Man's the perpetrator. First, we have Weni buying those knives: they were jackal-headed and came from the Canaan.'

'Tushratta was taunting us?'

'In a way, yes. The Crocodile Man said he had stolen them from someone else: in truth, they were given to him by the Princess Wanef. It was no coincidence that the Crocodile Man and Weni met: it was planned. Weni was given those daggers by the Crocodile Man on the orders of Princess Wanef.'

'But your servant Shufoy discovered their origin?'

'People like the Crocodile Man,' Amerotke replied, 'have one great weakness: they are greedy. No.' He lifted his hand. 'No, that's wrong. The Crocodile Man wanted to sell those daggers to as many people as possible to create confusion. After all, someone else could have bought one of those knives and killed Nemrath. Shufoy discovered their origin and the Crocodile Man could scarcely deny it, could he? That would create suspicion. So he played Shufoy along. And why not?' Amerotke paused. 'If the Crocodile Man had been uncooperative Shufoy would have suspected complicity. So what does the Crocodile Man do? He tells Shufoy all he knows about Weni. Yes.' Amerotke tapped his fingers. 'Just like the Crocodile Man sold the same information about the herald to the Mitanni in the first place: that is how Wanef drew Weni into her net.' He smiled bleakly. 'I wondered how that had happened. The Crocodile Man was sly. He deflected suspicion from himself by sacrificing Weni. What did it matter? Weni had finished his task, been killed and revealed as a Mitanni spy. The Crocodile Man posed as a rogue trying to be helpful to Egypt, so why should he be linked to the Mitanni? Discovering that list in the Street of Lamps, together with Belet's disappearance, clarified something else.'

Amerotke wiped the dust from his mouth on the back of his hand. Hatusu turned, took a cup from the table and pressed it into his hands.

'On reflection,' Amerotke continued, 'I realised that Princess Wanef dealt with Mareb, who in turn managed Weni.' Amerotke sipped from the cup. 'But there was a link missing. Tushratta sent messages to his kinswoman in Thebes. He must have known these would be intercepted; in fact, he planned that they would.'

'But Tushratta's real messenger to Princess Wanef,' Hatusu declared, 'was the Crocodile Man?'

'Yes, and what a perfect choice. A man who owes no allegiance to Egypt or its laws. A rogue who can wander up and down the Nile without provoking suspicion: after all, I accepted his story about the knives. A man who can hire brigands and thieves, go out to the village of the Rhinoceri and seek out Belet. In the end,' Amerotke concluded, 'a man who has nothing to do with Pharaoh's court or the Temple of Anubis. He made one mistake, a small one: he sold more knives than he should have done and so attracted Shufoy's attention.' Amerotke drank, staring over the brim of the cup at Hatusu. She sat, eyes half closed, lips moving soundlessly.

An officer came to the entrance of the pavilion and knelt, touching the ground with his forehead.

'My lord Senenmut, we have news. Our scouts from the valley report movement.'

Senenmut sprang to his feet; Hatusu and Amerotke followed.

'Tell the chariots to remain where they are!' the Vizier ordered. 'Bring the Nubians up, they are to advance quietly and quickly in horseshoe fashion. None must escape!'

'Take prisoners!' Hatusu shouted. 'I want prisoners taken!'

Senenmut's officers quietly deployed their troops: Hatusu would stay behind in the royal pavilion. She wanted to go with them but Senenmut advised against it.

'These are desperate men,' he warned. 'And in the darkness...'

She reluctantly agreed, but made it very clear that prisoners must be taken and only she was to judge them.

The Nubians advanced in battle line: stretching out across the desert floor, they advanced silently under the moon, shields up, long spears level. The chariot squadron was deployed on the flanks to cut off any fugitives. Senenmut was assured that the brigands could only leave by one entrance.

'They could try and scale the valley walls,' he remarked drily. 'But it's nigh impossible.'

Amerotke marched beside him in the third line of men. He wore a bronze helmet and had taken a shield and sword. He wanted to see what would happen and was particularly concerned that the Crocodile Man did not escape. Shufoy also demanded to come but Amerotke disagreed: the mannikin was very agitated about his friends.

'It's not your bravery or skill I doubt.' Amerotke smiled down at his manservant. 'I know you, Shufoy, you'll try and break through. You'll be more concerned for Belet than your own safety, so stay behind.'

Amerotke stared up at the starlit sky. Many years earlier, during military service in the Red Lands, he'd fought a group of brigands who had plundered a tomb in the Necropolis and escaped across the Nile. A bloody battle, Amerotke remembered, fought in the chilly darkness of the night, with no quarter being given and none asked. This would be similar, even though this time the brigands were heavily outnumbered. All around him the marching men made their own ominous rhythm, sandals and booted feet slapping the desert sand. Somewhere in the darkness a lion coughed, followed by the shriek of hyaenas.

'Strange, isn't it,' a soldier muttered, 'how the scavengers smell a feast before it even begins.'

Amerotke tightened the grip on his shield. The full moon slipped out from the clouds and bathed the approach to the valley in silvery light. The rocky outcrops which framed its entrance became clear and distinct. On the left and right flanks, both wings of the Egyptian force moved faster to close the trap. The chariots stayed at the rear. They would only advance once the conflict had begun. A scout came racing back. Orders were passed and the troops stopped: silent, ominous lines of armed men, forming a semicircle, sealing the entrance to the Valley of the Kings. All clatter and talk was forbidden. A chilling sensation. Troops always marched to the clash of armour, the bray of horns and trumpets, the shouts of officers, even battle hymns or regimental songs. This was different: the brigands would not know about the waiting troops until they had left the valley.

A dromedary, its rider whipping the animal's flanks, came out of the valley. Dark shapes slipped from behind the rocks. A net was thrown. The dromedary was trapped and pulled down on to its side. Even from where he stood, Amerotke knew what would happen: the animal's mouth would be tightly bound, the rider pulled off and quickly dealt with. He heard a faint cry and the scrambling figures disappeared. One of the scouts now mounted the dromedary; garbed similarly to the man just killed, he moved back into the mouth of the valley and made a gesture with his hands that nothing was wrong. Amerotke breathed in. The Crocodile Man and his thieves could not be too far behind. Again the whispered orders for silence, though the roars of the lions drew closer. All eyes were on the valley mouth.

At last the band of brigands emerged: dromedaries first, followed by carts, those on foot scrambling behind. They carried no torches, moving silently: the hooves of their animals and the wheels of the carts must be covered in sacking or straw. They seemed totally unaware of the waiting force, more concerned to put as much distance between themselves and the Valley of the Kings as possible. A trumpet blared through the night, followed by the rumble of wheels: a chariot, the soldier within carrying a torch, thundered through the waiting ranks of Nubians and headed towards the brigands. Amerotke could hear their cries of alarm. Some broke to the left and right; only then did they become aware of the trap which ensnared them. The chariot stopped a short way before them, and on the night breeze came the voice of the officer shouting at the brigands to lay down their arms and surrender. An arrow zipped through the air, narrowly missing one of the horses. The brigands had given their answer.

'I expected that,' the loquacious soldier murmured. 'What mercy can they expect?'

Orders were issued and the Nubians advanced at a trot. Amerotke found it difficult at first. He stumbled and slipped; the lines broke into a full charge. The first rank of veterans circled the brigands and by the time the second and third lines came into action, the struggle was over. Riders were pulled down from the dromedaries; carts were seized. Some brigands had resisted, but the rest now realised that they'd encountered not just a desert patrol but a full corps of the imperial army, and they threw down their weapons. A few fought on and had to be forcibly disarmed. Amerotke pushed his way through into the fighting circle. Two dromedaries lay on their sides, legs kicking, until they were put out of their agony. The corpses of robbers littered the desert floor; piercing the darkness came the screams of fugitives as they were trapped and cut down. He moved amongst the prisoners. They were being forced to their knees, hands tied above their heads in a gesture of submission. Select officers of the bodyguard were going through the treasures loaded on to carts or in the panniers of dromedaries. These were all carefully removed, packed around the carts and covered with sacred cloths bearing the emblems of Anubis and Osiris, specially brought from the temples of Thebes. Senenmut was striding about, helmet off, issuing orders. Slowly but surely the scene was transformed. The Nubian troops now formed a huge circle lit by dozens of cresset torches, their poles driven into the ground. Night was transformed into an eerie, fiery day. The dead brigands were piled in a heap. Amerotke glimpsed one dead face: he was sure it was the story-teller he'd seen in the cookshop when he'd met Belet. The Nubians had only suffered minor casualties, and these were now being tended by the accompanying physician. Senenmut was more concerned with the captives. There were at least thirty of them. He went down the line ripping off turbans and face masks. Amerotke followed.

'You are right,' Senenmut murmured. He pointed to one prisoner, an ugly scar where his nose had been. 'Recruits from the Rhinoceri. The rest look like professional brigands, probably from the same gang.'

Some were begging for mercy, others just knelt, heads down. Amerotke studied each prisoner carefully. He stopped by one: the man's face was lean, with a slightly hooked nose and arrogant eyes. Amerotke grasped the man's robe by the neck and ripped it: beneath he felt the inner coat of scaly crocodile skin.

'Do you know me?' Amerotke crouched down. 'You are the Crocodile Man, aren't you?'

The only answer was a sneer.

'Belet and Seli?' Amerotke demanded.

The man brought his head back, hawked and spat into Amerotke's face. The judge wiped the phlegm from his cheek.

'I have my answer.'

He paused by the next man, struck by his strange feminine looks, the woman's jewellery in his ears and around his neck.

'And you must be Shadow?'

The man's gaze fell away.

'Belet and Seli?' Amerotke demanded. 'The ones you took captive?'

Shadow's shoulders began to shake. The Crocodile Man mockingly whispered something about the man's tongue. Amerotke was about to continue his questioning when the night air was broken by the shrill rasp of trumpets. Hatusu, accompanied by a chariot squadron, swept towards them. She had prepared herself for this engagement. She had washed her face and hands. She'd donned the battle crown of Egypt and draped across her shoulders the gold-jewelled nenes or sacred coat of Pharaoh. She wore a leather corselet over her white tunic, bronze greaves on her legs; her feet were shod in fighting boots. In one hand she carried a whip, in the other the curved sword of Pharaoh. Senenmut and Amerotke hastened to greet her and were obliged to kneel on the ground before her chariot. She asked a few questions, her voice clipped and harsh. Senenmut replied that the brigands and all their loot had been seized, a few had been killed, the rest awaited her judgement.

'We have no knowledge of Belet and Seli.' Amerotke spoke up.

'Get one of them to speak,' Hatusu ordered.

Amerotke returned to the line of prisoners. At his orders, two Nubians dragged forward a sand-wanderer gibbering with fright. At first he claimed he had no knowledge of the locksmith and his wife. The Nubians beat him: he broke down and confessed he had last seen them alive near a rocky outcrop just before they'd left the valley.

'They were taken away,' he wailed. 'Not far!'

Three chariots carrying Shufoy, the prisoner and two of the scouts were immediately dispatched into the Valley of the Kings.

'In the meantime,' Hatusu declared, 'I will view the prisoners.'

She climbed down from her chariot. Accompanied by Senenmut and Amerotke, she made her way through the ranks and entered that now silent bloodstained circle. Amerotke had seen judgement carried out in many a court but nothing like this. There was something eerie, barbaric about that waiting circle of men, the plunder hidden under the sacred cloths, the long line of prisoners kneeling, hands bound up above their heads, the bloodstained ground and, now and again, the roars and cries of the waiting scavengers. The night sky had paled, the stars disappearing. Dawn was approaching but the cold wind chilled the body sweat. Hatusu seemed unaware of anything except the prisoners. She walked up and down, staring at each of them. Now and again she used her sword to force back a man's head.

'The Crocodile Man?' she demanded.

The judge pointed out the leader. Hatusu put the tip of the sword beneath his chin and forced him to lift his head. He was not so arrogant but gazed fearfully back.

'Cursed be you!' Hatusu shouted. 'Cursed be you in your living and in your dying! Cursed be you in this life! Cursed be you for ever in the darkness beyond!'

A low moan broke out from the prisoners around the Crocodile Man. The curse of Pharaoh was solemn and binding. The Crocodile Man swallowed hard, and his eyes took on a beseeching look. Hatusu moved the sword and, using its tip, forced his head down. The man whined and groaned but Hatusu dug deeper, not giving up until the Crocodile Man's forehead touched the ground. Unable to keep his balance, he fell with a groan on to one side. Hatusu passed on as officers dragged the prisoner back on to his knees.

Time and again Hatusu went up and down the line. Amerotke wondered if she had lost her senses. Her face was rigid, set like a mask. She seemed unaware of those following her. Eventually she left the prisoners and moved across to the plunder. The sacred cloths were removed and an accompanying priest pointed out what had been taken. Small statues, figurines, bracelets, rings and, above all, caskets from the canopic jars which bore some of her father's remains.

'They can be purified,' the priest whispered.

'Oh, they'll be purified!' Hatusu snapped. 'My lord Senenmut, you will personally supervise the removal of all this to the House of Adoration in the royal palace. They are to be guarded night and day.' Hatusu lifted the sword and pointed in the direction of the city. 'When this business is over,' she continued softly, 'you and I,' her gaze shifted to Amerotke, 'and you, my lord judge, will go out and do vigil in the Valley of the Kings. My father's tomb will be purified and reconsecrated. The traps cunningly relaid, locks and clasps renewed. For the next three years, in the Temple of Anubis, chapel priests will make special sacrifice and reparation.'

She had turned away as if to continue her study of the prisoners when the silence was broken by the rumble of chariot wheels. Murmuring started amongst the Egyptian ranks. Officers shouted for silence. Hatusu, Amerotke and Senenmut strode towards the chariots. The drivers were already down, laying two bundles on the ground. These were expertly tied. The cords were cut and the flaps of the military cloaks, used to cover the corpses, were pulled back. Belet and Seli lay side by side. Hatusu stood and stared at them.

'It's a pity,' she murmured. 'Yet perhaps...'

She did not finish her sentence, but Amerotke knew what she was hinting. Both the locksmith and his wife had discovered where the royal tomb was, and even though forced, they had taken part in its pillaging. Both looked as if they were asleep. An officer moved the heads; Amerotke saw the blows which had reduced the backs of both skulls to a bloody pulp.

'They must have died immediately,' the officer declared. 'The sand-wanderer we took broke down and confessed they had been hidden in a shallow grave beneath a rocky outcrop just within the valley.'

'Where is the prisoner?' Senenmut demanded.

'He tried to escape.' The officer got to his feet. 'I crushed him under the wheels of my chariot.'

Shufoy slipped into the circle around the corpses. The little man's face was pallid in the flickering torchlight. His grief was silent, tears running down his lined, worn face. He stood like a child, sobbing to himself. Amerotke went over and grasped his hand.

'Do not grieve, Shufoy,' Hatusu declared. 'I will have their bodies taken back to Thebes. The priests will observe the rites. They will have proper and dignified burial. Together their souls will go to the Far Horizon. I will pray that my father welcomes them into the Fields of the Blessed. Whilst you, Shufoy,' Hatusu's voice turned gentler, 'look on your Pharaoh's face.' Hatusu smiled at him. 'You will come to the House of a Million Years. I have heard of your love poems.' Her harsh face broke into a quick smile. 'We will put them to music and, perhaps, you can sing them to my maidens.' Her smile faded and she turned to the officer. 'Have these two corpses removed. Let the priests of Anubis bear the costs. Now, let me show these rebels Pharaoh's justice!'

She returned to her chariot. With Senenmut and Amerotke walking on either side, she passed through the ranks of Nubians and stopped in front of the line of prisoners.

'Listen now!' Hatusu's voice carried clear and strong. 'Listen to Pharaoh's justice! You have plundered and ravished my father's tomb, the god's own son. You have committed heinous sacrilege. I call on the gods and power of Egypt to be my witness. I curse your lives! I curse your descendants! I curse you in death! I will pray that your souls know nothing but eternal night and everlasting torment!'

Moans and groans rose from the prisoners. Officers moved down the line beating with whips for silence.

'Let earth and sky witness my justice and the vengeance of Pharaoh! You are to die now. Your bones will litter the desert floor. Sentence is to be carried out immediately!'

Amerotke watched as two Nubians strode forward, one armed with a bow string. They stopped by the first prisoner; the string was wrapped round his throat and he was slowly garrotted, his awful groans and gasps breaking the brooding silence. Amerotke felt himself tense, and the sweat broke out over his body. All executions were gruesome but none more than this: under the desert night sky and the gaze of the silent watching troops, those two black figures of death moved down the line. Each execution was accompanied by heart-clutching gasps and strangulated cries. Amerotke glimpsed faces twisted in agony, mouths open, tongues lolling, eyes popping. He glanced away. Hatusu, however, watched the detail of every death. When the executioners came to the Crocodile Man, she intervened.

'Not that one!' she cried.

The executioners moved on. At last they were finished and went back to stand on either side of the brigand leader. Hatusu grasped the reins of her horses, flicked them gently and moved forward. The chariot wheels creaked, its trappings clattered and rattled. She paused just before the Crocodile Man.

'For you,' she cried, her voice loud and threatening, 'death will not be quick! Cursed you are!' she shouted. 'And cursed you remain! Let his ears and nose be shorn! Let his eyes be gouged out! Let him be castrated!' She pointed back towards the valley. 'Dig his grave deep, there at the entrance. Bury him alive so his body can be left to the scavengers and his soul to the devourers!'

The Crocodile Man opened his mouth to protest but the executioners seized him and forced his head down to the ground. Hatusu gestured at Senenmut to come and take the reins. She turned to Amerotke, eyes blazing with fury.

'We shall return to Thebes, my lord judge. I shall bathe, I shall eat and I shall sleep. I shall also think about Tushratta and the lady Wanef. May the gods be my witness and give me strength! My life may be long, but before I travel to the Far Horizon, I shall make that precious pair feel the full fury and vengeance of Pharaoh's power!' She turned away.

The imperial chariot moved off into the darkness, accompanied by its bodyguards, leaving Amerotke in that place of death, with the cold desert air chilling his skin and the terror of that night darkening his soul.

'My lord!'

Amerotke looked round. An officer brought forward a leather bag which clinked as it moved.

'This was the locksmith's.'

Amerotke took it and, more to distract himself, knelt, opened it and sifted through the contents. He was about to close it when one item caught his eye: something which must have been thrown in when Belet's tool-box was raided. It was a rough cast of a key-head, shaped in the form of a jackal's head. Amerotke weighed it in his hand and sighed at the pity of it all. Of course! Khety and Ita would never have approached a reputable locksmith in Thebes. They, too, had gone out to Belet in the village of the Rhinoceri and sought his help. Amerotke closed his eyes: he thought of Belet sitting in the gardens of that cookshop.

'You were not so pure of heart,' he murmured.

'Master?'

Shufoy came out of the darkness.

Amerotke got to his feet, hiding what he'd found.

'Come on, little man!' he urged. 'Let's go home, drink some wine and sing a love song against all this darkness!'

[ Anubis: Protector of Isis ]

[ EPILOGUE ]

'Life, prosperity and health!' The crowd roared as Hatusu, garbed in the gorgeous robes of Pharaoh, was borne along the Avenue of Rams up towards the soaring pylons which guarded the entrance to the Temple of Anubis. Seated on a gold and silver palanquin, she sat as immobile as the statue she pretended to be. The sun caught the jewels and precious threads in both her crown and cloak, dazzling in the crook and flail held against her breast. Pharaoh was manifesting her divine presence to her people.

 'She has bared her arm!' the priests chanted.

 'She has shown her strength!

 She has shattered her enemies!'

The refrain was taken up by the choirs behind the priests. The verses had been specially written to mark Hatusu's great victory over Tushratta.

 'Our Pharaoh does the will of Ra!

 She has protected the god's people.

 Her words go forth to the ends of the earth,

 Kings and princes tremble before her.

 They go down into the dust

 And humble themselves before her footstool.

 The nation stands in awe at her glory and power.

 She keeps safe the borders of Egypt.

 She is lord of the desert and soars above it like

 an eagle.

 Great is our Pharaoh, Beloved of the gods!

 She is Sekhmet the Destroyer, she deals out justice,

 Her name will live for ever!'

Amerotke, walking beside the palanquin, hid a smile: Hatusu herself had insisted on the hymn.

 The singers continued:

 'The earth in all its fullness

 Is our god's.

 All nations shall bow the neck to you.

 You have trampled the scorpion and the asp.

 Your heart is full of gladness.

 Your hands dispense wheat and oil.'

The singing was now taken up by the choirs and heset girls as the palanquin entered the temple precincts.

 'The beauty of Amun is in your eyes,

 The Glory of Horus your golden flesh.

 Light of the Divine Fire.

 King of Kings.

 Glory of Amun-Ra.'

Hatusu stared implacably before her as auxiliaries, helped by the royal bodyguard, kept back the crowds. Huge pink ostrich plumes wafted exquisite perfume around the Divine Presence. Amerotke stole a look at Hatusu's footrest: a carving of a fallen warrior dressed in the armour of the Mitanni. The procession coiled its way up the steps; behind came a long glittering chariot line with burnished harness, their horses adorned with gorgeous perfumes. The great cedarwood doors of the temple swung open. Priestesses came down shaking the sacred sistra. Incense billowed through the air. Holy water was splashed on every step, garlands of beautiful flowers were strewn about.

The Mitanni delegation was waiting just inside the temple. Hatusu had insisted that they kneel. Tushratta was not present, claiming he had been stricken by some secret illness. Chamberlains and court officials swarmed round the palanquin. Divine Pharaoh was escorted off to her waiting throne. Proclamations were made and the huge cedarwood table bearing the peace treaty was solemnly carried in.

Hatusu sat on her throne, Amerotke stood on her right, whilst Senenmut sealed the treaty for Egypt and Wanef for Tushratta. Once this was finished, each of the Mitanni delegation came forward and, kneeling down, kissed Hatusu's sandalled foot. They were led forward by Lord Senenmut; Wanef came last. She kissed Hatusu's foot but, as an act of impudence, raised her head, eyes blazing with fury. Hatusu moved quickly. Breaking all protocol, she put down the crook and flail, leaned forward and seized Wanef's face between her hands. She kissed her gently on the brow as a sign of affection. Wanef's eyes became guarded, frightened.

'Divine Pharaoh,' she whispered.

'Princess Wanef,' Hatusu whispered coldly. 'Accept our pledge.'

'For what?'

'You are our sister.' Hatusu let her hands go but kept her face close to the Mitanni princess. 'There will be no talk of compensation for the deaths of Mensu and the others.'

'Of course not, Divine One! King Tushratta has already decreed this.'

'He can decree what he likes,' Hatusu retorted. 'I have asked him a great favour: to cement the bond between our two countries, he has agreed that you, Princess Wanef, are to stay in Thebes.'

The Mitanni's face paled beneath her paint.

'You are to be Lord Tushratta's envoy here. He has insisted, and we have demanded, that you be our guest in the Divine House. We shall keep you close, in the shadow of our hand.'

'But, but...!'

'Would you refuse?' Hatusu leaned back. 'It is Divine Pharaoh's will as well as that of your own king. Surely you will not refuse?'

Wanef remembered herself, though fear had replaced fury in her eyes. She bowed.

'If it is Pharaoh's will.'

'It is!' came the sharp retort, and Hatusu clicked her fingers as a sign for Wanef to withdraw. She turned to Amerotke.

'You did well, my lord. No, don't bow, just listen. Wanef will stay in Thebes.'

'For how long, Divine One?'

'She, not Mareb, is the real murderer,' came the whispered reply. 'She will never leave Thebes alive. Benia's corpse will not be the only Mitanni princess to be sent back to the court of Tushratta in a sarcophagus!'

And the Divine Hatusu picked up her flail and rod, a smile of contentment on her face.